#I guess you could call it a rewrite au if you wanted

[doodle17]

Almost finished with Dark Revival (im not prepared for the final boss Wilson gonna beat my ass). I'll amdit playing it is a way different experience than watching. Definitely much more entertaining and terrifying! Still wouldn't call it a horror though... Kind of like the first game, I think they lean more on the thriller side of things. Which is good because I always preferred thrillers over horror anyways :)

I gotta admit, the first 3 chapters and the first half of 4 were astounding, but the rest? Honestly feels like such wasted potential... (the ending was pretty rad tho I will not lie) Seriously, why would they have us go to CHAPTER ONE OF INK MACHINE and have it be revealed that Henry ISNT Audrey's dad??? Come onnnnn man they should've let me make the lore I have way better ideas

On the bright side though, my yearly Bendy Binge(tm) has made me take a look at an old fic I've wanted to work on but haven't had the motivation for.

[bonefall]

Does mapleshade still follow Crookedstar in this? What if her purpose doing that is to make sure riverclan never rejects a half-clan kit again (that’s why he doesn’t question Misty and stone and another reason for wanting his grandkits in riverclan)

I'm passionate about the idea that people are heavily influenced by their circumstances. It's much easier to be a good person when you have loving guidance and the environment to be your best self. Likewise, pain and suffering can bring out the worst even in the kindest, most selfless people.

And in both of the AUs I have for Mapleshade, she is not a particularly nice person to begin with. But being StarClan's best prosecutor allows the positive aspects of her personality to shine. So to answer your question:

"Does Mapleshade still follow Crookedstar?"

#Bonefall Rewrite

In the current version of my rewrite, Mapleshade is condemned to the Dark Forest for 3 counts of murder. She takes the ruling with pride and confidence, playing to the sympathetic crowd by chasing the other damned souls into the Dark Forest.

In truth she's just as spiteful as she was in life, and now she's alone with no friends or family, bored, in Hell, and uses all that spare time to haunt Appledusk's lineage, and basically everyone associated with her death (Perchpaw/shine as well).

So, it's really not for a constructive reason that she follows Stormkit. She pushed him off the stone to kill him and only broke his jaw. She notices that Rainflower has a spiteful, awful view of her son, and decides that it would cause even more suffering to keep Stormkit alive. She kills some more kits so he'll have a foster to suckle him, just to watch them make each other miserable.

(rewrite recap: Rainflower is now the Appledusk descendant. Stormkit is not getting a cruel renaming, Crookedjaw is an honor title.)

Crookedstar follows Darkstar's commandment, the Queen's Rights, because he is a good, proud leader who abides by the traditions of his predecessors. That's all. Mapleshade doesn't need to bully him into 'clan loyalty' or anything, her haunting is much more actively malevolent than canon.

#Better Call Mapleshade AU

In StarClan, Mapleshade is with her kits. Her wonderful, sweet children-- they are an excellent influence. She's still ruthless and vengeful, of course, but she lives for the contrary position she can hold up to StarClan

A LOT of her motivation stems from that. From knowing that StarClan would otherwise let people in who shouldn't be there (hypocritical? Yes) and she takes this duty very seriously.

The BCM AU shares some aspects of the Bonefall Rewrite, but here, I think it's very similar to canon. Mapleshade watches Rainflower emotionally abuse an innocent kitten, and she KNOWS that Rainflower would just get into StarClan without any intervention (the way she did in canon). Mapleshade needs more evidence to condemn her-- and she will create scenarios to get what she needs.

On one paw this IS born out of righteous fury. She IS thinking of her own kits, you might agree that Rainflower deserved the Dark Forest, and Mapleshade won't FORCE Rainflower to do anything she wouldn't already do. She will test her, that's all.

But to test her? She is going to use Crookedkit. This WILL cause a lot more pain to him than if she just left it all alone and let Rainflower get into StarClan. She encourages him into positions of power to prove himself, she lets this young cat think that his value is tied to what his abusive mother thinks of him.

Because the more pain he displays, the further the lengths he goes to in service of appeasing Rainflower, the more Mapleshade can use as ammo to get her damned.

Mapleshade always serves her own interests first and foremost, not those of the greater good.

[textmel8r]

[ SMAU + DRABBLE ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( eighth installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugarmommy! reader , sugarbaby! toji , smut , submissive toji , finger sucking , masturbation , oral sex (f!receiving) , profanity

୨୧˚ an; so not happy with my writing in this one, probs will rewrite it one day but here, have a couple thousand words of smut🗣️ this is lowkey another filler but lowkey not at the same time? i wanted to fit in another intimate moment before shit goes south awooooooo

You were not fibbing when you said you knew your way around the kitchen. “Holy fuck,” Toji all but moans, tearing into another piece of tender meat with his canines. It was juicy and seasoned almost too much, just the way he likes it. He squints across the table, where you eat in tandem with much better manners than he could ever hope to have. “Who taught you how to cook like this?”

You shrug bashfully under his gawking, wiping your mouth with a dainty stroke of the napkin you had placed in your lap. “I traveled a lot in between semesters at college. Italy, France, Denmark…” You list a few more places that Toji wouldn’t be able to point out on a map. “Those European countries do food so good, I guess it inspired me to give my best shot at it as well.” Self taught, huh? Yeah, you seem like the type to succeed in everything you try. 

The man nods, ultimately wishing he had more to add. He wishes he had just an ounce in common with you, a smidgen of relatability to offer. But he doesn’t. Toji didn’t finish school. He’s never left Japan. He’s never cooked a damn thing from scratch in his life. You must’ve caught on to his struggle and decided to show mercy by adding, “actually, right now we’re eating steak au poivre.”

“Steak au po–” He cut himself off before inevitably butchering the name. “What is that? French?”

You’re nodding enthusiastically. “That’s right. I happened upon this dish when I was staying in Bordeaux with a few college mates.” There’s a sweet smile tugging sheepishly at your lips as you recall the memory. “I fell in love with it the second I tried it, and asked the manager right then and there for the recipe.”

Toji shakes his head with disbelief, talking with his mouth full of food. “You’re just full of stories, aren’t you?”

“Some would call me experienced, yes.”

His brow raises. Experienced? Was that a come on? Toji gives way to his own quaint smile, jutting his chin toward you. “Say it again.”

“Say what again?”

“Steak au whatever.”

You oblige his request, repeating the name back slowly so he could attempt to grasp it. “Steak au poivre. Now you give it a go.”

Toji finishes chewing the mouthful of peppercorn-laced meat, swallowing it down with a swig of the Château Cheval Blanc you’d poured at the start of the meal. Some fancy French imported wine is what he gathered from the long winded description you waxed as you topped off an extravagant glass for him. Wine never really appealed to the man—he usually went for the harder shit. The type that you knock back from lowball glasses. The type to get you piss drunk after three rounds—but it was all you ever drank. It was safe to say he was becoming accustomed to your tastes. Maybe the sweetness wasn’t so terrible. He clears his throat, putting embarrassingly too much effort into his “steak au poivre.” It doesn’t sound pretty the way it did leaving your mouth, and he grimaces. “Can’t fucking do it.”

“I thought you sounded good.” He scoffs at that, but you click your tongue. “I’m serious.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll just leave the French speaking to you.” The plate before him sits scraped clean. You’re still working on your dinner. Fuck, you’re a slow eater. “You know any more?”

“Any more French, you mean?”

He nods along with a gruff hum, swishing his tongue around his teeth, collecting anything left over of that smokiness from the peppered steak. 

“Hm. Tu m'as manqué, Toji.” You hide your grin behind the rim of your glass. 

Thick forearms crossed over chest, he croons a deep, barely-there chuckle. “I heard my name. Tell me what you said.”

“No way,” you chortle.

“Ah, c’mon. You’re all blushy.” He licks over the chappedness of his lower lip, knowing gaze latched onto your lips. It was hypnotic, your smile. “You say somethin’ dirty about me, ma’am?”

The way in which your eyes widened coquettishly at the accusation had Toji’s heart beating just a bit more erratically. Like a fawn, he thinks. All that was missing on you was a white, cottony tail. 

“If I said something dirty, It would have been in a language you could understand.” Finally, you take the last bite off your dish as well. Hopefully that means dinner is officially over; Toji has been craving dessert since he stepped foot in your house and got showered in ‘welcome back’ gifts. “I’m not the type of woman easily embarrassed by my sexuality. I thought you would have picked that up by now.”

He persists. “What are you embarrassed by?”

“Toji.” His name is spoken sharply, a verbal warning that he was tiptoeing the line. Threatening to shatter that layer of thin ice he stood upon. This is what he’s been needing. This is what he’s been fucking needing.

“I’ve been thinking about you, ma’am.” Any semblance of a filter is long gone, melted by the sheer heat of his desire. His limbs feel heavy, hands tumbling into his lap. They rest on the wide surface area of sweatpant-clad thighs, just sitting there. Feeling himself. “This entire week, I’ve been thinking.”

You seem to get the implications of his confession. “In a sexual way?”

“Yeah.” That’s a white lie. To be truthful was to admit that the sexual thoughts Toji let himself think about you were the minority. Objectifying you in the depths of his mind wasn't enough. He thought about your breasts, sure. He thought about your curves, and your ass, and your mouth, and every other body part that would grant him pleasure. But that wasn’t enough for Toji. Fixations of his tended to lead him astray from fantasies, instead breaching carefully saved memories stored within his brain catalog. When he touched himself, it was more or less to remembrances of mundane tasks you’d dealt him in the past. All the times you had bestowed little gifts and knick knacks on a whim just because they reminded you of him. Or when you drag him to the outlets with you for a shopping spree and he’ll act miserable the entire time, but you both knew it was a horribly crafted facade. Or even, like now, when you’d treat him to dinner because you worry over him and his eating schedule. The little things really counted; a revelation that scared Toji shitless, so he opted to ignore those budding, foreign feelings and replace it with familiarity: lust.

“Toji, honey, are you alright?”

What? His breathing pattern was off kilter, and the muscles of his jaw flexed unconsciously. When had he started palming himself? His right hand had grown a mind of its own apparently, because when Toji stole a glance downward, there it was; kneading roughly at the bulge between his meaty thighs. How desperate was he? To go dormant like that, so consumed with the thought of you that he began to instinctually masturbate himself not even five feet away from where you sit. And why… Why wasn’t he stopping?

“Can we fuck now?”

“Oh.” You barely look shocked. Not the slightest bit appalled like he expected you to be. Instead, slide off a ring that took purchase wrapped around your middle finger. A sigh escapes you as you place the band on the table. “I still have more to ask you. I wanted to know how your work trip went.”

Toji shakes his head, something akin to a toddler trying to get fed vegetables. “No.”

“No?”

“I don’t wanna talk about work.”

“Why not?” You frown, leaning forward against the tabletop. “Was it bad?”

He knows what you’re doing. Trying to make him spill any details about his job. Well, he won’t give in. 

A heavy sigh slithers out hoarsely from the deepest part of his lungs, and Toji presses his palms to the table, pushing himself up. He stands tall, much like the tent at his crotch, and slinks along the roundness of the dinner table, walking his fingertips across the top all the while. “I don’t want to talk,” he reiterates, breathy and abrasive.

Finally, Toji stands before you. Still, you are seated, unbothered by the towering man’s presence. No, you’re swirling your wine glass sophisticatedly, lips pursed into a narrow line. Like you’re the slightest bit irritated with his persistent defiance. 

God, you won't even look at him.

Or maybe, you were never irritated at all. Toji cops a second glance to your lips, finding the faintest ghost of a frown. “You’ve been acting so… so removed. Ever since you left.” Now you’re looking at him; Toji shudders under the intense fire that billows behind your eyes, wide and wetted with worry. “I want you to feel like you can tell me things. I want your trust, Toji.”

You have his trust. Every last crumb of it resides in the palm of your soft hand.

“... And I know that it’s stupid—I’m stupid for wanting that from you. I know what this relationship is, and I know that there are these unspoken boundaries, but I—I can’t—”

It was the first time he’d ever heard you speak with such a volatile expression. There was a tremble of uncertainty in your vocal chords, carrying into the skittish dialogue that tumbled out in rambles. Something about such a show of pity from you, his Y/n, made his guts churn like butter. He can’t listen to this any more. With swiftness, Toji dives down to press his mouth against yours, swallowing the words that die on your tongue. One hand grips the back of your chair, the other holds the roundness of your cheek. He feels your gasp, feels the way your shoulders jolt in surprise, but he doesn’t release you.

This was really only his second instance of kissing you. The first had been in his bed, with his groin pressed to yours, tongue fighting its way to the back of your throat with greedy fervor. This second kiss was anything but greedy, though. Despite the ache that roiled at the base of his stomach, Toji didn’t serve you a kiss that reflected his desire. Tongues never met and spit was never swapped; just lips on glossed lips. 

At last, Toji reluctantly peels away. Lipstick residue feels heavy on his mouth, and he knows he probably looks foolish donning remnants of your dark lip lacquer, but he doesn’t move to wipe his skin. The circular bottom of the wine glass clinks as you clumsily set it down, freeing your hands. They branch upwards, finding his face. A pair of thumbs rub the sensitive pads of flesh beneath his eyes, massaging out those ugly, darkened bags that have accumulated as a result of many sleepless nights. It feels orgasmic, the way you handle him. 

“I trust you.” The words are out in the air before he has time to think.

You brighten, sunshine hiding in the crevices of your smile. “You mean that?” You ask him, hands petting down the sides of his neck.

He meant it wholeheartedly. The amount of trust left within Toji was scarce. Too many bad people fucked him for life; showed him the meaning of the phrase ‘trust is earned.’ So it really fucking freaked him out how quickly you came to earn it. A little over a year-–that’s how long he’s known you—you’ve have plenty of time to fuck him over. To batter him. And yet, you haven’t. All you’ve ever shown him was kindness and consideration and warmth and everything else Toji never knew how bad he was thirsty for.

“Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“I trust you, too, Toji.” 

He wonders if he deserves that. Because really, what has given you besides his annoyingly closed-off dickhead attitude? He provides fuck all, but you still stick around. 

Toji doesn’t say anything. He swoops once more, capturing your lips in a hungrier kiss than before. All the playful innocence is tossed aside, forgotten in lieu of Toji’s devastatingly furious need to consume you. Tongues finally greet each other in a spittle-slicked tango; he dominates yours with ease, worming behind your teeth just to collect your sweet flavor. Wine, he thinks. You taste like your goddamn expensive ass wine.

He feels feverish. One-track minded, hyper fixated on you. On your crossed legs underneath the table. “Fuck,” Toji breathes into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip.

Your hand clashes against the hard wall of his chest, patting it softly. A wordless signal that you need some air, so he retracts. “Let’s go to the bedroom.” 

The plea goes in one ear and falls right out the other. Toji leeches against your neck, dragging the flat of his wet tongue over that little throbbing pulse point. His teeth grate against your flawless skin, completely none the wiser that you’re even talking to him. You thwack the back of his head, and he lurches into the crook of your shoulder, muffling a groan.

“No marks, I’ve got work.”

His eyes roll, face still burrowed against you. He couldn’t give less of a shit about your job right now. 

“Come on, let’s go to my room.” “Gimme a sec.” He’s still licking below your jaw, making his way down. This stupidly lavish house had been cursed with three levels, your bedroom holed up at the very top floor. Like hell Toji was going to part ways with your glorious body so you two could safely make it up the two ridiculous staircases. Fuck that.

“Toji, I’m… serious…” Your raucous pants of anticipation suggest otherwise. Toji has sunken to his knees, crawling beneath the table and finding a home on the floor before your seat. His kneecaps scream in discomfort as they pin heavily to the wooden floorboards, but Toji bears the pain well ( he’d always been somewhat of a masochist ). Your legs are still crossed, one knee hinging over the other. 

“Open these.” Two calloused hands cuff around the thinnest parts of either ankle. Your legs were conspicuously smooth; did you shave for him? There is an attempt at delicacy when Toji pries your legs apart, and it makes you giggle. 

“Here?” You laugh more. Toji suspects you’re patronizing him in a way. “I haven’t even cleared the table. Are you really so impatient?”

And here Toji thought he exercised his patience well. He didn’t jump your bones the second of his arrival. No, he waited like a good boy until after dinner. “I’ve waited for this the whole week.” Restless hands walk up those porcelain calves, strong and lean from working in high heels. They wander up, hooking beneath the junctures of your knees; Toji uses his celestial strength to his advantage, maneuvering both legs with ease until he’s got them resting comfortably over his broad shoulders. Toji turns, cocks his head to give a serpentine lick to the inside of your thigh. Then a bite. “Don’t make me wait any longer. I’ll fucking die.”

You peer down at him. “Don’t talk like that.” You feel yourself. Small hands groping your chest, sliding lower and lower. “You’re not going to die.”

His mouth feels sticky, like there’s a spoonful of honey under his tongue. “I might.”

Your heel drives into his upper back, an impish little warning that makes him throb all over. “Don’t talk like that, I said.” Those manicured hands have garnered Toji’s full attention. They descend all the way to the hem of your luxurious dress, wrenching into its hem. It’s the sexiest sight Toji had ever seen: you pulling your dress up with the quickness of a sloth, inching the fabric up until it scrunches around the dip of your waistline. 

“These are hot,” he murmurs, thumbing the waistband of the scarlet panties. They were tight, sinking into the ample pudge of your hips and soft tummy. So fucking beautiful, he thinks, the contrast between deep red lace and the flesh of which it lays upon. The perfect, little present gift wrapped in a low-rise lace thong. “Bet they cost a pretty penny.”

You spare a breathy exhale through your nostrils. “I don’t look at price tags when I buy things for you.”

You bought these just for him? “You spoil me.”

“You deserve to get spoiled, baby.”

He is so mind numbingly turned on. Sickening tendrils of appetence bleed into his vision, his lust coils around his limbs and guide his movements like a marionette. Toji thumbs your—his—panties to the side, soaking in the sight of that pretty pussy he’s longed to be back inside of since the moment he pulled out. His face is close, so fucking close that he can feel warmth radiate off your core and deepen his flush.

Perhaps this is how he begins his journey of repayment. Ever indebted to you, despite your odd relationship being a mutually agreed upon situation, Toji fears you’ve truly altered him. For the better or worse he isn’t sure yet; all he knows is that you make him feel good. Better than he’s felt in fucking ages. You said he deserves to get spoiled? Well so do you, too.

Toji eats you with erotic vigor, delving into the deepest parts of your cunt with his lascivious tongue. He’ll be the first to admit that he doesn’t possess many skills. He isn’t terribly smart, nor is he gifted with great conversational skills like you. He isn't good at holding a real job. Isn’t very good at expressing himself. Not good at abiding by the law, or staying sober, either. But if ever there was an artistry in which Toji had full confidence he had mastered, it was oral sex.

“Oh, Toji,” you gasped, forcing his face deeper with a hand on the back of his skull. “Right there.”

Toji dug you out, excavating your hole with expertise. One hand slipped up beneath your dress, under your bra, pawing at your breast whilst the other busied itself in his pants. He stroked himself to the heady taste of pussy, fanning your clit with hot puffs of breath. You writhe against his open mouth, hips dancing, hands grabbing.

It’s more enjoyable like this, Toji thinks briefly. To not expect a wad of bills afterward in exchange for his velvet tongue. He eats you for leisure, because he wants to, and because you want him, and no other reason. It’s enough that you both need each other.

Toji groans loosely when you yank his hair, getting off on the way you move his head to your liking. “Suck my clit,” you instruct quietly, and he obliges with upmost obedience, nose nuzzling against the tuft of hair at your pubic bone.

Toji opens his eyes for the first time in a while, then thanks God he did. You look something like a goddess, celestial and righteous in the way your body works against his face. Using him to cure an insatiable desperation, with your lids screwed shut and head tossed back on your shoulders. “Are you gonna cum?” He sits up on his haunches a little taller, a little more alert now to fully experience your orgasm. “Cum in my mouth.”

He begs for it. Begs like a little bitch. Over and over again, mumbling the mantra between rough suctions to your swollen clit. Begging wasn’t like him. His father beat the beggar out of him many years ago, said it was weak to yearn for things so badly. The old man was right, Toji has never felt weaker than he does right now, knelt under the table with his head between your thighs.

“Oh my God.” Your voice is strained thin, each syllable pulled taught. The vice grip on his roots start to sting, follicles ripping from the scalp, but doesn’t tell you to stop. “Toji, fuck you’re so good.”

He’s good.

“You’re so good.”

“Mmn.” He squeezes himself, chokes his dick hard. Toji feels it when you cum. Warmth floods the cavern of his slack mouth, gushing and creamy. You fall silent, stunned by the force of your orgasm he presumes. Toji licks you through your high, guzzling down every drop of wetness that seeps from your spasming slit. It’s hot and gushy and messy; cum dribbles past his lips, collecting in beads that roll down his tensing neck.

Only when you blindly push at his face does Toji part ways with your center, leaning past your trembling hand to nuzzle into your stomach. It’s concave with an ongoing exhale; he nips at your navel. “Breathe.”

“Toji,” you whisper. On the come down, you’re a lot nicer; those needy, grabbing hands of yours now stroked down the tangled mess of his damp shag. He presses a handful of sloppy smooches above your belly button.

The erection trapped in the confines of his pants twitch at the dreadfully angelic drawl of his name. “Good?” His question is gruff and pointless as ever; anyone with eyes could tell you just had the most Earth-shattering orgasm of your life.

Your head lolls forward, rolling down to face him. Fingertips brush his chin, collecting the sticky residuals that dampened his stubble. You take your lower lip in between teeth when you bring those same soaked digits to Toji’s open mouth. He doesn’t resist you. Fingers are welcomed; he unhinges his jaw, baring the same holy tongue that just drove you to Heaven. You wipe cum-ridden fingers against the muscle, and Toji clamps around them in a vacuum-esque suction, looking up at you through dark lashes all the while. Your thumb traces the raised flesh on his upper lip. That ugly, jagged scar.

He catches your wrist when you move to flee his mouth, holding you in place. Sucking on you, touching himself along the way. Lapping between fingers, tonguing the thin web of skin there.

“So good, baby boy.” There’s the praise he craved, the praise he played oblivious to get. You claw deeper, jutting towards the back of his throat, pulling a scratchy gag from the man. What kind of fetish was this? You made everything sexy, even whatever this humiliation ritual was; watching him choke down slippery fingers with fat tears bleeding at his waterline. “You are so beautiful, Toji.”

“—oh en nah,” or no I’m not had there not been a barrier blocking his teeth from touching. Toji knows he’s an aged man, one riddled with scars and wounds and bruises and gauges and what have you. His skin is nowhere near perfect, baring disgusting reminders of what he does—who he is. Beautiful is what he’d call someone like you. Someone calm and serene, humble and kind. You’re a beautiful sight, and you’re also the complete and utter opposite of him.

“You are.” He wanted to be inside you for this. Toji had been daydreaming this scenario over and out in his head over the long haul of the week, going through the motions of his plan to fuck you. He’d give you everything tenfold, a barbaric fucking unlike your first time together. He imagined finally showing you his version of things, bending you over the couch first thing and blowing his load deep into your cunt.

Toji choked again, and a single thick tear fell from his lashes. You whispered sweet prayers, holding his face, wiping his eyes, fucking his mouth with fingers that tasted of your cum. It was a damn mystery how you rendered him so fucking pitiful, to be nutting on his knees into his boxers like this. A damn mystery.

His breaths are ragged when he explodes, hand and cock obscured by the sweatpants that sat low around his hips. Toji doesn’t stop pumping, tugging the shaft with long, hard strokes, wringing himself dry. Dark eyes weld shut, and he collapses against your thigh with a quake of exhaustion. Toji doesn’t know when you withdrew your fingers; the only tell that gave it away was the string of saliva that slapped coldly against his chin in the wake of your removal. He mewls, a graveling sound that sounds as if his voice box had been dragged through a sea of razor blades.

“You alright?”

A flowery hand slithers beneath his damp cheek, and suddenly his heavy head is being lifted. Toji is forced to meet your soft gaze; adoration brims in your eyes, as though you’re proud of him for creaming in his briefs like some flimsy virgin.

“Answer me, please.”

Toji smacks his mouth, preparing for his voice to project broken and fragmented. “I’m fine.” He could do without the pity; you were cautious to a fault. He wasn’t made of glass.

“You’re filthy.”

He grumbles, feigning grumpiness and averting his eyes off to the side. “I just had your pussy in my mouth.”

You bend at the waist, leaning down to meet him for a kiss. Toji melts against you, cradling your face with his semen-stained hand. You don’t seem to mind the wetness. He’s pouting against your mouth, childlike. “I wanted to cum inside you.”

You latch onto his nose, nibbling the point. “Let’s go clean up.” There’s a telling smile etched onto your lips, and your mouth finds his ear. Whispering ever so sensually, “I have a big shower in my bedroom.”

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[millerscoffee]

Hello!! 🤍 I was wondering if you could write something where Joel is the reader’s college professor, and then Prof. Miller INSISTS that reader comes over to his home for tutoring assistance, (because of failed tests or bad essays), and then finally coaxes her into letting him have his way with her.

hi nonnie! here it is! i hope you enjoy 💖

extra credit

6.2k | joel miller x afab!reader (professor!joel au)

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: professor!joel au, age gap (joel is 46, reader is 21), soft!dom joel, pining, consensual sex, pet names (darlin', doll, baby), oral (f receiving), face riding, fingering, piv (unprotected, wrap it folks), squirting, joel spitting over the reader's ass for 0.5 seconds (OOPS IDK???), a pretty dress with easy access, hints of after care, spoiler: honestly prof. miller could've told reader to just do the paper in a different format but – that's the point 🤭

When you picked your major, English was a necessary credit needed to achieve your goals.  It wasn’t your strong suit, but you weren’t one to quit just because you were bad at it.  So far you were coasting through, getting a mix of good and bad grades in your English Lit class when the last essay before finals was presented.

Among the crowd in Professor Miller’s lecture hall, you typically sat in the front.  He hands out papers, hovering by your desk.  Giving you a look of disapproval, he places the grade face down.  You peel the pages in anticipation, a sense of dread falling over you when you scan the big, red mark of failings.  “Shit,” you say to yourself.  That was it.  That was the grade that was the defining factor of whether or not you had to retake this course.  You use the side of your hand to wipe sneaky tears in falling.  You failed.  Doing your best to keep it together, you’re not sure you even heard the rest of the lecture from the possibilities running through your mind.  What were you to do?  How would you recover?

Class was over before you knew it.  The sounds of bags zipping and feet stepping, you stayed seated until you were able to look over to Professor Miller.  Dressed in black slacks, a brown button-up with leather shoes.  His hair was slick, the slightest bit of salt and pepper patched at his sideburns.  He looked like he had it all figured out, and that struck a nerve.  A feeling of jealousy that he knew what he was doing, and you obviously did not.

Professor Miller calls your name when the class is emptied, and you sniffle, standing up to straighten your skirt.  Your manicured nails pick up your essay as you walk over in an attempt to hand it to him.  “I guess you want this back,” you hold your full bottom lip between your teeth.

“Did you read the material?”  Professor Miller inquires, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  His voice is so dark and honied in comparison to his scowl.  Proving not to judge a book by its cover.  The irony.

“Well, I did, but… I struggle with this stuff.  Predicates and imagery?  I’d rather be learning about biology.  But I need this course, you know.  And I…,” you swallow hard.  God, the last thing you want is to embarrass yourself in front of your teacher.  He doesn’t know you, out of the hundreds of people he teaches – how could he possibly even remember your name?

“Hey,”  Professor Miller takes his glasses off, putting them on the table.  He looks as concerned as you are over it and crosses his arms.  Keeps his distance.  “It happens, you know.  There are things we can do to accommodate.  You’re very bright, I’d hate to see you fail.  You have options.  I can’t let you rewrite the paper, but I could tutor you for your final.  Another option is getting a student tutor, but it’s rare.  You know the workload of this university.  Not a lot of people are willing to sacrifice their precious time.”

“And you are?”  You look up at him with grateful, bright eyes and he loves it.  The praise just from your stare alone is cause for him to clear his throat.

“Listen, for someone like you, I believe it is important to help.  You just need a little more time understanding what you’re doing, is all.  I’m not in my office for the rest of the weekend, though.  You’d have to come by my house…,”  he watches those pretty eyes widen again, and that makes a smirk fall over his greying features, “if that’s okay, of course.  If it’s not, we could work something else out.”

You think about it.  You’ve never had a teacher invite you over, much less someone who looked the way he did.  Though, that was neither here nor there.  His lips formed words you couldn’t even pay attention half the time in hearing.  Maybe that was part of the reason why you were failing in the first place.  But you needed to pass, and if he could help you – and was so kind enough to do it in the first place, you should jump at the first opportunity.

“Okay.  Is there a particular time you’d like me to be there?”

“Are you busy tonight?”

What the fuck. That makes your heart race.  Tonight?  Tonight?!  Ton–

“Tonight… tonight is good.”  How did you even form the words?

“Perfect,” he started, bending down to write his address on a sticky note – his cologne wafts in your direction, and you clamp your legs shut reflexively.  “Here’s my address.  7 o’clock.”

“Seven.  Okay… thank you, Professor Miller.”

“Please, call me Joel.”  His teeth gleamed in a smile, and his personality shined through it.

A personality you didn’t get to see too often from your position behind a desk.

Shit.

---

According to your phone, he didn’t live very far from campus, and you were able to walk to his house without breaking too much of a sweat.  You decided on a black dress, although it was a casual one, that paired nicely with your sneakers.  It had buttons down the front with a relaxed collar.  Your bag slung over your shoulder when you knocked on his door, a nervousness fluttering in your stomach.  It was such a weird thing, meeting your professor in his home.  Much less having him request you call him by his first name.

Your knees all but buckled when you saw him on the other side of the door.

He looks… young in his jeans.  His t-shirt stretched over the broadness of his shoulders, but it’s still loose enough that it doesn’t look ill-fitted.  His stomach, soft at the bottom.  You flash him a smile, but internally you’re reeling over how casual he looks.  You’d never seen him like this, not even during those school meetings that were informal.

“Hey, you,” he’s bright, too.  Charismatic as he invites you into his home.  Takes your bag, lets you take your shoes off until you’re in your socks.  His words hit your stomach, how easy it is for him to talk to you like you’re the brightest sunflower.  What’d you even do to deserve it?

“Hi, Prof– uh, Joel,” you titter, taking in the curated decor of his home.  It was sophisticated, yet a little cheesy at the same time.  His alumni cover his walls and a mix of pictures.  Some with a couple of young girls you assumed were his children.  He has children, you swallow.

“Wasn’t too hard to find this place, right?  When I moved here, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t too far – not much of a mornin’ person,” Joel laughs and you do, too.  Fuck, this feels so easy.  But it’s nothing – it’s nothing.

What you don’t pick up on right away is his open body language.  He places your bag on his couch and you follow him like a puppy – he likes that.  You look so soft under the sienna hue of his lights, your hair falling into place naturally.  Plump and ripe for the taking.  Of course, he meant it when he said he’d tutor you, but the air got thick the moment the door was shut behind the two of you.  What were you doing to him?

Joel’s large frame walks over to his bar cart, turning on his heel to face you, “Interested?”

“Huh?” You blink and he laughs again at your deer caught in the headlights expression.  You’re cute.

“Do you drink?”

“Oh, uh… water would be nice.”

“Water it is,” Joel’s pleasant, gesturing his hand for you to follow him.  And you do – that puppy he was coming to know, right to his kitchen.  You study the marble countertops, the farmhouse style kitchen sink.

“So, tutoring,” he starts, taking a glass from the cupboard, he fills it with filtered water before handing it to you – you thank him with a nod, “I was thinking we could look at your paper, and then go over how to fix things in the future?”  When you take the water from him, your fingers graze.  The first sign of contact, your head continues to nod unthinkingly, but all that scorches your mind is how his skin feels.

“That sounds good,” you overcompensate, shoving the ideas from your mind.  He was your teacher, and it was easy to get back into the mode of why you were here.

Joel’s expression doesn’t change much, still the same grin with hooded eyes and wrinkles at his forehead.  The two lines between his brow.  “Alright, well I have it on the coffee table.  Let’s get settled on the couch, and we’ll get started, okay?”

So you agree.  You take your glass of water and follow him back to the couch where everything was set up – your paper, his laptop.  All of the correction marks in your face as you sit down.  You take another sip of water before placing it down on the coaster.  You dread it, you really do.  Going over your failures?  You scrunch your nose up to yourself, but Joel notices when you’re both settled on the cushions.

“You know, Voltaire said, ‘perfect is the enemy of good’,”  Joel bends his knee on the couch, thigh pressing into the cushion to turn to you and it causes the couch to shift.  The quote makes you giggle a little to yourself, and you shake your head.  “What?” His eyebrow quirks in curiosity.

“Voltaire also popularised the story of Newton’s apple, doesn’t make it true.”

“Huh…,” Joel trailed off, keeping his eye on you – his tongue skating over his bottom lip in thought.  You were so quick all he could really do was laugh, and that made your shoulders relax.  Makes you feel more in control and comfortable to laugh at yourself.  “You got an answer for everything?”

“Not everything.  See this,” you pick up your paper, thumbing over the ink of corrections the man on the couch made and you shrug, “I don’t really understand why this got marked wrong.”  Joel’s gaze flashes over your mouth when your teeth press into the plushness of your bottom lip – he should be given some damn award for having so much self control around you.

“Wrong format.  This citation works for your research papers, right?”  He nods with you before leaning in closer, that damn cologne coming back in full force just like earlier in the day.  You all but freeze when his warm touch graces you again – this time, fingers tracing over where you’re holding the paper.  “Oh,” your voice is soft, a bit of disappointment pangs at your ribs.  You were so busy you didn’t even realise that was the majority of the issues you had.

“So… it’s not really what I wrote, it’s how I wrote it?  You asked if I read the material?”

“Exactly.  If you read the syllabus, you’d see the required format.  Listen, there are some ways for extra credit, I do think this is salvageable.”

You suddenly feel silly.

You did all that work, Professor Miller was kind enough to let you into his home, and it was all for some redundant formatting.  An open palm curls over your chin as you look at the paper in deep contemplation.

“I really fucked up,” you say, hushed in the space.

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” you manage an exhale of amusement at the sound of your teacher curse.  You shift your gaze to look at him.  The curls at the nape of his neck, the way his t-shirt dropped enough so you could see his neck, his chest.  The freckles that splayed over his aged skin.  “You just needed someone to tell you what to do.”

That was the loaded statement.  And a pointed one, it seems.  Someone to tell you what to do.  And Joel wanted to be that person?  Your eyebrows raise for a flash, thumbing over the paper.

“That would be too easy,” you scratch at your neck idly before going for the glass of water, sipping in contemplation. “...I mean, I should’ve known better.”

Joel takes the glass from you, offering himself a sip of your water and it stuns you speechless, doing your best not to convey it.  Maybe he did that just because this was his house.  That must’ve been it.  He was comfortable, but goddamn – the eye contact he gave you when he swallowed the liquid.

It felt intentional.

He watches your features, vague as they were, in what to do next.  He honestly wasn’t so sure what he was doing either.  What?  I know how to give you extra credit, sweetheart.  Too forward, too boastful, too… cheap.  You deserved better than that.  He saw you in class, how hard you were on yourself.  He talked to your other teachers, how well you were doing in your other classes.  He felt for you.  And he was a bit lost in your eyes.  You were all too pretty, too brilliant to be dimmed down to a fuck for extra credit.  Joel could see that.  He wasn’t even sure what he was thinking, you had him distracted.  You threw him off without even trying.  The plight within him grew stronger as he handed back the glass.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Joel straightens up, his hand cups over your forearm in a way that’s understanding, but also makes goosebumps rise.  You look down to see where you connect and he pulls away slightly.  “Sorry, I–,” “No, it’s okay,” you agree, “It’s okay.  You’re right.”

