#tw forced relocation

[tellthemhowihopetheyshouted]

creds: jakeperalta

one thing about taylor swift is she will have you going "god these lyrics 😭🥺🙌😪" and "god these lyrics 😬🤨🫣" in the same song

[vivwritescrappythings]

words fall short

knight!könig x plus-size!fem!reader

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 5 - part 6

you can’t stop thinking about some rude words said about you at last night’s feast, but your knight doesn’t let you worry for long.

tw: plus size reader, fem reader, kissing!, negative self talk, body image issues

wc: 2.5k

masterlist

—

Winter’s chill had settled over the castle. Snow blanketed the courtyards and gardens, ice frosting the windows with flowers at the corners of the panes. The evenings stretched longer, fires became more comforting.

You found your days occupied with the other ladies in court, the social season in full swing as you attended parties and feasts and balls. It was hard to watch your father still hold out hope, each event had him sending middle-aged suitors your way. Each one was worse than the last, his desperation apparently growing.

König did not broach the subject of your dance, so neither did you. You chalked it up to the lack of sleep and your knight being far too kind. That was all it could be, a misunderstanding on his part of his duties. Maybe he did not like seeing you dejected.

Nothing more.

The day was slow and lazy, a thick layer of snow covering the land around the palace forced everyone to the comfort of their hearths. You were curled up in an overstuffed armchair near the large fireplace in the library, slippers kicked off onto the carpet and knees drawn up beneath your skirts as you read.

The library was your favorite part of your father’s decision to relocate you to the royal palace, you had never had access to so many books in your life. It was a lesser-traversed part of the castle, members of the King’s Counsel occasionally searching the shelves for some historical ledger that had been filed away. They hardly did more than green you politely.

If anything, König’s presence was what alerted them, his large stature looming near a column that stood a few paces away from your preferred armchair. Their gasps of surprise pulled you out of your reading, your eyelashes fluttering over your cheekbones before your gaze cut to König’s conspiratorially.

He always met your smirk with a slow blink of his blue eyes beneath his shroud. You were starting to memorize the broad variety of his expressions, hanging onto every movement of his eyes and tilt of his head. It was easier to decipher what he was feeling—his eyes were shockingly expressive when you actually paid attention to them.

Any time he startled a lord he straightened up like a peacock ruffling its own feathers, squaring his shoulders and stacking his head at the top of his spine rather than his typical slouch. That was when you realized he enjoyed the way they paled at the sight of him, their stammered greetings to you.

You would not have been surprised to learn he was smiling beneath the shroud.

You thumbed through the book in your lap absently, chewing your lower lip as you stared at the flames crackling in the hearth. There were few interruptions that morning but you still found yourself distracted.

Words from last night’s feast still lingered in your mind.

At first it had been a normal evening. The great hall had been outfitted with long tables lined with candles and greenery from pines arranged into elegant centerpieces. The king was celebrating the birth of yet another son, so the food was plentiful and the drink flowed freely.

Even you had been allowed a cup of dark blackberry wine so sweet it nearly hurt your teeth.

It warmed you from head to toe, your smile coming easier and conversation tumbling from your lips before you could even consider your words. You had been seated with other ladies from the court, your father up on the dais with the king and the queen.

You were speaking with Mary across the table when you heard the first whisper of your name intermingled with the voices around you. It ran a chill down your spine like a fingernail sliding along your vertebrae.

It was impossible to place. Perhaps it was not your name at all, just a string of syllables that sounded enough like it to alert you. Slant rhymes had always been your favorite poetic device, why would you not encounter it in real life as well? Or at least it was easy enough to convince yourself of it the first time.

The sound of your name kept going off like a bell, the word said so softly each time that you continued to convince yourself it was something else entirely. Mary did not seem to notice, so you wrote it off as paranoia.

The first snippet of conversation reached you as the bards took their first break and guests stood to stretch their legs. It was quiet, just a scratch at the edge of your ear. “I heard that her sister married into the Garrick family, but her poor father is desperate to find a match for her.”

You looked up, jaw set as you scanned the people around you. None seemed to be looking your way. It felt as though a bucket of cold water had been tossed over your head, soaking you to the bone.

“Well, she is rather strange compared to what I have heard of her sister, it is said that Ser Garrick married a great beauty.”

“Unfortunate that it does not run in the family.”

Strange.

Strange.

Strange.

It was all you could think about. You never found out who said it, part of you was glad that you never knew who labeled you as such.

You had tossed and turned the entire night, worrying over being thought strange. Strange. You were many things: brash, loud, difficult, stubborn… but strange? It hurt more than you had expected it to.

König had noticed your sour mood as he escorted you back to your chambers, badgering you to know what had happened. You did not have the heart to tell him. The fear of looking into the cool blue of his gaze and finding that he, too, believed you to be strange was too great. You did not think you could bear it.

So you let the word fester.

“My lady.” You jolted at the sound of König’s voice cutting through your thoughts. It took you a few moments to blink the blur out of your vision before you looked up at him over the back of the armchair, the emerald green fabric soft against your cheek.

“Yes?” you responded, sounding more exasperated than you intended. He took a few steps forward, the gray cloak affixed to his shoulders swishing against his armor with his movements.

Your tone must have made him reconsider before he shook his head slightly, the fabric of the black hood over his face settling into place once more. “It is obvious that something is on your mind, my lady,” he finally said, slouching to meet your gaze. “You have not even turned a page in several minutes.”

Heat of embarrassment blistered across your face before you could even think to deny König’s words. You opened your mouth to argue, to tell him that he should be paying more attention to your surroundings than your mannerisms.

Instead you took a breath, looking away from the knight back to the fire. “Do you think I am strange, König?” you asked. You allowed the cover of your book to fall shut, fingertips running over the fabric.

He paused for a moment, cocking his head to one side. You watched as he cast a long glance around the room before moving in front of you, kneeling on the plush rug with one knee as his forearms rested on the flat of his thigh.

Your eyes widened, you straightened a bit out of your contorted sitting position. The question begged a yes or no answer, not something… intimate.

“Why would you think that?” König asked, his accent making the words harsh. It was so sincere you already felt the sting of tears in your eyes.

You huffed, expression crumpling. The frescoes on the buttressed ceiling begged for your attention as you tried to find your words. “Last night… during the feast I overheard a conversation about my being strange and that being the reason my father has struggled to find me a match.”

It pained you to admit it. Repeating the words made it feel so much more real.

You took a deep breath, pressing on despite the tears building at your lash line. “So it begs the question, do you think I am strange?” You were brave enough to look at him again. “You are the only person I can ask. The other ladies in court would lie and my father would as well.”