“It’s just, I see hundreds of bright, beautiful young people every year, but none of them have stood out to me like you.”  He can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth.  The candor, the nerve.  A filthy old man, that’s all he was in the eyes of someone as sweet and innocent as you were.  Even if you happened to be experienced – god, what was he thinking?!

Joel clears his throat, shifting a bit in his seat, but he sees the way your lips part, but your eyes don’t show an ounce of shock or distain.  They look soft, and… willing.  You know that is because the pull at your core feels too strong to think of anything else.  You look down at his left hand, making sure you’re not dreaming.  He’s not married?  You’d casually look at his hands from time to time during class and ignored the ache it gave you, but this?  So close?  Backed by the glow of his house?  It was so different from the boys you were used to.  In their dorms or disgusting apartments.  It smelled as nice as it looked.  You realise you’re not speaking, but the way you lean into him says more than you really ever could.

“I don’t know what to say,” shyly, you touch your knuckles to your cheek, “you should teach the guys that go here how to chat with someone.”

It’s a mutter, but not to yourself.  You drink one more mouthful of what you were offered before putting it back on the coaster.  Honestly, any distraction was welcome to defer from the ever-present density in the room.

“Those guys don’t know what they’re talkin’ about anyway.  I know I didn’t at that age.”

There.  The topic right in front of both of your faces.

“How old at you, anyway?”  You inquire, thumb mindlessly circling over your knee.  Joel tracks it, licking over his lips as he answers.  “Forty-six.  You?”

“Twenty-one.”

Fuck.  Fuck fuck fuck.

There’s this standstill, as if you’re both in the air together looking at each other in slow motion.  How will this land?  What are you both even doing here like this?

“I’m sure your boyfriend takes good care of you,” Joel’s eyes, round and bright brown, get lost in yours – the way your breath hitches, the shift of your thighs on his sofa.  He wondered what you tasted like, what sounds you make when these boys who don’t know what they’re doing with their tongue attempt to eat you out.  Do you fake it?  Do you give it to them straight?  Neither of you had a drink from that bar cart in the corner of the room, but somehow you’ve become closer – and more intoxicated.

“Don’t have one,” you respond softly, orbs flickering to the set of plush lips that grow more red the longer you let the tension build, “what about you?  N-no partner?”

Your attempt in confidence wavering the longer he stares at you.  It’s like staring back into the sun and you have your brows knit together until the tug of muscle makes your forehead hurt – smoothing them apart with the twitch of muscle fibers.

“No partner,” Joel’s hand settles on your thigh and you can’t hold it back; you gasp.  But you do something he doesn’t anticipate, or well, you don’t do something: you don’t pull away.

How did you two get to the topic, anyhow?

How did you end up straddling his lap, for that matter?

It’s within six eager seconds that his hand, hot and rough, touches your soft skin, and you – green, you – fervent, throw all inhibitions aside and lunge.  It’s more fluid than you realise, and his hands (both now) grip the backs of your bare thighs and you whimper at the sensation of him squeezing you.  Your wetness against your cotton panties grows from the kneading alone.  No, absolutely not, the boys back in the dorms didn’t know how to do this.

It takes an even shorter time for your mouths to meet.  He’s first to kiss, and he tastes like coffee and his dinner, and the faintness of a cigarette – maybe early in the day?  You couldn’t tell, your head was swimming too deep in now to come back from.

And although his calloused fingers roll patterns into your soft skin, he’s just as willing.  Just as desireful and you can feel it beg to be set free at the seam of his jeans.  His tongue skirts against yours, hips rolling up the second yours tempt to roll down; causing you both to moan in each other’s mouths.

It gets feverish after that.  All teeth, tongue, bite.

You don’t want to stop, you don’t want to take a moment to breathe because fuck, that could stop things.  That could make him realise what is happening.

But that only is another item to your list of naivety.

Because Joel, he’s ready.  His masculine arms wrap around your frame to lift you up just enough so he can get out of his fucking jeans that he now regrets wearing.  Shoulda been wearin’ sweats, but it’s effortless… eventually.  He hurriedly pushes the thick fabric down until they hit at his thighs and you’re pushed down onto his boxers that – holy fucking shit – leave nothing to the imagination.  “Joel, J-,” you pant between kisses, fingernails digging into the base of his neck, he pauses.  Pulls away, gets a good look at your face.

“Y’want this?” And goddamn, you can’t see yourself, but you imagine you look just as fucked out as he does.  On the cusp of every little fantasy he’s had about you from the moment you sat down behind that desk.

“I want this,” you repeat.  You weren’t sure exactly when the nerves subsided, maybe because all of the blood is now rushed at the apex of your thighs, but you mean it.

You want this.  You want Professor Miller.

“You got me,” his breath dances over your lips before guiding you back a bit, “here… I’m going to lie back, I want you to– I’ll show you.”  Your lips quirk up at the fact he’s so flushed he can’t even finish his sentence.

But that soon turns to you flushing when you realise his request.  “I – what?”

“No?”  Joel sits up on his elbows, looking over to you and you’re worried you’ve killed the mood.  It’s just, straddling his face?  Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“I’ve never done that… What if it’s bad?”  His eyes, reassuring, but a deep shade of black now beckons you.

“Darlin’, I think you’ll be a natural.  But I can teach you, if that’s what you want.”

You swallow, straddling his knees somewhere at the bottom of the couch and you think about it.

Joel, on the other hand, was living in a fantasy of teaching you things in and out of school.  Showing you how to make yourself feel good on his mouth – make you forget all about the essay that caused you grief today.  He leans over, pushing it under the couch out of view for good measure.

“Okay,” you agree, though nerves still flood you.  “Okay, you wanna take your panties off?”  You lick your lips at that, biting back another whimper that brought you to this predicament in the first place.  And you did – you wanted nothing more than to slip your underwear off and give into your pleasures.  His voice was deep, graveled with the prospect of him fucking you senseless on his couch and who were you to deny him that?

Who were you to deny yourself that, more importantly.

“Yeah,” doing as you say, you slip off your lace-trimmed undies and abandon them somewhere on your Professor’s floor.  “Fuck,” you mutter.  This was naughty.

“Already so good for me,” you weren’t even sure that Joel’s voice could get deeper, or more inviting, but it does.  You bite your lip and oblige when he pats his chest.  Going over to him, you straddle just above his broad shoulders, and he’s almost out of view with him like this – somehow making it easier to just feel what he could do to you.

Joel on the other hand?  All he can do is see the outline of your glistening core from the shadowed tent you’ve made of your dress and his groans are muffled slightly from the fabric, “Fuckin’ Christ,” he wants to devour you, but he takes his time instead.

Peppers kisses along your thighs that make you claw the armrest, causes you shiver at the contact and you can’t believe this is happening.  “J-Joel,” you hesitate, but his hands are wrapped around your hips now, fingers digging into the breadth of your ass.

“Sit.”  Joel commands.

Oh, fuck.

You’re almost certain you’ll break skin at your lips from biting down so hard, but you do as you’re told.  Anchoring down, it’s subtle at first – the brushing of his facial hair against your folds, his chin prying you apart.  Then, it’s incredibly palpable.  His lips are the first thing you feel as they press and kiss over your middle and as you shudder it only makes your muscles sink deeper on him.  You’re the first to moan, and then Joel, and his mouth is open when he invites you inside it.

“Oh, my god,” thighs shaking, Joel flattens his tongue under the hood of your clit, a body part you were certain hadn’t been touched by anyone else but yourself.  There was no time to compare, the white hot pleasure coursed through your veins and he took his time with it, too.  Made sure he was teasing you, his tongue dipping inside your entrance, as sloppy as it felt.  “Hmmn,” you can’t speak, forearms resting on the armrest now as your head hangs between your shoulders and his fingers make pliable work of your asscheeks.  Pushing you down, using your hips to move back and forth against his mouth – like he’s using you while you use him.

The air is thick under your dress, sticky and humid, as Joel swirls this tip of his devilish tongue in the most astonishing circles you’ve ever experienced, and you know it’s because he has more experience than you do.  Has so much to teach you, if you let him.  Your mouth hangs open as you try to inhale, but it’s just too much.  Especially with the way he thumbs into your stomach, then your pubic bone – lifting it just slightly to expose your clit to him.  An angle, not even you have found yourself.

It almost feels like too much.  It’s intentional, the way his tongue flicks over that bundle of nerves right at the top of your cunt.  Delicious, deliberate.  Two fingers greet your entrance and it startles you, the way he’s rubbing your hole with his two fingers in slow circles before pressing them where you want them most.

“Tell me you want it,” you hear, muffled and fucked, and you shiver at the slightest bit of lack of contact.

“I want it, I want your fingers – please!”

And that seems to send him over the edge of how much he’s willing to hold back because he’s exactly where he was.  Mouth on your clit, but fingers skillfully pressing inside of you and you don’t know how long you’ll last.  Not with the pads of his fingers tapping in the perfect tempo against the ridged spot inside you.

That’s when a weird sensation comes over you.  A pressure, you felt like you had to pee and your insides pulled in more trying to keep it all contained.  “I–,” you start, but it happens so suddenly.  Your orgasm rushes through you, convulsing and almost falling over the edge of the couch, you dig your fingernails into the upholstery.  Your eyes roll back, and fuck, so are your hips.  Unable to stop yourself using Joel’s mouth to keep you exactly right there.  Pleasure pricks your skin, it feels like every cell is ignited – but you jump when you feel a rush of fluid come out of you.  The pressure rebounding out, then rippling pleasure back inside you.  Joel fucks you with his tongue and fingers until he feels you calm down.

“W-what, what… did I do?” You pant, and Joel is groaning, too.  He lifts your hips to get lungfuls of oxygen, so dizzy on you and you notice how soaked his pair of fingers feel on your skin.  Sits you down on his chest and you can see his face finally.  Can see his mouth parting, gasping as his eyes are hooded and so gone.  Curls stick to his forehead, his shirt a dampened colour at the collar.  You blush heavily, embarrassed because you aren’t even sure what that was.  Did he hate that, was that weird?

“C’mere,” he growls with gritted teeth and sits up, the tables turning instantly.  Joel’s stripping his shirt off, kicking every last bit of the bottom half he had on to be abandoned on the floor.  His fingers remove the buttons, but he can’t really get them – those fingers too big for the buttons.  “Here,” you whisper, an intense feeling of lust falling over any self-conscious self talk you had.  You undo the top of your dress one button at a time until your breasts are released from your bra – you moan when he has no problem spilling your tits from the satin, nipples in stiff peaks from your orgasm.  And everything else.

“You know what you did?”  Joel asks, taking both of your nipples between his fingers from each hand.  You moan, lifting your hips and he bites his lip when he sees your cunt front under your dress.  “What was it?”  You ask, curiously.  Innocently.

“You squirted f’me, baby,” he slurs, thumbing over your clit now as he gets a good look at you and he’s drunk on you.  His cock throbbing against your thigh, he taps it against your skin before realising what he needed.

 “Fuck,” Joel mutters and you can tell by the tone it’s not just at your appearance.  “What is it?”  You inquire, eyebrows knit.

“Gotta get a condom,” you hear him mutter, getting onto one foot and you stop him.  “No.  No.  I want to feel you.  It’s okay, I don’t get pregnant–” well that sentence isn’t exactly how you mean for it to come out, but your mind is mush, your body feels boneless underneath him, and he chuckles at that.  At how gone your brain is.  Here he was, thinking he was the only one.  “Okay, okay, darlin’.  I believe ya.”

And really, maybe he should be using more discretion.  But he can’t get the feeling of you out of his head.  You were everywhere.  His mouth, his glistening chest and beard.  He takes you by the hips then, sitting back to flip you on your hands and knees with your help and you moan at the sensation.  Joel looks down at you, groaning of your ass in the air, pushing back for his cock.  “Such a needy little thing, now,”  it’s as if someone else is talking.  This isn’t the Professor Miller you know.  This man has layers and you’re first in line to know exactly what that entails.

Joel takes the base of his cock, bobbing it as it throbs alive in his hand and runs through your slick with the head of it.  “So fucking wet.  Beginning to think you’ve been wanting this for as long as I have.”

You bite a whine and he can see the back of your head nodding as you crane your neck back enough to make eye contact, but his eyes fall down to your ass pressing eagerly on his cock.  Doing your best to press him inside yourself.

“Go ahead,” he slaps his cock on your folds and you mewl at the wet sounds coming from it.  “Take my cock.”

And take, you do.  Joel holds it out for you, keeps it steady and you push back slow on his cock.  Clenching around the head and he growls at that.  “You dirty thing.  This how you fuck all your teachers?”  It burns your skin, pushing your face into your arm and you shake your head.

“Words.” He warns.

“Just you!  Just you, Joel!”

“Just me,” he parrots, hissing when you shift back and you both twitch and groan when you take him to the hilt of you.  It was so thick, stretching you out until you felt split apart from him.  “Just me, show me then.  Show me how you fuck me.”

You bite into your arm then, choking on a sob as you push your ass back over and over.  Your cunt taking him deep like this, it almost feels like too much and not enough at once.  Torturously slow against the spongy spot again

 It felt so amazing taking him yourself, but it was like an itch you couldn’t scratch on your own.  The tapping of his balls against your clit was too far apart in tempo, his cock speared inside you at a pace that didn’t have quite the same leverage as Joel did behind you.

His hands busied themselves on your ass, peeling the muscle apart – pressing his digits to leave bruises and just when you think it’s too much to take, he gives you something else.  His spit falling from his lips right to the velvet of your asshole.  You shudder and flutter around him when it falls to where you’re connected.  Your fingertips grip the other armrest now, cheek resting atop of your hand and you can’t do it yourself anymore.  “Fuck me, Joel!  Professor Miller, please!”

“Shit – you know where to push, don’t you?”  Joel’s wide hands slide up your sides, keeping them locked in place as he pulls your hips to him at first.  Using your whole lower body, your head hands doing your best to keep yourself up but you’re so close when he uses you like this.  When he picks up the pace and you let your head fall on his throw pillow – your screams of desire are targeted into the plush cushion.

Joel is bound up in amazement behind you.  How you feel around him, your gorgeous figure in front of him as he gives you every bit of power he can now.  His hips hammering into you, but with the right amount of speed – not too fast, not too slow.  The sound of his balls slapping against your clit is faster now, and the difference is what you focus on.  The way it sounds.  Joel feels you tighten, pulse around his own pulse and he has to say something to you.  Has to talk you through it, even if he’s not sure you’ll like it.

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he drapes his body over your back, huffing into your ear as the controlled weight of him pushes your ass down just enough to make your thighs shake.  You are soaked, sticky against his abdomen, between your thighs.  Over your own stomach.  You move your face so you can feel his skin closer against your.  His lips staying on your cheekbone, he grunts and nods.

“That’s it, fuckin’ take it.  I know you can take it.  Those shaky fuckin’ thighs better hold on.”

You feel yourself coil and he is quick to sooth over your hips with his palms.

“Relax, baby.  That’s it, that’s good, darlin’.  Shh, easy.  Do you feel that heat?”

You nod hopelessly, the buildup was so strong you couldn’t do anything but curl your fingers into fists and whimper repeatedly.

“Give into that heat.  Come for me, I know you can be so good for me.  Good for – fuck – fuck.  Good for my cock,” Joel groaning in your ear makes you flutter uncontrollably, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arm around your front, rolling quick circles at the split of your cunt, right at your clit.  “Milkin’ my fuckin’ cock like that, don’t stop.  Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he grits, and you’re gasping.

Clawing at the pillow, head craning up and back as you come.  Mouth gaped, Joel takes advantage – pouring his tongue into it, swirling and drinking you while his cock bottoms into you repeatedly until he can’t take it anymore.  You feel too good.  Perfect, even.

“Joel!” Your whine is high, as your wet folds take his merciless shoves.  “You feel so good, youfeelsogood!”  Your lip quivers, jerking in aftershocks that feel a lot like multiple orgasms.  You aren’t even sure how you feel, but he knows he has to pull out.  So he tells you, rough and pained against your ear.  He doesn’t want to any more than you do.  But as soon as he does, that reward feels just as sweet.

He exhales roughly through his nose, a popping sound filling the room when he pulls out.  Not even needing to touch himself to spill himself over the small of your back.

“Fuck,” he’s out of breath, grunting, and doing his best not to collide into you.  You’re still, the nape of your neck dews with sweat and you can feel it stick to your dress instantly.

“Stay there,” Joel pulls away, and you sit up on your elbows now that you’re fully flat and study his frame walk into the kitchen.

The back of him is just as irresistible as the front.

You hum hungrily at the landscape of his back.  But you do as you say, you don’t move a muscle.  When he comes back, you take note of the splotches of his chest, his neck red and sheened with sweat, too.  He’s just as disheveled.  The paper towel he comes back with is rough against your lower back, but tickles more than anything else.

Makes you wriggle and laugh.

“What did I say?”  He threatens, but his voice is much more smoother and tender.  More playful.  More like what you’re used to.

“Tickles!”

“You must endure it if you know what’s good for you.”  he’s finished enough for you to roll over.  You pull your tits back into your bra with another low laugh, but to yourself at how exposed and a mess you’re sure you look on your professor’s couch.

“I think I like that threat.”

“No more,” and that makes your heart drop.  He must be able to see the disappointed look on your face, so he rephrases his sentence in an instant.  “No more tonight.”

“Maybe I should be teaching you the importance of ambiguity.”

“Next lesson.”

Your heart soars just as fast as it dropped.

---

While you slip on your sneakers, you turn your heel to him – bag in tow.  “Listen, I don’t want this to be why I passed.”

“It’s not – it won’t be,”  Joel chews up the space between you – his hand pressing against the doorframe that your delicate hand adorns at the knob, fully dressed himself, now.  “You will pass by your own volition.  I meant it – you are bright.  You won’t let anybody take that from you, will you?” You knew that wasn’t a question as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but you still swayed your head ‘no’.

“Not even me.”  He whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead before dropping his arm – allowing you to leave.  And that’s exactly what he’ll let you believe.

“Especially not you.”  You smile, leaning up to kiss his lips – your flavour lingers over his facial hair and tongue.  Your panties in his pocket.

“Goodnight, Professor Miller.”

“Goodnight, doll.”

taglist: @cool-iguana – comment to be added!

[rookiesbookies]

Captain John MacTavish x His wife x Sergeant Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

I dont know how it would happen but i'm imagining sweet little Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish meeting Captain MacTavish and his wife. I guess this is me rewriting what happened bc Im made we’ll probably never see Neil as his boy again. 

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see!

Smut smut smut under the cut for my lovely mutual @shotmrmiller of my John and his wife meet sweet little Johnny au thing.

Also @glitterypirateduck this one is for you and #soapitup

“Bhean,” he whispers loudly, following it with squirrel noises, motioning for her to follow. She walks out of the recreational room. He nuzzled bis face into her neck, letting her know he was nervous about what he was going to say. “I'm getting serious deja vu.”

“Talk to me, Goose.” A shameless quote of their favorite date night movie from when they dated made his nervous face crack a smile.

“I have this crazy memory,” he mumbled into her neck, she always worried he’d hurt himself craning it down like that so often.

“What about, don’t leave me on cliff hangers, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Do you remember our first time together?”

“Skiing or fucking? Because I remember both very well.” He chuckled at her bringing up his failed skiing attempts from a vacation they went on.

“Making love, Bonnie.” He hummed, “would you believe me if I told ya it’s because I had done it before?”

“Considering baby you told me he’d call me mommy? Yes. Yes, I would.” She hummed. “You also found my clit really fast which makes that really reasonable in retrospect.”

“What if, like my future self taught me at that stage, we teach him how to make love to you so he can charm you with the monster.” It came out more as a question, making his nerves hammer against his chest. He was more than sure he beloved wife would say yes, but he didn’t want to risk making her uncomfortable or saying it wrong. 

“He does really want to impress me,” she mumbled. “Fine. But there’s ground rules.”

“Of course, Mo chridhe, anything.”

“Just the tip, you know how I am about hygiene. I don’t fully try young you to keep everything clean. He swears to secrecy and if I ever think for a second he mentions this im ending his blood line. And you stay with us. You are my husband after all, not the boy.” The Captain nodded with every word. He’d make sure. He knew the Sergeant would want no harm to come to his future wife, and the Captain didn’t need a scorched relationship.

“Thank you, Mo leannan, it’s what helped me keep up hope I could lock you down when I met you when I was his age.”

“So it was a memory and more than deja vu?” She asked with a raised brow.

The Captain just simply nodded, planting a kiss on her temple, “you’d tell me if you wanted to back out right? If it made you uncomfortable?”

“John.” She was serious, she never called him just ‘John’. “I expect the same from you. And you’d know I’d never keep that from you.”

She reached up to his face and gently rubbed it. He melted just a little bit into her touch. “I assume you don’t plan to do this on base?”

“No, but that’s the hard part.” “I’ll handle it, go tell the mini you,” she said softly, planting a kiss before walking away.

The Captain sighed and let his shoulders relax, he knew he was so lucky to have her. The sergeant was about to be the lucky one though.

He made his way down the hall and stole his past self from a conversation with Gaz. “My wife and I have decided to give you an opportunity to learn more about her.” He said in a low deep voice. “I will be teaching you about her body so you can please her but there are ground rules she set and a few of my own.” Once he covered his wife’s, he got on to his own, “do not bite her, dig your nails into her, or ignore me if I tell you to do something. No coming inside either and don’t try anything.” Sergeant Soap nodded along, “I’m not sure you’re actually listening, sergeant.” The Captain growled. Soap’s eyes went wide, “Captain me, sir, I prayed last night for an opportunity to feel her skin, honestly I was just expecting to be allowed to shake her hand.” The younger Soap grumbled, “believe me, I’m all ears.” “And none of that ‘I have a latex allergy so I can’t wear condoms’ crap. I know we don’t have that allergy. You will be wearing one.” “You’re so no’ fun,” Soap mumbled. “Fine.”

The Captain didn’t entirely know how he felt about the kid creaming his wife. Sure, it was him, but it was a younger, rowdier, dumber him and not his same body. Getting married meant he was the only one allowed to cream pie his wife, and yes, it is a version of him, it wouldn’t be the same as him doing it. Even if his wife is on birth control and enjoys them, he knows he’d get jealous, way too jealous. Besides it’s his job anyway, he signed a paper to be able to do it, and this kid version gets to just randomly do it.

“So when do I get to show mo bhean how a younger body is better to make love with?” Sergeant asked, patting his older self on the back. This made the Captain flip until the voice of an angel spoke up.

“Ya mean when you meet yer own damn wife. Ya wee-” the Captain’s rage was cut off. “Tomorrow night. I’ll be there ahead of schedule to prepare, my husband will drive you.” She said, walking past the two with effortless grace and a sway of her hips. She flicked a piece of hair back over her shoulder. 

The next 24 hours were full of different forms of tension for younger Soap. He was eager, so eager, almost too eager in the Captain’s eye. The Captain’s raging jealousy made him almost want to shut down the whole thing. 

When he loaded the sergeant and himself into the old truck he sighed. “Remember the rules?” “Of course.”

“Can’t believe you still own this truck.” “She’s carried me through a lot.” “When you meet YOUR wife, she’ll appreciate it. Square bodies are her favorites.”

The rest of the drive was small talk. The sergeant saw a notification appear on the Captain’s phone and snatched it up, since the captain was driving. He back read the short conversation from this morning between the Captain and his wife, who had been the notification. ‘Mo chridhe you better not warm yourself up on that clarty vibrator’

‘You expect him to be able to get me warmed up enough?’

‘Its a teaching experience, mo leannan’

‘I don’t want to make him wait too long, I remember how impatient you were <3’

“Does she think ima div?” Soap looked at the Captain and asked. “Reading my personal texts? Real professional, ya eejit.”

“Does she think I can’t make her feel good? Or make her feel like she’s on Eccie?”

“No, she just doesn’t want you to wait too long. She does this. I bought it for her first time I left on a long mission, now she uses it to take away the fun part of getting her warmed up.”

“So she thinks I'm a fandan.”

“Dinnae fash yersel.” The Captain sighed, “we’re here and the least ya can do is make her feel good as a thank you.”

When he dragged his younger self into the hotel room, it finally set in that he was going to be cucked. By a younger him. Fucking his wife.

He knocked on the door twice and it kind of felt like his wedding night all over again. There she stood in a silk robe, eyes only on him with a gentle and soft smile. It's a smile she only gave when she was nervous, he gave a similar smile back to let her know he felt the same. It was subtle, but he reminded him this was indeed his beautiful wife.

“Go strip in the bathroom and sit down in the chair when you’re done, we need to talk.” The Captain said sharply. 

“Aye aye Captain,” the sergeant mumbled, walking into the bathroom. 

The Captain’s hands immediately found his way to his wife’s hips. 

“Are you nervous?” He asked, holding her close with his mouth near her ear between kisses he placed in her hair.

“Of course,” she said softly into his chest.

“Do you need to back out? We can leave and forget all about this if you need.”

“Do you need me to want to back out?” She asked soft, turning her head to look up into his eyes.

“No, I don’t think so, mo bonnie lass.” He said, planting a kiss on her forehead. “Give me a safeword to give him and a safeword for emergencies.”

“Two levels of safe words?” 

“Just in case I don’t hear the first one, he’s kinda loud.” She giggled and placed a kiss on his neck.

“Bubbles for him and Soap for emergencies.”

“My old callsign?”

“I never call you anyway,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Can I undress you and keep that privilege to myself?” All he needed was the little nod she gave before he moved to untie the robe. 

The lace blue bra she had been taunting him with with the matching panties drove him crazy. She ran her hands up and around his chest as his opened the clasp with one motion and undid the hooks holding the straps over her shoulders so she didn't have to remove her hands from his torso.

He sunk down lower as he planted sloppy kisses down her body and removed her underwear. Lovely pacing a kiss at her lower lips before trailing bite marks backup as the Sergeant exited the bathroom.

“I thought you said I couldn’t bite!” He accused as he watched the Captain leave a hickey on his wife’s chest.

“YOU can’t, I can.” This made the younger Soap look offended. The Captain smirked at the Sergeant’s face. “My wife, remember. Not yours.”

His wife just ran her fingers through his slightly grown out mohawk, a means to sooth him. 

Captain MacTavish moved to his wife’s ear and whispered softly, “may I told yer hand through this, mo ghraidh?”

“Gu sìorraidh is gu bràth,” she said back, pointing to the tattoo on her collarbone. When Soap heard it he almost fainted.

“She knows the language?” Sergeant Johnny asked.

The Captain hummed, pulling his mouth away from the dark hickey he was leaving on her neck, “learned a little bit for me.”

The Captain gave his younger self a once over before landing a sarcastic remark as his eyes landed on the bush, “glad to know you haven’t started shaving yet.”

“You trim?”

“Occasionally,” the Captain pulled his waistband down a bit, nuzzling into his wife, “I wax for special occasions. Yer lucky I found one who doesn’t care.”

The Captain locked his fingers with his wife’s, gently herding her to the bed. He laid her down gently and got her into a good position, shoving a few of the lousy pillows under her waist to offer a better angle.

“How are you?” He asked softly, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. “Ready as I can be,” she said with a soft giggle, as he bent down to plant a kiss on her lips.

“Sergeant, come here.” The Captain commanded, pointing at the foot of the bed, his wife couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her as she dropped her hand over her face. The Captain moved his wife’s knees apart with his free hand, the other still lovingly holding her’s. Johnny got on his own knees as John commanded him as he spread his wife’s pussy lips apart with his fingers. “Ya see that?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, sir,” John corrected Johnny. He basically gave his younger self a tour of his wife’s softest pieces. Telling Johnny her favorite things that he does and what she reacts best to. Johnny was so enthralled with her body he could move his eyes anywhere else. Especially when John put his fingers inside and curled them suddenly making her gasp so Johnny knew how far in her g spot was. The way her body jolted and softly raised as the gasp left her lips was his new favorite thing. He was so jealous he didn’t have her yet. That she wasn’t his wife yet, that he didn’t have the liberty to mark her body yet. “Get to work,” the Captain said, patting Johnny. He didn’t need to say it twice because Johnny went right in.

The wife brought her free hand down to her mouth to hold in the gasps and moans as Johnny ate so eagerly. John was usually slow and sensual, to the messy and a vehement eating that was happening at her core was a much different sensation. John gently pulled her hand away.

“Checkin in with ya, are ya doing good?” he asked his lovely wife. Her eyes couldn’t focus, her mouth gaping and shutting. 

She gave a nod and a hum as her body started to clench as Johnny inserted fingers between her legs and curled, making her body lurch towards the sky and gasp. The Captain gently placed kisses on her face, her velvety cries just make Johnny want to do it again. “She’s even prettier from this view,” Johnny mumbled, spreading her apart with his fingers.

“She donnae like condoms but imma make ye wear one anyway,” Captain Mactavish told his younger self before placing a kiss to the forehead of his flushed wife, still coming down from her orgasm as her husband ran his fingers through her hair as her breathing slowed with her closed eyes. John threw the condom at Johnny, who quickly rolled it on before standing up. “Donnae force it in, go in slow.”

Johnny positioned himself, putting one of the lovely wife’s ankles to his shoulder before giving it a soft kiss. He didn’t dare pull her down the bed like he would have normally done, he walked on his knees to meet her. Hands sliding down her legs to lift her ass, one he saw as so perfect.

He slowly slid it in as John kissed his wife’s face, holding her hand. She was more than used to John’s dick by now, but she was far from used to Johnny’s pacing. So much energy and stamina, not to say John didn’t have it but John was definitely more about making love than he was about fucking or just having sex.

Once she started to grind her hips, Johnny’s face lit up and he immediately started a toe curly, back arching pace. His tip bullied her g spot, making her mouth fall open but no sound falling from her lips.

John cooed at her as Johnny bullied her soft parts, not caring about his own pleasure, solely the pleasure of this goddess in front of him. Once he was sure he had found the spot, Johnny folded her a bit more to hit it a bit deeper, making sure everything was dragging against her.

The only thing that left her were whines, she felt her melted brain might just spill out her ears as the white, staticy heat built up. 

A nice ring built up around Johnny’s cock as he began to roll his hips. Her pulsating cunt milked him so much he felt an almost numbness in his fingers as all he could do was hold her and roll his hips as she let out a broken moan and came. Her husband’s voice echoing around her head with praises and loving words.

It was down right impossible for Soap to not come from her body's pulsations so he did. He wished it hadn’t been into a condom but he was grateful he just got the chance.

John gave him a look and Johnny took it knowingly, going to get a warm and damp towel. He handed it to John who began to clean his wife up, nodding to Johnny to let him know he could leave. 

Johnny didn’t know it was so John could reclaim his wife with some slow sensual sex and lots of love bites.

John, unlike Johnny, was going to come inside. Johnny looked at the photo he had taken of himself with the wife of Captain John from the night prior, "I'm going to marry you. Yer the one I've been looking for."

[acourtofkindness]

Thank you for sending in all the stories, here you can find the collection! Some of these are one-shots, some are longer stories, just click your way through them and also check out their other fics!

A Court of Vice and Victors

by @wishcamper Acosf rewrite where Nesta actually gets help and she and Cassian have a healthier dynamic, plus an Illyrian murder mystery

Pages Turned

by @climbthemountain2020 A character study on Nesta Archeron, the hardships she's faced through her life, and how they've shaped her as a person.

Could You Love Me While I Hate Myself

by @witch-and-her-witcher Humans have just been freed from servitude to the fae after years at war on Prythian and times are desperate for Nesta Archeron. With Feyre MIA and Elain a shell of herself, her options are becoming increasingly limited. When one of the young fae warriors, Cassian, who has carved a name for himself on the battlefield proposes to her after recognizing a mating bond between them, Nesta doesn't see any choice but to agree to take him as her husband and move herself and her sister to his home Court and the wilds of Illyria. War brings them together, a bond binds them - but is that enough for two broken people to find love with each other?

Firm and Fragrant Still the Brambleberries

by @foundress0fnothing When Nesta became a nurse at the start of the war, she could not have predicted a patient as challenging as Lieutenant Cassian Davies, nor he a nurse as captivating as her. As the same war that brought them together threatens to tear them apart, Nesta and Cassian must navigate the complexities of love and duty to find the way back to each other. A WWI historical AU.

Wreck My Plans, That's My Man

by @c-e-d-dreamer Drummer for the Bat Boys, Cassian has a large following, but sometimes Nesta doesn't appreciate fangirls calling themselves "Cassian's future wife."

It Looks As Though You're Letting Go

by @Darkcat18 (on ao3) Everyone is born with an arrow on the back of their hand which points to their soulmate at midnight on their eighteenth birthday. After her parents' disastrous marriage and her father's subsequent depression following the death of her mother, Nesta realized a soulmate is nothing more than guaranteed heartache and ruination. On the eve of her eighteenth birthday, she packs up her car and leaves her family and life behind forever. What she doesn't count on, however, is having a soulmate like Cassian, who may be the one to prove to her that a soulmate is what she needs.

I Guess It's Half Timing (And The Other Half's Luck)

by @moodymelanist Nesta and Cassian have a steamy one-night stand while out celebrating St. Patrick’s Day, but their lives are changed forever once Nesta realizes her period is late. Follow along as Nesta and Cassian navigate preparing to become parents, balancing their other life stresses, and figuring out their feelings for one another!

Amidst the Madness

by @This_Immortal_Hope (on ao3) Love and war have always followed the same rules: Quick to ignite, slow to extinguish. There aren't many things Cassian has dared to openly want in his 500 years of existence. Not even the position he currently occupies as Lord of Windahaven (far too lofty a spot for nothing more than a well-blodded bastard, if you ask the other Illyrian Lords), but from the second Nesta Archeron stepped foot in his camp, the entire world ebbed into a single truth. She is his. He is hers. Everything else - the war he is meant to lead, the people relying on him, the legacy he should be fighting to protect, cease to exist the second his eyes are caught in roiling silver flames. There is pain in this female, his female. And retribution will be exacted. Rhysand has his war, and now so does Cassian. Whether the two align ... only Nesta can give that order.

Sweetest Con

by @separatist-apologist Nesta Archeron has been trapped in witness protection for the past five years, hiding a secret no one can ever learn. All she has to do is wait out the criminals back home determined to punish her and her sisters for a lie they told years before. She can handle anything- even the new agent sent to keep her safe.

The Whole Truth

by @TheTeaQueen (on ao3) A beautifully heartbreaking story about what if Papa Archeron used/sold Nesta back in their village, and the IC learning this truth. It features Rhys and Nesta sibling bonding over their respective SA traumas. And Cassian helping Nesta to heal and feel comfortable with touch again

The Nesta Variation

by @persegrace (on ao3) A modern AU where Cassian is a military vet and Nesta is a former ballet dancer. They're both dealing with trauma, and meet in AA.

Ultima Ex Nobis

by @fieldofdaisiies Six years into a global pandemic which was caused by a mass fungal infection that turns hosts into zombie-like creatures and makes the whole of Prythian collapse, the former army general Cassian Cadell is tasked with one very special mission – escorting Nesta Archeron, one of the few immune survivors, across a post-apocalyptic Prythian to a group of people of the name L. Their identity is unknown but they can make an antidote.

you make my motor run

by @wilde-knight When Nesta and Cassian are set up on a blind date, neither of them can imagine their families feeling whole again. But with sparks flying between them, will they finally be able to imagine the road ahead?

[jerzwriter]

Second Thoughts If it were cannon... AU

A million years ago, someone asked me if I'd write a series that mimicked canon but with Tobias Carrick as head of the Edenbrook Diagnostic Team. While I don't have the bandwidth to take on a series at this point, as I'm doing my Open Heart re-read, I will rewrite select scenes that I think could be interesting.

Part one was the first night at Donahue's when there was a serious connection building between Dr. Tobias Carick and new intern, Dr. Casey MacTavish. But now, they've had a chance to sleep on it, do things look different in the morning light? Lack of sleep, misunderstandings, and a dash of fear lead Casey to make a choice. Will it be one she comes to regret?

Book: Open Heart Book 1 / Chapter 3 Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey) Featuring: Bryce Lahela, Jackie Varma, Landry Olsen Rating: Teen Words: 2,200 Series: If it were canon... AU Summary: See above

A/N: A quick thank you to @angelasscribbles for helping me come up with a new nickname lol I was at a loss. And thank you to @alj4890 - because of you I'm inspired to continue with this!

Series Masterlist Tobias x Casey Masterlist My Masterlist

The second day of her internship was not going as planned. Casey hardly managed to get any sleep in the miniature closet she called her room. At least the stairs above her came in handy today. She accidentally set her alarm for 5:00 PM instead of 5:00 AM, and if not for someone stomping down those steps, she would have overslept and likely decided to return to Philadelphia in shame. Now, with barely 30 minutes before her shift began, she threw on a ratty old Henly that paired perfectly with the wrinkled pair of jeans at the foot of her bed. Hair and make-up? Not today. A messy bun and brushed teeth would have to suffice. Somehow, she managed to arrive at Edenbrook with ten minutes to spare; when she saw a group of surgical interns playing basketball outside. Bryce Lahela was amongst them, and suddenly she wished she had spruced up just a little bit more.

“Up top! I’m open!” A shirtless Bryce barely got those words out before he flew by her, catching a pass and dribbling confidently toward the hoop. He dunked the ball, then screamed out in celebration. “Ha! Who’s the king now?”

“King?” Casey laughed, “You nearly killed me getting to that ball! I think the king should at least get a traffic infraction."

“Damn! I didn't realize. I would  have gladly given up two points for a chance to collide with you.”

Casey laughed as the other interns whooped and hollered when she saw the ball suddenly flying in her direction and caught it with both hands.

“Well, come on then, MacTavish!" Bryce goaded. "You gonna play, or you gonna send that back over?”

With a determined smirk, Casey slowly dribbled the ball, taunting him. “Come see if you can get it from me." Bryce sauntered toward her with what she’d come to know as his signature grin firmly in place.

“You’re making me look good,” he whispered upon approach. “I really am the king.”

“King of the surgical interns,” she laughed. “I guess that’s something, but....” without another word, she dribbled the ball around him, rushing toward the hoop with Bryce at her heels.

“Gonna make it tough on me, huh?” he laughed, wrapping his arm around her waist and spinning her around, but not before she shot the ball right into the hoop.

“That’s gotta be a foul, Ref,” she hollered, giggling in Bryes’s arms.

“It’s not a foul if you’re on my team,” Bryce defended. “And you are definitely on my team.”

Casey caught her breath as he put her on his feet, crossing her arms defiantly. “Says who?”

 “Says me!” He replied with a playful shrug. “But seriously, you want to join in?”

“Nah, my shift starts in five, and I’d really like to make myself look decent before it starts.”  

“You’re already looking good, MacTavish. Don’t go too crazy; I don’t want competition for hottest intern.”

“Ha!” she laughed, reaching up and flirtatiously pinching his cheeks. “I’ve already got that in the bag, Lahela!”

"Quite possibly," she beamed. "Hey, lunch later?"

"Sounds like a plan."

He smiled as he watched her run to the hospital entrance, pushing her way through a group of staff who had stopped to watch the game and assess the new talent.

“Excuse me. Pardon me,” she pushed through.

“You looked really good out there,” a pretty nurse winked.

“Thanks,” Casey smiled. Completely unaware that her handsome attending was quietly sipping his coffee nearby.

“She was impressive, wasn’t she, Dr. Carrick?” The nurse asked.

“Yep," he nodded. "She sure was.”

After a quick change, sprucing up her hair, and even applying a dab of lip gloss, Casey was the last of the interns to enter the atrium, but still on time. She was eager to meet her senior resident, and when Dr. Ines Delarosa called her name, Casey gently pumped her fist. “Yes!”

“Why are you so excited?” Jackie asked.

“I met her yesterday, she’s amazing! Bubblegum and rainbows incarnate!”

“Gross!” Jackie grimaced. “I’d rather take my chance with the grumpy ass I've got. I’ll catch you on the other side!”

Ines clapped her hands with joy to gather her charges. “All right, young ones! You’ve got your assignments! Go forth and shine bright!”

And Ines greeted her interns with the same enthusiasm when they returned a few hours later. “I hope you’re all excited! We’re about to begin rounds!”

“Woo-hoo!” Casey yelled as Ines gave a thumbs up with approval.

“That’s the attitude I want to see! You’ll be even more excited when I tell you we have a very special guest! Dr. Tobias Carrick will be joining us for rounds today!”

Casey turned to see Tobias leaning against a wall, looking up from his clipboard at the mention of his name. He curtly nodded at the interns, and Casey’s mouth went dry. Why did he have to be so beautiful? One glance made her knees go weak, and when his ice-blue eyes locked with hers, she could feel her cheeks begin to flush. She had been fueled by liquid courage when she approached him at Donahue's last night. What kind of intern flirts mercilessly with her attending on her very first day? But with his eyes still on her, she felt the heat rising. Yeah, she thought, that’s why I did. But when he turned away without acknowledging her, she began to question her judgment again.

“Let’s do this,” Dr. Carrick said gruffly.

“We’re doing rounds with Dr. Carrick? This is amazing! Also, I’m going to puke!” Landry whispered softly but loud enough to hear.

Tobias stopped short and looked over his shoulder, catching Landry chatting with Casey. “Less chatting and more moving!” He scowled. “Or do you think you’ve learned enough to keep your patients alive with just one day on the job?”

Casey’s brow furrowed. He didn’t seem at all like the man she met yesterday: the one who patiently guided her through an emergency procedure before her shift even began, one whose jovial attitude kept the interns energized throughout the day, or with whom she flirted shamelessly last night, perhaps that last one was the problem. Still, she shook her head and whispered to Landry.

“He was so cool yesterday. Why is he acting like such a jerk today?”

Dr. Carrick screeched to a halt again, causing several interns to trip over themselves to avoid toppling on top of him.

“Something to say, Dr. MacTavish?”

Her wide-eyed peers whispered amongst themselves. How did he already know her name? Dr. Carrick didn’t expect an answer, but Casey was giving him one all the same.  

“Yes, actually. I was wondering why you were so irritable today. I liked the Dr. Carrick I met yesterday much better.”

Tobias crossed his arms, biting his cheek to stifle a laugh, and Ines looked nervously between them. “Ha-ha!” She laughed. “Dr. MacTavish is so funny... haha! That will help make you a good doctor, but why don’t we get on with our rounds.”

“Wait,” Tobias held up a hand. “Dr. MacTavish, what role do you think attendings will play in your residency? Do you they – myself in particular -  are here to amuse and appease you?”

“Nope," she replied, not backing down. "Not at all.”

“Good. Because all of us will be putting in long hours, sometimes you won’t sleep for days on end. You’ll be dealing with life-or-death issues, and sometimes, the losses will nearly destroy you. No one is going to be rainbows and sunshine all the time. So I suggest you learn to deal with irritable colleagues and patients alike. It’s as much a part of this job as anything else.” He looked directly at Casey, and even as he was admonishing her, his gaze still made her melt. “Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” she grinned as Tobias forced himself to look away. Casey was completely unaware, she had the exact same effect on him. b

“Good. So why don’t we start rounds with your patient then?”

Landry wanted to question Casey as they walked away. He wasn’t sure if she was his hero, if she was out of her mind, or a combination of both, but he didn’t dare speak after that exchange.  

Casey and Landry went on to present. Or better said, Casey did. Landry was so starstruck by Dr. Carrick’s presence that he couldn’t bring himself to utter a word. Casey eyed him nervously, but when it was clear he was stalled, she jumped in to bail the duo out. Calmly and succinctly explaining that their patient had been in an accident and had internal bleeding as a result. She offered their prognosis and defended their treatment plan, even reassuring the patient when he expressed concerns about the length of his stay. Tobias was impressed with her, and halfway through her presentation, he couldn’t help but wonder why he was being so grumpy after all. It wasn’t like him at all.

“... so we have to get you healthy, Mike,” Casey said sweetly. “There are people counting on you.”

“Excellent, Dr. MacTavish,” Tobias approved, looking pointedly at Landry.

They proceeded to watch Elijah, Sienna, Jackie, Aurora, and other interns present.

“Congratulations!” Ines chirped. “You survived your first morning rounds! That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Landry droned.

“Landry,” Casey frowned. “Don’t worry, you’ll get a chance to...,” but Tobias began speaking and drowned her out.

“All right, doctors! Your patients are all alive... let’s make sure they’re still that way when I see you tomorrow. You’re dismissed.”

Casey turned and walked away with the other interns, but she didn’t get far when Tobias called her back.

“Not you, Newbie. You have one more patient to see.”

“I... I do?” she stammered.

“And do I?” Landry asked.

“Did I say you?” Tobias glared.

“Nope,” Landry gulped, turning to Casey. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

Casey walked toward Tobias; while some interns gossiped, not even attempting to hide.

“What’s with them? One asked “Nothing! She just made a good a good impression on him.” “Yeah,” Another sneered. “A good impression on him at the bar last night!” “Well, I guess that’s one way to get ahead.”

Tobias didn’t hear, but Casey did, and she couldn’t conceal a frown as she walked his way. Seeing her distressed, he hoped his attitude had nothing to do with it. He greeted her with a warm smile.

“Hey there, Newb. Why so glum? You doing OK?”  

“I’m good,” she sighed. “Very sleepy, but good. Hey, I want to apologize; I’m sorry if I was a jerk back there...”

“Nah,” he replied, and she realized his graveled voice had the same effect on her as his damn eyes. This would not be easy. “I was the one being the jerk. That’s why I wanted to talk to you...”

“Wait,” she crossed her arms with narrowed eyes. “Are you telling me there’s no patient? You just wanted to talk to me?”

“Two things can be true at once, grasshopper,” he smiled. “That’s good to remember in medicine. But I am sorry for being grouchy. It’s not like me; I guess we all have bad days.”

“And we're all entitled to them every so often,” she winked. “Just don’t let it happen again.”

She wasn’t your standard intern, and he couldn’t help but laugh when he caught a nurse looking at them intently. She scattered away when he met her stare, refusing to shift his gaze. Casey followed his eyes and understood at once. She lowered her eyes as he returned his attention to her, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “Listen, about our talk last night..”

Casey felt herself becoming sick, and she didn't think skipping breakfast was the culprit. Her cheeks turned red, and her breath quickened. What would all the gossips say about the two of them standing this close? She was a kid from the wrong side of the tracks in Philly, worked her ass off to get here despite all those who said it was just a dream. She wasn’t going to have anyone saying her success was a result of flirting with her attending. But, God, she wanted to pursue him. She hadn't felt a connection like this in so long, and he had said they could find a workaround. Then she felt her blood go cold. Listen, about our talk last night...

Oh, God! She thought. I made a total ass out of myself, didn’t I? I’m an intern, for God’s sake. He’s Dr. Tobias Carrick; he likely has his choice of any person in this hospital. Any person in Boston! What the hell was I thinking? Convinced he was about to tell her he wasn’t interested. Her blatant flirtation was about to make her look like nothing short of a desperate fool, and Casey never wanted to be a desperate fool.

“It’s alright!” she interrupted, though right now, nothing felt alright. “We both had a few drinks, and it was late... it’s not surprising that we both said some things we didn’t mean.”

“Oh,” Tobias said, clearly taken aback. “I didn’t realize that...”

“Hey, Casey,” Bryce smiled, walking past with his team. “See you at lunch!”

“Oh,” Tobias repeated, images of the two of them kissing and their flirtatious game on the hospital court rushing to his mind. He recovered quickly this time. “It’s fine. I’m glad we’re on the same page then; this way, we don’t have to be awkward. We’re cool?”

“We’re cool,” she faked a smile, not understanding why his apparent dismissal brought the sting of bitter tears to the back of her eyes.

“Good! So, I do have a patient for you,” he said, nodding in the direction they were about to walk. “Her name is Kyra Santana, and her doctor thought a golf outing was more important than being here today. But, his loss is your and Ms. Santana’s gain...”

Casey took notes as he spoke. She never needed notes; she remembered almost everything, but she'd find any excuse to avoid looking into those eyes.

 “Hey, Dr. Carrick,” a beautiful nurse winked. Casey looked up momentarily but rushed her eyes back to the pad in her hand.

Thank God she quickly covered, she thought, her cheeks flushing with a mix of relief and embarrassment. He was Tobias Carrick. As if he’d have any real interest in her. It was bad enough that she had it this bad for her attending—the last thing she needed was for him to find out. That would be no way to start this phase of her life.

Tobias stood before the door, and, damn it, he smiled again. "You ready, Dr. MacTavish?"

"I like to think I am," she smiled as she walked through the door.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[nutmeg-mayonnaise]

I think you mentioned in one of your older posts that Trucy starts her own family in your AU at some point? Are there any details you can share? Trucy being a mother, and Phoenix, Edgeworth and Maya being grandparents, sound like fun ideas to explore.

Hello, friend! It's actually funny, I could've sworn I spoke about Trucy's fankids in more detail than "they exist", but I guess I haven't!

Anyway, here are her twin boys!

Their names are Ace and Jack Hyde, but they perform as one person named "Janus Gramarye" on stage. Their father is a Troupe member named Timothy "Tim" Hyde, and the gag with him is that despite how much Trucy talks about him, Phoenix has never seen him--not even at their wedding--so he thinks Trucy made him up.

Trucy and her show are on the road quite a bit in the AU, and since the AU is focused on the Mayonarumitsu family, there's not too many details about Trucy's family other than what I've shared above.

When Trucy's family is in town, it's not a given that Maya and the Fey girls are in town at the same time, so she sees them even less than she sees Phoenix, Edgeworth, and Gregory Wright. Trucy was far too old for Maya to adopt her when she and Phoenix had to marry to appease Kurain Village Customs to have the kids, so Maya is not technically her parent. Regardless, Trucy does start calling her "Mama" once Gregory was on the way and her twins call her "Mama Maya".

They call Phoenix "Grandpa" (obviously), and Phoenix always felt strange being a grandfather especially since Trucy's twins were born when his and Maya's youngest was only six years old. They also call Gregory "Uncle Grey".

Edgeworth is a little more distant, but the twins still call him "Papa Miles" regardless. He doesn't really see himself as their grandfather, but it's not something he will dare tell them straight to their face. He tries his best to be family, though.

Thanks for the question!

Some info about how I haven't been active lately below the cut! :)

Hello friends! I know I haven't posted in a couple months, and I still have a few asks that haven't been answered. I'm sitting on a pile of WIPs for artwork I want to have with those asks, so I'll get to them eventually!

I've been really busy with work this summer and I've spent most of my time with the AU writing that same fanfiction I mentioned before--the one that details how the OT3 went from where they were at the end of "Spirit of Justice" to being parents together. I wound up rewriting most of it and I'm very pleased with how it's turning out so far, and I can't wait to share it!

I'm not sure how often I can post since I'm still very busy, but I want to try do maybe make more simple artwork to post and answer asks so I could be more active! We'll have to see what happens!

Thank you all for your love and support for the AU. Your notes, kind words, tags, and comments all make me smile!

[v4mp1r3bl0g]

This is the beginning of the end

Formula One x Final Destination AU

warnings: gore, death, blood, graphic descriptions of death

word count: 1.9k

summary: Logan’s premonition of a deadly rollercoaster ride saves his life and a lucky few, but not from death itself - which seeks out those who escaped their fate

authors note: I was bored and decided to combine my 2 favorite interests (I also went back and fixed some mistakes i realized i made)

do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

It was the senior carnival trip. Everyone was excited about graduating. Well everyone except Logan, that is. He still had no clue what he wanted to do after high school.

He kept procrastinating finding a career. Telling himself “he’d have more time” and now here he is a week away from graduating standing in front of Daniil Kvyat, snapping a shot of him playing the high striker.

“Lewis, Nico!” Logan called out towards the duo “For the yearbook!” he said before snapping a shot of them together.

Logan takes a look at the picture as the duo walks away, noticing a weird blur in the photo. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Before he could think much about it Oscar interrupts his thoughts.

“We should totally go and ride The Devil’s Flight, it’ll be so much fun!” Oscar exclaimed as he jumped around. Logan and the rest of the guys just laughed watching him in amusement.

Logan raised his camera and was about to take a picture when someone got in his way. “Excuse me,” he said, annoyed. To his surprise his younger brother Nicholas turned around glaring at him.

“Does mom know you’re here?” Logan asked, glaring back.

“You are a complete bitch if you tell her”, Nicholas growled.

Logan smirked, “The proof's right here.” He said teasingly as he held up his camera.

“Get a shot of this then”, Nicholas laughed sticking his middle fingers out, wincing as Logan took a picture.

Logan walked away catching up to his friends. Smiling as Jason called out to him “Take a picture of me holding the devil’s balls!” the brit said in a playful tone.

He giggled to himself as he snapped the picture, furrowing his brows as he noticed the weird blur again. He shook his head and decided to ignore it. As he continued walking Jason slung his arm around him. “Are you alright?” the older one asked.

Logan bit his lip as he stared up at Jason. “I have that weird feeling, like dejá vu, you know? except for something that hasn't happened yet.”

“Look, I know you, and I think that maybe you're nervous about this roller coaster. They say the real fear comes from the feeling of having no control.” Jason said as he gently caressed his face, reassuring the younger one.

Logan acknowledged the comment with a nod and continued walking, shivering as a gust of wind hit him.

“So I guess me and Logan are going in front?” Jason asked, making sure everyone was fine with that. Logan quickly turned to look at him, shaking his head. “Nuh uh I can’t do the front, I have to see the track or else I’ll like totally freak out”

“OK fine, you can ride in the back with Karter” Jason motioned, moving the two next to each other.

“No way I am NOT missing out on the fun just cause Logan’s scared, why don’t YOU ride in the back with him” Karter exclaimed, glaring at Jason.

“Don’t worry Logan, I’ll ride in the back with you” Oscar reassured him as he rolled his eyes at the older Brit’s.

Another gust of wind blew, making the hairs on the back of Logan’s neck stand up. He looked up at the giant devil statue and felt his blood run cold. He decided to ignore the feeling and got in line with the rest of the guys.

"”You’re in section 6,” the ride attendant called out, gesturing for them to move over to their designated area."

“Oh mega yuck,” Oscar shrieked as he touched a piece of gum that was stuck onto the ride. Logan couldn't help himself and busted out laughing. “That is so not funny, Logan,” Oscar mumbled as the ride attendant waved his hand in front of Logan.

“No cameras on the ride” he scoffed.

“Can I just put it in my pocket?” Oscar asked as he grabbed the camera from Logan, tucking it away.

“Yeah whatever”.

The ride started and Logan grabbed onto the seatbelt, closing his eyes for a second and exhaling.

Everyone starts cheering as the ride starts.

“You ok?” Oscar asked turning to look at Logan

“Yeah I’m fine” the oldest replied giving the aussie a half smile.

Everyone shrieked in excitement as the roller coaster went downhill, raising their arms in excitement

“Hey Lewis, say hi to the camera” Romain annoyingly called “You should lift up your shirt Nico, give my followers a nice view”.

“Can you fuck off mate” Lewis groaned as he slapped that camera out of Romains hands, making it fall causing it to wrap itself around the track.

“HEY! that camera was expensive” Romain moaned

“Not my problem” Nico replied as he rolled his eyes

The roller coaster turned into a loop and everyone screamed in joy, the rollercoaster took a few more loops and turns. Everything was going smoothly when all of a sudden it ran over the camera, causing the hydraulics to fail, liquid leaking out causing the ride to start malfunctioning.

“What the fuck!” Logan yells out as his seat belt lifts.

The screams of joy now turned into screams of terror as everyone’s seatbelts unclip themselves from the ride.

Oscar let out a yell as he clutched onto the seatbelt. His knuckles were turning white from the force of his grip, and a look of panic was etched onto his face.

At this point, everyone is terrified and holding on for dear life. The roller coaster goes downhill and takes a sharp turn to the right when suddenly the bar connecting the ride snaps in half, immediately disconnecting the front part of the roller coaster, sending Jason and Karter flying off the track and falling to their death.

The ride continues, going over a bump which causes Daniil to fly out of his seat. Oscar lifts up his seatbelt and reaches out to catch Daniil holding onto him as hard as he can, the coaster takes a turn causing a piece of the ride to come off and go flying straight towards Daniil causing him to collide with the metal bars holding up the ride.

Logan is using his arm to hold Oscar into place as the ride continues, going for a loop, when two of the wheels fall off causing the roller coaster to get stuck upside down. Mark and Sebastian scream in fear as they’re hanging onto the seatbelt of the ride.

“Hold on!” Logan yells out through tears at Sebastian as he starts to slip “I can’t” he yells back as he eventually loses grip and falls to his death, Mark following along. Two others fell behind them.

Logan is paralyzed in fear not knowing what to do anymore “Help me rock the coaster” Oscar yells at him as they both start rocking forward. The roller coaster eventually completes the loop going straight down but right as they are about to feel relief the metal bar that Daniil had previously collided with goes right through Oscar cutting him in half.

Logan screams out in terror as the ride falls off the track sending him plummeting to the ground. He closes his eyes as he accepts his faith when suddenly he wakes up looking at his surroundings with a tear stained face as the ride attendant waves his hand in his face “No cameras allowed on the ride”.

Logan gasps and reaches to grab Oscar’s hand as it touches the piece of the gum stuck on the ride.

“WE HAVE TO GET OFF OF HERE!” he yelled at Oscar right as the ride attendant was gonna push the GO button.

“NO DON’T PUSH THE BUTTON, DON'T PUSH THE BUTTON!” Logan sobbed out as he tried getting the seatbelt off, “LET ME OUT, LET ME OUT!” he continued screaming.

Oscar looked at him concerned as he reached to grab his hand “Logan it’s ok”

Logan was looking around panicked as he kept clawing at his seatbelt “NO IT’S GONNA CRASH, IT’S GONNA CRASH!”

“Logan?” Jason questioned as he heard him screaming all the way at the front of the ride

“THE HYDRAULICS WILL RUPTURE YOU HAVE TO LET US OFF PLEASE!”

Logan was practically begging at this point as he continued to sob. Eventually the security guy came “What’s going on?” he asked confused as he saw Logan freaking out “I don’t know, he’s on something” the ride attendant replied as he glared at Logan

“LET ME OFF PLEASE!”

“Alright let them out, but just the back” the security replied as the back row seatbelts lifted up. Logan ran out towards the security trying to speak through sobs.

“Whoa whoa relax, what’s the matter?” the security said trying to calm Logan down

“I saw it- I saw it in my head the tracks collapsed and the roller coaster collapsed-”

“No, he was just a little upset before” Oscar interrupted as he grabbed Logan trying to sooth him and calm him down.

“Man can you please control that bitch” Daniil said as he got out of his seat “It’s gonna crash the hydraulics the coaster” he said mimicking Logan's voice. “Man he’s just trying to get some fucking attention” Max scoffed staring at Logan and Oscar

“You know what you’re a real piece of shit Max, fuck you” Oscar replied as he walked up to Max

“Fuck Мне?, nah man fuck you!” Daniil yelled as Oscar pushed him causing him to elbow Sebastian in the face

Oscar and Daniil start throwing punches at each other as Mark got out trying to break the fight apart, Sebastian following right behind him

“Hey- Hey let me off” Jason exclaimed as he looked around trying to see what the commotion was

The manager dragged Logan and the rest out “Nobody else gets off this ride”

Jason turned towards the ride attendant with an annoyed look “Dude let me off”

“Sooo high school” Nico scoffed as he got off

“Let’s get out” Lewis replied as he followed after him

“Where are you guys going!” Romain called out as he followed the pair

Jason was starting to get annoyed at this point “Dude let me off I gotta make sure he’s ok” he huffed as he looked at the ride attendant again.

“Hey, Ho, Let’s go!” “Hey, Ho, Let’s go!” the crowd started to cheer trying to get the ride to continue

“Let me out dude, that’s my friend over there!” Jason exclaimed trying to get off the ride, the seatbelt not budging. Eventually the ride attendant gets the cue to continue and presses the GO button, as Logan turns his head he sees the ride moving, he freaks out and runs screaming at the ride attendant as everyone is dragging him back “STOP IT NO, STOP IT PLEASE PLEASE, THE TRACKS ARE BROKEN, STOP IT STOP IT PLEASE, JASON!” Logan sobbed out trying to get away from Oscar’s tight grip.

The security eventually drags Logan and Oscar away, shoving them towards the exit. Logan was a mess as he stumbled down the stairs forcefully trying to explain everything.

“Just settle down and listen, what is your home phone number we can call your mother and everything will be oka-“ right as the security was about to finish his sentence he got cut off by the sounds of screaming as the roller coaster crashed and sent everyone falling to their death.

“JASON!” Logan sobbed as he fell to the floor crying.

authors note: plz comment your opinions on my story and leave a “🎟️” if u would like to be tagged in the next part! thank u sm for reading i really hope you enjoyed it 😸

[dr-rabbit-3]

Hiiiiii sooo I really should be writing the butterfly au right nowwww

but I'm pretty sure I'm gonna give the butterfly Au a complete rewrite soon since I feel like it needs an update

But until then take this story I wrote

About Ellis being locked in Tony's basement 👇

Da Title: My immortal

Ellis had no idea how long he'd been down there. Hours, maybe? Days? Definitely long enough for his wrists to ache from the stupid ropes Tony tied around them. He shuffled around a bit, trying to wiggle free, but the ropes just burned into his skin. Of course Tony would tie him way too tight,he's always been a control freak.

Maybe Vanny noticed he was missing and called the cops... maybe...

"Tony, you absolute psycho!" Ellis shouted. Nothing. Just his voice echoing off the cold cement walls. It smelled weird down here. Like rotten meat?

but like.. honey....?

His eyes were puffy from crying, and his face was smudged with tears and dust. It was so dark, and he'd never been good with the dark. He sniffled, trying to calm himself down. Okay, okay, it's fine. Tony just being Tony. He wouldn't actually leave me down here forever... right? He gulped. The thought of being stuck here forever made him cry all over again.

Upstairs, Ellis suddenly heard the front door creak open. Voices. Tony’s voice. And—wait—was that Gregory?

Ellis perked up. Gregory! Gregory’s here! He’ll save me! He has to!

“Tony, this day has been so weird,” Gregory said, his voice floating down the stairs. “Mr. Thompson was doing blood sacrifices in the boys bathroom again”

“Yeah, absolutely mad,” Tony replied, sounding distracted, like he didn’t care at all. Typical.

Ellis took a deep breath and screamed as loud as he could, “HELP! GREGORY, I’M DOWN HERE! GOD HELP!”

He waited. Everything went quiet. Did they hear him?

Suddenly, footsteps stomped toward the basement door. Ellis flinched. oh no.

The door flew open, and Tony stormed down the steps, glaring at Ellis like he wanted to murder him. He looked ridiculous with his stupid school uniform and his hair all slicked back, trying to be all fancy and grown up.

“boots, I swear to God,” Tony hissed through gritted teeth. “Shut. Up.”

Ellis blinked up at him, wide-eyed and sniffling. “Tony, please, this isn’t funny anymore! I’m gonna dieEEEEEE down here!”

Tony rolled his eyes like Ellis was being dramatic (which, okay, maybe he was, but still). “You’re not dying, you drama queen. Just keep your mouth shut, or I swear, I’ll__”

Ellis didn’t even hear the rest because Tony slammed the door before he could finish. The bang made Ellis jump. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the tears from coming again. Why is this happening to me?

Upstairs, Gregory’s voice broke the silence. “Uh, Tony? What was that???”

Ellis held his breath. Yes, Gregory! Ask questions! Come save me! You rebirth of Jesus Christ!

“Oh, uh, that?” Tony sounded nervous. Tony never sounded nervous. Ellis was listening closely. “That was just... uh... the furnace. Yeah, yeah. It makes weird noises sometimes.”

Gregory didn’t sound convinced. “The furnace? It sounded like someone yelling.”

Tony laughed, and it was the fakest laugh Ellis had ever heard. “Nah, nah, you’re hearing things. You know how old this house is. Creaky floors, noisy pipes, haunted basements. Anyway, why don’t you go hang out in the backyard? It’s a nice day.”

Ellis could practically hear Gregory’s confusion. “Uh… okay? I guess.”

Ellis’s heart sank as he heard the back door creak open. Gregory was going outside. No! Gregory! don’t leave please!

The basement was silent again.

Ellis let out a shaky breath and stared up at the ceiling. This is fine. Totally fine. I’m not gonna die down here or anything...

Ellis sniffled.

“Tony, you suck...."

[hiraeth-sonder]

To the River of that Day -あの日の川

Dabi/Todoroki Touya x Reader - Fix-it AU

Area transmigrator gets cheated by a system error and ends up in a slice-of-life despite the odds

TW: Cussing, character death, descriptions of severe injuries such as burns, blunt-force trauma and hypoxemia, brief mentions of hypothetical grooming (nothing actually happens), canonical child abuse, spoilers for the entire Todoroki family lore, possible OOC characters and unreliable narrator my love

//This is a rewrite since I hate myself. Halfway through I think I started writing a comedy. This is very indulgent and wish fulfilment-y.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Dying is very often not a process just anyone remembers. Actually, dying is a process no one remembers, because anyone who knows is dead. 

Of course, you thought you would be in that majority yet here you are. 

After what might have been a very stupid, no good decision to use your electric blanket in the coldest room of your life, as well as somehow peacefully sleeping through the inevitable fire that soon started, you awaken to a dark void as well as a blaringly bright blue screen. You squint your eyes in slight strain, rubbing them with the heel of your hands. 

[New assignment received. New user registered.]

[User objective recognised: Peaceful Life]

[Access for protocol 5295 granted: NPC function, shop function.]

Staring at the blue interface, though your body, if you could even call it a body with the way you were both keenly aware of its weightlessness and each and every tendon in your form, was floating amidst the cushiony emptiness, you drifted closer towards the screen as the Google Translate-esque voice echoed from all around you. You squint your eyes, trying to make out the words. 

[Welcome user 888 to the afterlife relocation interface! As per protocol 2454, user will be soon directed to user customisation to prepare for transmigration.]

Transmigration huh. Well, you’ll be happy even as an NPC and unlike those idiot protagonists that say that and don’t mean it, you will remain an NPC. You won’t interfere with the main character, you won’t try to cosy up with the main antagonist, you won’t make unnecessarily stupid decisions and you’ll communicate, like a normal human being. 

Brought to a character customisation screen not so unlike those in video games, there was a large mirror and a bunch of little settings for you to fiddle with. Though you would be all but absorbed into the customisation, a little tab caught your attention. 

‘Human’

With a tentative hand, you click on it and a long list of races drops down. Of course, it wasn’t too long and based on some of the options, you could make a precarious guess as to what kind of world you were going to be dropped into. Kitsune, various types of tsukumogami, yūrei, and interestingly enough, tatsu. Or ryu, ryo, wani, whatever same thing.

Unlike any of the other options, this was one where you could guarantee some form of detachment. Kitsune were likely to be hunted down, especially those of younger ages, a tsukumogami was bound to interact with humans and you weren’t planning on being exorcised that quick, let alone the exorcism speedrun that was sure to happen with being a yūrei. Being a ryu would mean either getting to fuck with whoever you want with almost no consequences, or getting to be a hermit, which either way were options you weren’t going to turn down.  

Certainly, if they were giving you such overpowered options, surely you couldn’t be going into just any casual world. 

You selected the ryu option with an assured action, pointedly skimmed through the large wall of text that comes with the change and happily set off to design your outward appearance. There is an upside to your very smart choice, in which you maintain your human visage but gain some stubbed little horns protruding from your forehead and sparse scales at your legs. You even get to design your serpentine dragon form, and with the lack of any time measurement, you’ve probably spent at least a few hours fiddling with scales and colours. 

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you had decided to lean into the traditional look. The full get-up befitting a young mistress rather than a princess, with heavy robes of silks and jewellery of gold and jewels. You even had the chance to put on makeup, which though you were tempted to, you settled for simple dots beneath your eyes if only because indecisiveness was your best friend in these matters. Seemingly, the system had taken the opportunity to lengthen your hair to your lower back, unbound and flowing. A sense of pride fills you, and you just had to admit, it was hard to not feel amazing. 

With that, you tap on the ‘Complete’ button and you are now spawned into an enclosed room, seemingly endless as it stretches far beyond your eyes can see. The system pops once more, and though you had your fan very adoringly clasped in your hand, it's taken away as that robotic voice rings in your head. As it does so, the room changes as dense clouds manifest at your feet. A small window pops up, bearing the image of a fluttering red flag atop a mountain. 

You get a sinking feeling in your stomach. 

[Tutorial stage loaded. Movement tutorial initiated.]

[Please collect the flag set at the end of the course.]

You should have known that picking an option like this would have resulted in such. Well, since you clearly weren’t at the bottom of the ocean, you could rightfully assume the system made you into a rain ryu so at the very least, you didn’t have to fight deep-sea pressure. Rather, you just had to get over your extreme fear of heights, which was better, right?

‘System! I don’t even know how to fly and you want me to do all this?’ You gripe.

[User is a natural in many things, shifting forms to fly should come easy to you (๑˘︶˘๑)]

With a heavy breath, you send it the nastiest stink eye you can muster, ‘If I die from this.’

[Technically, user is already dead.]

You ignore that. Instead, you focus on shifting your bottom half to that of your more draconic form. The rest of the world melts away, and all that is left is just you and your body. The scant dark scales on your legs crawl up your legs, spreading over soft skin until what is left is a long serpentine body and two pairs of clawed legs, human form hidden beneath a draconic form. Upon your change, the clouds before you part and without a single moment of hesitation, lest your nerves truly get to you, you dive down towards the great earth. 

Past the rushing gales, a smile spreads across your lips. The amount of books that have described flight as something extraordinary never made sense to you, but as you brush against cold clouds, you understand that hypothetical feeling. Rather than actual flight through wings, it was more gliding and twisting through the sky, undulating and piercing all the same.  

It is amazing. In your old body, you would have grown tired from even walking two flights of stairs but perhaps you’ve benefited from the new change in more ways than one, because you felt like you could go for longer, for further. Twirling and breezing past closely intertwined trees, you shoot above the treetops and catch sight of something red fluttering atop that high mountain. In one last powerful surge, you snatch the flag between large talons with uncharacteristic ease. 