König’s deep breath was audible, his body leaning toward you. His head tilted back, the two of you close enough that you could see the light of the fire on his blonde eyelashes.

“I think you are wonderful, my lady.”

His gloved hand took yours from where it rested on the cover of your book, fingertips smoothing over the ridges of your knuckles as he drew your hand toward his chest.

Your heart was in your throat, his compliment rendering you speechless. It would be easy for you to try to dismiss his words as a lie, brush them off as a kindness to you. But his eyes were sincere, rounded with gentleness as he looked up at you.

“Wonderful seems like an exaggeration,” you mumbled. You suddenly felt too aware of the extra flesh beneath your chin, the way your upper arm spread out as it pressed against your side.

König snorted, shaking his head.

You spoke before he could, gently trying to tug your hand back. He kept it in his hold. “They also wasted no time comparing me to the great beauty that is my sister.”

“Your sister?” König kept close, his hip pressed against the emerald green cushion of the armchair. “The woman with you at the tourney?”

You nodded, scraping your teeth over your lower lip without mercy. At that rate you would chew it until you were bleeding.

He shrugged, his breastplate now touching your thigh through your heavy skirts. “She was beautiful, yes, but no more so than you,” he said, the same sincerity in his tone. “It was you that caught my eye, my lady.”

“Truthfully?” you asked, voice trembling.

König’s free hand reached up, his palm finding the curve of your cheek. The leather of his glove was warm, broken in enough that it felt almost soft.

“I would not lie to you.” There was no room for you to question him.

You took a deep breath, your cheek pressed into his palm as you looked down at him. Your throat was closing, tears stinging behind your eyes as you struggled for something to say.

Then König surprised you.

He released your hand, pinching the bottom of the black hood over his face as he leaned even further into you. You watched the frayed edge of the fabric lift higher and higher, greedily awaiting the secrets beneath.

His skin was just as pale as you expected, gnarled scars marking his neck. The scar tissue was shiny and white in some areas, tinged pink with lingering irritation in others. You wondered if he sustained the wounds in battle along the eastern border, but you could not find your voice to ask.

Honey-blonde stubble scraped across jaw, the same color and the locks of hair you could see curling out from beneath the fabric of his hood. You would never have guessed his hair was long enough to reach his shoulders. If anything, you expected it to be cropped close to his scalp.

Two scars met on his chin, crossing into an X just below the curve of his lower lip. One went vertical, bisecting his pale pink mouth before jutting off to the right and disappearing beneath the black fabric of his hood.

“König,” you whispered, bewildered at what earned you the privilege of seeing his face, even just a part of it.

“Forgive me, my lady, my words simply continue to fall short.”

His palm slid against your cheek, fingers curling around the nape of your neck as he brought your lips to his. You braced a hand against his chest, the metal of his armor smooth beneath your touch. His heartbeat thrummed somewhere beneath all the layers.

It took you a moment to kiss him back, your eyelashes brushing against the bunched up fabric of his hood as you finally closed your eyes. Your mouth moved clumsily against his—the most you had ever kissed was the cook’s son behind the grainery when you were fourteen. It was a tender and nervous thing, far from the slow and sure press of König’s lips.

His fingers caressed the hinge of your jaw, tilting your head to match the slant of his. The scrape of his stubble against your face sent chills all the way to your toes. Your mouth parted on a soft sigh, letting him slot his scarred lower lip between them.

The feeling of his smile was so distracting that you almost pulled away just so you could finally see it.

There was a vague sense of danger curling up your spine as his tongue teased between your lips. You should have pushed him away, rebuked him for advancing on you and immediately searched for your father. Instead you were leaning so far toward him you would have toppled out of the arm chair if not for the spread of his shoulders and his forearm pressed against your collarbone.

“You must meet my daughter, I assure you she has a wit that catches most lords off guard.” It was your father’s voice drifting between the shelves of books that reminded you of the severity of the situation.

König was already pulling away, dropping his hood back into place as he gracefully brought himself to his feet. You removed your hands from him with reluctance, the only soothing balm the quick press of his lips against your hairline through the fabric.

You did not have enough time to marvel at his speed before your father and a lord you did not recognize rounded the last shelf into your little alcove. Your knight was already at his typical spot against the column, studying the newcomer for threats.

A fake smile plastered itself to your face, hiding the fact that you wanted to scream as you stood to curtsy. The man already was appraising you, watching you like you were a horse he was purchasing.

“Lord Fischer, meet my daughter,” he said cordially. The man was your father’s age, maybe older. But he smiled and greeted you politely.

You wanted to retreat into König’s embrace, pepper kisses along his scarred throat and coax his lips back to yours. Instead you sat down across from your father and Lord Fischer with your hands folded in your lap. The conversation was polite, nothing remarkable or interesting was said before your father proposed he joined you for supper that evening. It was the last thing you wanted, but nevertheless you stood and walked with your father and Lord Fischer to your father’s chambers.

As always, König dutifully followed.

[bloodywankers]

tw; yandere, forced captivity, isolation | masterlist

unedited | 669 words

I would like to suggest, high school boyfriend yandere.

He starts off as this loyal soft boyfriend that asks you out after class. Maybe you’re the one that asks him out even, he’s over the moon regardless when you start dating. He’s the type to never forget anything you tell him and look like a lost puppy every time you have to leave him to do something else.

Then he starts taking up more of your time, suddenly you aren’t free to hang out with your other friends. Can’t go out because you’ve got a date with him and you just hate how dejected he looks when you have to cancel at the last minute. Your friends stop asking you to join them after the tenth time this happens.

You’d get whiplash with some yanderes where one day you’re out and about and the next you’re suddenly kidnapped in his 14 room mansion in the middle of the woods. But not this one, he develops slowly, you’re his first and probably last lover. He’s still young and impressionable so a combination of his surroundings and probably traumas that have built up to this point lead him to spiral. Next thing you know you’re sharing an apartment and going to the same uni, maybe you’re studying different majors but his classes are scheduled at the same times as yours aside from a few minor ones that just couldn’t be changed. In the end all you’ll be left with is him. He’s just so nice to you, if anything you’re the one that should be afraid of him leaving you knowing how popular he is but seeing how he spends every moment outside of class with you gives you some solace.

Almost conditions you to be as possessive as him. He learnt all of your likes and dislikes, he doesn’t argue with you and always has a soft tone, you don’t have any friends to begin with but slowly you find yourself disliking other people's presence. They don’t treat you like he does, they could have ulterior motives or might be using you but you don’t have to worry about that with him, he’s not like that. You’ve heard of cheating stories in the past but he doesn’t have anything to hide, you’ve never given him reason to, he’ll go to any lengths to assure you of this.