Yet the moment you do, the environment switches once more, back to blue skies and dense clouds beneath your feet but with a form clad in samurai armour. The flag you once held has been replaced with a naginata, clear blade gleaming under the sunlight. You are unceremoniously dropped from the sky, and though you’re still in your draconic form, you’re forced to shift back to your more human form. By no means is moving, hell even walking supposed to be hard, but heavy silks and jewellery aren’t exactly the most movement friendly. Mild (absolute) trepidation fills you, yet with a quick breath, you steel your nerves and hold your naginata in front of you, the system, thankfully realises your dilemma and quickly changes your appearance to fit the situation. Then with a bright flash, your training partner springs to life. 

[Movement tutorial completed. Naginata tutorial loading…]

Eyeing your opponent, you mutter, ‘Hey can this guy kill me?’

[All tutorials must be completed before user can be relocated, invalid completion may mean a return to user’s original body.]

‘Didn’t answer my question but thanks?’

[User should not worry since this is only a tutorial! ⸜( ´ ꒳ ` )⸝]

You’ve never actually fought anyone, if you had to be honest. The closest you ever got to an actual fight was when you had to take mandatory stage fighting lessons for drama. Of course, perhaps the fact that those classes focused on the actual acting portion meant that it probably meant nothing now. 

Well, no better time to learn than under the threat of death.

The system is, of course as you somewhat expected, relentless. It charges at you with no warning, the very sharp, very real sword almost cutting you down. Yet perhaps some kind of self-preservation instinct still is retained within you, as well as all those lessons you thought you forgot a long time ago, because you’re quick to bring your polearm up to block the attack. With a strength you thought only left for your other form, you manage to deflect it away from you as the phantom opponent backs up, at least not before stumbling forwards and narrowly avoiding another slice. 

Blocking and avoiding is all you can really do, even with your longer reach. You don’t know whether you’re even doing this efficiently, and in the span of a few seconds, you’ve only managed to get a few haphazard slashes in. Your heart pumps hard, blood rushing in your veins as you feel your chest tighten, everything burns. Your hair, now much longer and likewise loose (all for the system’s stupid aesthetics), gets in your vision but with one wrong action being the difference between life and death, you only blow it from your lips. 

As much as you want to learn as much swordplay as you can, you don’t think the stress of it all is worth it. Your only objective as outlined by the system was to defeat your opponent, not learn how to read a battle. 

Well, who needs to know how to read your opponent when they’re dead?

Backing away from another blow, you spot an opportunity. A gap exists between the chest plate and pauldrons, and while they’re distracted from a parry, you take the opportunity to bring your blade down as hard as you can. Slamming the blade through the leather straps and slicing until you feel no resistance, it grinds to a stop when the sharp blade once again gleams in the bright sunlight.

[Naginata tutorial completed. Ability tutorial loading…]

The system’s voice rings from around you once more, and within the blink of an eye, your opponent crumbles to dust. Your naginata disappears from your grasp and perhaps, or rather apparently having gained a sense of two, the system finally binds up your hair in a ponytail. 

Very much unlike the extremely stress inducing sword tutorial, this one just feels a bit annoying. Sure, you had more detailed objectives to complete, like ‘make a small storm’ or ‘cause thunder to strike this tree’ or even ‘start a flood’, but in all honesty, it was more similar to flight than naginata training. Intent was the key, the thought of making and desire to conjure was all that it took. 

Perhaps to a less imaginative person, this tutorial would’ve posed some kind of challenge. Yet you had to admit, the system did understand structuring and so you breezed past this one far easier than that stupid naginata tutorial (okay you did understand why a naginata, you just didn’t understand why you needed combat training in the first place). 

Or at least you thought you did until the system decided to set a whole forest aflame and just happily jingled a:

[Put out the fire (o･ω･o)]

If this damned AI had a body, you’d be throttling it right about now. 

Even if your environment was stimulated, the system was very meticulous in immersion seeing as it was sweltering to the point that you could feel your sweat pool at the bottom of your feet. It felt like one wrong move and you’d set your own damn hair on fire, and with how much smoke it conjured, you did not like your odds. 

Still, with a surge, you drift above the trees and hold your breath steady. Such a large forest decimated by a simple flame, every tree set ablaze as the entirety of your vision beheld blazing hell. 

Taking in a deep breath, though marred with smoke and ash, you call upon the rains and winds of the high heavens, muttering beneath your breath. A storm capable of bringing heavy storm clouds together, capable of creating such cold winds that it snuffs the heat it needs to spread. You can do that, of course you can, you didn’t die just to be the world’s most stupid ryu. Faster, faster and faster, you bring together heavier and heavier clouds until you feel your lungs cry for breath, until your vision strains to make out anything beyond hazy fumes, feeling the winds swirl around you in assailing gusts. 

The winds picks up as it slowly roars to life, rushing the edges of the forest as ash and leaves rise with its ascent. Above you, dark clouds heavy with rain gather along the amassing gales. As your storm brews and smothers the raging fire with sheets of pelting rain, you think you see it dim. Though your light zephyr only works to contain it, it is the heavy storm clouds that eventually put it out, pouring rain onto the destruction with nary a care. The droplets rush down with an odd fury, deafening against your ears as hot steam clouds your vision. 

Panting, it feels as though your airways burn with embers, congested with ash as you feel scales spread across your body once more. Your chest rises and falls, throat desperately gulping in air as though ceaselessly thirsty. You don’t understand why until you notice the rapidly approaching ground, bottom half desperately shifting in an attempt to rise up. 

Oxygen truly is still the most important aspect of life, even for a ryu. 

Your body hits the ground far lighter than you expected, attributed to the slower falling, but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel the pounding agony that hits you when you do. Bones slamming against your skin as even your brain crashes against your skull, the pain only lasts a second but the impact doesn’t. It's like a truck ran into you full force but you have no proof beyond your mind reeling from the hit. 

[Ability  tutorial completed. Revision tutorial loading…]

[Please finish all objectives listed.]

[System has healed all injuries from previous tutorial, please continue swiftly (* ^ ω ^)]

It still sounds too loud, to hell with the damned ‘healed all injuries’. 

You don’t even want to talk about this section. If you thought the ability tutorial was boring, this one was more so. This was actual studying, actual reading and actual practice, it was refining all of your prior tutorials into something beyond cursory experience. Shifting only the bottom half of your body or your hands, forcing rivers to cut into precise winds and turns, actually learning how to use your naginata in a way that wasn’t carelessly slashing, the system made sure to drill every minute possibility and detail into your head until you could live up to the true image of a proper ryu. 

It's not anything too difficult after the actual shit-show you just ran through. 

With a sigh, you tick off the last of your objectives and the system chimes in with a joyful ding. 

[Revision tutorial completed. All tutorials completed.]

Finally, you’re brought back to your starting void with nothing but the blue interface in front of you. Wording in white text and a white bar makes a steady process, your eyes follow along the rising percentage. 

[Character profile loading…]

Then, as it reaches the end and the little digits hit 100%, a new pop-up appears before you. 

[Host Space Occupied!!! User Transmigration Failed!!!]

[Host Space Occupied!!! User Transmigration Failed!!!]

[Host Space Occupied!!! User Transmigration Failed!!!]

A loud alarm blares through your head as all windows close down, instead this newer one appears much smaller than its predecessors before disappearing just as fast as it appeared. 

[Activating protocol 6453.]

[Access granted: relocation loading…]

A new bar loads up, a new percentage to watch with apprehension in your veins. It said that your space in this supposed world you were meant to be in was occupied, what the hell kind of world were you going to be dropped into now? You only hope it's not one as cut-throat as the one you were seemingly being prepared for, seeing as the system tried to kill you at least thrice. 

The system pulls up a new, larger tab with only two details shown. 

[User 888 name: Yoshikawa (y/n). 

User 888 role: NPC

Starter Location: Sekoto Peak]

Sekoto Peak… Why did that sound familiar? Well, at the very least, you were still an NPC. 

[Character profile loading…]

[Preparation of host body completed. Sending User 888 into role of NPC in My Hero Academia.]

‘Wait! My Hero??? System!’

[We hope user will enjoy your new life! (๑>◡<๑)]

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Let it be known that when you were alive, you only had a sparse inkling towards My Hero Academia. It was not that you never enjoyed the show, but rather that you were mildly interested in it during the show’s conception only to be turned away due to all the, let’s just say it, shame associated. So you only really kept up with it in your peripherals, that is until Season 7 got animated. 

Now it is very important to note that at the time this was happening, you weren’t exactly in the best place mentally, due to some fault of your own. So you were turning to a lot of characters that were older and displayed a more mentor-like demeanour, which might be a different issue altogether but hey you were a different person now, maybe you’ll have different issues. 

Alas, under the guidance of an incidental glance of a certain character, you had found yourself tumbling headfirst back into those old feelings. The only problem? 

You just had to fixate so heavily on arguably the one character that has a certain reputation among the fans. Now, you weren’t claiming anything, but you’re glad that upon your return, this reputation has softened and aligned with the canonical depiction. 

Regardless, the main point was that you ended up only focusing on his background and the few things related to him. Sure, you know the very, very basic plot and some of the early plot points, none of which are in order, but you knew something at least. You’ve essentially ignored everything else in the series because let's be honest, you had other fixations that were not My Hero Academia. 

You forcibly peel your eyes open to a wooden ceiling and the sound of birdsong around you. For a moment, it's peaceful. All is good in the world, you just had a really bad dream about dying and being transmigrated, then almost dying again, and now you just had to get ready for the day. 

And then the nausea slams into you so hard you feel bile actually rise up to your airways. This might just be worse than choking to death on smoke. You close your eyes in an attempt to stop the urge to empty your insides, yet now there seems to be pounding against your skull as a side to your order of vertigo. Great, this is going so great. 

Bringing your blanket up to cover your head, you squeeze your eyes in ache as the queasiness fluctuates between mild to extreme. When that eventually passes, though it feels like months, you tentatively rise from your bed to take a step, only to tumble out and crash onto the hardwood floors. Though it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would, surely not when compared to your other crash landings, you cringe at the commotion. 

No one comes in to check on you, no matter the fact that your shrunken tail springs out from the abrupt pain, which only causes more things to come crashing down. You figured tails wouldn’t bode well in modern contexts. At this, you wonder whether any other part of your supposed original form remained.

You push yourself up and rush towards the closest mirror, pulling on your skin and picking over every detail on your new body. Everything is as you adjusted but with a few notable exceptions. You’ve been taken out of your traditional attire and placed in modern clothes, or more so modern pyjamas if you could even call a baggy t-shirt and shorts that. It is then that you realise that your vision isn’t the clearest, well it never was during the tutorial, but you could barely see what was on the other side of your, admittedly, large room. Amidst your panic, the system chimes in. 

[User’s items have been morphed to fit in a modern setting (´ ∀ ` *)]

Turning to face your room, the system highlights your ‘morphed items’ with a blue box surrounding them as well as very helpfully stating what they were. Your naginata is now the naginata mounted atop the wall that the system has dubbed a replica, a few of your original robes were now folded away into a box at the bottom of your closet and your elaborate jewellery have been changed to fit more modern aesthetics. Internally, your heart cries in joy at your shrunken collection of gold. No amount of head pain was worth the aesthetic! 

Though you put on the glasses (lest you trip and die in an even more embarrassing way), that didn’t mean that you weren’t a little worked up on all the ‘adjustments’ made without your consent. 

‘You literally debuffed me.’ With a deadpan glare, the system only lights up in response.  

[!User agreed to all conditions when agreeing to change species!]

You take in a heavy breath, suppress the urge to gripe and instead decide to walk around the house to get a feel of the outlay. The whole place appears empty and a minimalist’s dream, concrete walls painted eggshell white with no decor hung, humble wooden furniture with only the slightest embellishments as well as, of course, wooden floors. Wandering around the house, you find a simple bathroom with all the necessary amenities, a kitchen with an electric stove, an office, a guest bedroom and a patio. You take the time to memorise every part of it, as a precaution of course. There is a feature that has caught your eye however, which was the numerous photo frames bearing the same few people, an older woman with a large pair of horns sprouting from her forehead and a man with seemingly no outward deviations, a young man with the same features as the woman and large horns protruding up and out. He is always stood by a young child that grows up as you find more and more photos. This child didn’t look familiar to you, with soft pudgy cheeks, wild hair and little knobs that turn to stumps and stubby horns. You don’t want to recognise her. 

You leave the house and are immediately blasted with a cold burst of wind. On second thought, maybe you’d need a coat. After rummaging through your oddly full closet, you return and sit atop the stool on the patio, taking in the scenery around you. Bright blue skies and verdant trees dot the landscape, the city sits at the distance as the distant sounds of modern life acts as a background to the serenity of your current residence. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you finally spot a transparent little box with a microphone icon within it. Time to get some answers since you were very clearly not given any. Tapping into the box, the microphone flares as you speak. ‘System, why the fuck am in My Hero Academia?’

[User’s space was occupied by another higher priority user (/_＼)]

The system dings with an almost pitiful jingle, and though the ashamed kaomoji gave it some kind of cuteness, you would not trust it. 

[User’s relocation is meant to satisfy your desire to live a peaceful life with the added bonus of your new abilities (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)]

An incredulous look appears on your face. Who would even say that living here would be peaceful?! Send out a poll to everyone that has ever watched any form of anime and you guarantee that no one would say that this world is peaceful! Even you, someone who never fully watched or read the series could say that you wouldn’t pick this world! Why not █████████ Chronicles or even ████████ Coolheadedness?! Huh?!

‘So you send me to My Hero???’ You entreat with all the grace of a squawking seagull. 

[With user’s prowess, a peaceful life will be easy („• ֊ •„)]

Was it possible for ryu to get high blood pressure? Because if it was, you’re certain that yours must be high enough to kill a man ten times over. Rubbing your temples, you let out an exasperated huff. ‘What point of the story are we even in right now?’

[The main character ‘Midoriya Izuku’ is currently one year old.]

‘Very informational, thanks. Okay fine, how old is…..’ Your mind trails off as you try to think about any character that could give you a rough grasp on the timeline. When you fail to think of any, all you can muster is a weak, ‘...uhh’

[User’s favourite character ‘Todoroki Touya’ is currently thirteen years old ( ˙꒳​˙ )]

‘How the fuck do you know that?’

[User gave all information for scanning when you agreed to our services ( ´ ꒳ ` )]

‘I didn’t agree to shit,’ You hissed. You’d know if you’d agree to something like this (you wouldn’t, you don’t even read the terms and conditions of service), but for crying out loud, you weren’t shown anything even remotely similar when you were in that dark void called limbo!

Eyeing the system’s window, you gesture for it to provide some kind of elaboration, at first with a raised brow then resorting to physically using your hands to encourage it. Of course, you’re not given any kind of response. 

You roll your eyes, ‘Very mature of you.’

You close the window as well as your lids, the early onset of a headache creeping up on you. Peaceful life, this might just be the least peaceful moment you’ve had in all your years of life. A heavy breath escapes you, and though you swear you could feel your head throbbing in anticipation, you open your eyes to see another goddamn window. 

[Profile updated.]

With a swipe, another window appears, much longer than the previous. 

[Character: Yoshikawa (y/n)

Role: NPC

Status: Ryu of Sekoto Peak

Current Location: Sekoto Peak

Objectives: Support the plot ]

How creative. You get it, you’re a ryu and your surname is auspicious river because you’re an auspicious water related being, but isn’t this a bit too obvious?

No matter, you instead zero-in on your role as assigned by the system. Just as you liked it, though you did have some reservations. While the objective ‘support the plot’ is rather vague seeing as the plot is all but a zygote right now, you needed to know how far you could change things without the system slapping you with penalties. If it could do that (it probably can). 

Tapping on the chat box again, you hum, ‘As an NPC, can I affect the plot?’

Yet before the system could give you a vague answer, you rush to clarify yourself, ‘What I mean is, say I- I don’t know…’ It takes you a few moments to think of a character both integral to the main plot as well as one that’s alive, ‘Say I kidnap Shimura Tenko, can I do that?’

As though giving up on attempting to convince you otherwise, especially upon your now pointed stare, the system only dejectedly dings, [Since user does not technically belong to this world nor inhabit the body of an important character, you are free to override canon. (￣ヘ￣)]

That’s what you like to hear. 

With that confirmation as well as the extra details of your being on Sekoto Peak, your sheer ability and the fact that Touya is currently thirteen, you could enact the very scheme of your dreams. To hell with ‘Support the plot’ or your NPC role! You know what you have to do, you have no choice. 

[User does not have to do this (＃＞＜)]

You must, there is no other choice. You were going to either fight Endeavour for custody or actually fight him, both works. Whatever happens, you’re getting Rei the absolute hell out of that house. You just had to figure out a way that required the least amount of trauma inflicted onto everyone else. 

You have time, and you’ll want to think of some kind of game plan before throwing accusations around. 

As you look towards the forests before you, you take a tentative look back to the house you just left. A new thought comes to mind. It looked a bit older, more traditional architecture and had a small shrine right outside the patio. You readily assume that you live alone, completely and utterly especially when considering both location and circumstance. Though you did wonder, how exactly did you even own property? Most transmigrators transmigrate into families, don’t they? 

Prodding the system once more, you glance towards the house, ‘How do I even have this place?’

[As compensation for the issues, User 888 has been given a comprehensive backstory and hefty compensation to ensure a peaceful life (๑˘︶˘๑)]

It brings up what is practically a wall of text with the title of ‘Backstory’. The words are microscopic and you have to squint just to read. Scanning over the window, you blithely take in your information. The usual born from an egg, raised among the mountains and trained as the youngest child of the Yoshikawa family. Nothing new there. As you continue reading, your eyes widen comically and you need to take a double-take when you reach the second paragraph.

[The Yoshikawa family, as currently lead by the 15th head Yoshikawa Hiroomi, claims to be the descendents from heavenly descended ryu, as reflected with the strong line of ryu related quirks within the small branch. Unlike most quirks wherein such consistent census would require quirk marriages or inbreeding, it appears that the Yoshikawa family’s genetics override those of the partners, regardless of gender and therefore always results in children bearing the ryu quirk. 

Originally appearing at the start of the 18th century, the family got their start in investing due to squirrelled away wealth and treasures, continuing to make stakes that would hold out in the future. Eventually, Yoshikawa Hirokuni, the founder of Toyotama Ent. made the fortuitous decision to enter the consultancy and accountancy sector, making full use of the prodigious history of his family’s background to encourage clients while maintaining a high roster due to the founder’s strict calibre. 

Due to the future-proof business, even with the rise of quirks, the 12th head, Yoshikawa Hirotsugu maintained the level of affluence enjoyed by the previous generations but sought to expand their reach towards other industries. Hirotsugu took to the ever growing rise of vigilantes and early heroes, extending their consultancy and accountancy services towards non-financial takes. 

With their considerable share in the market as well as infamous appearance, the Yoshikawa family often trains their eldest next of kin for the inevitable take over for the company, though it appears that all children are involved in some form of training, which range from quirk training, weapon training and extensive areas of education. 

The 14th head Yoshikawa Hiroyo handed the company to her eldest Yoshikawa Hiroomi when the young man was 21, having led Toyotama Ent. for the better of 50 years. Spending most of his time away on business trips, even catching a sight of the young leader is a miracle. The second child, twelve years the eldest junior, appeared to have no interest in the business despite her role as possible locum, now leading a private life away from the family’s politics. The family was adamant that this sibling is not to be involved in public matters, a notion that Hiroomi has taken seriously as it is now publicly unknown as to whether the youngest resides within the nation. Despite this, the eldest takes to sending money to the youngest as per their parents’ wishes. 

Hiroyo and her husband have since disappeared from the public eye, though Hiroomi has stated that his parents have merely retired. However, there have been baseless rumours that the 14th head of the family alongside her husband have returned back to their family’s ancestors’ homeland.]

A few gears turn in response to this, perhaps an attempt at mental gymnastics by the monkey living in your head, unfortunately for the both of you, that monkey isn’t particularly agile. There is only one conclusion to this absolute dumpster fire of a backstory, and it is one that makes zero sense according to both the lore of My Hero Academia and the whole idea of genetics in general. That was ignoring the glaring plot holes in such a backstory, if you could even suppress that.

‘Thanks for the absolute info-dump,’ You huff, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes. With an over-exaggerated gesture, you make the absolutely impressive assumption with your clues, ‘I assume I’m that second child?’

[Correct ! (≧◡≦)]

‘I’m a fucking overpowered character with the backstory of an overbearing CEO. I might as well just go off All for One now.’ Rolling your eyes, your snark is not exactly appreciated by the system. 

[User’s desire for a peaceful life as well as the circumstances of the transmigration has made it so this was the best course of backstory (￣ω￣)]

‘And you literally turned me back human?! I was promised a change from that!’

[User only appears human, all members of the Yoshikawa family are still ryu ( ´ ▿ ` )]

A very, very loud and overexaggerated sigh escapes you. Well, time to see whether you’d have to return to school or not.  

‘How old am I?’ You pose the question tentatively, almost afraid to actually hear how old you were supposed to be. 

[User has spent 78 years for completion of all tutorials, but host is currently 18 (＾▽＾)]

78 years? 18 years old? You spent that long learning how to fucking make it rain?! Besides that, which wasn’t important! With the way everything was unfolding, you were half certain this body wasn’t even your own. Did this body of yours have a life before yours? If you really were an ‘original character’, surely you’d have some kind of control over your backstory?! 

Holding your hand up, you scramble to speak, ‘Did my body’s original owner–’

[!Incorrect! User’s host body has been custom made for user and did not exist prior to user’s transmigration.]

‘So you just changed history and inserted memories into everyone’s heads so my existence is justified?’

[Correct! (o´▽`o)]

That’s actually terrifying. The connotations of which are no less. Maybe you didn’t want to be picking fights with the system after all. 

On a side note, you’re pretty sure trying to romance any character would mean exposing yourself as this supposedly ‘hidden’ second sibling. Welp, you can’t say you didn’t try but sorry readers, this old woman is going to spend the rest of her days alone. Ah, you can already see yourself on a rocking chair crocheting shitty scarves. 

[User can hide away any physical attributes with certain garments, so rest assured ∠( ᐛ 」∠)_]

‘Sure I can! Like horns shooting out of my forehead will fit in any hat,’ You throw your hands up in frustration, then shove your finger into the blue window with a pointed misgiving, ‘And don’t read my thoughts!’

At least you had more than enough money to live out your life as well as enact whatever bullshit plan that’ll turn you from NPC to supporting character. Stupid system, you weren’t going to be wearing any shitty hat just to toss it off minutes later. Well, you supposed that if you tried your hand at romancing an even bigger deal, surely there’d be more attention on them, right? Besides, people wouldn’t even know what you look like so you could theoretically try to talk up All Might…

[User is still a teenager o(>< )o]

Out of curiosity, you think back to that old world you were supposed to be transmigrated to. If you were made as powerful as you are now (a notion you had no doubt off since you had no actual drawbacks on your abilities nor a stigma against actual murder), what kind of role were you supposed to play? 

As the sun sets, you glance at the blue window. 

‘Hey system, what was my role in that previous world you booted me out of?’ 

[User was meant to be an unnamed ryu living amongst the heavens as a minor rain god alongside their more important elder sibling, who would eventually join the main character’s conquest. User’s NPC role and status made it so you would remain unassailable to the main character’s journey of bloody vengeance (´ ∀ ` *)]

You suppress a shudder, the fact that you only just escaped death by not only being a god but also your NPC status said lots about what kind of world you would have been brought into. 

Yeah, you’d happily take My Hero Academia over whatever hell you almost went into.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Just your luck. When the system told you that Touya was thirteen, you thought you had some time to prepare. Of course, you don’t have the luxury. That would be too nice to you, and you’ve never had a pleasant moment when you’re dealing with the system and its preconceived notions of ‘entertainment’. 

While you knew, undeniably knew that the burning of Sekoto Peak would happen during the winter, you had no basis on when or even where it would all start. You weren’t the most familiar with the location as well, where each clearing was nor the lakes that dotted the land. 

In fact, you’re undergoing a planning session when your ears pick up a soft cry. It should not sound so familiar to you, but you had to admit that your fascination had caused you to all but burn every scene that had him in your mind. Not a minute later, as you’re scrambling to put on anything atop your flimsy pyjamas, the smell of smoke reaches your nose. 

Your feet skittering across the wooden floors to grab a mask, you rush out the door to the sight of a scorching forest with flames that touch the sky. Flickering amidst the winter wind, it only grows in spite as the cry of a young child echoes from below. 

The very sound instinctually causes your breath to quicken, for your tendons to stiffen and for goosebumps to prick the surface of your skin. Shifting back into your original draconic form, hovering above the ground despite your wavering nerves, if you could sweat in this form, you’d be positively dripping. You take in a deep breath and though the smoke and ash burns your lungs, you take off into the chaos. 

[!New Objective: Will to Live!]

As you soar through the skies, the plumes only intensify as it reaches your eyes. Despite the nausea and agony, you continue. You’re at the very least thankful with how much power you had in this form, even a little movement clears your vision as you scan across the burning landscape. With each surge, less of the smoke clears and though a fiery hellscape covers the dry foliage of ground, you can still hear him, can still hear the screams of agony and cry for help. Clearer than ever, ringing in your ears, you find him.

The rest of the forest didn’t matter, not now, you just needed a momentary relief to take him to safety. 

Just as you practised, you call upon rushing gales and burdened clouds, feeling pinpricks of teeming rain on your body, continuing to summon even as the smoke rises and chokes your lungs. Another, another, another, you keep convoking this heavy storm until your throat runs dry.

The hiemal winds of winter howl as it obeys your will, swarming and rushing towards the flames that ascend upon the first few moments, before being snuffed away by the unrelenting sheets of pelting rain. Engulfing the bright fires and scattering embers in their fleeting moments, your tempest rages amidst the disarray. Gales of wayward intent and clouds of thunderous bearing bend to your call, leaving behind charred trees and ceaseless ash, and the lake which saved Touya. 

Curled up into himself, that sweet child whose very existence makes your heart squeeze in hurt lies at the bottom of that dried up lake, burnt to the point of ill-recognition. You wouldn’t have even known it was him if you hadn’t known what would happen. Your long body twists and twines around nothing among ash and debris, you’re ill suited for the weather but none of it mattered. Nothing mattered compared to the life in front of you. 

A laboured exhale escapes your lips, no matter how much your lungs scream for more, you’re careful when bringing him into your hand, careful to not cause any more damage. He’s cold, frighteningly so and it scares you. You can still hear the faintest of heartbeats, he’s still alive, you thank every god you can think of that he’s still alive. You don’t have the luxury to ensure that man isn’t anywhere nearby, your mind is preoccupied on what to do next, where to go next. 

Taking off once more with another powerful surge that propels you upwards towards the cool skies, your head hurts at the very thought of thinking. You need to get him medical attention now, you can barely think and maybe the lack of oxygen really was getting to you. You shouldn’t have been so hasty, shouldn’t have inhaled so much smoke. It's clogging your airways and your nostrils burn from the ash. Your eyes burn, like a fire lit behind them but you keep them open, any little falter and you fear that he’ll be taken from this world too soon. 

In the distance, through your already blurring vision, you spot a hospital. 

Another flap, a new burn shooting through your body. Your legs feel heavy and your every bone aches as you keep him close to your chest. You can barely see, yet you continued your rush towards the building. Distantly, you hear the shock and horror of the people below, you could care less. Not now, not when you were so close. 

You crash onto the cement ground all the while holding him close, the harsh landing creating a long trough in the concrete, you force yourself to shift back while keeping the young boy in your arms. Still, you push yourself forwards as you burst into the hospital lobby. Flagging down who you think must be a nurse or doctor, a few people rush to your side when you reveal the child in your arms.

“Please… This child needs help now!” Your voice comes in a coarse rasp, each word scraping out from your throat as you struggle to breath. 

Touya is promptly taken from your grasp as he is wheeled away, you accompany him, even if every fibre of muscle in your body screams in agony and your chest heaves for air. A nurse forces you to leave him when she realises you are following along, grabbing you by the shoulders as your breaths come in short, frantic bursts. 

She sounds like she’s trying to hide her worry, poorly so, “Ma’am, calm down, do you know where his parents are?”

You just manage to speak, closing your eyes from how much they burn. 

“Please keep it private,” You exhale, holding onto her as you feel your knees buckling. “The child is the eldest Todoroki child, please…” 

“Inform his parents as soon as possible.”

You crash to the cold ground again, and the world feels like it's closing in on you, too small, too much. On instinct, your scales grow up to your neck to shield yourself from the enclosing reality, more so your legs shifting back to those talons. The vague sound of metal crashing onto the ground barely reaches your ears, too focused on keeping conscious to care about your surroundings. 

A violent cough tears through your body, hacking out sparse bits of ash and spit from your inflamed throat. You didn’t even know that was possible, and was that blood? 

Shit, you really didn’t know whether you should be feeling so dizzy. 

“Ma’am?”

Just before you closed your eyes for the last time, you reached for the chat box on the bottom left of your vision.

You wheeze out, ‘System, will he live?’

[!System cannot confirm plot points outside of canon!]

You figured. 

It would be ironic if you die like this. 

Your grasp on consciousness slips before you can even laugh. 

[!Objective Complete: Will to Live!]

You realise that for all the system’s cutesy antics, it's still an agent of the narrative, or rather an agent of ‘do it for the plot’.

Undoubtedly, you definitely inhaled a lot more smoke than you should have and you probably did some major damage to your body in the process of averting a massive plot point. Unlike your tutorial, the system can’t magically heal you of all your injuries so you’re currently stuck in your unconscious mind while the system berates you for almost killing yourself. Who cares that you technically did a good thing? Forget about that, you shouldn’t have thrown yourself into flames to save a child, you should have waited for the fire department and just twiddle your thumbs as you very clearly ignore his agonised screams. 

Because that’s what good people do. 

You rolled your eyes a few more than a dozen times in response to such a sentiment. 

Apparently, you also had broken some stupid rule you didn’t even know about during your reckless abandonment. It was stupid by all means since you were not informed about anything, nor were you going to be thinking about hiding anything when you were breathing in more carbon monoxide than oxygen. As such, you had readily accepted whatever physical torture it would put you through for your punishment, seeing as you could very easily just dissociate from the pain, until a new window popped up in front of your eyes. 

[Activating punishment protocol 1338: Relocation to canon timeline.]

[We hope User 888 enjoys this experience as reflection.] 

Before you know it, you’re hit with that burst of nausea once more, slamming into your body as you suppress the urge to vomit all over yourself. 

When you open your eyes, all you can behold is him. The same thirteen year old boy curled up at the bottom of the lake as a figure loomed above him. Charred to the point of near-death, he survived out of the pure spite of will. You can only watch as that figure, that thing called a man, reached out and took him away. As though moving beyond your will, you reach forward to grab him, keep him away. Your hand only passes through. 

“Stop that! Stay away from him you fucking coward!” You cry, your throat running raw as you claw and grab at something, anything. Your hands catch nothing, they won’t let you, they won’t let you save a child when he’s right in front of you. “You’re a coward! You hear me? Hiding behind children like a fucking coward!”

“Please! Don’t take him away! He doesn’t deserve it! He needs to apologise to his mom! He needs to see his siblings!” 

“Please… he still has so much waiting for him.”

Tripping and falling to your knees, you wade through shallow waters and wet soil as you struggle to push yourself up. Your arms strain to reach out, passing through that man’s legs uselessly. Hot tears stream down your face, you don’t know when you started, and before you are even given a moment to grieve, you’re pushed to another scene. 

Locked behind the impermanence of spirit, you’re forced to watch, to watch and never interfere. Forced to watch him insensate for those three years as his family grieved for a boy who died in more ways than one, Your eyes peeled back as that excuse of a father descends further into that spiral of abuse, his mother who acted only as a victim of her circumstances, his siblings forever changed from that single day. 

Childhood resentment is only the fuel for the hatred of adulthood, and Touya, or you suppose in this case, Dabi has more than enough. You watch, you can only watch. Blue flames constantly burn at the corners of your vision, gnarled, purple skin slowly spreading over more and more, and yet still, in your eyes, he is still that child who just wanted someone to see him. As staples and piercings only tear into scorched flesh, ripping and pulling to expose bone and teeth, you keep watching. Engulfed in raging flames, you never take your eyes away from him, until he has returned to the visage of that hurt child at the bottom of the lake. 

You keep trying to reach out in all those moments. You still tried to hold onto him like you did. 

No matter the crimes, no matter the hatred. 

You’re as much of an observer as you were all those years ago. Except, you aren’t. You aren’t watching things play out from behind a screen, you aren’t reading lines from a book. You’re right next to them, right next to people who dream like you, pray like you, love and lose like you. 

You are useless, or at the very least, stupid. As a transmigrator, is the goal not to save as many people as you could with your knowledge? What made Touya special? Did Tenko, Himiko, none of them, did none of them deserve that chance too? 

For a brief moment, your tired eyes think the system is about to push you towards the next scenario. However, when you open your eyes, you’re left in a picturesque landscape, with tall mountains and a rushing waterfall, the sounds of a lazily flowing stream is right by your ears. And when you look to your side, you find you’re not alone. Rather, a young boy stands in front of you, no older than thirteen with soft white hair and the most innocent blue eyes you’ve ever seen, thin brows and round cheeks. Dressed in a matching jacket and pants, the neutral expression and sheer grief in every inch of his being, you know who he is. 

You almost don’t recognise him at first, almost don’t want to. You don’t know whether this is even the real Touya, whether you can even trust your eyes, whether the system has decided your punishment just needed to hurt a little more.

[!New Objective: The World of the Dead!]

He sees you first, and though he doesn’t approach you, he stands his ground as his voice travels through the dark space. “Do I know you?”

“No–” You’re quick to respond, bringing your hands up to show him you weren’t any threat. “I… just thought you looked familiar.”

His shoulders don’t untense at your proclamation, continuing to look at you with thinly veiled suspicion. You suppose your appearance isn’t doing much, a woman with horns clad in heavy robes surely didn’t scream trustworthy, especially to a confused child. 

“Am I dead?” Touya asks, a bit too quiet, too impuissant for your troubles. 

It is then you notice the slight swell at the bags underneath his eyes, a flushed quality to the tip of his nose. He’d been crying, of course he had been. He must have been–be– so scared. 

Your lips pull to a tight line, not quite sure how to answer. You still don’t know whether he’s real, you find you don’t care. Forcing a slight tug to your lips, you squat down and reassure him, “No, you’re just dreaming. Soon you’ll wake up and everything will be fine.”

At this, a complicated gleam crosses his eyes as his expression shifts to that of disbelief. It would be almost cute if not for the circumstances of your situation. 

“You don’t believe me, do you?” You huff, an amused grin on your lips at the idea of what you’ve just done.

“Of course I don’t,” The boy retorts, voice pitched at an attempt at being deadpan. 

A soft breath escapes you, and though your heart pounds in your chest, you take a step forward. Then another when he doesn’t flinch away. 

“Dead or not, it's still good to tell someone everything that’s been hurting you.”

With a shrug, you tentatively meet his eyes, careful to speak without qualm, “Who knows, maybe if this really is just a dream, you’ll really wake up and find out everything is better than it was.”

Again, his nose scrunches as his eyebrows knit together, he still doesn’t believe you. You really don’t blame him, but if the system was pushing you into a quest after a punishment, surely, surely this can’t just be hallucination. It can’t be, the Touya in front of you had to be real. 

As you think of what to say, the system flashes in front of your eyes, blindingly bright in such a place. You swipe it away before returning to your situation.

[!User cannot reveal information that pertains to user’s transmigration or past life! Any leak will result in a punishment protocol!]

“Why should I tell you? I don’t know who you are.” He crosses his arms as he averts from your gaze. 