The few times you do talk to other people they always fawn over how cute you two look together, even your family loves him. No one is surprised when you two get married.Maybe the only grievance you have with him is how he doesn’t let you work, assures you that he’ll make enough to provide for you, in just a few years he’ll make enough so that you don’t even have to look at the cost of something before buying it, just stay comfortably at home. But you don’t think of it much after you get pregnant, it's better to stay at home when you’re expecting.

But sometimes it just can’t be helped, no matter how perfect he is, sometimes you just fall out of love, crave to experience things outside of the rose tinted world he’s made for you. That’s when his cracks really start to show. He’s not used to seeing you like this, to going against him like that, you’ve always been so compliant that he started feeling complacent. This is when you see the side of him he’s hid so well, the one that suddenly decides to relocate far out in the countryside, the one that gives you no reason to leave the house. He just works from home now (he took this into consideration when choosing a major). If you need anything it can just be ordered online, but even that’s monitored, your own phone is nowhere to be seen.

You’ve never had anything other than him but back then it was your own choice, foolish as it may have been but now, he’s left you with no other option but him.

[monstrouslyobsessed]

welcome home

—you inherited a strange mansion you vaguely remembered visiting in childhood. you were excited to start a new life, but, now, from the way the lone statue perched on the roof seemed to be watching you, you weren’t so sure anymore.

—a/n: happy (belated) halloween! this had been requested forever ago, though not as a concept but as a smutty headcanon. but it had been stuck in my brain since seeing it—so...introducing the...gargoyle!

—tw / tags: gn reader, implied confinement / isolation, implied mind control(?), implied possible grooming (from the monster), implied teratophilia, implied exophilia, general yandere themes, long post, uncut post, sfw.

—featured character(s): gargoyle, the unnamed uncle

“What happened to those two?” you wondered aloud, balancing the stack of boxes in your arms as you gestured with your chin towards the two headless statues perched atop the pillars of the front gate.

Your uncle cleared his throat, hesitating slightly at the sight of them through the tall, ornate window, “That’s a...good question,” he laughed, his voice trailing off.

You glanced up only to see the back of his grey head, your boxes successfully placed on the floor, eyebrows arched high. “Uncle?”

“...were...a week ago...” you caught the tail end of his murmur.

“Hey!” you erupted, jabbing the old man into his ribs with a playful poke. He responded with an amused chuckle, regaining his composure. With a quick complaint about the way he had ruffled your hair, you slapped his hand away with a suggestion, “probably got weathered from old age,”

You weren’t about to add more to his worries with the anxious face he’d had seconds before. He was already so old it just didn’t feel right to push for answers he probably didn’t have. Helping you to move into his old home had been so overly generous that you hadn’t felt comfortable pressing for more.

Still, as you resumed your unpacking, your eyes couldn’t help but wander to the statues.

They...looked wrong, somehow.

Their necks were too...clean.

As if they had been sliced through with a sharp blade.

Had there ever been heads to begin with?

You shook your head as a faint memory resurfaced. The statues had definitely had heads once, from your visits as a child. So, where had they gone?

As you pondered, your hands became slick with water-thickened dust and soap as you wiped down the wooden furniture in the large living room while your uncle busied himself somewhere in the background. The bright glare of the afternoon sun forced your lashes to flutter together in a wince and you groaned, relocating yourself to a shaded corner as your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.

You blinked.

Something strange was perched outside the window, its wings casting long, dark shadows across the room from the setting sun behind it. You paused, a brief gasp, ever so slight that it might as well have been a breath, escaped your lips. Before you could think of anything to do, a deafening explosion of something shattering rang out from another room, and you spun toward where your uncle was, shouting the old man’s name.

You pivoted again, to see what you thought you saw.

The window was empty, glowing brilliantly with the blinding midday sunlight.

As if you’d only imagined whatever that creature was.

You stumbled out, confused and unsettled, to find your uncle with a troubled look on his face, assuring you that he hadn’t meant to scare you. As you attended to the accident, the strange sight remained in the back of your mind. Discomfort grew in your heart, and you wondered if it was normal to feel so familiar with what you thought you saw.

“You always had such fanciful imagination as a kid,” your uncle chuckled, rocking in his chair in the library you remembered frequenting as a kid. This was supposed to be his final night here with you, before he took the trip back to his assisted living home.

You cocked your head as you looked for a place to slot your favorite books in one of the many shelves. “Did I?”

Truth be told, your childhood memories were muddy at best.

“Oh, ho, yes, you always chatter on about an angel trapped in stone and the stories they’d share with you. Very...terrifying tales, may I add! Frighten my ol’ love, yer did. He never did like listening to these things, said you were listening to the devil.” Your uncle sighed, plucking a framed photo from a small table to reminisce about his deceased husband—

You...vaguely recalled how upset your other uncle was, though the reason still came blank.

“...Wasn’t he the reason I had to stop visiting?” You absently added, stilling your hands in your large tote of books to look at your uncle.

He tilted his head to think, “...Said it’s for your own good, or the devil would spirit you away.”

A question lingered heavily on your tongue and you blurted it out before your uncle could step into his vintage car.

“Why leave me this mansion if Uncle,” it felt strange to say your other uncle’s name after so long when you hardly remembered ever liking him as a kid. He was a mean man, but now, after what you’d learned, you started to wonder. Shaking your head to halt your straying thoughts, you pressed on, “was so against me staying here as a kid?”

You hadn’t meant the words to sound so demanding.

He stopped mid-hobble, looking up at you with his wrinkled hand still holding the suitcase, just before tossing it into his car. For a moment, your uncle opened his mouth, hesitated, then his eyes glazed over. Finally, with a small, uncertain smile, he admitted, “I’m...not sure. I just felt compelled to give this place to you, is all.”

Compelled?

Before you could dwell on that one strange choice of word, your uncle waved you over, “C’mere and give this silly old man a hug before he goes!”

He felt especially small and frail in your arms, as you held him. You remembered him so tall, but now he was just a tiny, old man with a heart too big for his tired body. As he slipped from your ebrace with a warm grin, you were disturbed by how cold his paper-like skin was under your palms.

Words and tears were exchanged, and that was it.

He bid you a farewell, adding a gentle ‘I love you’, and he was gone, his vehicle kicking up dust as it disappeared down the winding driveway. The sound of its sputtering engine gradually faded into the distance, leaving you in the utter silence of the mountain you now occupied. When it was no more than a speck in the dense, green horizon, you made a half turn—

And then you caught sight of something unfamiliar perched on a pillar of the hipped roof of your new—albeit ancient—home.

Blinking, you tilted your head high and squinted to make out the sudden appearance of a gargoyle.

Was...it always there?