Still, you continue, lying out of your teeth as if more natural to you than breathing, “Neither do I, but an outsider perspective can help sometimes.”

The two of you remain like this until eventually, and despite your heart attempting to escape your ribs, he hazards a glance at you. It's brief, but enough for you to catch his eye and send him a squeezed eye smile, patting the soft grass with your hand. He looks away again, but slowly– hesitantly, he sits down where he’s at. 

You’re okay with that, even above the sound of flowing waters, you can hear him just fine. 

“My dad thinks I’m a failure,” He mutters into his arms, voice muffled by fabric.

As he speaks, that tinge of sorrow, grievance starts to pitch his words, “He used to train me and said I was going to be better than the number one hero All Might, but just because I started getting burned by my own quirk, he made me stop.”

“So I trained in secret to show him that I can still be a hero but he just kept ignoring me or scolding me.”

From the corners of his eyes, you think you see little crystalline tears dew on his bottom lashes, a part of you wants to reach over to wipe them away. You don’t. Instead, he’s quick to wipe them away and continue. His words are rushed, a bit muddled together as though he’s trying to get everything out in one go. Still, there’s nothing that truly, entirely reveals just exactly who his dad is. 

“And then my baby brother was born and he got what he finally wanted, so he just– acted like none of us existed. We weren’t enough for him, he made that pretty clear,” He retorts, all but spitting with that very same grievance you know they all bore at one point. 

“But I thought I was finally powerful enough for him after training for all these years, and he didn’t even come when I asked him to.”

When he finishes, you don’t immediately respond. Hearing his own words on what happened was better, you found. Perhaps not yet the same resentful malice from his possible future, but still ultimately bearing some kind of bitterness you know was just his desire for his father to see him like he once did.

You ask him whether you can move closer, and when he doesn’t refute you, you do so. 

“Do you know what I think?” Humming as you inch slightly closer so that you are now an arm’s length away. 

This was a bit hard on you too, perhaps it was selfish to think that but it was. Still, you look to him with an assuaging expression, sighing, “I think, somewhere deep down he cares for you and doesn’t want you to get hurt. Which is why he kept telling you to stop training.”

“Making the reason he wants you to give up not because he doesn’t want you to be a hero, but rather because he’s worried you’ll get yourself too hurt.”

Touya scrunches his nose again, looking back at you with an incredulous look in his eyes. 

“But why doesn’t he just say that?” His response is muttered but still not quite hiding his upset.

You press your lips into a tight line, responding as calmly as you can muster, “Adults can be weird sometimes, and sometimes they just don’t know how to say things.”

“I think you can still be a hero though, just that you need the proper support equipment first,” 

But when he looks at you with that look again, you only offer a small quirk of your lips. Your only defence?

“Every hero uses support equipment, some are just less obvious than others.”

With a soft breath, you propose a chance theory, “But I think even if you don’t become one, he’d still care for you in some off roundabout way.”

It's now that he finally meets your eyes, jaw slightly slack as his shoulders finally relax from the once rigid posture he had adopted. He never knew. He never found out until the end of his life. 

With your ribs enclosing in your chest, you pat the spot next to you, a silent offer. He accepts, moving closer so that you could now fully see him. Though he got that growth spurt, he seems so small, lost and blank. You don’t know what you can say, so you just tell him what you wish he got to hear. 

“It's not your fault, I think he’s just…” Your voice trails off, mind racing to think of something to say that doesn’t expose your actual knowledge. Eventually, you can only let out a sigh as you cobble together a vague response, “He might be dealing with a lot of things from before you were even born, and he probably never moved on, so he placed all those ugly things onto all of you.”

“It's normal, I think your dad just doesn’t know that he was hurting all of you that badly because of his own things.”

Shaking your head, your voice comes out a little weak despite your best intentions, “This isn’t an excuse though. And maybe you can get a better answer if you ask him about it honestly.”

“I don’t think he’d do that,” He mutters. 

“Then I’ll make him. Who knows? Maybe one day there’ll be a dragon at your doorstep ready to help you.”

That’s the one thing that brings out an actual huff of laughter out of him, and even if he remarks that it couldn’t happen, you still smile at his brief mirth. Touya seems to have calmed down significantly from when you first met him, finally letting that smile of his peek through. When he finally recovers from that, he seems to realise something as he turns to you with furrowed brows.

“I told you all that embarrassing stuff,” He sniffs, an aggrieved look in his eyes as he sulks, then as though realising that, goes back to pretending to be that nonchalant kid. “You have to tell me some stuff about you too.”

A soft laugh escapes you and the lies come spilling back out once more, “Well, most of the expectation was placed on my older brother but I was really young at the time, so I didn’t really understand what was going on. And honestly, I was mostly raised as a just-in-case.”

“He’s doing well now, runs the family business just fine on his own.”

“My parents were always very busy but even if I was just a spare, they always took the time to care for me,” Your voice trails off, gaze going somewhere far off. 

You didn’t actually know who Hiroomi was, who Hiroyo and her husband were, hazarding a guess to the people you saw in all those photos. These people you call family could very well despise you, and you would have no idea. The man you called your brother, you don’t know what he’s like, don’t know whether he ever saw you as competition. 

You hope you don’t meet him. 

Touya’s response pulls you out of your trance, head cocked as he looks down onto the ground. “That sounds… nice.” His voice is softer towards the end, almost whispered beneath his breath.

Another sigh escapes you, not out of ire or malice, but rather something else, something more painful. Holding out your pinky, you call for him to meet your gaze. 

“When you wake up, everything will be better, I promise you,” You whisper, words determined and firm.

You’d make sure of it, you'd give up everything to make sure that when he wakes up, everything will be so much better for him. Because that’s what you can do. You can’t fight All for One nor Himiko’s parents for custody, but you can help Touya. 

His voice is shaky, but there’s some aspect that tells you he trusts you, just a little bit. That’s enough for you. He chokes out, “Really?” 

When he looks at you with those wide eyes, you must stop yourself from keeling over and sobbing over the pure hope he holds. It isn’t just hope, you correct, it's something beyond that. 

With a smile, you keep those tears at bay as you respond, feeling his pinky intertwine yours. 

“Really.”

[!Objective Complete: The World of the Dead!]

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The nurses attending to you tell you that it was a miracle you even regained consciousness as quick as you did when you awakened. The doctors even more so, as you had somehow inhaled so much smoke that if you had not rushed over as fast you did, you would’ve died. Albeit, they did say much of your swift recovery was attributed to your unique physiology, of which they did not fully understand. 

They also reprimanded you for immediately asking about someone else’s well being when you were still strung up to machines, so that was fun. Likewise, you were slammed with a pretty hefty fine for ‘vigilantism’, which again, what were you supposed to do? Ignore a child’s screams and twiddle your thumbs waiting for a hero? 

You could deal with that later, mentally thanking every god that your overbearing CEO-esque backstory has allowed you to ignore financial burden. 

Regardless, you were going to do good on your promise and do what every rich person does best, meddle in other people’s lives unnecessarily. So, with the very obvious destruction caused by the fires, you decided you were going to make use of that to get closer to the family. A seemingly dubious young woman just drifting through life, now revealed to be a lone youth, it was perfect to garner some kind of pity (or so you told yourself). You’d insert yourself into the picture for just long enough to sort out the main problem of this disaster, then keep yourself scarce when he finally wakes up. 

You may not know how long Touya will spend comatosed, now that you’ve fucked over the Todoroki family story, but you know who you can extort to ensure the peace. You know damn well who you’re going to extort.

When night falls, a nurse comes in with your dinner. He does the routine check-up on your vitals as well as your actual physical condition before you actually get your food, but before he can leave, you ask him about the child you brought. He doesn’t give you much information, just tells you his injuries are severe. 

In your head, you chew him out for such a vague response but externally, you only nod and absentmindedly slurp on your mystery juice. The juice that sure did taste like juice, the flavour rolling in your tongue and mixing together to form flavour. As you eat your certainly meal flavoured meal, you notice the basket of fruits sitting on the counter, a tiny little card tucked into the basket. 

When the next nurse comes in to take away your tray, you ask her whether you can visit Touya just to check on the poor kid. She tells you the same thing, that his injuries are severe and that he’s currently unconscious. No matter how much you tell her that you’re worried for him, she doesn’t budge.

You just wanted to meddle in people’s lives! Why wasn’t the universe letting you do this one thing!

By the third time you ask about him, the nurse who has probably grown tired of your consistent asking, gives up and tells you which room number he’s in. Still stuck in your hospital gown and perhaps a little embarrassed from the desperate begging, which you did not want to recount, you slipped on your slippers and set off towards his room. 

The system pings to life, you receive a new quest.

[!New Objective: The Furies!]

Reading the details, it wasn’t like you weren’t going to anyways. But it was nice to know that you could do it without the system sending you to hell again. Well, even if it did send you back there, you’d probably come back ready to nose in again.  

Still, you pad through the sterile hospital hallways, the gown catching on the scales of your thighs as you walk. The bright warm lights still hurt your eyes, just a little, but you can still see. Passing through dozens of rooms, each one with concerned family and smiling friends. Someone, anyone. 

Room number A48 is the only one, a lonely little room emitting a gentle light. There is no one inside, no one accompanying the young child.

Carefully, you slide open the door and approach the bed. His once fluffy white hair is slightly coarser now, forming a more spikier composition. Rather than the crude staples that once littered his body, it seemed the grafted skin had taken almost seamlessly, that though there was some form of divide, it would soon heal with time. His chest rises and falls in slow paces, and yet still you can barely believe the sight in front of you. 

A part of you longed to reach out and just touch him, just anything that would confirm your vision. You stop yourself, you have no right to. 

Instead, you just watch, your eyes following the ECG line as it pitches up and down. Standing just a few footsteps away, a small shiver passes down your spine and arms as you clasp your hands together. You don’t know whether your prayers mean much, but you do so anyway. You’ve never really prayed to another god other than your own, but with your current being, you think even anything would be of help. 

It's a miracle he’s still alive, you pray that he’ll receive another. 

You don’t know when you’ll have to confront Endeavour, you can only assume it’ll be soon based on the system’s timing. Yet despite your very clear hatred for his actions, you find yourself rather uneased. You’ve always been somewhat nervous when it comes to such events, you could pretend but that harsh thumping in your chest never really goes away. Tripping over your words, mispronouncing something, forgetting what you were going to say, there were ten million things that could go wrong. 

But you needed to do this. You have to, you must if you want to protect them. 

You try to become that second child, that youngest of the Yoshikawa family in an attempt to picture the image of cool composure. Squaring your shoulders, you force your breathing to steady as you press your hands together for some warmth, anything to stop that quiver. That voice you have always used for speeches sits heavy on your tongue, lodging in your throat ready for your initiative. The change comes to you easy but you don’t know how long it’ll last, your only hope is that it will. 

The room door slides open, and you don’t even have to turn around to know who it is. The heavy footsteps and the even heavier pressure in the atmosphere, your objective’s target was here. 

You don’t turn your head, pointedly keeping your eyes lowered onto Touya’s resting form. He stands besides you, almost dwarfing you in height alone. Taking a curt glance towards him, a huff escapes you. 

“You know, my place almost burned down,” You hum, tone all too indifferent for someone who has seemingly gone through hell. 

“I’m glad it didn’t,” With a sigh, you turn to meet his slightly widened eyes. “I wouldn’t know what to do if it actually did.”

Clearly taken off guard, the man doesn’t answer, merely staring at you. You don’t even know whether he knows who you are, for all that it was worth, you could just be a random stranger hovering over his son like a creep. Still, you don’t falter, a tempest of deception already brewing in your head and all but spilling from your lips. 

“Did they even tell you how he got here?” You murmur, keeping your voice soft as the hour grows late. 

Endeavour takes a moment to answer, perhaps still not quite processing your words. When he does eventually find his voice, it's gruff despite the lowered volume, “They did, I didn’t think you’d be up so quickly.”

A huff of amusement escapes you, “That’s what they said too.”

Another period of silence descends, with the both of you alternating between looking at the ground, the heartbeat monitor, Touya, anywhere but each other. This isn’t the Endeavour you were expecting, grieving yes, but not borderline ungainly such as this. Still, no matter how much you’d quite like to slap some sense into him, you keep your mouth shut and wait for him to say something. 

“How did you know he’s my eldest son?” He asks, all but demands if not for the low volume.

You shrug, “Just guessed he was.”

“I’d hear him training and all the things he’d say,” With a wry quirk of your lips, you keep your eyes lowered. 

“Made the connection pretty early on.”

As though commenting on the weather, you merely continued on. You could be much crueller with this rencounter, and in the end perhaps some kind of lesson would be learned, but you wanted him to understand the gravity of his actions through his own processes, not through aggression. That wasn’t how this tragedy needs to be solved, not what’s needed. 

A small huff escapes you, your shoulders shrink ever so slightly as you mutter, “Y’ know I heard him crying before the fire started.”

“Children don’t normally cry like that if everything is fine in their homelife.”

“I don’t want to judge but...” You were definitely judging him.

“It's hard not to.”

For the first time, you meet his eyes. You don’t know why you were nervous, the man beside you is just as scared as the child on the bed. He may not show it, but in those eyes you see it all. Deep down, there was still some care for his children, some fragment of affection for his family. It all just got shoved down in favour of some lofty goal. 

“Who are you to judge?” Endeavour retorts, a stern quality now taking to his form. 

“What happens in my family isn’t your business.”

“You’re right,” You laugh, sending him a droll glance. With a bite in your voice, a soft breath escapes you, “But imposing your ideals on your children, then abandoning them when they fail, isn’t exactly the most virtuous.”

At this sudden reveal, the older man seems to finally realise that you aren’t just some random stranger, some blissfully ignorant civilian. You blink for the first time in a while, coating your dry eyes as you continue to stare at him. The consistent beeping of the ECG machine is all that surrounds the two of you, no other sound beyond the night wind. 

After a choked silence, he manages a response, “How do you know that…?” 

“Do you think I just passively absorb whatever a hurt child has been saying when he trains?” With scrunched brows, a tinge of actual, genuine hurt leaks out. 

You know he’s hurt from this, what kind of decent parent could not be? But how could that even compare to everything his own child had experienced, the possibility of a fate worse than this? How could a moment of vulnerability not force out some modicum of your true emotions? How could you bear to watch an entire family almost broken apart for just one man’s ideals and maintain your cool? 

No matter how much you could try, you can’t quite keep up the cool and aloof facade. You were never good at it, and perhaps you’re just far better at playing the hurt child than young mistress, far better at playing the volatile dragon than the austere god. 

“I never approached, but I’ve heard things, seen the way he treats himself,” Your voice comes out in a murmur, you only shake your head as your hair sways along the movement. 

“Do you actually care for them? Do they know it?” Unblinking, you bore into him as scales travel up your waist, “Because if they did, I doubt that one would burst into such raging flames from your inattention.”

“Imagine if I had not been there, would you be able to live with yourself?”

He knows what you’re implying, and both of you very well know what would have happened if Touya had been left in that lake. A flame of over 2,000 celsius would have very well incinerated him to dust, your quick action was the only thing that changed that tragic course. Of course, he didn’t need to know that his son would have actually ended up descending into a spiral of dissolution, that would be too much. You were not that cruel.

The ECG monitor spikes for just a moment, returning to its usual rhythmic beeping when neither of you speak. Endeavour can barely meet your eyes, and you him. The hard set in his jaw contrasted by what can only be described as dolour, yours tight from restraint. Too stubborn, too prideful, an unstoppable force and immovable object are bound to clash.

A few more moments of tense silence pass, and though you’re the first to relent, averting your gaze ever so slightly and letting out a soft breath, he speaks. 

“He was so young… I didn’t know whether he’d understand and he’s always been so disciplined.” He murmurs, “I thought if I just told him to stop, he would eventually get it.”

It spikes again. 

You sigh, perhaps a bit tired, “A child is still a child, and if you don’t explain to them directly, they won’t get it. You need to explain to him outright that you’re not angry or disappointed, but you’re worried for him.”

“I think you’ve let your own shortcomings affect him too much, and he’s associated too much of his worth to your perception of him, it ruined him,” your voice dips to below a whisper, that idea of him ruins you all the same. That image of him burnt at the bottom of the lake, burnt, burnt, burnt. 

“I’m not just talking about Touya, but the rest of your family too.”

Maybe you’ve talked too much, maybe you’ve been too cruel to spring this onto him when the wound is still so raw, but you couldn’t care less, not now. You can do something, and if your words end up being nothing but the wind by his ears, then you’ll take matters into your own hands. 

Bringing your arms closer into your, that shiver you were expecting rushes through you. A hand reaches out towards the boy, but quickly retracts, another sigh escapes you, “Your lofty ideals have destroyed your possibility of a family, but it could’ve been worse.”

“You still have a chance to change everything for the better, will you take it?”

Endeavour’s, Enji’s, eyes meet yours, and you hope through this one moment of understanding that he’ll come to learn from his mistakes. Your chest heaves, and you’re certain that your nurses will scold you when you return. He nods, a slight action but one nonetheless. That’s enough for you. 

With a soft sigh, you turn to leave. Your eyes drink in the sight of Touya, his heartbeat monitor still beeping in a constant rhythm, and your heart calms. Taking one last look at the older man from lowered lashes, you smile with a mournful gleam, “He’s a good child, please don’t ignore him.”

Your ears ring with a particularly loud set of beeps as you turn your back and the doors close.  

[!Objective Complete: The Furies!]

Yet when you turn to leave for your room, you come face first with a seemingly familiar person. A young man dressed in a sleek suit with sharper features and a prodigious pair of horns extending from his forehead, long hair bound in what was likely once a neat braid now dishevelled. Beneath the warm bright lighting, the lines on his face seemed deeper than what it must truly be, only magnified by the thin frames atop his nose. The moment he sees you, an expression of pure irk twists his refined features as he all but marches towards you. 

There’s no one else in the hallway, why was there no one else in the hallway? You can only stand there in fear and mild confusion, feet rooted to the ground even when he grabs you by the shoulders and shakes. This must be Hiroomi, it has to be. 

His lips are pulled back to reveal sharp teeth, sword straight brows furrowed as he hisses, “Why’re you running around when you haven’t recovered yet?”

“I know you’re worried about the kid but you need to consider your own health first,” His voice is sharp, unforgiving and perhaps if you weren’t who you were, his grip on your shoulders would have actually hurt.

“Do you know how worried I was when I saw the news? I had to book the first flight back. They kept telling me how severe your injuries were and now you’re just up and about.”

When you don’t respond, still a bit too dumbfounded that he would actually come find you, he lets out a breath and loosens his grip. Nonetheless, the hardness in his brow doesn’t leave. Pressing his tongue into his cheek, his chest heaves heavy as he closes his eyes. 

Hiroomi shakes his head, muttering, “Never mind, come on, you shouldn’t be up and about so late.”

“I’m eighteen,” You dumbly blurted out.

A huff of amusement leaves him, acerbic gaze glancing at you as he drags you back to your room. “Age doesn’t matter when you throw yourself into a raging fire.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Three years pass and you’re certain that he’ll awaken soon. In said three years, you have somehow been inducted into the Todoroki  family as a pseudo-counselor, or rather that’s the best way you can describe your role. You didn’t even intend for this to happen, it was like you got adopted without your consent. 

Hiroomi does not know this, you intend to keep it that way. 

Really, you’ve just been showing up at odd hours ready to make sure that your words actually had some kind of effect. It wasn’t as if you were prowling outside their doors like some kind of creep, you did make an agreement with Endeavour and even Rei when you got to meet her, but you’ve been enjoying your immense level of freedom recently. Which unfortunately meant that your visits were never the most planned. 

You vaguely remember the first time you showed up, having taken public transport and showing up exactly when a certain someone was at the door. You just stood behind him for some reason, effectively giving him what must have been the heart attack of his life when he finally noticed you, or the second heart attack of his life. You weren’t keeping count, you didn’t particularly care. 

Regardless, while the children did take some time to warm up to you, it didn’t take long until you had a very curious six year old constantly wanting to touch your horns, as well as a nine year old and thirteen year old very interested in the ‘new lady terrorising dad’. You don’t know why they knew that word at those ages, and frankly, although impressed, you were kinda scared that they did. 

Fuyumi and Natsuo were and are absolutely lovely children, but knowing that some of their mannerisms and behaviours were a product of a troubled household, you didn’t know how to feel. And since you’d been transmigrated so late, you couldn’t prevent Shouto from receiving his burn. This entire family was perfectly engineered for maximum heartache, you can only thank the system for letting you be such a busybody. 

Still, you tried your best to be a good role model to all of them. Which largely entailed acting as a chaperone every time their father wanted to train the youngest, bringing Shouto to play with the rest of his siblings whilst ensuring that he could engage in extra-curricular activities to help with his social skills, encouraging family time through slow and deliberate implementations. You have the children write letters to Rei, promising each and every one of them to deliver them to her yourself, and when you do return with her responses, their elated expressions are all that you need for the rest of the week. 

Similarly, you suggest therapy and if not, then at least writing out what they felt. 

After which, you split your time between visiting their mother in the psychiatric ward and Touya back in the hospital.  And still, you keep most, if not all interactions with Endeavour curt. That doesn’t mean that you don’t notice his slow progress, which is still progress at the end of the day. Every time you visit Rei, you find a vase of her favourite flowers somewhere, while the rest of the children have become a little more open to their father. Natsuo and Shouto are still apprehensive, you don’t blame them, you’re just glad they can somewhat tolerate his presence for now. 

It's almost impressive how fast everything is healing over and you still have no idea how that came to be. Rather, it would be more accurate to say that you have no idea how everything is going as well as it is now but you’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so you take it in stride. 

You aren’t sure when Touya will wake up, but you hope that when he does, he’ll be surrounded by the family he deserves. 

With a coat wrapped around you, walking through an almost familiar sterile hallway, you arrive at a familiar room and bring your hand up to knock. Before you can do so, a woman’s soft voice calls for you to come in. Bathed in soft autumn sunlight, Rei is preoccupied with a book. Her softer features, ones you have seen moulded upon her children, are relaxed, and when she smiles at your arrival, you respond with one of your own. The older woman urges you in, and you do so readily. 

“Rei-san, I brought fruits,” You hum, reaching into the plastic bags hanging off your elbows to reveal a few containers of cut peaches (she had let it slip that she was partial to them one autumn). 

A small breath of amusement escapes her when you busy yourself with rearranging the containers, and though her voice is still quite soft, you manage to catch her words, “Thank you.”

When you finish, you grab a chair and sit with her, a cup of tea already served and waiting for your hands. Joining her in watching the birds sing from the window, the two of you sit in comfortable silence. You haven’t yet managed to broach the topic of his awakening to Rei, and though there was some doubt that he would, his doctor had been very positive that he would. Something deep down, some part of you that you aren’t sure is human tells you the same. 

Bringing your cup to your lips, you take a cursory sip before mumbling, “You should go see Touya when he wakes up, I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

“I’ll pick up Fuyumi and the rest of them so they can go with you.”

The older woman looks to you, a kind of delicate resolution in her grey eyes. One you don’t quite like right now. 

“Will you join?” She asks, her voice lined with a hopeful lilt.  

Your immediate expression just so unfortunately has to be forlorn, didn’t it? You’d come to accept your soon approaching retirement from the Todoroki family’s lives, or perhaps more like waning appearances, with the possibility of Touya’s awakening coming ever closer. It wasn’t as if you wanted to abandon them, but you had come to the conclusion that soon, it should just be the six of them. 

You just so happened to be the one that helped it get back on the right track, that was all to it. After all, you were just a dream. Your role will soon be over, and you’ll get your peaceful life before you know it. 

Shrugging your shoulders, your brows furrow together as you meet her eyes, “Maybe, but wouldn’t it be kinda intrusive?” 

“Of course not,” Rei is quick to quell your doubts, “You’re practically family.”

“He doesn’t know who I am.” You propose. Surely, surely this would be a valid doubt. No child wants to see a random stranger when they wake up from a coma. 

She gently insists, easily turning your prior statement back onto you, “Then, I’m sure he’ll want to meet the person who saved him.”

All your energy just deflates, and you can only hang your head and acquiesce. You never really could argue with her in the end, not when she’s clearly far better at picking apart your flimsy excuses. With a weak laugh, you avert your gaze.  

“Maybe at a different time.” 

At this, the conversation returns to that silence from a few moments ago, tinged with a tension that did not previously exist. Still, it's not one that stifles but rather lingers at the back of your mind, merely a thoughtless element. The two of you continue in this pleasant silence, with the occasional sip of tea or your eventual offer of fruit. As you bring over two forks, your mind suddenly brings up the project you’ve been working on. 

“Rei-san.” You call for her momentary attention, digging through your bag for a set of papers to show her. 

When you finally find the correct file, you hand it over to her as you watch her flip through the pages with a nervous ball of your fist. Inside the plastic portfolio was a set of places that differed from landed housing to apartments, something you could put together with your new time and resources. You thought about a bunch of different factors but ultimately, you felt like you couldn’t quite trust just your insight. 

As though awaiting judgement, you confess, “I thought about getting you a place if you still didn’t feel comfortable living with your husband when you get out, but I wasn’t sure.”

She runs a hand down a certain page, one you recognise having a garden. The woman continues to look through everything you have to offer, but when she reaches the last section, the one you thought she’d like most, she stops. There was a simple fondness in her eyes, and when she now meets your timid gaze, it only seems to grow.  

“Whatever you think is best, I think I’ll like, I’m sure of it.”

A smile pulls at your lips as a soft sigh escapes you. “That’s great but you still gotta tell me.”

Rei laughs, and you find the sound to be nothing but sonorous. You wonder whether she’ll continue to laugh like this when you eventually leave. 

Eventually, the call that Touya has awakened comes. The news comes on a weekday while the children are at school, and you keep true to your promise. Their mother had only just recently arrived per your own confirmation, so now you merely wait outside the hospital, waiting for a familiar car to pull up.

Your eyes scan across the crowd, darting between your surroundings and your watch. It's only when you hear a very loud call of your name from a certain boyish voice that you know that they’re here. In the distance, you spot three silhouettes coming ever closer. 

With a wide smile, you wave at the three children as they rush towards you as best they can, with Fuyumi trying to make sure Shouto doesn’t fall over himself in his scurry while Natsuo watches over the two of them. When they do reach you, your hand ruffles Shouto’s hair as you greet Fuyumi, holding out your hand for Natsuo to hold as the youngest happily swings his sister’s and yours.

“Come on, your mom’s waiting for y’all,” You huff in amusement, your lips quirking upwards as you lead them towards that room. 

You’ve long since grown familiar with the format of this hospital wing, if not for your own checkups then for you near daily visits. For once, there’s little chatter to distract you from your thoughts, the walk uncomfortably quiet yet, your head is completely clear. As if nothing could possibly marr your existence at this very moment, living in the present and for once, you can distinctly note how the slight chill on your hands, yet warm all the same.  

Shoes squeaking against the tiles, under cool light and seated on a bench is their mother. With her hands clasped together on her lap, when she catches sight of her children, her eyes seem to soften. You only just manage to greet her, and subsequently allow the children to greet and join Rei. Before you know it, your palms are no longer cold, you don't know how you feel about it. 

The years of healing has allowed the family more than enough time, for Rei to heal and to come to terms with her actions, and for Endeavour to realise his hubris before it costs him everything. It has allowed for Shouto who undeniably adores his mother this new happier fate, has allowed for Natsuo to gain the parents he never truly had in that world, has allowed Fuyumi some semblance of that distant past she thought lost.  

These years will allow Touya everything he would have lost in that crueller, harsher world. He will wake up and everything will be better. 

A nurse slides open the door to let the family in, presumably explaining the eldest’s condition based on her expression. You don’t join them, retreating to stand by the hallways walls as you watch them. With your focus so inherently placed onto the nurse and the few that remain inside, you’re scarce to notice a child standing in front of you, a small hand pulling on your coat for your attention. 

“Aren’t you joining us?” The youngest asks innocently, wide eyed and curious. 

Crouching down, you put on a gentler expression as you speak, “Your older brother will want to see all of you.” Your hand takes his to rub a thumb over his knuckles, and you don’t ignore how he tries to catch your hand to hold onto it,  “I’ll just wait outside, okay?”

He only scrunches his nose before murmuring, “Okay…”

Shouto seemingly accepts your explanation, and in an unlikely fashion, does not cling onto you despite his words. He scurries off to join the rest of them, perhaps realising his mother’s sudden worry over his disappearance and Fuyumi’s approach. She doesn’t ask you to join them, but something in her eyes glints with that exact same desire. You only smile, patting her head. 

As the four of them enter, you resign yourself to the rushing thoughts in your head. You’ll start retracting from their lives after today, this was the plan, no? You’d try to fix everything before he wakes up, and if you do, you’d become the occasional family friend. Perhaps you’d drop by every-so-often to make sure that everything was still going well, perhaps you’d visit during birthdays, but you never meant for any of this to go beyond three years. 

You just don’t know what you’ll do from here on out. The system has been quiet since your last quest three years ago. It hasn’t pinged to notify you of any warnings, no new quests or new messages. You have nothing. 

A set of footsteps sound from beside you, and when you turn to see who is approaching you, a soft huff escapes you. A middle-aged woman in a white coat holding a clipboard greets you before joining you by the wall. She’s tall enough that you have to look up at her whenever you speak to her, she stares down at you with lowered eyes, pin-straight hair bound in a ponytail swishing to the side. 

“Aren’t you going to go in?” Dr. Onizuka Masae hums, crimson eyes watching your expression. 

You only shake your head, “Nah, he needs his family.”

Neither of you speak, letting the rest of the world pass you by as you stand side by side. Initially, you only knew that she was your primary physician for your recovery. You thanked her when you got out of the hospital about three years ago, and sent her a basket of flowers and fruits. However, it seems that the two of you were destined to meet, as a few days later, you ran into her with her daughter in the central business district. 

Though the two of you only chatted for a while, when she had accidentally let slip that she treated both you and the eldest Todoroki child, it was as if you had another debt to fulfil to this seemingly miraculous woman. This debt was one you don’t know whether you could ever repay, not when she has let him still continue to use his quirk, let him still pursue the path he may want. You don’t know what she did, how she managed to do it, but you all but owe your life to her. 

“I never did thank you, huh?” You laughed, your head lowered. 

She looks to you with an incredulous furrow in her brow, cocking her head as her eyes narrow, “For what?”

“For saving him.”

Masae blinks, but upon noticing the determination in your eyes, shakes her head. She probably doesn’t know how much she’s done for him, and even if the rest of the world never learns of her brilliance, you’ll spend the rest of your days praying for her if it means repaying her great deed. 

“I didn’t do anything special,” She breathes, a sardonic bite to her velvety voice.  “I’m just doing what I should have.”

From your bag, your fingers brush against a soft, plush surface. You pull out the stuffed animal and offer it to her, “For your daughter, I didn’t know what to get so I just got something I thought she’d like.”

She accepts the gift with a momentary wide-eyed shock, one that is quick to disappear. Masae smiles, a gentle tug across her pallid visage, “You’re a good kid, you know?”

You can hear everything in that room, you can hear quiet sobs coming from someone, everyone. You hear a voice, raspier and scratchy from disuse, apologising. You do your best to tune out such a private moment from your ears. Averting your gaze, you laugh. 

“Yeah.”

Endeavour comes to visit shortly after the rest of the family leaves. You meet up with him after sending the children and Rei off, standing ram-rod straight as the sun dips below the horizon and bathes the world in warm sunlight. He isn’t the scared and mournful man from three years ago, yet not the stubbornly hubristic fool from before. You still don’t know how to perceive him, but you’re certain that he will be kinder to his son that only wanted his acknowledgement. 

The two of you don’t exchange any words, merely striding off towards the room once more. Again, you remain outside as father and son reunite, listening for any hint of misunderstanding once more. The older man has learned from your words it seems, as for once, there’s barely any heated words nor yelling coming from an interaction between the two of them. Masae passes by you again, she doesn’t say anything when she sees you seated on the bench, merely handing you a cup of water from the nearby water fountain. 

You can only assume that all has gone well when he emerges from the room, and when you raise a brow, he only nods. Endeavour leaves shortly after that, you remain outside. Even as staff enter and exit, you remain outside. Visiting hours are soon to end and though you can already see a few nurses starting their routines, you remain outside. You don’t know why but you can’t bring yourself to move from your spot, both listening and ignoring every sound coming from within that room. 

Hunched over yourself, you hear a familiar walking rhythm approaching you. Masae has another cup of water in her hand and a vague expression on her face. She’s still in her scrubs and though her very being appears flawless, there was a weariness to her perennial features. 

“Do you want to see him?” She asks, her smooth voice uncharacteristically terse. 

You bring your hands up to deny her, scrambling to explain yourself once more, “I shouldn’t–”

“Do you want to see him?”

The doctor doesn’t let you look away, you can’t look away, forcing you to meet her gaze head on. Carmine eyes bore into you and urge you to respond, truthfully. 

You furrow your brows, and your hands instinctively reach for your bag to rise. She only huffs, already sliding the door as quietly as possible to let you in. 

Touya’s room is still just as you remember, with a pile of letters on his bedside and a few gifts his siblings insisted on picking out. The letters aren’t as neat as you remember, your hands compiling them into a tidy stack as you rearrange some of the gifts so he’d have space. 

A wide window brings in some natural moonlight onto his face, highlighting the youthful curves of his visage and the scars of his new skin. He’s still a bit skinny, not a cause for concern but still a factor that squeezes your heart. Your eyes trace his long lashes, of which have already grown back, down to the haphazard way he’s tucked in. On instinct, you reach to adjust the blanket, bringing it up to his chest. For a moment, your fingers brush against new skin, slightly rough but ultimately not the gnarled scars of that world. An odd feeling of relief fills you. 

Yet your one moment of weakness is immediately punished with his shifting. Your hand flinches away and you turn to leave upon that disturbance, your heart pounding in your chest as every part of you rushes to take fright. You’re halfway out the door when the young boy’s voice stops you right in your tracks. 

“Wait!”

His voice sounded so distraught for just a moment, you could swear you were imagining some part of it, making up a narrative to justify your unjustified worry. You think he recognises you, but you’d be stupid to get your hopes up. Yet still, you listen, turning around to face him. 

“I…” He hesitantly looks at you, as though unsure of what to say. In the end, he still manages, “Thank you, for saving me.”

“It’s nothing, I just did what anyone would.” You shake your head.

When neither of you can find the voice to speak, you find your mind still racing. You shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t be in his room. You should have left hours ago, you should be in your bedroom getting ready to live your peaceful life. 

Your voice is soft, barely above a whisper as you speak, “You’re very strong, do you know that?”

“Get some rest, your family will be visiting tomorrow.”

“It was great meeting you, Touya,” You smile, poignant emotions of unknown origin roiling in your stomach. 

Without looking back, you leave, wiping your eyes, careful to not scratch an eyeball out and taking off into the long night as your eyes burn with stray tears. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive.

He’s alive.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Not even two days into your supposed retirement, you were surprised by a call around three in the afternoon. You were just lazing around in your living room torturing your hands with tiny jump-rings when your phone started to reenact a seizure on your floor. Of course, when you looked over to check the caller ID and saw that it was Fuyumi, you immediately scurried to put on proper clothes while answering the call. 

You thought something came up, you thought she might have needed something with the timing being so close to her school release. Imagine your surprise when it wasn’t Fuyumi’s voice, but rather a very determined Shouto asking where you were. 

“Where are you?” He huffed, his indignation all but palatable through the phone, “You said you’d come visit with us today.”