It loomed above, a bulky, weighty thing, its great wings curled protectively over its hunched back, with its claws clutching at the gutter. A crown of horns fanned out over its elongated head, shielding itself from the rising sun in the shadows of its bony appendages. The creature’s hulking form sat in a perfect stillness, its long tail wrapped tightly around its hind legs in a stony coil.

As if it had been there all along.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t recall seeing the gargoyle above the main doorway before.

Even when you’d first arrived to meet your uncle about your surprise inheritance, nothing so stellar yet so grotesque had sat above the door before in your memory.

Yet it seemed so oddly familiar. The childish urge to grin and laugh as if upon seeing an old friend again, rose.

Deep in your heart, you knew this was wrong. A shiver ran down your spine, and confusion twisted your expression into one of fear.

You couldn’t see its face clearly beneath its wings, but you felt its eyes pierce your soul.

With another blink, you shuffled your feet, grinding your heels in the crunch of the fine gravel below. You inhaled the cold, crisp air—and you swore you saw it

breathe.

Unable to take it any longer, you fled inside, into the safety and isolation of your new home. The door slammed shut behind you, and you collapsed against the hardwood flood, gasping. The old wood needed a good waxing, but that was the farthest thing on your mind right then, as you panted and your heart was pounding against your ribcage.

“I’m being so stupid—this is silly...!” you muttered with a weak laugh, even as your erratic heart tried to jump out of your throat.

Before you could brush it off with the excuse of the jitters of being a new homeowner, a low creak groaned from above, echoing off  the roof outside.

You stiffened, your sweaty skin prickled with the chilling realization.You were all alone—

With this stranger outside your house.

A loud thud rumbled through the floor, vibrating the door you were leaning against—as though something heavy was dragging its claws across it.

Quietly, its voice, so deep and croaky, a disembodied whisper slipped through the thick wood, sighing with unsettling fondness: “...welcome home,”

The way it said your name had you trembling, but its next words gripped you with a terrible, numbing fear.

“...it’s only two of us now.”

—end

[the-californicationist]

Hello hello! I got super happy once i saw your requests open again <3 i love your writing and i would love to see Price and a reader who is too recluse and uptight, cold and distanced. He somehow noticed she likes him and stuff and it turns into what you write best, something hot and more. Basically Price shaking some sense into her, breaking her down? I don’t know if this is too much detail and I don’t know if it gives any ideas. Feel free to ignore. Love you, have a best day 🧡

Thanks so much for the ask! This is really unique, and I like the concept. I'll do my best! <3 <3

TW: female reader, afab, cunnilingus

Price scanned the meeting room as his teams filed in. The 141's operations had grown, now that Shepherd was out of the way, and new recruits with a lot of promise had come in to aid in the operations. Gaz, Ghost, and Soap sat up front, reports prepped and ready to be handed out, the logistics team sat around Alex and Farah, and sometimes, when she wasn't out doing the dirty work, Laswell would hang around the back corner, arms crossed, watching the meeting unfold. But, he was waiting for you.

You were the newest addition. Your specialty with data analysis and reporting had meant a stream of fresh, sparkling intel that was immediately actionable and nearly allowed him to predict the enemy's movements. You were a magician, and you never talked over anyone's head. Very professional, but kind. Beautiful, even though you were not a fresh-faced youth.

You also had a body that would not let him rest. He'd taken more cold showers in the past two weeks than he ever took as a teenager, and his cock was in his hand, hard and drooling, hungry to bury itself between your thick thighs.

He tried not to stare, really, he did. But, you would wear those cargo pants, belted to your waist, and he could see where your generous ass stretched the tight canvas. The way your hips swayed when you walked across the base with your data-tablet made him want to fight someone for you, even though, as far as he could tell, there was no competition in sight.

That was part of the problem. You kept everyone at arm's reach. Well, that was about to change.

Price started the meeting and tried not to keep glancing back to you in your seat. You were listening diligently, doing your job, and he felt downright lecherous at what he was about to do...

"...and so we'll be pairing off for a full facility inventory."

Groans resonated throughout the team. Complaints flooded in.

"Check the board for your partner and meet in Hanger 3. We'll start in the back storage."

"Back storage! Cap'n, unless you're lookin' for flip phones and manuals from 2007, there's nothin' we need in there," Soap protested.

"Well, Sergeant," Price grinned, "We're about to find out. Spring cleaning!"

He felt someone's presence behind him, and when he turned, he was delighted to find you there, shifting from foot to foot, waiting to be heard.

"Yes, Corporal? Do you need something? Going to whinge about the inventory as well?" He joked with you.

"N-no. No, sir. I just... I checked the board, and you are my partner, sir."

Your eyes were wide and bright. You were staring up at him and clutching that data-tablet to your chest like a shield.

He threw an arm around your shoulder and walked with you side-by-side,

"I'm just pullin' your leg, Corporal. Let's get to it."

As you worked together, the ever-observant John Price noticed a few things. First, you would stare at him when you thought he wasn't looking. Second, you would move to the opposite side of the room to work if he decided to relocate. And third, you had a bad habit of chewing on your bottom lip when you got nervous.

"You'd be no good at poker, Corporal," he commented, stacking a set of boxes near you.

"What, sir?" You looked up at him, biting that poor, innocent lip again.

"That bottom lip gives you away," you fixed it as soon as he said it, but he forced you to sit with him and asked you, "Hey, what's going on? You're doing a great job here, but I can't help but feel like you're not keen on being a part of this team."

You shook your head, sighing,

"No, sir. It's not that. I love this team... I just..."

"Just what, Corporal? We're not leaving this storage crate until you tell me. You have a crush on one of my soldiers, or what?"

Fear, now. He could see it all over your face. He reached out tentatively and put a hand on your knee,

"Hey," he dropped his voice to a dark whisper, "It's alright. I won't tell anyone."

Your voice was so small when you answered him, but gods you were brave for answering him,

"Sir... it's you who I shouldn't tell."

Price's breath caught in his chest. All this nervous energy, all this seriousness... for him? You were nervous to be around him?

"Corporal..." He was stunned.

You stood up, quick as a flash,

"I'm sorry, sir. Please forget I said anything."

You were backing away towards the door, looking like you were ready to bolt, but he reached out and grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

"Me?" He stood above you, his body looming, covering you in the small storage room. It felt like it was getting smaller by the second.

You swallowed, nodding,

"Yes, sir..."

Price reached behind you and popped the metal lock into place, sealing you in,

"Mmm... Corporal, if you only knew how long I've been prayin' you'd say that to me."

"Wh-what? Really? Captain, I didn't --"

He put his thumb on your chin, pulling the skin so that your bottom lip would be freed from your teeth, and he bent to suck it into his mouth. He wasn't kissing you so much as he was working your full, lower lip, slowly and gently, taking it between his own lips and tongue, making you catch your breath.

"In here... I'm not your captain," he smiled, kissing you fully now, "And when I'm not your captain... you give the orders. We can stop, if you want to stop."

He let the news register, showing you how true it was, backing away a bit, giving you room to say no. Price watched your face as the information sank in. It was understood, analyzed, and filed appropriately in that beautiful brain of yours, and then, the results.

You set your tablet down on the boxes and took off your shirt. He still hadn't touched you, happy to let you drive. You pulled his face to yours, placing your hands on his furry cheeks, petting his hair and knocking off his hat until it hung around his neck on its string, almost letting him kiss you, but just before he could, you whispered into his open, gaping mouth,

"I don't wanna stop."

He kissed you, then. So softly it was almost chaste. He matched your energy. If you explored him with your tongue, he explored you just as far. If you spent time kissing his jaw and neck, so did he. After a few minutes of such restrained torture, though, he was breathing heavy, and his body was begging for more.

His hands rubbed across the tight muscles of your neck and down your arms before finally discovering your heavy breasts. He let them fill his warm palms, plucking softly at your nipples and making them harden beneath his fingers.

Price spoke to you as he kissed you, as he fondled you into pliant submission,

"Do you wanna stop, love?"

You shook your head, whispering back,

"I don't want to stop..."

He bent himself like the bough of a great tree, leaning to suck your sensitive nipple into his mouth. Price warmed it with his tongue, and put it between his teeth just enough to make you writhe. Then, he slid a huge hand between your legs and felt the heat you were hiding from him there. He sighed raggedly when he found it, like he had just dropped the weight of the world from his arms.

John pressed the canvas of your pants up into the spot where your folds would part, rubbing the seam against your center, making it shove your clit back and forth along its line, making it swell and tingle. You writhed beneath his teasing, moaning from it.

"Mmm. Do'ya wanna stop, love?"

"No, fuck, no. Don't stop."

He forced open your buckle with a swift pull, snapping the metal tines and popping open your button fly. Tucking his fist into the elastic of your panties, his fingers found their soft, wet prize.

The captain sighed again, that same ragged relief, and just before he opened his mouth to speak to you again, you clasped your hand over it furiously, and warned him,

"Don't you dare fucking stop."

He chuckled, but he said nothing as he sank to his knees, looping one of your legs over his shoulder as he began to eat from your body, hungry and thirsty and needy and ready to be full of you, smearing you all over his beard, smiling all the time.

If you liked this story, please consider buying a coffee for your favorite feral cat <3 Comments, reblogs, and kudos are also appreciated!

AO3 Link

[igetnosleep]

Rekindling

Sequel to "The Night we Met" another attempt at angst. mostly written in Leon's point of view set after RE: 4 remake in mind.

So some TW: Four pages of Leon picking you apart, Leon being needy (If you count that as a warning), thoughts of mutilation (Leon wants to get close to you but is unable to express himself properly), Anger, implied smut (I cannot write smut for the life of me), angst, some comfort but I take it from you.

Six years.

Six years since Leon had last seen you.

It felt so far away the memory of Raccoon City was ingrained into his mind like a brand.

Then they took you away had you relocated far away from him away from anyform of comfort. He wished he could have followed you at that moment and have you in his arms longer.

It felt like decades had passed since he saw you.

He wished he could pour everything out, rip his skin off and have the weight in his chest fall out bloody and ugly, but you couldn’t know that. He had to beg on his knees to make sure you didn’t end up like him. You wouldn’t have survived USSTRATCOM. He barely survived. You would have died.

Mission after mission, saving the president's daughter, the DSO decided to throw him a bone. Reward him for all of his hard work.

Now here he is finally, he gets to see you, standing in front of your apartment door. Not Sherry unfortunately, Simmons wouldn’t let him. “Make up your mind Golden boy, what's it gonna be? Think fast or I’m pulling my offer off the table.” He wanted to kill that man, jaw clenched as he accepted his superior's terms.

He steeled his nerves reaching up and knocking on your door staring hearing a dog barking and the sound of nails tapping against wood floors then scratching and more barking, you had a dog. “Coming!” your voice rang out as you unlocked the door and he was met with a determined pitbull sticking its nose past the door trying to get a feel on him.

You held onto its collar the large puppy with a powder face, sniffing excitedly as its tail whacked your leg. “Noooo don’t run off you’ll get me in trouble again.” You spoke gently, eyes trained on the pup. Slowly you looked up at him and your eyes widened in surprise, like you saw a ghost.

“Leon?” Your voice was confused and unsure. He gave you a small nod, his lip quirked up trying to give you some semblance of comfort. Your grip on your dog loosened giving it the chance to approach him, he offered his hand allowing for a sniff of approval and affectionate licks to his palm.

You had changed a bit, you looked skinnier, unfortunately, he missed the softness in your body even if it was brief how long he’d held you. You looked tired, you hadn’t been sleeping. Why did you look frail? 

You looked at him like you didn’t recognize him, your eyes searching for something, a remnant of him from when you met.  The same man who had left you alone now thinner, cheeks sunken and heavy eyebags and dark circles. Hesitantly you touched his cheek watching him tense before forcing himself still.

Those blue eyes you couldn’t get out of your head dulled and tired. The back of your hand gently smoothed over his cheek and he sighed shoulders drooping, a hint of vulnerability. Leons hand coming up and grabbing yours pressing your hand against his cheek as he took a breath.

He needs more, more than just you touching his cheek. Morbidly he wished he could sink under your skin and feel your warmth, would you mind? Would you mind if he did that? You wouldn’t would you? 

Sink his teeth into your skin and rip your throat out, maybe claw his way into your chest and make a home next to your beating heart.

Your life felt too inviting. Your warmth all too accessible, willing, open for something like him always longing for something.

Then again. There was that fear. Fear of getting too close too fast, seeming all too eager for something more. He’d come out bloody and red staring back at you scared and confused. 

Your voice cut him out of his head. He blinked and hummed a small beckon for you to repeat yourself “Do you want to come in?”

You led him inside pouring both a cup of tea, chamomile, “Helps the nerves..at least that's what the lady down the hall told me.” you spoke almost in a daze, still surprised to see him there. You pour some honey and lemon into both mugs.

Silence felt deafening between the two of you, his eyes trailing the interior of your apartment, the dog lying peacefully on the couch cushions, he never took you for a dog person, the way the carpets seem to overtake the living room, how warm it felt in the apartment despite the air being at the coldest temperature known to man.

“How have you been?” It feels like a stupid question to you, but he knows it’s all you could think of at the moment, you weren’t social you could barely keep eye contact. Were you trying to go back to the night when you looked at him trying to find the puppy you met all those years ago?