You had to take a moment to think back to the past few days, you did not make any kind of promises related to that. Hesitantly, you could only mutter perplexedly, “I did?”

“You told us that you’d meet up with us to visit Touya-nii.” The boy affirmed. 

From beside him, Natsuo had seemingly come up to speak as well. “Yeah! You promised mom you’d come with us.”

At the time, you were pretty sure you could hear Fuyumi’s amused huff too. 

You were very clearly being gaslit, if they even knew what that was. The worst part of it all was that it worked. In your panic, you actually believed that you forgot and rushed over as soon as you could, haphazardly grabbing a container of fruit as a cursory gift. By the time you arrived at room A48, you were so thoroughly out of breath that it took you five minutes to regain your natural breathing as well as all but collapsing onto a chair. 

Safe to say, you got conned, real good. 

That little situation was not the only time. Trying to retreat from their lives resulted in you being gaslit into joining them. And if you thought it was just going to be the children, you were wrong. So wrong. 

A few days later when you were visiting Rei, she started talking about how the children will be freer with the upcoming holidays and how she’d like for them to spend more time outside of the house. You of course agreed, which is when everything went downhill and somehow led to you staying in the Todoroki estate for the summer. Interspersed between those were the routine visits to the ward and the hospital, which meant by the second day of this very weird situation, you realised that you weren’t just the run-of-the-mill family friend anymore. 

You could only thank every god that Endeavour was not in on this. 

Perhaps then one might think, with the youngest now being 10, you shouldn’t be here anymore, right? 

Wrong again. 

This time, it came out of your own volition. Having discussed this choice with everyone involved, you decided to return to your routine visits with Touya’s discharge a year ago. And with one less place to visit as well as the impending sense of doom gone, it was obvious that your mood has certainly improved. 

As of now, five years have passed since the incident, Rei’s departure from the psychiatric ward seems to come ever closer while you started work as a translator for some minor company. The eldest has started high school for heroics after much needed interventions, heart-to-hearts, and even bribes (you weren’t proud of this one), with support equipment having been made much earlier as well as the consultation of Dr. Onizuka. 

Regardless, with autumn having befall the earth once more and your days a lot more free, you had decided to take a trip to the city as a little treat for all your hard work. And also because Hiroomi was finally back in the country and he forced you to meet up with him under the premise that he— and you apparently– need to pick up some new coats for the coming winter. 

Swirling a mug of tea he was offered, he keeps his eyes on the passing pedestrians, large horns just barely covered by the store window’s curtains. Contrary to belief, due of the draconic nature of both your identities, colder weather did in fact affect Hiroomi more than he would like to admit, which meant that though he was attempting to be the aloof and unbothered CEO that he was, the fact that he’s desperately clinging onto his cup said a lot. 

In the cosey little tailors, your brother takes a sip. There was something about his current face that you had no other way to describe it beyond, ‘bitter mother-in-law’. Rather than even looking in your general direction, he remained focused on the sparse cars driving by.

He speaks, practised and controlled, “It's good that you’ve found a job you like, but don’t you think you should stop meddling with some random family’s lives?”

“Unless you wanted to be the one to convince Endeavour to go to therapy, I don’t think you should be allowed to talk,” You hum in response, almost half tempted to snatch the cup out of his hands. 

“Besides, you’re never here so why does it bother you so much?”

At this, he finally deigns himself to look at you, an overexaggerated sigh accompanied with a deadpan look. 

“It bothers me because you’re sticking your nose in things that don’t involve you,” Hiroomi snarks, an acerbic note to his words

“Look, I get it,” You sigh, but as the memories of all those times come rushing back to you, your face twitches. “But I tried to back away, and do you know what happened?”

The older man looks at you, motioning with an eyebrow for you to continue. 

“The kids and their mom conned me into staying.”

The last remaining light in his eyes seems to die at this very moment, and were it not for the cup in his hand, he likely would have smacked you with all the strength he could muster. You had no doubt about it, and perhaps because of that, you only met his eyes with a blank stare. Hiroomi, strong as he is, brings a hand up to his face as his shoulders deflate. 

“You’re smarter than this,” He just manages to wheeze out. 

With a shake of your head and a pointed look, you can only rasp back, “You know I’m not.”

After this, silence seems to naturally fall, with the only sounds being the chatter and footsteps of pedestrians, as well as the rhythmic humming of a sewing machine from behind the store. There’s a soft smell of hot iron air and tea, of detergent washed fabric and gentle pine. And the voices of a few people talking, then a young boy’s voice saying he saw you…?

This does not go unheard by your elder brother, directing his attention to the source of the sound. As he squints off into the distance, his voice cants higher, “Why is there…? Why is there a group of children pointing at you?”

“What?” You turn back, and when this elicits a very enthusiastic wave from Fuyumi and Shouto, Rei likewise smiling when you notice her, you now realise were in fact what you were hearing and your jaw slacks. Your hand reaches up to his arm, as though to push him back, “Oh god.”

“You’re telling me you got cheated by an eight year old?” Hiroomi snides, clearly an appropriate time to talk about your idiocy. 

“Don’t, please don’t.”

The two of you can only watch as the youngest, and arguably still the baby of the family, drags everyone into the store. Though you hadn’t expected to run into them, you still greet each and every sibling as well as bowing to their mother, letting Shouto hold onto your hands as he presses the pads of your fingers.

With your other hand, you gesture towards the frankly, rather bewildered group. “This is my brother, Hiroomi. Hiroomi, this is the family I’ve been helping with.”

Everyone greets him, albeit perhaps still a little awkwardly. Rei still has the decorum to shake his hand when he offers it, Touya only brings his hand up for a quick wave, Fuyumi at least has the rationale to do more than just that, while Natsuo does an awkward blend of the two. The only one seemingly unaffected by this tension is again, the youngest, who merely waves and introduces himself like normal. 

“It's a pleasure to meet all of you, my sister quite enjoys your company so I hope you continue to take care of her,” He recovers quickly from the shock, bowing and speaking without noticeable cant or lilt. While that wouldn’t sound out of the ordinary, it's important to know that this was a thirty five year old man bowing to a family so deeply he might as well have accidentally stabbed one of them and apologised in response.

“Why are you acting like that?” Hissing, you send him a pointed glance. 

When he only sends you a dirty look and a raised brow, you mutter, “You’re talking like you’re meeting some business partner’s spouse.”

The elder’s face twists in displease, a brief break from his usually austere expression. Yet again he keeps his pleasant smile on as he discusses god knows what with Rei, a little bubble of agreeable badinage. You can only assume 

The tension is only broken when a little old lady emerges from the back holding two coats, handing them off to the both of you as she greets the Todoroki family, under the rightful impression that they were here for her services. 

As Hiroomi hefts on the coat, he thanks her, again bowing his head. He turns to you with a stern gleam in his eyes. “I have to go. I will update you when I’m back in the country,” With a last bow and another statement of gratitude, he steps out of the quaint store and into a car already waiting for him, one you hadn’t realised was there until now.  

Seriously, you’d think you’d already be used to the way he talks when other people are around but you aren’t. 

Before you forget, you thank the old woman, not quite as severe as your brother but still eliciting a fond laugh from her regardless. She urges you closer and suddenly places a hand on your head, patting as she starts reminiscing about you and your brother’s ‘insistent politeness’. You have to nod your head and agree and laugh at her every sentence, and it almost seems like an eternity until you’re finally let go. At least, not before you leave with a few candies in your pockets. 

Eventually, you can turn your full attention towards the somehow still waiting group, a mixture of attempted nonchalance, full blown maladroit and just plain old indifference. You have to resist the urge to laugh right there and then, instead putting on a smile that clearly screamed the opposite of everything it stood for. 

“Was that actually–?” Fuyumi asks. 

A snort of amusement escapes you, “Yeah.”

Taking a quick glance at your watch, you’re about to open your mouth to say something but you’re swiftly interrupted by Shouto pulling your hand. 

“Do you want to come with us to the aquarium?”

When he looks at you with those big eyes and innocent look, how were you supposed to deny him? Who cares that you just wanted to have a slow day and go back to sleep, certainly not you. 

It turns out, the actual reason they even managed to run into you stems from the fact that the aquarium was a few blocks down from the tailors, that and the fact that someway, somehow, someone had learned over the years to recognise the exact length of your horns from the back, thus effectively able to point out your being in the first place. Everyday you wonder whether increasing insanity might be a trait of each generation in My Hero Academia. 

When you do get there, you thank every god that has ever existed that the ticket line isn’t some hour long wait, and when Rei offers to pay for your ticket, you remember blacking out and pulling out your wallet before she could even finish her question. You don’t even know why you did that and you’re starting to think the influences of your prior life are never going to leave you at this point. 

Handing the little information pamphlet to each of them, everyone is careful to watch their step until you eventually ask about the source of the sudden trip. 

“Hey, did y’all just decide to go to the aquarium because of boredom or..?” You tentatively bring up, lifting your skirt so you could see the next step. 

Touya only takes a glance at the admittedly very excited youngest two and snorts, “Nah, Shouto said he wanted to go and got Natsuo in on it.”

“Sounds about right.”

As you walk behind the rest of them, a soft smile pulls on your lips. While Shouto is fond of all his siblings, he’s rather much fonder of his older brother. So ahead of Fuyumi and Natsuo were the two of them, the youngest was pointing at all the things he wanted to see as the oldest only grins and nods. Their mother watches over them, ahead of you and just trailing behind. 

This is what they should have had, they should have gotten to be children and bond as a proper family, you’re glad that they have that chance here. 

Looking down at the pamphlet, you absentmindedly read over the miniscule details that range from the history of the aquarium to the events that were held throughout the week. A bit unfortunate that there’d be no shows being held for today, but it wasn’t like it was the end of the world. 

When you do look up, you realise that you were now in a much larger room with wide tanks that reach the ceilings, soft blue light reflecting upon everyone in the room as a myriad of sealife drift through the crystalline waters. The rest of them have already run off somewhere and though you’d be more than a bit worried if they were any younger, it wasn’t like you were there to watch them. 

There’s a few seats situated in the middle of the large room, and by instinct, you head straight for one to enjoy the tranquil atmosphere that now surrounds you. It was remarkably quiet for an aquarium, with only a few couples and smaller families out and about, pressed to the glass and pointing at this fish or that crab. Letting out a soft sigh, you let your eyes drift along a wandering manta ray gliding through the waters, following its movements as it exposed its smiley visage towards the glass. A few younger children take note of this, pointing towards it and smiling at their parents. It did look rather silly, but silly was still cute. 

Your head rests on your hand, fingers against your cheek as you’re pulled out of your observation by the three boys calling for your attention, urging you over. When you do reach them, Shouto points at some fish, one you’re not even sure what to call, and stares at Touya with a deadly serious look in his eyes.

“That one looks like you,” He declares, finger pointed at ugliest looking fish you might have ever seen in your life. 

You don’t actually want to know what prompted this (not like you wouldn’t tell that to Hiroomi either), but clearly the elder does not take kindly to this comparison. He places his hand on his chest as an expression of pure and utter offence twists his features, eyebrows raised and jaw agape, the whole works. 

Touya meets his eyes and insists, “No it doesn’t.”

“It kinda does,” Ever helpful, Natsuo chimes in. 

Fuyumi does nothing to discourage this, merely shrugging her shoulders and snickering behind her hand. When the eldest looks at you, you have to do your best to stifle the snort that’s threatening to escape you. He gasps, a sour expression manifests on his face, as though having sucked on a lemon, snapping his head away with a dramatic huff. 

With the smuggest little grin you’ve seen on a ten year old, Shouto relishes in his victory as the rest of you finally succumb to the absurdity of the situation, chortling in Touya’s suffering while he only holds his head up in mock pique. Not even his own mother was immune to the light-hearted shenanigan, a charmed laugh escaping her lips. 

Quick to retort, he points at a similar looking fish, “Yeah and that one looks like you.”

“We’re still brothers then.” There’s a sudden heaviness now, the boy’s innocent yet unintentionally darling words having brought the teasing atmosphere to something else. Something a little more raw. No one speaks, perhaps a mixture of shock and heart ache, some kind of emotion a bit too heavy to fully speak out.

Placing a hand on his head to pat it, you point towards the two fish, gathered together in a little group of five. With a soft huff, you urge them to look where you’re pointing, “You’re all those fish.”

This brings down another moment of silence as they exchange glances. You try to meet their eyes, but when they do, you realise a certain someone is not quite like the others. 

Natsuo suddenly sends you a mordant look. “Are you saying we’re all ugly?”

You can only bring your hand to your face, not quite sure whether you want to laugh or cry as the rest of them pile onto you for your statement. 

By the time you escape your shackles of ugly fish calling, which never really ended because they all kept pointing at random animals and said some variation of ‘that’s you when you’re (insert action)’ or ‘you as a fish’, you’ve made it to the end of the exhibits and instead found your eyes straining to see in the sheer brightness of the souvenir store. 

Though you had originally planned to just look around, you noticed Natsuo squatting by a display shelf, looking at some of the smaller stuffed keychains of various animals. There’s a look of obvious conflict on his face, and when you get closer, you notice what he’s holding in his hand.

“Do you want it?” You hum.

He turns over the little plush whale shark keychain, but places it back. “Yeah.”

Squatting down near him, your hand reaches out to pick it right back, placing it in his hand as he looks at you with a vaguely wide-eyed look. 

“I’ll pay, okay? As a gift for letting me join today.”

At this, his entire face lights up as a wide smile stretches across his face. You’re suddenly dragged into a quick hug as he thanks you profusely, still holding onto the keychain as he does so. With a mirthful laugh, you pat his head and tell him that you’ll go find the rest of his siblings. 

While the other two boys take your offer with varying degrees of affirmation, Fuyumi is the one who shows some hesitation. Even if she was awfully preoccupied with the selection of tote bags they had, she still stood her ground. 

“Oh, you don’t have to,” She immediately tries to reject you. 

Taking her hands in yours, you maintain your stance, “As a treat, since all of you have been working so hard.”

Though Fuyumi still seems a bit hesitant, she eventually takes your word for it and leaves to grab something. Quite obviously, there was Natsuo’s whale shark, but Shouto came back with Fuyumi a little bit later, a small plush seal and a tote bag with jellyfish motifs in hand respectively. You also manage to find a self-watering glass globe in the shape of a seahorse, surreptitiously picking it up as a gift. 

Just before you could reach the cashier, the eldest slips to your side in the line, an acrylic shark keychain in the palm of his hand as well as, you noticed, a plush ray keychain. You don’t question it, placing down all the items as the cashier brings out the card machine, yet you’re scarce to notice Touya suddenly taking back the ray.

“Sorry, I’m paying for this one separately.” With a slight sheepish lilt to his voice, he retreats behind you. 

Still, you pay for everything with no issue and pass each and every single one of the gifts to their respective owners. Jogging over to Rei, you pull out the paper wrapped gift.

“Rei-san, this is for you.”

She’s careful to cradle it in her hands, peeling back enough of the paper to reveal the delicate craftsmanship. There’s a soft smile on her lips, “It's beautiful, thank you.”

As the rest of you patiently wait for the albino to finish his own payment, he eventually jogs out from the cashier to meet up, and as you’re about to hand him back his keychain, he presents the plush ray to you.

He insists, “It's for you, for joining us when you didn’t have to.”

Taking the keychain into your hands, the ray’s silly smile greets you as you bring it up to your face. A giddy smile pulls across your lips, and your hand reaches up to give him a pat on his shoulder, eyes squeezed in delight as your words lilt higher. 

“Thank you.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

As summer reaches its peak, you find yourself wondering why you were back here again. Chaperoning children that don’t actually need a chaperone, what has your life turned into? 

Touya is nineteen and Fuyumi is about to be eighteen, surely you wouldn’t need to be here. There were two borderline adults here, surely Natsuo and Shouto would be fine with them. But nooo, you can’t have that, that would be too out of character for the system who you're halfway certain is pushing situations for you. 

It wasn’t as if none of them could cook, no, you made sure that every single one of them had some level of skill. Frying an egg, cooking rice, chopping onions, something that would make sure they wouldn’t die if they were left on their own (only the system knows the flashbacks you have of fan art of Shouto and Touya cooking eggs on their bodies). 

And yet, here you are on their summer breaks, cooking the occasional meal and even engaging in every father’s favourite activity, squinting at homework and raging internally when nothing makes sense. The lot of you would gather around the paper, trying to figure out how to solve some over complicated worded maths question, only for the third child to confidently declare the answer, having done the same question a few years back. A dark part of your brain wonders whether Endeavour would ever be the kind of dad to pitch a fit over not understanding an ever evolving maths curriculum, maybe in a kinder world. 

The days have been horridly humid, and though it rains, it doesn’t help much. Honestly, you doubt that even if you made some storm strike down the whole of Shizuoka, you’d still be cooking alive. You’ve resorted to sleeveless shirts and shorts just to help and yet you’re constantly sweating from the heat. What was the point of having all this money if that man can’t even invest in proper air-conditioning? 

Tonight, you’ve been left in charge of the house against your will once more. Endeavour has at least had the decency to tell you why you had to come over, thus you’ve decided on making some cold soba for tonight, if not for yourself then for everyone else suffering alongside you. 

Normally, you’d have someone come help you in the kitchen depending on who was available, like taking out cutlery or bringing food to the table, but you think you might be alone for today. Fuyumi just got back from an outing with friends, Natsuo is currently working on some summer worksheets and Shouto, well… he’s not the best with knives right now. You would ask Touya but you’d rather not bother him right now, not when he’s enjoying his break from his last year of school. 

The sun is still rather high in the sky when you enter the kitchen, still bearing down its burdensome heat. Staring at the spread of ingredients you gathered, a few packs of soba, a pack of udon, dashi stock made a few days ago, you lazily fan yourself with your hand as you start filling a pot with water. 

It's around this point that you can feel your head hurt from the strain of your hair, and with ten million other things to think about, that sense of annoyance wasn’t at all what you needed. With a soft huff, you lazily let down your hair to re-do it, stretching out your lower back when you finish. It seems your age may be catching up with you, as a sound of relief escapes your lips when you can feel the lower vertebrae pop in relief. 

As you open your eyes, you notice the figure standing at the doorway with a blank expression and a cup in hand. You send him a quick wave before you return to your work, opening the pack of soba and discarding the plastic. The eldest Todoroki child doesn’t respond, he merely passes by you to the fridge and starts shovelling ice into his cup. There’s no other sound beyond the soft swell of violins from your phone, and despite hearing the fridge close, he doesn’t leave. 

“Are you good with soba for tonight?” You hum, blithely measuring noodles to be cooked and shared among you all. 

From somewhere behind you, he responds, “Yeah.”

“Alright,” Turning back to confirm, you pull out the pack of soba to show him, to which he only nods. “Do you want some kakiage?”

“Isn’t that inconvenient? I’m fine.”

Still holding onto the plastic wrapped noodles, your brows furrow ever so slightly as you assert, “If you want it, I’ll make it for you.”

There’s a complicated look on his face, one you can’t quite decipher. His eyes narrow and his jaw set, the two of you stand there as though trapped in some imaginary duel. You weren’t lying by any means, it wasn’t as if it was some big trouble to make julienne some onions and carrots if he really wanted kakiage. 

He approaches you, cup of ice water consumed within a few gulps as he meets your eyes. You don’t look away, only cocking your head. 

Finally, he speaks, brows knitted and voice strained, “And you wanna do it all on your own?” 

“Yeah? Unless you want to help,” You huff amusedly.  

Before you can react, he grabs the pack out of your hand and passes by you, heading towards the fridge to fill up the nearby metal bowl with ice. It takes you a while to snap out of your stupor, and with a pleasantly surprised breath, you quietly return to your measuring. 

Touya is unsurprisingly pretty decent at cooking, more attributed to the time he’s spent with the rest of his family. As the eldest, he’s been made to help around when he can, thus unlike Shouto, you can readily trust that your green onions will be cut all the way through. Although not every piece was completely even, not that you could judge, they were fairly uniform. Plus, he’s still rather winning in conversation, sniggering at the gossip you hear and even adding some of his own.

Spooning off grated radish and wasabi onto the individual bowls, you move onto arranging everything onto everyone’s trays before you have to eventually face the demon called the deep fryer. By the time you’ve cooked and distributed the noodles as well as having left the respective broths at their desired temperatures, Touya has already finished cutting all the vegetables needed for tempura. Which meant the only thing left for the both of you was to batter the vegetables up and to fry them, of which you aren’t exactly looking forward to. 

Despite your many encounters with heat, willing and unwilling, frying in general was not a cooking method you particularly liked. Hot oil is scary, hot oil in large amounts even more so. You didn’t even want to make tempura, but your only other option was mackerel and he doesn’t even like fish. Sure, your scales would spring up on the first sign of danger but that didn’t lessen the actual heart pounding, bone recognising fear that deep-frying evokes. 

With a heavy heart, you lower your chopsticks bearing the first sacrificial kakiage into the oil as the sound of sizzling fills the air. Touya stands beside you, admittedly closer towards the pan than you are but still beside you. When it finishes without qualm, only then does your heart briefly slow from its rapid pounding. 

After the first successful piece, you gain more confidence to start frying multiple at once, placing the remaining kakiage in as well as the zucchini. A few beads of sweat roll down your skin, forcing some hair to stick to your face. You try to remove it with your shoulder but to no avail. A hand reaches to flick it away from your forehead, the pads of thick fingers fleetingly brushing against your skin. 

“Thanks,” You send him a smile, eyes squeezing in mild delight.

Returning your focus to retrieving your fried vegetables from the pan, your ears pick up on the now much deeper breaths Touya takes. You should open the window soon, the circulation in here probably isn’t the best right now.

The two of you remain in your unofficial positions until everything has been fried and the stove is turned off. When your eyes glance towards the window, you notice that the sun has already started to dip below the horizon. Still, with everything finished and served, the only thing left to do is to bring it to the dining table and to call everyone else down. Then, of course, you’ll have to start clean-up. 

It is as you’re bringing out the first tray of food that a familiar figure starts to approach down the hall. Fuyumi, having seemingly realised how late it has gotten and that you never called her down, appears almost mortified when she notices you. With small but rushed steps, she scampers towards you. 

She’s quick to take the tray from your hands, asking, “Why didn’t you call me down to help?”

“I didn’t want to bother you from your fun, besides, I had Touya here,” You wave her off, eyes glancing towards the eldest emerging from the kitchen. Patting her on the shoulder, you reassure her, “I’ll go call the other two.”

Your footsteps pad down the wooden floors towards the siblings’ rooms, knocking on their respective doors, “Natsuo, Shouto, dinner’s ready.”

Though Natsuo responds with a quick ‘coming’, Shouto is already out before you can finish your sentence, his little face all but seeping with contentment knowing exactly what you made. When the two of you return to the dining table, it's already been set for five along with all the utensils. Still, you return to the kitchen to retrieve the jug of barley tea you made earlier in the afternoon as well as cups. 

Your return is considerably slower due to the tea, yet even still, you can hear some bits of conversation from within. You don’t quite catch anything legible, but when you enter, almost everyone has already settled into their seat. 

“Woah, this is a lot,” Natsuo comments, eyes scanning across the table. The third child glances over at his sister as he takes his seat. “I thought Fuyumi-nee would be too tired to help.”

“I was, someone else was helping,” She hums almost sing-songedly. 

Shouto on the other hand, scrutinises the five bowls of noodles set out, realising that his bowl has significantly less noodles than the rest. He still takes his seat but calls for your attention almost immediately after, “Why does my bowl have so little?”

“Because I wasn’t sure how hungry you’d be,” Your response is instantaneous despite your focus on pouring out tea for everyone. 

“Can I have more?”

“Mhm, just wait for a bit, okay? I’ll pass you some from my bowl.” You hand him his cup with a squeeze of your eyes, one that he happily accepts. 

Fuyumi and Natsuo don’t miss the way the eldest bites into his piece of zucchini like it wronged him. Ever oblivious, the youngest takes a sip from his cup and very eagerly, or as eagerly as he can display, starts to eat his soba. The rest follow his lead, starting their meal as the occasional bit of conversation springs up.

At this, you decide to get started on washing up, it’ll be more convenient sooner rather than later, especially with the hot oil. As you take your first steps back towards the kitchen, someone seems to notice your departure and alerts the table to it. 

“We’ll clean up later,” Fuyumi interjects before you can leave, accepting your cup passed to her by her brother to fill up. She looks at you with those hopeful eyes and you find yourself cracking once again, “Eat with us, please.”

The rest of the table chimes in, the younger three in different arrays of expectation. Yet, when your eyes land on Touya’s, heavy lidded yet still bearing some glimmer of that same hope, you let out a soft huff as the corners of your lips tug. You really couldn’t say no to them. 

“Fine.”

Dinner goes by rather quietly, with little being shared and perhaps a bit more teasing done, especially with Fuyumi’s recent outing. Let it be known that accusations of her secretly meeting up with someone was not on your initiative, but rather from the eldest. Of course, it isn’t long until everyone else dog piles on those claims as everyone is teased about imaginary lovers until eventually, a very innocent question is asked about your love life. 

Unsurprisingly, not many people are interested in dating someone who lives in the mountains. Nor are they interested in someone who may or may not be associated with the Yoshikawa family (you thank your parents and Hiroomi that they’ve kept your existence so vague, if only because it was fun to fuck with people). The topic is dropped as quickly as it was introduced and everyone returns to the quiet meal with little issue. Though distinctly, that tapping sound that started when your dating life got brought up stops. 

True to their words, you’re practically shoved away from the sink to help clean up by Fuyumi and Natsuo. And by shove, you mean they stared at you and said the magic words. They said, as you can so thoroughly quote, ‘you cook, we clean, that’s the rules’. They weren’t wrong, but that was just using your own words against you. You weren’t even allowed to wipe the table since Shouto beat you to that, somehow. You’re pretty sure all of them planned this. 

Still, they can’t keep you away from your habitual fruit cutting, and when they finish, you hand them their plate of peaches and grapes. Shouto had his smaller plate in the dining room, and he’s already back in his room, likely preparing to bathe. This leaves only one person left, who you find sitting outside, looking towards the courtyard as night descends upon the world. 

Approaching Touya, you offer him the plate of fruit with a hum, “Fruit?”

He accepts your offer, fingers brushing against your hand as he takes the ceramic plate into his care. Sitting beside him, you press your hands to your much cooler scales as the breeze fans off the both of you. Among the solitude, you roll your shoulders back as a yawn escapes you, one that leaves you slightly bleary with languour. You hear the clink of metal against ceramic, and when you look towards him, he’s offering you the remaining pieces, all the grapes rolling around with only the remnants of peaches. Instinctively, you reach out to pop a grape in your mouth. 

“You can ask me to help with meals when Fuyumi and Natsuo can’t, y’know?”

It's a sentence he springs onto you as you’re eating, one that has you sending him a wide eyed look of surprise. Still, you catch yourself fast enough to answer. 

“I don’t want to bother you,” Shaking your head, you smile. Your eyes glance towards the sky, a soft breath leaving you as a tinge of contentment fills you, “Besides, the two of them want to learn so it's fine.”

“Though, Fuyumi is already much better than me,” You laugh. 

He only reiterates his intentions, his voice taking on an earnest tone along with the slight shift in his visage, “I’m serious, I want to help.”

“Don’t think you’re forcing me or anything,” He’s quick to comment, as though knowing how you’d react.

You admit, you just didn’t think he’d really enjoy cooking, let alone cooking with another person in his space. Fuyumi may be the only exception where she doesn’t mind people around her as she cooks. It wasn’t really out of any hesitation or qualm, but rather perhaps some kind of awkwardness you didn’t want to acknowledge, couldn’t acknowledge. 

Yet, there was still a part of you that was scared that you somehow messed up, that somehow seeing that young boy in the dark void was a sign of your failure, that your new life was really an elaborate punishment from the system. But you didn’t like the thought of that, you hated the idea that the life you’ve helped the Todoroki siblings create was just some illusion. 

You feared above all that you never really did change anything, that bright and passionate Touya died in that fire, and that in all reality, there was only Dabi.

But you know better, you should know better. Although that resentment still existed within him, it certainly is not the seething odium of the original canon. Looking at him, he really isn’t that young boy anymore. Remnants of that possibility remain, the cartilage and nostril piercings (you were the one who accompanied him and Natsuo all those years ago), the scars that never healed completely seamlessly, the slightly more stoic personality he’s adopted, still he no longer treads down the path of his future as Dabi, but rather as Touya. 

That little ray keychain that hangs on your bag in a room, smiling at everyone who sees it, is proof enough.

You can only laugh, for there was no other expression that could better describe your joy, “Don’t blame me when you complain about how sweaty you’ll get then.”

He scrunches his nose at that, yet still a confident grin pulls across his face as he turns your statement back onto you. 

Among the summer winds and sparkling stars, the system pings.

[!New Objective: Always with Me!]

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Touya is 21 years old when he makes his debut as a pro-hero. Though you won’t get into the details as to exactly what happened when the topic of which agency he’d sign into, the only thing you will share is that there were a lot of emotionally constipated talks.

Thus, with the promise that again he would not push himself to his limits alongside using the proper support equipment as per Dr. Onizuka’s recommendations, he was eventually let off the hook. It would be an understatement to say that he was both glad to be out of that situation as well as conflicted. Or you supposed he was. It must certainly have been odd, especially since while he was signed under a hero who seemingly had a fire quirk, it seemed that they specialised more in evacuation and stealth so you honestly have no idea why he signed under them. 

You’ll be honest, you don’t actually know how everything happened, you just remember mediating and advocating for his choice, and then suddenly you were being invited for events that clearly were meant for family.  

Safe to say, Touya has been working under this pro with almost no issue. Concurrently,  you never really heard of them, and information about them has been spotty based on what the system shows you, but you weren’t going to sweat it.

Thus with the arrival of spring, as well as obviously almost everyone back to their routine of school and work, you could retreat back to your routine. Which incidentally, you decided that you needed to get a better grasp on the current situation, seeing as you’d been putting all your efforts into the Todoroki family and thereby accidentally ignoring everything else. 

Musutafu is ultimately not that different from any big city you’ve been in, and with the plot having progressed as late as you have let it, you’re not exactly sure what you’re looking for. Rather, you might have realised your propensity to claim to do things for the plot, only to turn around and do as you please. Still, you were going to get that peaceful life promised to you sooner or later, and your idea of a peaceful life happened to involve some kind of romance, thank you very much. 

So who cares that you don’t actually have much to do, you’re due for a nice stroll anyways. 

Your feet rap against the concrete pathways, strolling as your eyes trail across the shops on display. The blithe spring wind whistles in your ears and the sunlight is gentle, there aren’t too many people on the streets and there isn’t any odd chaos, it's practically the perfect day. 

You’ve already gotten a little lost in some massive liminal department store, very thoroughly did not get tempted to buy unnecessary things like a ladle shaped like a dinosaur or a traditional tea set. So when you returned back to reality and saw a cute little bakery just across the street, you decided to take a bit more of a scenic route so you’d work up the appetite to treat yourself. 

Being in this part of Musutafu, you’re surprised you’ve yet to see any patrolling heroes but then again, you’re not sure exactly who would be going through here anyways. By the time you get to the patisserie, you’re positively peckish for a treat when your eyes land on a prettily decorated peach tart. There were a few other tarts and cakes, but for some reason you just couldn’t take your eyes off of it. 

Peaches. He likes peaches.

Approaching the counter, you wind up getting a slice of key-lime pie and some tarts for the rest of them, as well as that peach tart.

The woman at the counter seemed all but pleased at your selection, even noting that the tart you kept staring at was their best seller at the moment. Internally, you preened at your astute instincts, externally you only laughed and thanked her. 

As you exit the store, which you regrettably did seeing as you did actually have other things to see, you feel your phone buzz in your bag. Hiking the bag of pastries onto your elbow, you dig around for your buzzing phone to find Fuyumi’s caller ID flashing on your screen. 

You press your phone against your ear, likewise checking the time on your watch just to make sure. “Hm? Fuyumi?”

“Are you in the city? Apparently there’s been reports of a criminal running around so I just wanted to check in on you,” Her voice is soft, likely on her break and calling the first moment she could. In the background, you could hear the soft sounds of children. 

“Mhm, well I’m fine. A small-time criminal is nothing compared to what I’ve been through.” Your hand reaches up to wave her off, eyes tipped towards the ground as you continue walking. 

“I’ll be dropping by later, is that okay?” You hum, looking through your little bag of goodies. As you speak, your eyes drift to the peach tart,  “I got some pastries from this bakery and I think you’d all like them.”

Just as you look up, you perhaps again remember that the system hates you. A small gasp escapes you, and it's the only sound you can muster, “Ah–”

You should be better than this, you’re supposed to be above petty crime, so why is it that you always end up in these stupid situations? How was this even possible? You couldn’t possibly be taken hostage right after you said all that, could you? 

Fuyumi wasn’t wrong when she said there was a criminal causing chaos, because said criminal was currently holding you hostage with a blade to your throat. He’s dressed a little shabbily, and honestly calling him a villain is a bit too generous, if anything he was just some punk with a knife. You say knife, but if you actually bothered to look, it was more like his finger was a knife. Anyways, you’d dare say the only crime he’s committed is smashing your pastries on the ground, and you were going to give those to the rest of them. 

He’s yelling of something you could care less for to the petrified bystanders, and by god you did not think they were genuinely all that useless. Surely someone would have the balls to at least call the police? 

Although you could theoretically strike him down with lightning (or your scales would spread up on instinct and just make the poor guy look like a buffoon), you weren’t feeling for another fine, not today. You’d just let the poor guy do whatever he’s going to do, it’s not like he could actually kill you anyways. Not when the system took ‘unkillable NPC’ literally. 

[User should still try to actually escape (＃＞＜)]

“Oh nooo, help me, I’ve been kidnapped.” You groan.  

Your captor hisses at you, pressing his blade (finger) closer towards your neck, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Most people actually scream that you know?”

Catching his gaze out of the corner of your eye, you can only sneer, “Kinda hard to scream when I’m not particularly stimulated right now, sorry bud, you’re real fucking boring.”

Still, despite seemingly the entire crowd’s expectation, no one comes. You start wondering whether you could just grab onto the blade and jam it into his head. He couldn’t just destroy your pastries and not pay. You paid good money for those. 

As you lament your smashed tarts, your ears pick up on something. In the distance, you think you hear a familiar catchphrase and your face cringes. Maybe your system was really becoming those systems that push stupid situations for the plot. 

[!New Side Quest: Love under Fire!]

Before your very eyes, you’re faced with arguably the most recognisable hero of both this world and your own. 220cm of pure muscle, you did not think that American comic book shading would translate well into real life, yet here you are. The All Might, about to save you from the most cliche crime ever. 

You didn’t miss that system notification. Was this really going to be the start of your love story? 

Just your luck, you wail and moan about being single forever and the system pushes the one person you joked about being your only option right in front of your eyes. Well, it wasn’t as if All Might is unattractive in either form.  Who knows when you’ll get to see him next, you might as well try your chances. Even if you had a knife against your throat. 

If the system wants to play stupid games, then it’ll win stupid prizes, starting now. 

Though distinctly feeling the press of metal digging into your skin, you put on your most winning smile as your glasses tip down your nose. 

“Hey, come here often?”

The young man all but screeches, “Lady, I can literally slit your throat right now. Why are you flirting with All Might?”

“I have zero game, let me have this,” Hissing, you bite back. 