It almost felt nice that you were trying to find something to cling to like how he’d started trying to take note of how you lived every detail to how you dressed was something he wanted to write into memory. You were an open book he held the highlighters and pens writing annotations on your pages underlining and highlighting the details that caught his attention.

You could barely peer into him. Leon felt like a blank journal, the cover beautifully decorated yet when opened held nothing, no words or details to keep note of, how he preferred it now, it wasn’t your fault. He reminded you of the ones you collected but never got the chance to use, he seemed torn and frayed, being through too much to know pages torn out secrets hidden between lines and invisible ink. He felt more like the blacked out lines you’d see in a government document. At least in the movies you’d seen but at this point you were sure it was the same.

A part of him felt angry you didn’t immediately know, you couldn’t get a read on him, see what kind of person he was now without feeling like you were intruding. The man in your living room is more of a stranger if anything rather than someone you thought was a friend.

Could you classify what you had as a grounds for friendship?

You hardly knew let alone understood what happened yourself.

Leon barely tried to acknowledge it, finding himself torn between wanting to acknowledge and longing to forget what happened even if it meant forgetting you sometimes.

He almost wanted to scream at you, resentment at the life you were living now like he didn’t make the choice to protect you. 

He bit back a scowl. Glowering from his spot. “Fuck you.” his mind supplied it was terrifying how it felt like it was creeping into his veins, anger, resentment.

You looked small under his gaze, did you regret it? Did you regret meeting him? Were you starting to regret letting him into your home?

He took a deep breath, the aroma of honey and lemon mixed into his cup easing his nerves. He needs to calm down. He’ll scare you if he keeps going on like this. You hadn’t seen him in years. You didn’t even know what he��d done for you. “And you never will.” 

It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. 

Leon knows better. He’s not his father. You’re not at fault.

“I’m..” he paused, debating telling the truth before shaking his head “I’ve been better.” you bit your tongue. Your cheeks flushed red as you rubbed your forehead. “Sorry..I just..You can’t talk about anything can you?” You were smart peeking into the cracks of his walls. He shook his head “No, sorry.” He looked down, somber hand coming up to rub his forehead. 

You sat in awkward silence, you weren’t used to the bitter tone on his tongue. You didn’t know what to say, what could you say? What could you do? His shoulders looked squared; he was guarded; rigid. 

His eyes narrowed and observed the area, what was he looking for? God fuck who knows something a hint that you had moved on that you were just fine without him. 

Resentment towards you festering in his mind despite him pushing it down but it clung to his gut unwilling to go away. Bitterness coated his tongue. You were scared one wrong move could break him and have him crumble like he was fragile. He wasn’t fucking fragile. “You have something on your mind?” He asked his finger tapping against the mug in his hands impatiently. 

You weren’t stupid, mostly just caught off guard by his behavior. Shifty eyes and rigid body language. Clear indication that he wanted to leave, to go back to wherever he called home.

“Sorry..I guess I’m still surprised to see you..” you apologized for your lack of words, it only proved to make him feel worse.

This meeting felt like a mistake. Everything about it felt wrong. 

Leon placed the mug down on the coffee table as he tapped his knee anxiously. “I should go.” Already getting up and moving towards your front door. You stared at him confused. He wasn't here for maybe a few minutes.

You didn’t want to leave it like this: a wordless exchange of nothing too much simmering under the surface too much needing to be said but fear and reluctance prevented them from being said.

“Leon.” Your voice was gentle trying to pull him away from his head “Are you..feeling up to a hug?” You asked, arms opening up in a curious invitation. 

For a moment he wanted to decline her out before he did something he would regret but he wanted to be selfish. He gave so much and let his superiors take so much of him it felt like there was nothing left to take. 

Just for a moment, let him have something.

Let him have this.

His arms wrapped around your shoulders, hands moving over your back slithering down and locking you in place while your hands hesitantly rest on his waist. Your hands were shaking at the unexpected contact not understanding how quickly he would change his demeanor. 

Leon nuzzled your neck, his hands clutching your shirt for a moment. He felt like he was reliving a good memory. A piece of heaven he thought was locked away from him his hands felt bloody, unclean, clutching your shirt.

You smelled nice. The scent of the soap you used was intoxicating a deep breath and he was ingraining it into his memory, his hands roaming down to your sides then up your shirt, feeling you jolt in surprise “Leon?” You voice surprised but not pushing him away cheeks flushed warm, almost burning feeling lips against your neck.

You pulled away staring at him eyes wide “Push me away. Please say something.” he murmured, his forehead leaning against yours. Your breath mingled with his while his fingers dug into your back pulling you closer with each moment of silence.

Your mind was racing, the sudden change the way he stared at you.

What the fuck?

Holy shit.

You were certain you might blow a fuse or burn out with how he was staring at you. What could you do? Say no? He did say that but the words weren’t forming in your mouth. Your name was rough on his tongue “Please say something.” he whined his voice cracking his hand coming up to cup your cheek his lips brushing against yours as you managed break out of your thoughts staring back into those pretty eyes of his ones you knew you could get lost in staring into for a long time if he allowed it.

“Keep going.” You gently urged your hand going over his thumb brushing over the back of his hand. He could get used to that feeling. His eyes darted down nudging your nose as he murmured, asking gently “Can I?” a small pause and you nodded allowing him to continue.

His lips were chapped desperate over yours. Your hands on his cheeks as you moved your mouth clumsily against his. “Bedroom?” he asked clumsily, he felt like a rookie again, legs wobbly as he guided you to where you spent your nights and mornings wrapped up in nothing but peace.

Need and desperation were the two emotions he felt during that moment. Being able to hold you to bring you close to the feeling you wrapped around him, his nails digging and clawing into your skin begging to be let in to be a part of your life without the blood and the fear, without the constant mockery or over reliance of his skills.

The morning after it was like he’d slept for the first time in a while, a proper sleep, no restless tossing and turning, no screams and vivid nightmares that came for his throat. Just sleep.

Leon breathed for what felt like a long time. Searching for you before wrapping his arms around you pulling you close his hand smoothing over your chest, a familiar heartbeat, a rhythm that made him relax with a scary realization.

He didn’t want to leave.

He wanted the warmth of the mornings and the cold nights wrapped under your blankets wrapped in you.

You.

You.

Fuck how long had he needed you?

How long did he need to be away before realizing that this was heaven. 

The pearly gates that he knew he’d be rejected from, He realized he gladly fall if it meant staying with you.

His hands were stained in blood staining your skin with his filth. He needed to make his place here. He needed you. He wanted you.

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck.

What was he doing? What was he thinking coming here? Back to you? Back to the memory he wanted to forget?

Leon buried his nose in the crook of your neck, screwing his eyes shut, reluctant feeling like a little kid after being told he had to go to school after summer break stamping his foot whining. 

No. 

No. 

No. 

He refused because he didn't want to leave. This was perfect. Everything about this was home. This was home. You were home. His nails dug into your skin drawing out a whine from you still asleep. This was only supposed to be a visit. He didn’t need to look at his phone to know he was expected back. 

Could he come back?

He wasn’t sure.

Leon stared at you, stirring in your sleep, blinking with bleary eyes staring back at him “You okay?” Your voice is still asleep but trying to stay up for him. “Yeah..go back to sleep sweetheart.” he kissed the crook of your neck while rubbing your arm lulling you back to a peaceful slumber.

When you woke up again, Leon was gone.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Am I allowed to request a Johnny Cage brother figure? Or Even a Kenshi one? Ofc I understand that you’ll only do one but no rush ~👻

Actually i have a good idea! I know this is more like a headcanons type thing, but it helps answer both of those!

Two's Company

Johnny Cage/Kenshi Takahashi x Siblings!Reader

TW/CW: None. Mentions of some violence, some petty sibling crap, Kenshi's history and injuries.

Kenshi Takahashi

• You were one of the reasons why Kenshi wanted from beneath the Yakuza's thumb. The day you were born, Kenshi vowed he would be the best big brother he possibly could to you, from the very second your tiny fingers first gripped his and you cooed at him, innocent of the evil you and he were born into thanks to generations of necessity to hide.

• Growing up, Kenshi would tell you stories, myths, and fables. But some of his favorites to tell you (and reenact under the safe watch of your mother) was the stories of the Taira clan.

• Kenshi always stood up for you. When you were bullied in school? Kenshi was there. The bullies always came up and apologized shortly after, sporting bruises, cuts, and the occasional missing tooth.

• Some asshole stood you up on a date? Kenshi would pay them a visit. He wouldn't kill them or injure them like he would have in his youth, but he would make it well known that they were no longer allowed to come near you.

• When one of the Yakuza would get too close to you, Kenshi was forced to act violently, much to the delight of his "overseers" as your mother would call them, always with disdain. It was one of the only times he genuinely enjoyed inflicting pain on someone, it was a way of striking against your oppressors.

• Kenshi has your name tattooed over his heart, or inside his wrist, so that way you were always with him, the bright light he refused to let be snuffed out by the Yakuza. The hope for the future of the Taira.

• When he told you of his plan to break the Taira free of their chains, you supported him, but you feared for your big brother's safety.

• You supported him when he told you he knew where he could find Sento, your family sword. It was in the hands of some big shot Hollywood has-been.

• You cried and hugged him goodbye, wishing him safe travels and good luck.

• Kenshi had pleaded with Liu Kang to let him tell you what his new arc in life would be, what he was doing with the Wu Shi, what he was training for.

• Liu Kang agreed, standing off a ways as Kenshi came home, arranging a meeting with you in one of the (few) Taira safehouses to give you the rundown.

• To say you were shocked, and skeptical was an understatement. Liu Kang grinned at you, the corners of his eyes creasing at the edges when you told him that if your brother got hurt--or died--he would be "very sorry" and that yes, your brother kept you largely out of the wrongdoings of the Yakuza, but you still knew how to fight.

• But when Kenshi returned from battle, blinded, with Sento strapped to his back? All you could do was hold onto each other as you cried, your mother sobbing as she held the two of you, her babies, her most precious gems.

• You helped arrange the split from the Yakuza, helping relocate somewhere safer to rebuild your clan, occasionally working with the Shirai Ryu when you needed to. After your clan's history, you needed to build bridges. And the leaders of the Shirai Ryu, Kuai Liang and Tomas Vrbada, were welcoming and warm to your family and clan. They earned your respect by fighting alongside your brother against some evil man named Shang Tsung.

• Kenshi fell to his knees in laughter when you slapped Liu Kang, for not keeping his promise that your brother would come to no harm.

Johnny Cage

• One Cage was bad enough, but two? Liu Kang didn't find out Johnny had a younger sibling until it was brought it to his attention. Right when you walked into Johnny's mansion. Gawking at him, Scorpion, Sub-Zero, and Kenshi Takahashi.

• You had even begun to try and wail on Scorpion (Hey! That guy and his friends were trying to beat up your big brother! What did they expect, you to just sit by and chill?) before Liu Kang stepped in and told you who they were...

• He knew Johnny had an older brother, but you? Yeah... He was certainly surprised when he found out. When he asked Geras why he never mentioned it, Geras merely smiled and said "You never asked, my friend."

• That attitude runs in the Cage (Carlton) genes, that's for sure.

• You were a hothead, always ready to punch first and ask questions later when your big brother needed you to.

• As kids, you and Johnny were thick as thieves. (Some would call you Dumb and Dumber, however, with the antics you got up to. Like the glitter bomb booby trap you'd put in your neighbor's mailbox)

• You guys were so close, when you were little, your parents would always find one of you not in your bed, but instead in your sibling's room, clinging to a stuffed animal and blanket as you two snuggled, snoring softly.

• Johnny had a typical big brother attitude when it came to certain things. When you had your first heartbreak? Johnny didn't have to even touch them, instead giving a verbal lashing so good the school talked about it for months.

• But when some girl had cheated on Johnny? Oh, you were downright diabolical. You had slipped Nair in her shampoo so when she came back from cheerleading practice, she'd be in for a nasty surprise. When she came running out of the shower, hair in clumps? You leaned against the lockers in the hall, a smug smirk on your face. "Geez... Looks like Karma got you good! Now stay away from my brother, bitch."

• You never knew why you didn't get in trouble, after that.

• When Johnny made it big, you made it to all his premieres, even if his parents didn't like his career choice. You were his biggest fan, and best critic.

• Johnny adored bringing you on set and listening to you give unabashed, unfiltered critique on his skills. It always made him laugh and stoked the fires of improvement.

• When he fell on hard times, you were there to lend an ear for him to vent, providing comfort when he confided that his marriage with Cris was falling apart.

• Johnny ignored his companions' complaints about keeping you in the dark, spilling everything to you about what was going on, and how he'd planned on using the stuff he saw to turn his career around.

• You hugged him tightly, clinging to his shirt as you bid your goodbyes.

• He sent you texts and selfies everyday, as well as lengthy--and I mean lengthy--paragraphs of the "crap" he was doing. It always brought a smile to your face when you'd hear a ping and saw it was from him.

• The moment he told you that he'd be going to another world? You were skeptical. Until he started sending you the pictures and videos. That Raiden guy shot lightning from some kinda plate thingy!