He’s dumbfounded at this, face twisting in disgust as his hand falters ever so slightly. Perhaps the only one more confused than him was the man himself, the unwitting catalyst for your horrid dalliance. You wish you could better describe it, but the only way you could was making one imagine the man himself, the very Symbol of Peace™ with a giant question mark bubble coming out of him. Perhaps if you were more eloquent, but alas. 

It was time. Time to use the English you hold so dear to your heart. Or more like English with a select few Japanese sprinkled in.  

“Are you from Tennessee?” With a wink and a smile, you lift your hand to throw him a finger gun as you continue the line in English. “Cause you’re the only ten I see.”

The man and All Might share a look, one you can only describe as utter and complete bafflement, albeit for two completely different reasons. You don’t let that stop you, no, if anything, it only encourages you. Seeing him like this blurting out anything trying to piece together a proper sentence, certainly had its appeal you must admit. 

“On a scale of one to America, how free are you tonight?” Your grin doesn’t falter, summoning some light winds to breeze through your hair as well as blinding your captor. 

As the man spits out your hair from his mouth, another person is at the scene. This time, it's a young woman who maybe comes up to All Might’s elbows, large fox-like ears on her head with a few tails sprouting from her back. You vaguely recognise her from watching the news, another pro-hero but definitely not one you can recognise from canon.

“What the actual fuck.” She blurts out, equally confused. 

The older man manages to say something through his shock, proclaiming, “Young Zenko! Language!”

“I don’t think the kidnappee blurting pick up lines is worth that,” She yells back.

You send another coy grin, your teeth peeking through your lips, “If the Arizona heat didn’t exist, you’d be the hottest thing on this earth.”

By this point, there’s more than a few cameras pointed at you. It's only at this point that some shame rushes to you, but goddamn it, if the system was going to force a side quest on you called ‘Love under Fire’, you were going to put your all into it! As you’re about to blurt out another bad America related pick-up line, you’re very rudely interrupted by the person who smashed your beloved tarts. 

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with her too, just take me alright?” Your captor huffs, throwing his hands in the air after his finger returns to normal. “I don’t even want to kill her anymore.”

“Boo, boring,” You sneer. 

Before he can even fully process what you said, a concentrated jet of blue flames rushes past you to slam into him. You didn’t even know that was possible. Nevertheless, the poor guy now lay knocked out on the concrete, unsurprisingly not burnt despite the fire’s very, very miffed owner. 

However, since you were effectively being held up by your captor until he decided to give up like a coward, your knees had forgotten that it actually had a job in holding you upright. The rapidly approaching ground fills your vision until it isn’t, a rather strong and large arm having caught you mid-fall. 

Looking up, you’re greeted with that face once more, and there was only one thing going through your head as you remained in that arm. 

Was your heart pumping like no one’s business because of almost face-planting into concrete, or because you were face to face with a very attractive man right now?

“Good job distracting the perpetrator, young lady! Though I must admit, I did not think bad pick-up lines would be so effective!” All Might flashes you a blinding smile, and you must be seeing heaven right now with how truly bright it is. 

He thought…. He thought you were just distracting him? 

You would fall down to your knees if it wasn't for him supporting you right now! Your heart could cry from this! You could sue for emotional damage, that’s how hurt you are!

“Ah…yes. Th-thank you…” You wheeze out, managing to steady yourself despite your rejection (not). 

And just as fast as he appeared, he’s gone in a blink of an eye, probably to save more people and to break more hearts. Zenko, the shorter woman, approaches you, a complicated expression on her face that you’ll pin as mild revulsion. Looking at her, you notice her hero costume reminds you of a certain series, though you’re hesitant to call it out. There’s something familiar about her name though, you wonder why. 

A voice calls out from behind her, one very familiar and one you really hoped was not who you thought it was. Yet again, you’re wrong. His voice is stolid, un-betraying of any hint, “Zenko.”

The hero only waves him over, and just like his greeting, there is nothing on his expression beyond what seems to be mild and professional chagrin. 

“Touya.” You stumble forwards, having to be steadied by her, eyes scanning over his being to check for something you yourself weren’t sure of existing.

“You know him?” She murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear.

In an almost uncharacteristic act of what you think might be concern, he reaches out to almost ghost over your neck. He asks, and if you strained, you could hear just the slightest lilt in his voice, “Are you okay?”

He’s taller than you, you’ve only now fully realised that. Being so close to him, you wonder whether he’s always looked so pretty with his brows furrowed together and his eyes so full of focus. His lashes, both upper and lower, are still so long, they almost kiss his cheeks. Even with the slightly discoloured scars, you don’t think you’ve seen a prettier person in all your years here. You should really thank Rei for having such strong genes someday. 

“Hm? Yeah. ‘s not like the guy could have done anything anyways, just didn’t want to get another fine,” You smile, brain barely processing anything much. 

“That shouldn’t be what you’re worrying about!”

Zenko sucks in a breath through her teeth, “I think that’s our cue to leave.”

“Nothing to see here! Situation handled, criminal arrested!” Zenko yells out, holding up her hands as a trained smile is pulled across her lips. 

Despite their obvious doubt, upon the urge of a hero, the crowd eventually disperses and you’re made to follow along to file the relevant report. The car ride to the agency is deathly quiet, with Zenko placed between the two of you and nervously glancing between the two of you like she was a kid in the middle of her parents arguing. No one acknowledges what just happened. In fact, nothing is said up until you’re pushed into a room by the hero who has a very obviously fazed look on her face, before she promptly pushes Touya in too. 

It takes him all but 10 seconds before he continues grilling you over your recklessness. And you swear that you have never been more confused in your life. 

His hands are thrown up in front of him, emphasising his every word as he chews into you, “Do you think you’re unkillable or something? Why’d you just let that guy threaten you?” 

“He could have killed you!”

“I know you aren’t some helpless maiden so why didn’t you just–!” His voice breaks, those beautiful turquoise eyes of his almost shaking with emotion. 

Seeing him distraught, actually distraught, sends some kind of ache through your heart. If you had known that he’d react like this, you wouldn’t have let it get to the point of needing All Might. 

You reach for him, he lets you, pulling him into a loose embrace. He stiffens for just a moment, but quickly relaxes in your hold, almost curling in. You can hear his heartbeat, thumping against his ribs. Softly, you can only coo, “Hey, I’m fine, see?”

He isn’t the young boy at the bottom of the lake anymore, the young boy you held in your arms as you hacked your lungs out. He’s 21 now, and you’re just the family friend. This concern was merely born out of the inherent helplessness he must have felt, knowing that he could have done something but might have been too late. 

He’s just comforting himself, reassuring himself that you’re alive and that he wasn’t too late. 

He doesn’t rebuke your touch. You wonder whether he’s always been so warm. 

Touya murmurs, quiet and hushed, “Don’t do that ever again.” 

“Just do whatever you want, I’ll pay the fines.”

“I won’t, I promise,” You whisper back. 

The two of you remain like that until you hear his heartbeat and breathing steady, unremitting and constant. When you pull away, his brows knit together for a trice before he returns to his placid visage. 

“I’m going to go back, don’t get yourself hurt alright?” You smile, your hand finding his to rub your thumb over his knuckles. “It wouldn’t just be Dr. Onizuka who’ll be mad at you if you do.”

“Yeah,” He huffs in amusement, perhaps even irony. He smiles easier, he says nothing about your hand.

“You too.”

At this, Zenko makes her very timely appearance with an almost dramatic swing of the door. The shorter woman glances at him with a pointed look before she turns her attention to you. 

“Oh uh, thanks for getting off brand Edward Scissorhands off of me,” You send the pro-hero a strained smile and a little bow, putting your hand up to excuse yourself before preparing to scurry off. 

Touya only raises his brow, “Who?”

Zenko doesn’t seem as confused, her hand raising along with yours yet her eyes told a different story, widening ever so slightly in recognition. Still, you make your way out before your ears pick up on something from inside. You really shouldn’t eavesdrop but you couldn’t help it.

“I see.” Zenko almost muses deep in thought. 

“Didn’t think your type was older women, you should’ve just said that.”

He hisses back, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Ouch, still a weird question to ask though. Besides, this Zenko must be on something. How would Touya’s type even be older women? He already had dozens of borderline rabid fans. If he just tries a little harder, he could have anyone. Admittedly, this person would have to look past some stuff, but he’s still a far cry from those micharacterisations!

She doesn’t answer that, merely throwing work onto him, “Oh yeah, remember to watch the footage the police collected.”

“You’ll enjoy it,” She remarks, then as though catching herself, clarifies, “I think.”

“Actually, maybe don’t.”

A few moments of silence passes in there, and you wonder how much of it is because he’s judging her. Then, she speaks again. 

Her voice bears a tinge of annoyance, “And don’t let your dad know, I don’t want that old man on my back again.”

What does Endeavour even have to do with this?

[!Side Quest Complete: Love under Fire!]

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Hiroomi is, you mean this as kindly as possible, kind of a clueless idiot when it comes to what updating means. While one would think update means messaging someone the moment they can, his idea of ‘update’ means a day before the actual event. And only emails you like some kind of lunatic, that and the maximum two sentence messages.

One then might be wondering what exactly is this event that has you so irked on your brother’s wonderful habit? 

It's an important charity gala (you’d be more amazed if he was actually donating it) that you had to attend to prove that you weren’t dead. Which was apparently a thing that you did every so often. It wasn’t like the system told you anything about that, nor did any quests pop up so you’d have to take his word for it. 

Around five in the afternoon (which by the way he didn’t even tell you when they’d pick you up, that and you’d be picked up in the first place), you were very rudely interrupted from your mid-afternoon nap by Hiroomi hovering above with no explanation just telling you that you had to go, making you very much regret moving towards the base of the mountain.

Probably helpful to add that you were in your bedroom. 

Which is why you were now standing on some pedestal stage… thing, in nothing but the innermost hadajuban and nagajuban. A tying cord and datejime is tightly wrapped around you, and you’re already a bit scared for what’s next. The room is at the very least, heated and you’ve been waiting for quite a while since you’ve been brought here. There is a vanity near you, though no makeup was present on the counter, rather a variety of kanzashi and pins.

When your brother returns, he’s quick to slip the dark houmongi onto your shoulders, a beautiful piece of clothing with minute flowers around a large river-like icon wrapping from the back. He wastes no time with getting everything on as he swiftly ties more fastening cord and the obi-ita. 

With your arms raised, you ask, “Are you finally going to wear something that’s not a suit?”

“Ha ha ha, very funny,” Hiroomi snarks, hands occupied with tucking the obi into something tidier. Again, it's another practised action, barely having to look as he already reaches for the obi-jime. “No.”

“White man,” Huffing, you can only lament the situation you just had to be in. 

At that, he suddenly pulls the knot tight, knocking the breath out of your lungs. An unintelligible noise leaves your throat, some unholy combination of a wheeze and a groan. Snapping your head towards him, your mouth hangs agape as you imagine exploding him with your mind. 

With a shit-eating grin, he doesn’t even bother to loosen the tight knot. “Don’t talk shit to the person tying your obi next time.”

“You going to pull out my hair later too?”

“If you call me a white man, yes.”

Still, the elder ryu finishes without any further delay and rushes you to the vanity. Once more, you really should start asking yourself why he’s so good at this, this went beyond knowing how to do your sister’s hair, this was the whole damn package! This man was better at hiding bobby pins than you! Before you knew it, Hiroomi had all but finished his work, at least until he held out a fabric mask.

“Make your horns longer.”

Raising a brow, you throw him a look. “What?”

“We’ve gone through this, you need to make your horns longer so at least there’s some deniability,” Voice deadpan, he only hooks his fingers between the straps. 

“How long? Is– is that a fucking ruler?”

He actually pulls out a ruler and holds it up to your horns, making you partially shift the top of your head to extend the core beyond your usual stubby shoots. Then, he drapes the veil onto your horns, thin straps hanging off your horns as you were now fully encased from the outside world. You have to rely on him to offer his hand just to stand up, careful to not step on your kimono or shift the obi-jime.  

“Are you sure no one will know who I am?” Turning to where you think he is, your voice bears some tinge of uncertainty.

His voice comes from ahead of you, farther from the vanity but not out of reach, “No one’s going to see your face, barely anyone will hear your voice, the kimono has been made to hide your proportions entirely, you had a manic episode and cut bangs again, what is there to be worried about?”

Then, it takes on that quality you’re just so familiar with. Exhausted with that lining of disappointment. 

“Are you worried someone is going to mention the–” 

“Yes I’m worried someone will realise I’m the idiot who got held hostage and flirted with All Might.”

“I screened everyone before sending invites,” He sighs, returning to your side as his hands hover around your head, fingers ghosting along the edges of the veil. “If someone even mentions it later, we can take down any kind of communication and sort them out.”

‘Sort them out’. When rich people say that, it either means suing them in court, sending a cease and desist or the more questionable option, crime. You’ll admit, you don’t know which one he’s referring to. 

Tentatively, you find your lodged voice, “Have you– done this before?”

Hiroomi attaches something to the ends, weighing it down. As though commenting about the weather, he hums, “When you were thirteen, someone saw your face in the lady’s stall and wouldn’t stop blabbing about it. Do you know where she is now?”

“No…?” You raise your brow, no matter if he can't see it.

“Exactly.”

You still don’t know which one it is. You’re too scared to want to know. 

Flipping up the veil, he’s adjusting the handkerchief in his pocket, in a matching colour and design as your houmongi. Hiroomi takes one last look at himself in the mirror. 

It feels odd to not have to do anything, if you had to be honest. You thought you’d have to do more but you’ve basically been all dressed up without having to lift a finger. Do you know how many women would kill for a man to perfectly prepare everything like he does? It's a wonder he’s not married, must be the emotional constipation. 

“Is there anything you want me to do?” You mutter, eyes on your clasped hands.

“I admit, I feel bad for you even having to do this in the first place,” He huffs wryly, handing you a bag and placing your phone in it, even going so far to show you everything inside. Hand sanitiser, a pack of tissues, some candies and sanitary products. You’re starting to feel like you’re in those dress up games. 

Your hand flips down the veil, continuing to listen to his almost humourless mirth. “But since we can’t risk anyone finding out your actual identity, you’ll just have to follow me around for a bit, and you can leave after about half an hour after my speech.” 

He wraps your arm around his, and takes slow steps as you enter the hallway. You can feel a dozen eyes following you, tracking your every movement and step. The older man continues, “A private car will take you back.”

“If someone gives you flack when I’m not around, you have full permission to do whatever you want.”

With a wondrous cant, your head snaps to his direction. “You’re telling me I can kill someone?” 

“Maim yes, kill no,” He clarifies, then mutters something to someone nearby.

“That was a joke.”

You hear the cloth of his suit jacket shift, your hand moving to his hand to pinch it which elicits a pitchy yelp from him. 

Well, he wasn’t lying when he said he felt bad, because you’d feel bad for yourself too. For about an entire hour, you just stood next to him as he talked with ‘insert surname’ this and ‘insert hero name’ that. Occasionally, you’d tip your head when you heard clothes shift in that way or felt a light breeze from the action, but it was ultimately not something very enjoyable, especially when you couldn’t even see who was in front of you. 

As you think about your warm duvet and hours of browsing anonymously written atrocities representative of a human’s inner most desires (someone had been writing fanfiction of pro-heroes and you were quite tickled finding an All Might x Endeavour long form), you hear some footsteps approach and you tip your head in greeting. Yet you don’t immediately return to your rather insightful fantasising, your ears pick up on a familiar set of steps, the rhythm and pace all too close to your own knowledge. 

Though you can’t see (you curse that fact now more than ever), your head still raises to try and figure out whether it truly is who your heart believes it to be. 

“Zenko, it is a pleasure to have your appearance,” Hiroomi’s tone is even, stolid without a hint of inflection or waver. You can feel him tip his head as well, clearly more indicative of his lack of stake with the pro-hero. “We sincerely hope you and your sidekick will enjoy tonight’s festivities.”

“You’ve been saying that for the longest time, but you and I both know nothing’s going to happen,” She merely laughs off, and though you can’t see her face, some part of you tells you she might not have the most polite expression on.

“Well, if you would like to be escorted out by security later, by all means, you can do as you please.”

“Hilarious, this is why the only women who’ll talk to you are your mother and sister.”

Your finger reaches for your brother’s arm, poking it incessantly until he relents and flips his palm over for you to write. You hastily scrawl out the words for sidekick and a question mark, and when you offer your palm, he writes out the kanji for ‘ignited’ and ‘arrow’. Your chest tightens for a moment, but before you can continue asking, two sets of footsteps come ever closer. 

Tipping your head, you follow along his lead. “Mr and Mrs. Sato, a pleasure to have you two here showing your support once more.”

At that, you’ve gone back to your duvet. The things you’d do for a warm night in are starting to pile up in your head, flooding the venue, slipping out when no one was looking to drive back, maybe you’d fake an attack. The nattering voice of whoever these Sato people were popped into your consciousness every so often, pitchy and spilling with desperation. Mentally, you thank the mask for even existing in the first place, better to never have to put a face to the names. 

The rest of the greetings go by about the same, and there’s barely any difference during your brother’s speech. All you had to do was, again be accompanied to your seat, which you assume is near the podium and away from the others based on how loud the microphone was, sit and say nothing. You clap when others clap, tip your head when you’re acknowledged, and do literally nothing else. He talks about aiding those much less fortunate through the means of the charity and encouraging those attending to use their advantages for good, usual rich people things where they just say vaguely nice sounding sentences for journalists to copy paste into their works. Again, you have to clarify that you would like to think that your brother is in fact a nice person who sticks to his words, but you kinda doubt it. 

Eventually, even that ends and you count down the minutes leading to your eventual departure. Though your mind is still preoccupied with that anonymous author’s deranged writings, you find that there’s another matter that has been slowly taking over, or rather person. 

Hiroomi wrote the kanji for ‘ignited arrow’, didn’t he? 

Was he here? Did Zenko really bring her fucking sidekick, who’s already gone through ten million of these courtesy of his dad, to some snobby gala? Usually pro-heroes bring their spouse, or their children, or they just don’t bring a plus one! 

As you sit on that damned chair waiting for something to maybe happen, though you doubt it, you hear someone pull up a chair next to you. Your ears pick up on that breathing pattern, and when your hand reaches out, you’re greeted with scarred skin, the pads of your fingers feeling across the edge of his jaw.

“Touya?” Tentatively, you mutter beneath your breath.

A hand presses atop yours, the warmth radiating off of it greedily absorbed into your own. He gingerly removes your hand and places them atop your lap to join the other, he doesn’t take it back, uncharacteristically keeping the two together. 

Touya grins, you’re sure he is, clearly amused by your complete disadvantage, “You choose to be escorted everywhere like a doll or do you have to wear that thing?”

“If this was a choice, I wouldn’t be wearing any of this at all,” You remark, sardonic lilt tinged from the matching grimace on your face.

“Woah, at least take me out for dinner.” His voice plays at an attempt at suave composure, perhaps if you were a lesser person you’d believe it. But the clearly joking tone tells you more than enough. 

Your other hand raises to deal a light smack. “Come on, you’re too young for that.”

“You’re right, I’ll take you out.”

The attempt at flirting, if you could even call it that, was about as bad as you thought it’d be. It sounds like something you’d say when you ran out of things to say. Yet though your entire visage has twisted to reflect your wince, your heart still threatens to escape your rib’s confines. It must be the secondhand embarrassment. 

With a deadpan tone, you murmur as he leans in closer to hear you, “You can’t see my face right now but I’m cringing.”

“That usually works,” He mutters in your ears, still playful. 

“On the roach that always ends up in the bathroom that has to be taken out by Fuyumi when it starts flying?”

“You can’t see my face but I’m scowling at you right now.”

You think you can hear a bit of a pout, and despite his words, you let out a small breath of mirth. The two of you remain there, talking in hushed tones and murmured whispers as he points out people for you to eavesdrop on, describing what they look like as you mimic overexaggerated versions of their conversations. Not at all ethical, but who was going to stop you? 

Not once does his hand leave your lap, rough fingers playing with your pinky. 

At the back of your mind, you’ve forgotten how much time has passed, content with soft amusement and the constant companionship. 

As Touya shields your face from view so you can drink, you hear a couple approaching, pitchy and buzzing in your ears. Still, you keep drinking and pointedly try to will away the idea of even considering why they kept talking about you. 

Alas, the system hates you. 

A man’s voice reaches you, you think he’s still standing as the sound comes from above you, rather too fulsome for your liking, “Ms. Yoshikawa, it's a pleasure to see you in good health.”

“Yes, truly. It seems you only glow as you get older,” A woman’s voice follows up, equally buttery and far better at hiding whatever insincere intentions she and her husband clearly share.

“Oh darling, your brother certainly spoils you too much. You look absolutely winsome.”

With a tap on his leg, you discretely wave him off. Touya obliges, excusing himself as you are now left alone with the couple. The Sato’s, you think? It doesn’t matter, something tells you that you won’t enjoy this. 

What even was the point of approaching you? It's a clear fact that you hold no sway on the company’s dealings, let alone Hiroomi’s! They’d be better off trying to butter up the security guards than you! ‘Winsome’ your ass, they couldn’t even see your face!

Stilling your shoulders, you keep looking ahead of you, refusing to break the adroit posture you’ve adopted. They seemingly take your silence, your only option, as an invitation to sit, the sounds of a chair shifting on the carpeted floors as they sit somewhere at the table. You only hope they haven’t sat where Touya was. 

Mrs. Sato leans in towards you, her voice taking on a lower, faux-sympathy, “Was that Todoroki boy bothering you, dear? You mustn't let just anyone talk to you so casually.”

“If that boy’s father wasn’t Endeavour, I doubt anyone would take his attitude.”

“So unruly, that Zenko only makes him worse.”

“And while I do understand that Zenko is in the top 10, surely she should have some humility for someone ranking so low.” The man mithers, the sound of a glass leaving the table reaching your ears as he does so. 

Your eye twitches, what was it with rich people acting like stereotypical drama evil mother-in-laws? At least your brother used his bitchiness for good, these people were just shit-talking people way more competent than them! How dare they even consider Touya anything beyond an upstanding, highly-skilled hero? He isn’t confident for no reason! If anything, his confidence is a reflection of the pure skill and mastery he held over his abilities! Would they be able to knock out a hostage taker without even burning the hostage? You doubted it! These people couldn’t even do a fraction of what he does! When they could earn the recognition of even stick-up-the-ass Endeavour purely based on sheer proficiency, then they could talk!

Pretending to be nonchalant was like pretending you were stupid at this point. It felt like your bones were rattling in your skin, shaking and yearning to be free from your mortal shell. The scales on your legs rush upwards, blood rushing through your veins as you swallow thickly. Just thinking about Touya possibly catching any part of this forced thicker nails to extend. 

“What was your brother thinking of inviting them?” Mr Sato laments, probably twisting his cartoonishly shaped moustache while he’s at it. “He must be so stressed from having to manage an entire enterprise on his own, there’s no other reason.”

“Not to brag, but my husband and I are known to be quite the advisors. There’s no one else better than us when it comes to counsel,” His wife places a hand on your shoulder, and it takes everything inside of you to not slap it away. 

Their laugh is almost a cackle, no matter that it sounded ridiculous, it still set your hair on its ends, “At the very least, he wouldn’t be inviting callous halfwits like them.”

Without a second thought, a cloud of hefty rain gathers above their heads, pelting leaden droplets as the crackle of lightning brews within the dark nimbus. You almost rise from your seat, arms itching to reach out just to grab something, to dig your claws into skin and draw unrighteous blood. Rushing down, you could vaguely hear some heavy footsteps approaching the couple and the scandalised gasps, ignorant couple and not. 

And it seems that your brother’s words were right, you could maim someone unprompted and get away with it (not like you were going to), because not a second later, all you can hear is shuffling fabric and the very, very enraged and whiny screeching. The thundering rain doesn’t stop, hissing lightning and roaring rain continuing to follow them even as they scream and shout.

“How dare you! Don’t think just because your brother is important means you’ll get away with this!”

In your mind, one of them was attempting to shove their finger in your face but failing miserably. “Get your hands off of us! I’ll sue you! You hear me! We’ll sue you! You’ll be hearing from our lawyers!”

In the midst of all the commotion, a figure has approached you from behind, once again belonging to the person with that familiar heartbeat. Your hand reaches out again, but instead of his face, he has taken your hand into his, helping you up as your shoes squelch into the drenched carpet. 

Someone else steps forwards, then bows. Their voice is soft for discretion’s sake but not mousey, coming from somewhere ahead of you. 

“Ms. Yoshikawa, the car has been prepared.”

You’re still holding onto Touya’s hand, relying entirely on his presence just to walk. A soft breath escapes him, an odd mixture of confusion and something else you can’t place your finger on. You don’t trust that Zenko to manage the cultivated jeering with her attitude. And you sure as hell don’t trust the rest of the old geezer stakeholders or whatever bullshit people were going to snide their grubby little faces at him.

Your finger reaches to tap his arm, and he only leans towards you. “Hm?”

Getting on your tiptoes, you whisper to his ear, only separated by the mask’s layer, careful to keep your voice as low as possible, “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Yeah, party’s boring anyways,” He squeezes your hand, voice lilting with ebullient levity. 

The walk to the car is admittedly, a lot quieter than you thought it’d be. And it seems that security has been told to listen to you, as no one questions why you were being guided by someone else who is very clearly not Hiroomi. You’re led to a dark car park, insisting on blindly feeling around for the car handle only to almost knock your horns into the car’s top. When you do finally get in, you hear a soft ‘oof’ and then the click of the car door.

Fumbling with the veil’s straps, you just manage to slip it off your horns as they return to their usual state. Your eyes take a while to adjust again, both half blind from not having your glasses and squinting from the bright lighting. You pick off the multiple kanzashi in your hair, haphazardly shoving them into your bag as you rush to undo your hair. A sigh of relief escapes you, and when you turn your head, you find Touya’s eyes focused on you, wide and borderline entranced. 

Now able to see him, you have to stop yourself from gasping. You’ve seen him dressed formally before, but certainly this felt different. Unlike traditional mens’ wear, he had on a dark dress shirt and a white suit, hand halfway unbuttoning the top few buttons as he had already likely shed his tie. 

Before you could say anything, you have to avert your gaze lest you say something stupid and the chauffeur takes off, the car revving up as the GPS starts the fastest possible route to your home. 

“Thank you, for helping me,” You manage a smile, weakly meeting his eyes through the window’s reflection. 

The young man only waves you off, and for a moment, there’s nothing that fills the car. It leaves you with the silence to reflect on your actions, but mostly on the palatable rage that sat heavy on your tongue when you heard those baseless discredits. While you could possibly write it off as general concern for the younger generation, you tried to think as to what you would do if they said that to Fuyumi, Natsuo or even Shouto, and could only only think of calling security to take them away. 

Why did you do that? Why did your hands yearn to grab them by their stringy hair just to smash it into that glass they kept drinking out of? Why did you wish he heard none of it? 

What was this ugly thing that sits heavy in your chest?

Your fist balls up in your lap as you tentatively ask, “Did you… hear any of that?”

“A little,” He breathes, eyes facing the ever changing landscape but he quickly returns to you. Within those turquoise orbs was that gleam again, the same shine from that river. “It looked creepy, y’know? You just staring at them talk shit, then causing a literal storm.”

A terse exhale rushes through your chest, bottom lip catching between your teeth. You look away from him, not too sure what to say in response. Still, he continues. 

“It's the first time someone did something like that for me.”

Spine shooting straight, you turn towards his humourless grin with an appalled slack of your features. “You’re great, why wouldn’t I?” 

“You’re way more successful than most heroes at your age, so what even gives people like them the right to say all that? Being lawless and confident are two different things, but clearly they think it's the same since they’re the unruly ones!”

“I’d be stupid to just sit there and watch you be slandered,” 

You realise now that your outburst may have been a bit much for someone who has seemingly heard it all before. Turning your head away, you pointedly ignore the hot flush of your face. Why did you even say all that? Your voice lodges in your throat, only quite able to mutter. 

“I’ll tell the driver to drop you off back home.”

“Wait,” Touya scrambles to stop you, hand outstretched yet quickly retracted when he seems to realise something. With an almost shy lining to his voice, he meets your gaze, “Could I crash at your place? I… don’t really feel like going back there tonight.”

Taking his hand into yours, you place your other hand atop his. His eyes widen as a fond quirk tugs at your lips, softly, you can only hum, “Alright.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The power of money and connections is surely scary if you weren’t the one with exactly those two things. Those Sato’s, whoever they were, were thoroughly dragged through the mud when news came out about their supposed comments towards many well-beloved pro-heroes. Though certainly not all of them were what was told to you (you  most definitely do not remember them saying that All Might was an overly mutinous attention seeker with a penchant for property destruction), Hiroomi has handled so wonderfully that everyone was more focused on the embezzlement they’ve been allegedly committing rather than the fact that people most definitely saw you leaving the hall with Touya in tow. 

Other than that, you still haven’t received any other notification from the system besides the one stupid objective you still have no idea about. 

‘Always with Me’

For the past four years, there has been no detail on how to complete it, what it's about or even your progress on it. Everytime you ask, the system merely pings with a, 

[User is in the middle of Objective: Always with Me]

Which is very helpful, thank you very much. 

Beyond that, you’ve kinda given up on the system and with no other objectives or even side quests in sight, you’ve resigned yourself to your peaceful life. After all, you’ve managed to convince the entire household that you wouldn’t be staying over during the breaks with Shouto’s induction into high school, which again you’re impressed that he still wanted to be a hero, so you suppose the plot didn’t get that messed up. 

Regardless, that was not the point. With your residence’s move, you’ve now been the host to many a Todoroki family member. At first, it was just Touya, who, since that night, would crash at your place almost every week when he didn’t particularly feel like going back nor returning to his apartment. Then it was eventually Fuyumi who’d drop by to visit, and before you knew it, you’ve hosted sukiyaki night in your place for some god knows reason beyond the system hates you. 

With winter rolling around, you find the eldest knocking on your door a lot more often. You’ve started keeping spare clothes in the guest room, extra shampoo, soap, toothbrush and toothpaste, in response. Sometimes you’ll even find jackets or sweatshirts left behind. You always wash them when you do, folding them up to be brought back after his next visit.

You’re not sure why he’s started doing so, but you’re happy your place can at least be some kind of refuge. 

It’s weird, you find. At every turn, there’s some part of him left behind. Spare support equipment placed by the door in a basket, his tie from last week’s gala, the mug on the drying rack that constantly smells like bitter coffee, a tupperware of leftovers from the night before from when he helped you (he cut the onions and watched you do everything else like a hawk). It's weird, you don’t hate the lingering presence. 

Tonight, your doorbell rings around ten, and you don’t even have to look through the peephole to check. Not bothering to throw anything above your pyjamas, you open the door to Touya. The night wind howls, rattling the few branches against your windows, and yet he remains without even a scarf. He remains outside, head slightly bowed and expression unreadable. 

You muse, your eyes softening when you notice the languid weariness in his form, “Get in before you freeze to death out there.”

With a slight shift, he obliges, knocking off his shoes before promptly collapsing on your couch. By the time you return, he’s already grabbed a pillow of yours to throw over his head, pointedly taking in a deep huff as the light from your television illuminates the dark room. You’d been watching some slice of life romantic comedy set in a modern setting, with just an episode left until the big confession. It was a remarkably interesting sight, you could only think to yourself, with over-the-top sound effects, cheesy music and cutesy lighting, Touya almost looked like he was being held captive to watch something as simple as a romcom. 

Heading to the kitchen, you pour out a warm cup of water and place it in front of him on the table. Your spot on the couch is untouched, still a bit warm with a slight indent. You can feel some part of his natural warmth, yet you curl into yourself, bringing your knees to your chest as you bring your once abandoned blanket tighter around you. He still hasn’t touched his cup, but the pillow he used to try and blind himself is now pressed against his stomach. There is something uncharacteristic about him today, his jaw set and a vapid look in his eyes. That and the foot tapping against your wooden floors. 

With a soft breath, you glance over at him, “Is there something wrong?”

“Why do you think there’s something wrong?” He remarks, quick to respond.

“You’re tapping your foot.” The moment you mention that, he stops. With a mock eye roll, you murmur, “Also you don’t come by so late unless there’s something wrong.

“Just couldn’t sleep.”

At that, you don’t push anymore. It wouldn't be the first time. He’d come over in the late hours and the two of you would just sit on the couch watching whatever show was on prior to his arrival. Sometimes he’d watch you make a pot of instant noodles, or offer to warm up your hands when it got cold. You could tell there was something up on those days, but it was always the same excuse, his gaze often alternating between glancing at the screen or staring off in your direction.

Still, your eyes pointedly look at the cup and he takes a long sip just to appease you. Raising a brow, you meet his gaze with a piqued quirk of your lips. Your eyes shift back to your show, absentmindedly patting your hand along with the catchy intro song. The scenes shift and it returns to the two main leads, having accidentally found themselves in co-inhabitation and are now sitting outside their patio. 

The music swells again as the soft harp strums, soft moonlight shining upon them and reflecting a blue-ish hue onto his visage. You thought he wasn’t watching, but his eyes remain on the screen, following along every small movement. The main lead, glances over at their partner, and blurts out their confession. So unlike the original notion for a well thought out, heart-felt confession, it mattered little. The music continues. 

Out of the blue, he jeers, lip slightly curled, “Do people really watch stuff like this?”

“I’m watching it,” You hum.

As the outro theme starts playing, you mindlessly move onto the next episode. “Besides, it's cute. They’re just living their lives and finding love while they’re at it.”

“Sounds boring.”

“That’s how love is, you don’t just have a big epiphany and an even bigger confession.”

The next episode plays, and there’s still this complicated look on his face. You can tell he doesn’t quite believe you, and a yet small breath of amusement escapes you. A sponsored ad pops up, Best Jeanist flashing across your screen in, you guessed it, jeans. An odd thought passes through your head as it shifts to pricing. 

“One day, I’m going to find out you’re casted for a show like this one, then you’ll see,” Your voice comes off as sing-songedly despite the lowered volume, there’s an amused smile on your lips. 

Touya replies simply, a doubtful grin on his face as he glances at you, “You’re awfully confident that it’ll happen.”

“When you have the kind of looks you do, it's bound to happen.”

“And what kind of looks do I have?” With a raised brow, his voice lowers. And if you hadn’t known him for as long as you do, you wouldn’t have caught the way his smirk faltered. 

You meet his gaze, and once again, you truly wonder how Rei’s genetics can be so strong. Touya was, is, the prettiest man you’ve seen in your decade of living. You’ve said it so many times but it still never fails to surprise you. Even with your system assigned debuff (myopia), you still admired him. Long lashes that curtained the most beautiful turquoise eyes, eyes that betray his emotions, bright and so, so full of life. He had the kind of features that just melded well, already flawless on their own but even more so together despite the brusque additions. His natural resting face was pretty as well, and even when he sneered or made those ugly faces, he was still pretty. 

And when he started carrying himself with that confidence, this assertiveness that you could not possibly describe as anything beyond engaging, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. It felt impossible to you, to even fathom the idea of not looking at him, beholding him. 

You wonder when you started doing that, when you started looking at him like he was the only person in the world. 

A huff escapes you as a blithe smile pulls at your lips, “You’re arguably the prettiest person I’ve ever seen, surely someone’s told you that.”

In your mental spiel, you noticed that you’re now thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. He only huffs in response, the corner of his lip quirking ever upward. He’s warm. 

“Not the most handsome?”

“Sure, that too.”

The scene starts, and it's still the main couple sitting on the patio. The confession repeats. He isn’t watching the screen anymore. Bathed in the cool lighting, you meet his eyes. They’re all but seeping with warmth, and you realise you’re scared of what it means. 

“I’m in love with you.” He blurts out, voice so soft it was as if he didn’t want you to hear it in the first place. “I don’t know for how long but it's definitely been for a while. It's– the rest of them teased me about it, but I never– I didn’t know how to tell you.”

You blink. He’s looking at you with that guileless hope again, the same glimmer that buckles your knees and convinces you of anything and everything. 

This must be a dream, just a dream where the Todoroki Touya is confessing his love for you. Soon, you’ll wake up and get ready for the day and you’ll get to watch the last few episodes of your show. 

You pinch your arm, and when nothing happens, your eye twitches and fingers tense. 

‘System, what the fuck is going on?’

[User has changed the plot (/▿＼ )]

‘I am very aware of that, I just didn’t think I’D INFLICT AN OEDIPUS COMPLEX ONTO HIM.’

[User has changed the plot (눈_눈)]

This must be some kind of sick joke, in no absolute way could this be happening to you. This couldn’t be happening. This came too out of the blue! There weren't any warning signs! There’s nothing about you that could possibly even connote this! 

Were you not taking the motherly route? Weren’t you being a good role model for the younger generation?

[User is technically in the same generation (＾＾＃)]

‘That’s what you think!’

You haven’t looked away since, still struck with consternation so powerful it rendered you incapable of doing little else than blinking. Your voice lodges in your throat and all you can muster is a breathless noise. This really couldn’t be happening to you, anyone but you. You’re too old, this isn’t love, it isn’t love on his end. 

“I’m five years older than you, I basically watched you grow up. Don’t you find that weird?” Weakly proposing, your words are shaky and your voice even more so despite your attempt to keep it steady. You’ve done this before, made the big speeches when your heart wanted nothing but to run out of your ribs, did it to Endeavour of all people! So why was it that you couldn’t find that voice now? 

He draws in a sharp, choked breath, “You say you watched me grow up as if you’re some old timer, you’re not that old, y’know?”

“You realise that mom and– the old man, only listened to you and took so much pity on you at first because they thought you were some random teen with no one?” Touya doesn’t give you a chance to butt in, he knows, of course he knows how’d you react.

“That’s why mom kept trying to include you in everything, she kept worrying that you were going home to an empty place with no family.”

You were eighteen. You don’t even think Japan counted eighteen as a teenager anymore.    

You should’ve pulled away, you shouldn’t have let yourself get as attached as you are now. If you had just been a little bit smarter, used your brain rather than let yourself get carried away, he– you– wouldn’t be here. 

“I was still eighteen and though we technically only really met when you were sixteen, does it really matter if you were mentally thirteen? Not only that, but I’ve been meddling with your family for all that time. If someone accused me of grooming you, do you think I’d have any proof against it?”  You breathe deeply, trying to gather what little composure you had left.

“Everything lines up too well. Wouldn’t it be too coincidental? Some rando saves a thirteen year old and ten years later, they’re dating.”

You do love him, you just can’t accept the circumstances that could have possibly birthed that love. 

Shaking your head, you cover your face with your hands, “It’s not that I don’t, I do— I really do. But there’s too much between us.”

Perhaps that was your biggest shame, your most repugnant disrepute to your already crumbling facade. It never started this way, you don’t know when your own affection for him turned into this, you just remember waking up and seeing him in your kitchen, hunched over a cup of tea while his own coffee grew cold, thinking to yourself that you liked this. You liked seeing him content, liked seeing him comfortable in his own skin and place in this world. You wanted to keep that sight, that idea of him forever.

But if there was anything that has remained from that canon timeline, a feature that remains ubiquitous, it was that Touya wasn’t some idiot, never has been, and he knows more intimately than anyone what your hesitation looks like.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” He retorts, and you look at him, startled. “I get what you’re saying but do you know what you did? You literally– and I still don’t know how, forced my family to heal. You kept giving me all these opportunities, even when no one else seemed to understand, you didn’t try to isolate me or control me!”

“The rest of them told me everything when I woke up, they told me everything you did for us. He told me too, said you helped him realise.”

“You didn’t even know me, all you had were bits of my childhood but you still went and changed everything,” Running a hand through his hair, he laughs with a sardonic bite, and yet still that look in his eyes wrenches something inside you.

Touya continues, a wry grin on his face, “And fuck– it always felt like some bad game trying to even be in the same room with you alone back then!”

“I could barely even think when I saw you in the kitchen that one summer! Do you know how sick I felt when I went back to my room after that day?”

Your brain flashes to that summer day, stretching from fatigue and sweating from heat, now trying to not think too hard about every time he’d come too close. 

“It took all of them so long, but you didn’t.” He admits quietly, and for once he’s not looking at you. Yet that is only for a moment, and that glimmer, that shine in those eyes you want so desperately to protect, flares into a radiant gleam. There’s the slightest sheen pooling at his waterline, his voice so soft you’re scared, “So I don’t care if some brainless nobody thinks you’ve manipulated me, because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to all of us.”

You want to hold him, your hands want to reach out to wipe away the hint of tears from his face. You don’t stop yourself, shifting closer as you thumb away warm dew from his lashes. He blinks, almost confused at your sudden contact, but quickly realises your intentions. 

You manage to choke out, “When I was in the hospital, I had a dream about what would’ve happened if I just let the situation fester.”

“I didn’t want that to happen to you,” With a trembling sigh bordering a sob, you force yourself to continue, “You deserved to be happy with a family who loves you.”

“So that’s why I did everything that I did. Because I promised myself to make everything better for you when you woke up.”

His eyes widen, brows raised high as you indirectly confess to your knowledge of that long gone dream. 

“After you woke up, I thought my role in your lives was over, yet here we are,” A small humourless laugh escapes your lips, your eyes unwaveringly meeting his. 

It was stupid, god it's always been so stupid to be attached to fictional characters. Yet perhaps attachment is not the best word to describe what you felt. Attachment would deride some form of obsession, but what you felt, what you desired was only his happiness and peace. 

Was it still not a kind of love? Inherently, to love meant to choose, and did you not do that? Learned everything you could, collected everything you could, were these actions not one you made out of your own conscience?

 Did you dive into fiery hell to save him in the hopes of being paid back? Did you jumpstart the Todoroki Family’s recovery for some vain desire? Did you remain so active in their lives just for a chance for compensation? 

You didn’t, because making those choices came to you as natural as the choice to live. And in the process of choosing, loving, you ended up here.

You have always loved him, from the vapid admiration and heartache from behind the screen, to the desperation to save that lost boy by the river and to create a better world for him, to the quiet contentment with his presence. It is one that has evolved with your ever enclosing distance, one that has somehow remained simple and honest. 

And in an odd way, your choice to love unconditionally has brought you back to the person who started it all. 

You have no doubt that even if you were faced with that version of him, you would have still loved him even if it killed you. 

“I have always loved you, Touya. Not always in the way you want, but I have always loved you.”

With one last shaky sigh, you finally speak, “For far longer than you have known.”

Just as the words leave your mouth, you’re wrapped into a tight embrace. His arms wrap around you and it's so tight you’d think you were close to dying. You can feel his heartbeat, and you’re certain he can feel yours too, a rhythmic constant thumping with that fervour for life. 

“You’re so stupid,” He murmurs, warm breath by your ears. “I never forgot our promise, so why didn’t you tell me?”

He’s warm, he’s so warm. You wouldn’t care if holding onto him set you ablaze. 

You are stupid. You are stupid for sleeping through your electric blanket cooking you alive, stupid for diving into flames just to save a child, stupid for letting literal children con you, stupid for flirting while being held hostage. 

You’re stupid for loving Todoroki Touya so much you’d create a better world for him. 

When you pull away, the miffed affection on his face, one still struggling to make itself completely known, pulls a shaky smile from your lips. You chuckle, “Because I am.”

[!Objective Complete: Always with Me!]

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Y’know, your boss is probably going to call me a cougar when I see her again.”

Having been manhandled to the point of laying on his arm, you sigh as a different romcom starts on the television screen. With every single little thing that could possibly be related spilled out, you let yourself accept the physical contact, a notion that Touya clearly has taken the mile with. Your hands were currently being occupied by his but with how much you’ve been struggling with the cold, you couldn’t care less.  

He huffs, clearly and genuinely not too bothered by the idea, “And? Who cares what she thinks?”

“We’re about the same age,” Quick to counter, Touya doesn’t seem all too bothered by the correlation you make. 

You still wonder how he has no reservations but you’ve long become accustomed to his stubbornness by now. His fingers intertwined yours, rough pads rubbing against the skin of your knuckles. He isn’t watching the show, seemingly more interested in memorising your hand by touch by the looks of it. 

Absent-mindedly, he suddenly brings up something you haven’t thought about in a long time. His voice is soft, a bit more delicate, “Your parents are gone, aren’t they?” 

Though it's been a while since you’ve actually thought about your parents, if you could really call them that, you've come to associate Hiroomi more with the idea of parental care after all these years. He certainly wasn’t the worst at it, and if your own associations and analysis were true, your parents did actually fuck right back off to heaven. 

Without blinking, you feel his hand grip onto yours tighter as you hum, “Mhm, they’re back to where we came from.”

“That’s an awfully nice way to say they’re dead, doll,” The corner of his lips tug up, a brazen look in those crystalline eyes. 

Your brow raises as you send him a side-long glance, “I'm doll now?”

“Like those ones with spirits in them, pretty but clearly possessed.”

“No wonder the cockroach just charges at you.”

You reach for your phone, the soft light of your wallpaper (a photo you’d taken during one sukiyaki night with only Fuyumi having noticed the camera) briefly illuminating your face as you pull up the tab detailing the Yoshikawa family history, more specifically the ‘conspiracy’ tab of the article. Warm fingers brush against your still cold hands to receive your offer. 

He doesn’t take long to make the connections nor the associated implications, and though you thought he’d question the plausibility, he doesn’t. Rather, he takes a long hard look at you then back at your phone, his brow raises as a doubtful grimace manifests on his face. 

“You sure you haven’t gone senile? No way that shit is real,” His voice all but seeps with disbelief, still wearing the expression with pride.

Rolling your eyes, you take your phone back. “Ha ha ha, and you just said I’m ‘not that old’.”

“If it wasn’t, how did we see each other after being sent to literal comas ten years ago?”

“True, but if all that really exists, then it’d be kinda shitty,” He only murmurs beneath his breath, eyes lowered on your hands as his lashes flutter.  

“It is but maybe we don’t need them,” The reassurance is instinctual, yet not so. You have no doubt that the sheer will and spite to live, the kindness and courage that only humanity seems capable of completely sets them apart from almighty fickle kami. With a slightly mirthful tone, your voice lilts, “Who knows? Maybe some god will curse your dad with forever burning himself whenever he touches a hot leather seat.”

“Now that’s romantic.”

Raising a brow, you throw him a side glance.“If you’re implying that I curse Endeavour, you’re going to be very disappointed to know I can’t do that.”

“Here I thought you were all powerful.” With a teasing lilt in his voice, he grins. “Some ryu you are.”

You kind of regret telling him about that now. 

“I’ll put a small rain cloud over him when we see him next,” With mock vexation, you bark back with a smile. 

He grins, “Now I can’t not love you.”

Though you smile, your eyes seek his as your fingers press into his hand. “Do you actually believe me though?”

“Your entire family can change into dragons and control the weather, I don’t think the existence of heaven is going to be any weirder.”

That pulls an actual huff of laughter, and with your phone forgotten, Touya all but puffs his chest in pride at this, a smug gleam in his eyes as your fingers finally reciprocate his hold. Another advertisement pops up, some All Might merchandise they probably just slapped his face on. It's so bright that your entire living room is bathed in warm yellow. His entire face scrunches at this, as though he’s eaten an entire lemon rather than seeing the star spangled wonder. 

At this, he grumbles, “Y’know, Zenko made me watch you say all those horrible pick-up lines at All Might.”

You have to fight the urge to cry, or at the very least to shove your face into your hands. “That was two years ago, can’t we just forget about it?”

“Nah, why does All Might get that but not me?” There’s a hint of a pout, one barely noticeable to anyone else.

“Because I’m not only going to see you once in my entire life,” Your response is curt, partly because you didn’t want to even look back to that moment, partly because you also have no idea.  

Still, he insists with an absolutely winning grin, “Come on, tell me one.”

With a heavy sigh, you wrack your brain trying to think of one. You couldn’t just tell him that you memorised those pick-up lines because they were horrible, more specifically that they weren’t even yours. It takes you more than a while to think of one and when you do, you already want to crawl into the ground when it actually leaves your mouth. 

“Are you a kotatsu? Because I wanna crawl underneath you and never get out.”

For all your efforts, you’re rewarded with a choked noise and an abrupt head turn away from you. The tips of his ears flush pink despite his valiant attempts at hiding away from you. Something inside you wants so desperately to see, something tells you that he’d be more than cute. 

“That was horrible.”

You muse incredulously, “Then why’re you looking away from me?”

You clamour to catch that sight while he only shifts away, still you don’t give up, going so far as to climb over him just so he wouldn’t hide from your gaze. It only takes a few more moments of wriggling before the both of you come to the realisation of your not so innocuous position, your chest pressed to his with nothing but a fingertip’s distance between you, a soft breath escapes as you meet his gaze, both your faces flushing hot. 

You were right, he is cute like this. With a subtle blush on his cheeks travelling all the way to his ears, and his slightly widened eyes, you wish you could take a photo of him right now. 

It's as though you’re locked, unable to move, yet you don’t quite mind. You blink still, unsure of what to do next. His eyes flutter down to your lips for a moment. Clearly one of you is much more ardent than the other, a larger hand cupping your face, until eventually your lips meet. By no means is it good, messy and with misplaced teeth clacking against the other, god knows you haven't even held hands before let alone kissed someone, but it's genuine, it's real and you want him to keep kissing you like this. His lips against yours, gentle and tentative and filled with the affection you never thought you’d ever have in your two lives. 

As the winter wind hums and rain gently pitter patters, there are only the two of you in this little world, one made just for you. 

The system pings one last time.

[!User 888 has completed all relevant objectives!]

[User 888 has unlocked: Chat function]

[There are currently: 5 users in My Hero Academia world 178]

[Would user like to start chat?]

[universaln0b0dy]

Chloe Bourgeois (Mlb rewrite)

[Note] Hey, hey! I wanted to start rewriting and designing miraculous for the fun of it. Please note that this is just for fun and giggles! I will try to keep the rewrite as close to the show as possible, at the same time I want to put as much of my ideas into it as I can. Also this is probably an angst au, because of my 3 am brainrot.

Chloe Bourgeois

Chloe, Chloe, Chloe. Oh boy where do I start. Chloe could have been such a good character, especially since it was hinted at that she has actual trauma and has to move on from it, but that Astruc had to butcher into..... well what she is at the moment. Tbh, I wouldn't have minded if Chloe was more vile, but the show tried to do this waayyyy to late. So I will try to villanize Chloe and hand her a redemption arc!

Backstory:

Chloe grew up in paris and as far as she knew, her family always had been damaged and she knew it had something to do with her and her 3 years older sister Zoe. Chloe grew up rich and spoiled and up until she was 5 she also had a parental figure. Until her parents divorce.

Suddenly Chloe was alone, surrounded by money, but alone. She knew her sister had done something for her, a sacrifice that saved Chloe in more than one way. She claimed to be the child born out of wedlock.

Chloe's and Zoes mother had been cheating on Andre for years now and through a secret informant he found out that one of his children wasn't his, causing the divorce. Before that he had been a neglectful but I guess you could call it "loving" father.

He demanded to know which of his children wasn't his and told Audrey to leave with her. Audrey didn't remember who was Andre's kid and so Zoe decided to say she wasn't his child, so that Chloe would get the better half of two horrible parents.

Now the five year old Chloe had nothing except money. Her role model was her cheating and manipulative father and a mother who only cared about fame. Chloe would become narcissistic, spoiled, envious, power hungry and manipulative under her father and she acted like it.

Until her father introduced her to Adrien, who would become her friend. In Adrien she saw someone she wanted to protect and cared about, so she thought that was love.

When she was 10 she was introduced to Sabrina in school, who she immediately took as her servant. (Who she secretly cared about) During this time she also realized that inflicting fear gave her power over othersand she decided that picking Marinette as her subject of her bullying would be ideal. Chloe hated Marinette, who had caring parents and always looked so happy. Chloe wanted to see Marinette's smile falter. And while it brought her short lived joy, Chloe always felt empty afterwards, so she decided to do worse things.

It continues on, till season 3, when she finds the bee miraculous. She heard all about lady Bug and since she starts to care more and more about Sabrina, Chloe decides she will also become a secret hero in order to save others. For fame of course. (Keep telling yourself that)

Her Personality:

(Season 1-2)

Narcissistic and self centred. Chloe didn't care about anyone but herself, she had been the person to give herself love for years after all. No one did it for her, so why should she care about anyone else?

Manipulative. Yeah, she got that from her dad. He manipulates and blackmails people for his business, so she does that in school. She uses people's emotions to her advantage and while she doesn't sound like it she is people smart. (If she hadn't been so neglected and had such horrible role models, she could have been a very empathetic person)

Smart. Chloe is not stupid, just lazy. Yes others are forced to do her homework but she still aces every test, like even the teachers are suprised.

Envious. Yes, she is jealous of everyone around her. She wished she had nice parents, she wished she had her older sister, she wished she was good at designing, she wished she was good acting, so Chloe hates everyone who is able to do any of these things.

(Season 3)

BOOM! Redemption arc is starting. During a villain attach Sabrina gets injured and Chloe actually cared! For real! Chloe was devastated, she was crying! She was shocked to notice how powerless she is.

(As Queen bee)

Look, Sabrina's injury is the reason she decided to be a secret hero. This simple thing made Chloe's motive shift from fame, to I actually care.

Quick thinker and level headed. Remember that I said Chloe is smart? Well here all of that comes handy! Queen bee is witty and can point out flaws in lady Bugs plans. She also rarely panics during villain attacks.

Honest and kind. As Queen bee Chloe shows what she kept to herself. She is truthful about her faults as a hero and through a talk with lady Bug she realizes that she and the spotted hero have a few things in common.

Patient and forgiving. Yeah, with the miraculous Chloe is not Chloe anymore. If you saw Queen bee you would doubt she was Chloe, so it is no suprise she is patient and doesn't hold grudges with akumatised victims. You can tell her your whole life story and she will sit there and listen!

(As Chloe)

Chloe doesn't change that much, but you can feel Queen bee bleed into her personality. For example as she is forced to work with Marinette she other hears her speaking with her mum. "Oh? Isn't Chloe the girl you told us about? Glad you finally initiated getting along with her." Chloe knows a lot about people and that is not how parents should react if the bully of their daughter was present. Chloe decides that being nice to Marinette wouldn't hurt.

Chloe shows that she cares about Adrien and sabrina. For the former, through pointing out Marinette's creepy behaviour and for the latter by helping her study and buying her gifts. (According to Chloe: old rags she doesn't need anymore. Ignoring she forgot the price tag)

Happier. Chloe becomes happier more social, less I hate everything and everyone, so yay!

(Season 4-5)

So for the first part of season 4 chloe becomes very gloomy and sad, because she finds out why her sister had to leave and also finds out that she is the child born out of wedlock. Also she is incredibly angry that her father hid the letters Zoe send her from her and almost ruined chloe's chance to ever meet her sister again.

Confident and Sassy. Look, Chloe deserves to be confident and sassy, she is a superhero! And a good one at that, though lady Bug does take the miraculous from her, Chloe gets it back through Zoe!

Hopeful. Yeah, I am revealing way too much plot over here, but one of the side plot lines is that Zoe and Chloe get to talk again, because chloe is handed a letter by Audrey's assistant, which tells her about the other 900 letters- long story short, Zoe comes to paris to battle her father for custody over Chloe and Chloe Hope's she wins!

Mature. Chloe matures, just like all miraculous holders. She stops bullying Marinette and even starts doing her homework herself. She still has drawbacks to her her horrible personality, but she becomes a better person every day.

Drawing:

I'm way to crazy about this design, you might not like it, but I do.

Her every day outfit is simple, but tbh I like the idea that her outfit looks simple, but it's quite littarly all famous brands. I also forgot her glasses which kinda destroys me, but hey.

So for her costume, I based it all around the fact that Chloe is a QUEEN BEE. She isn't just any bee, she is a queen bee. Despite being mean, Chloe is a capable leader.

Well now that this is finished, I'll write Alya next. See you in our next drawting session!^^

[imagionationstation]

I HEARD YOU TAKE UNHINGED HEADCANON RANTS AND THIS GAYASS FISH HAS RUINED MY LIFE

I have a 2012 rewrite au, and I fell down a rabbit hole solely based on the hc that Xever saw shredder as a vague father figure, and then like all of his interactions with Karai are always “Do you want me to call dad?” “I will kill you?!” “Alright..”

THEY ARE SIBLINGS AND YOU CANT TELL ME IM WRONG

Also there’s enough problematic men in the foot, so I just… hit him w the “I’m not a creep!” ray and he’s just some dude

This is a theatre kid, this man is a professional yapper. Shredder’s mad at him? Turn the conversation around to how sad shredders life is and that he shouldn’t have to be forced to commit atrocities because of Hamato Yoshi. He’s a pr girlie

Also, WHYS HE SO ZESTY????

“I HEARD YOU TAKE UNHINGED HEADCANON RANTS”

Okay, firstly, what grape vine is talking about me and why?

Secondly-

Can you headcanon your own AU?? Is that possible?? Is that a thing people do?? All the potential to say “I think this would be a neat canon” but isn’t not actually canon- this sounded better with every word that came out of my mouth. I am doing this.

AU HEADCANONS, BABY.

I AM THE AU COLLECTOR AND COMMENTER

(Evidently. I’m not sure how that happened, tbh-)

GIMME EVERY AU CONCEPT YOU GOT SO I MAY FEAST

Fair warning to all- when I am invested in a idea, I don’t know how to shut up. So. If you give me an ask, you’re agreeing to everything that comes after. I am not liable for incoming rants.

Xever is all kind of zesty (in AU and canon) because it makes him notable and fun!

I love so many interactions with him and Raphael in canon. There was no better character for him to “understand” than Xever, mkay, I absolutely loved how Baxter's Gambit was handled. They would have been SUCH a duo had they not chosen different sides to fight on and HECK YEAH with the Shredder father figure AU.

In the canon, I wondered about a few things a lot- like, Shredder hunted this man down and broke him out of jail to join his crime syndicate. And for someone who’s supposed to be the best of the best, that man is no match for the turtles. Got to wonder why Shredder wasted his time on Xever or bothered keeping him around after he got mutated when he was such a hassle as a fishy…

He even went as far as keeping a kidnapped scientist to build working legs and breathable air suit for the guy. Like, in all seriousness, for a big evil crime lord who threatens to off them every day, he sure is intent on keeping his lackies around.

BUT ANWAYS-

In regards to your AU, THANK YOU for taking away his creep act because that’s the main reason that he’s not a top fave for me. I don’t know why they reversed the “I’m not a creep” ray for canon, but I guess it was an experiment that they took way too far and couldn’t bring themselves to back out of.

As Karai is an expert manipulator, I’d like to know if she gets her skills from him or if he does from her- or if they adapt from each other. He feeds into the dad’s drama while Karai could not be more fed up with it. The clash over this topic so often. I can see it.

I think it would be ironic for Karai to have an older brother figure who eventually gets brought into the found family because Leo would have to adapt to having MORE older relatives. I like the idea of Xever being a “cousin”, because that would technically make her a cousin too, and Karai sure acts like she’s more of a bossy cousin than an older sister. So it works out.

NO WAIT

Xever has a villain name, right? 😱

Mikey has to villain name a villain mutant- it’s like, 2012TMNT law.

BEING AN AU IS NO EXCUSE /jk

(Completely messing with you. Do as you want.)

[bonkalore]

obsessed with your characters Jayce and Lucy, I love their dynamic and Jayce is super cool!! and hot

Please continue the hard work!

Ahhhhh I'm so glad you enjoy it!! 😭

But!... They are technically not my characters! I mean... at this point, the ones you see me drawing are hardly those versions anyway, but they are, in fact, from a show on Netflix called Daniel Spellbound, but it's not very known online outside of what I post I guess!

Thank you for telling me tho~ It often feels like I'm just doing this on my own, but I actually have someone I'm working with to try and write my rewrite fanfic of the second season (Bleeding Magic AU) and actually have been trying to do that for a while now and want to make it come to fruition this time! 😂 I could very much make it an original at this point with how different it is, but I'm just focusing on having fun with the fan stuff for now~ I'm glad others have liked the art to come with it and I hope they can enjoy the story I have with it too!

And they are not a couple in it... 😂 They are constantly trying to kill each other in the show, for no particular reason. They just fight first, questions later, only the questions don't happen lol (And sadly he doesn't have a tail and I draw his clothes different lol)

But yes.... He is hot either way.

[corkinavoid]

*deep breath in*

Hi, I'm Cork, and today I got an eye injury, so I am now, officially, a pirate. Albeit temporarily. Got the eyepatch and all that crap. More on that later.

Info post

about all my writing progress for anyone wondering and for myself to keep track of stuff. Also, some rambling.

Fiance to a Star - ⅘ done with translating second chapter, also doing moodboards and soundtracks for all of the chapters currently because visuals. Gotta find the right library music. Fuck, translating is hard, why did I write it in Russian, I'm so stupid.

Married to Winter - 8.5 chapters written, editing for the second chapter will be done on Thursday, and I'm posting it on Friday. Need to rewrite chapter 9 probably, it's not working the way I want it to. Currently inspired, so maybe will write more chapters for it. Do I want to add soundtracks? I mean, I do, but do I have the brain capacity and mental strength to do so?

Multiverse Police - on hold, out of ideas, nothing is working. Will come back to it later.

Changeling AU - also on hold, but it's mostly done in my opinion, so any additions will be sporadic.

You Should Ask Danny - editing chapters 6 and 7, chapter 8 is written, but I really don't like it. Might put this on hold after posting chapter 7, but I have a whole list of ideas for it. Maybe I should just delete chapter 8 completely and write something else? I mean, why not, but then I feel like the idea is good, I just can't write it the way I want it.

Mercenary Danny - ugh, I want to write the Christmas date so bad, but it requires writing a scene with so many characters! Fenton family is big, and I want Vlad to be there, which is another can of worms because I suck at writing middle-aged men. Can I just write him as a pretentious vampire wannabe and be done with it? But no, that will ruin his characterization.

Haunted Family - done, fuck it, I lost all the motivation for it.

Demon Babysitter - still on hold, but probably also done.

Now, to the unposted wips that are sitting in my googledocs:

One Night Stand Gone Wrong - 10 fucking chapters written and I- fuck I just wanted some simple short DarkHumor (Dick/Dan) one-shot, how did it come to this, honestly. But guess what, I'm writing chapter 11 even if it kills me, I have an idea for Tim/Danny in there. I'll be posting that, um, later. One day. I still need to reread it and maybe rewrite some stuff, it's just a bunch of word vomiting right now.

Road Trip - 4.5 chapters written, and it's going literally nowhere. Is this a pun? Maybe. Should I just post 4 chapters of it and be done with it? The story is done, more or less. Or, I could just fit all 4 chapters into one, make it a one-shot, and call it a day, what a good idea!

Bad GIW - ugh, I can't. 3.5 chapters written and I stopped liking the idea completely. It will never be finished. Should I post works that I don't plan on finishing ever?

Living Weapon Danny - same thing as Bad GIW, I wrote 2 chapters and abandoned it. Fuck I'm bad at writing angst, I just- can't. I want to. But I can't.

Masters Gala - I still love the idea, but damn, writing Vlad is hard. Also, writing galas is hard. Also, writing kids is hard! Maybe I should rethink it and make them not kids but teens? But I still need plot for it, holy fuck, how do you write plot for a gala? Should I just, I dunno, put a heist in there? A haunted mansion horror story? A murder mystery? I'm still debating on whether to put Al Ghul Twins or Dead Serious in there because I can't do both for ethical reasons. I mean, I can, but I bet a lot of people will find it messed up. It's not even incest if they are not related neither biologically nor legally nor by their upbringing. Is it? Fuck, I don't know.

Lastly, about being a pirate. TW: eye injury, a lot of cursing included because I'm m a d

So a fucking mad girl hit me in the eye with one of those wooden stir sticks. Because her coffee was too hot. Bitch you ordered a hot fucking drink what did you expect? Mind you it was not burning hot, I held the cup before she did, it was alright, and okay, I get that people can have different perceptions of temperature and heat tolerance, maybe it was too hot for her but who in their right mind stabs people in the face for their drink being too hot, what the fuck

Anyway, I've got the eye checked out - and it's not covered by insurance which is another reason I'm mad as fuck - and it's okay. Mostly. I can't open my eye because it hurts like hell, and i have to do eyedrops and wear an eyepatch for a while, but it's gonna be alright in a few days, so I'm fine.

Is the fact I can only see with one eye gonna stop me from writing? Fat chance.

[ne0nwithazero]

You've mentioned repeatedly that Host is the one who unintentionally paralyzed Mike, but I couldn't find anything about that incident.

What actually happened? I know a lot of stuff in the story has been reworked but that point still nags at me even if it's not part of the au anymore.

Aaa yeah I need to figure out a proper way to organize where I keep my lore. Stuff is all over the place and I'm constantly adjusting things to the point where I still get people asking if Tenna is canon or not lol 😭😭😭

Info of the incident (Or I guess Art) is buried on one of my Twitter art threads since it's rather old artwork by now, it was an old unfinished sketch comic with really off-model art and dialogue </3 You can see it here but I decided to rewrite it below

That part of their backstory still remains relatively untouched, I just have a hard time figuring out how to implement it naturally into the story as it's something that only Mike and Host know about and not something you can easily get either of them to talk about. It is rather traumatic for both of them </3

But yes, the incident is tied to Host's secret bossification and how they lost their voice and met Mike.

This backstory hasn't been properly adjusted to account for the "Mike and Host are dark world leaders" lore update, but I imagine there wasn't a leader *yet* and they got into that position later when there came a need for it.

Essentially Host has always been on their own, as a darkner, they have a defective screen (Which is why Tenna has visible eyes and Host doesn't), and their blank static was regarded as a disability and made it difficult to have them be taken seriously in any form.

Even before losing their voice, Host still struggled to communicate and make themselves heard, and this type of isolation and lack of purpose, all made Host particularly vulnerable to a certain lightner who spoke in hands.

Serving lightners is a darkner's purpose, and Host craved that sense of direction, but never had one directly spoken to them. They felt him telepathically speak to them, and clearly, this was no ordinary lightner either.

This one had been lost in a strange place. His essence shattered through time and space, in a limbo between light and dark worlds.

And somehow, through their TV signal, Host was the only one capable of hearing him, and they were the only one capable of helping him.

And all that Host needed to do is open their mind and seek out those lost pieces of him.

With their isolation, solely guided by a need for a purpose, Host became blind to the red flags hidden in their interactions with this mysterious lightner. The lightner couldn't exist outside of his void and Host was the only one he could speak to. Host had a presence. Host had a physical body. Host had a voice. They could help this lightner return home.

But to open their mind, Host had to do more than stare into the void, they had to look beyond it, to leave themself behind, to channel the void, and to become the lightner's host and guide them back home.

Had their name always been Host? Their memories were becoming fuzzier by the day. The lightner never called them by their name, only a "host", the "host", like an experiment. Like a labrat you don't name to avoid attachment. What an honour to be in such a divine position. What an honour to have such a bond with a lightner.

But Host couldn't do it. No matter what they did, they never could figure out how to "open their mind" like the Lightner wanted. They were defective, and their screen couldn't display images, how could they see what he wanted them to see? How could they find those pieces of him when their mind was stuck in one place? He spoke of other dark worlds beyond the Cable, but Host only saw their own.

As an experiment, the lightner decided that he was going to aid them in this. He was going to make them see. Host was finally going to be able to unlock their full potential.

But Host underestimated the lightner's power over them. Like a painful shock going through their whole body and mind, Host saw it all, every dark world, every moment, everything happening everywhere all at once, bombarding their mind, shattering their reality, and as the visions became more and more overwhelming, Host's cries in pain turned into screams.

Visions and pain so overwhelming that cries did little to ease the pain. A cathode's scream is a powerful sight to behold, but Host was far too preoccupied to realize the shockwaves that their voice released. Their voice became garbled and corrupted by the strain, as any recognizable sound corrupted into a mess of crushed static and noise.

(There is this very old abandoned animation I made a while back meant to capture that moment, I figure visuals could help more??? I want to properly remake and finish this video eventually)

Meanwhile, elsewhere, was Mike, a nobody Microphone, all by himself which was uncommon for a darkner of his type, and unlucky to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Sensing the shockwave nearby, he tried to flee, but his short legs couldn't get him out of its range in time, and his fragile circuits couldn't handle the overwhelming electric shock, coming from an unknown scream of someone he couldn't see.

He felt it all over his body, the same overwhelming pain, causing him to collapse on the ground until the screaming subsided.

Regaining his senses, after what felt like hours, Mike was met with a chilling realization. He couldn't move. His body failed to respond to him. Further cursing his luck was that there was no other darkner in sight (Not that they'd bother helping something as lowly as a Microphone of all things), it slowly dawned on him that no one was coming for him. He was completely paralyzed, and if someone were to show up to hurt him, he'd have no way to escape.

Struggling to move in a body that did not respond to him, he tensed up when he heard the sound of someone slowly stumbling their way out of a dark alleyway. The tall figure meekly clinging on to the wall, and Mike quickly recognized the head shape as being one of a TV. Of course a TV did this.

In his anger, struggling to move his body, he yelled out to them. Larger darkners than him rarely to ever had good intentions, and if this TV was looking to pick on him, then he wasn't going down without a fight.

Host had been in a trance, but hearing the loud microphone's voice crying out insults in their direction, snapped them out of it, his voice louder than the visions in their mind.

And as Host saw the smaller darkner paralyzed on the floor, they quickly rushed to his aid, sparks of electricity still crawled through his body, and despite his protests over Host picking him in concern, the TV didn't budge, breathing heavily and beginning to weep.

A sound meekly tried to leave their mouth, like a weak pained croak attempting to replicate what was once a voice. Mike could have sworn it was an... apology?

He was shaken by this, and quickly realized that whatever had happened to him was tame compared to what the larger darkner was going through. Their panic, their sobbing, whatever it was that was capable of leaving a TV darkner like them in such a state had to be out of this world.

Whatever had broken them, had broken him too, and through their pain and cries, the TV kept attempting to apologize, their voice wheezing in pain, as each glitch caused them to strain themself further.

But Mike was far too shaken by what was out there that could terrify someone this much. What was out there that was so powerful that paralyzing him was nothing but collateral damage.

In their mind, Host heard the lightner telling them to take the smaller darkner with them. A paralyzed mic couldn't run away. He could be useful.

But Host only barely heard what he was telling them. Instead, focusing on Mike who tried his best to calm them down, the way someone so hurt by what Host did still showed more compassion than they had ever been given by anyone else. The lightner's words triggered a strange feeling in them. Taking the mic? Him not running away? That wording made them want to protect him. But why? The lightner was good, wasn't he?

"We can find who did this!" Host saw the small microphone speaking as his limp body still twitched with leftover sparks of electricity "I... I can't move, b-but... I can be your voice..."

Host sniffed, tears still streaming down the sides of their screen.

And I can be your body, they said wordlessly.