• You still had that one promoter friend who could help build hype from the recordings and pics he sent you, right? Of course you did.

• When Johnny came home, you hugged him. And punched him in the gut for making you worry and going radio silent for weeks. His friends, Kung Lao and Kenshi laughed.

• Johnny had even surprised you with one of the lead roles (which you turned down in favor of a lesser one).

• But it was when Johnny showed you some moves he learned from the Wu Shi, that you learned you both had the same power.

• And from somewhere in Earthrealm, Liu Kang felt a chill run up his spine.

[reversedanatomy]

Finding Peace: Chapter 2

Summary: More of an in-between from the last chapter. Reader processing emotions after the breakup and making big decisions.

TW: swearing, some mentions of violence

Denial. This was the first step of recovering from a breakup. The note Wanda had written for you the morning she left was unlike her. When there was a serious topic that needed to be addressed, she always preferred face-to-face conversations, even when she was away for long periods of time on her international trips. Your mind raced like cars on a track, revisiting the same thoughts again and again until you grew weary from worry. You settled on an unlikely, but possible conclusion that maybe she was kidnapped. Yes, you thought, her kidnapper forced her to write this note with the intent play it off like one of her work trips.

You knew this was stupid, but you held onto the idea that she would be coming back. You always left your cellphone ringer on, now, in the slim chance that Wanda would be contacting you. You’d rush to answer your phone at every buzz, ding, or alarm you heard, even when you were out with company.

Your mom started to worry. She knew the situation between you and Wanda had been rocky for some time, and she expressed her relief that you two had parted. She would call you frequently, however, to reassure you and offer for you to come visit and stay with her.

“Maybe what you need is a new change of scenery,” your mom quietly suggested. You held the phone in between your shoulder and ear as you cooked over the stovetop.

“Yeah, but I’ve got a job here that I can’t just leave,” you retorted. You went to check the vegetables you set in the oven.

“It’s a pretty big company you work for. Can’t you ask them to relocate you?” You opened the oven door, feeling the heat burn across your face. You reached to check if your carrots were fork tender, and you shot back as you accidentally bumped your hand on the hot glass baking dish. You bit your tongue to keep yourself quiet, but the phone dropped to the floor.

“Shit, mom, I’m sorry,” you went to pick the phone back up and return it to your ear. “I missed what you said.”

“Don’t swear at me, Y/N,” your mother was direct.

“I’m sorry.”

“What I was saying was that you should ask to be relocated. Your lease is ending soon, and I know rent is increasing where you’re at. Without Wanda there, you’re going to need some help staying financially secure in a place like Chicago.” She was right. You didn’t have much of an option once your lease ended. You could either move somewhere cheaper, alone, or move back in with your mom in southern California. Both options stressed you. “I’ve already looked into it. There’s a position opening up to be a direct assistant under management here. It’s a bit less than what you make now, but, with your dad and I making dual income, you can stay here rent-free and bulk up your savings.”

“I’ll think about it.” If you gave her an open-ended answer, she’d pressure you less.

“Alright, hon. Let me know what you decide. I’ll call again tomorrow in the afternoon. Does three work for you?”

“Yeah, that works for me. Talk to you then.” You made quick goodbyes with each other before hanging up the phone and returning to your cooking. You held your hand under the cold water, letting the rush cool the anxiety in your head. You thought for a moment how your life was going to change when you moved out of your apartment, when you moved out of Chicago.

You ate dinner while searching for jobs on your computer. You investigated the job your mother was talking about. It was an assistant-to-the-manager position that offered significantly less pay than the social media manager position you currently held. Sure, you could put all your money into savings, but you sneered at the idea of moving back in with your parents when you were in your mid-twenties.

You continued to browse through the list of jobs your company offered until your eyes laid upon an office manager position that paid the same rate you were making now, but in a small, incomprehensible name of a town in Norway. You always admired the idea of visiting Norway. It reminded you of the mountains you and your family would drive through to go camping in the Pacific Northwest every summer. You also loved the idea of living near the water. Chicago’s waterfront was nice, but the pollution of the city ruined your connection to the water. Maybe this could be the change of scenery that your mother was suggesting.

It was a risky application considering you weren’t a Norwegian citizen, but you had more than enough experience from your current position to secure this job. You put your heart and soul into this application. When you finally submitted it, you leaned back into the kitchen stool and sighed. It creaked under your weight as you tilted your head back. For a moment you studied the stipples decorated across your ceiling. It was unlikely you’d be offered the position, but you felt more confident in leaving Chicago behind when you finished.

-----------------------------------------------

You waited several days. Every morning, afternoon, and night you checked your email both at work and at home, praying for a response from your job application. You hadn’t made your application aware to anybody yet. It wasn’t like you had a lot of people to tell, anyway. Since dating Wanda, you two had fallen into a state of codependency with each other. Wanda had possessive traits, and you were a doormat whenever those traits were expressed in an argument. Regarding your family and your closest friend Darcy, however, you’d need to be prepared to convincingly tell them why you were leaving the country to seek ‘refuge’ somewhere else if offered an interview.

You thought about this from the comfort of your bed. You held your phone clutched against your chest and continued to stare at the ceiling just as you had when you submitted your application. Your mind felt all kinds of queasy and restless. Nauseating. It was the type of nausea that bubbled in your stomach rather than your throat. You were thinking about Wanda. What if she came back when you left the country? What if she came back bruised and bloody after escaping her hypothetical kidnapper, looking for solace with you, but you weren’t there? It felt like torture waiting for that damned email. Waiting and worrying became more of a reason to keep your mind off of Wanda, off of the breakup.

You were so hyper-focused on if a decision had been made that you were neglecting the rest of your notifications. There were several texts from Darcy, one text from your father, and several missed calls and voicemails from your mother. You had turned the ‘Read Receipts’ option off on your phone so you could still peek at the messages without getting an earful from Darcy. She was wondering where you were, if you died, or if someone had by chance stolen you off of the streets. She then sent a copy-paste message that if you didn’t reply to her message you’d have bad luck for 7 years. You couldn’t help but giggle at that.

Right then, you got another message from Darcy. It read: I CAN SEE THAT YOU’RE READING MY MESSAGES, ASSHOLE!!!

Shit.

You rechecked your phone settings. You forgot to turn the ‘Read Receipts’ option off. Or, you had accidentally had turned it on sometime and just forgot about it. Shit, shit, shit, you started fumbling with your phone. Your heart started racing when a notification popped up that Darcy was trying to call you. Your phone buzzed and slipped from your hands, landing on your face. Your nose unfortunately answered the call, and you could hear Darcy’s animated voice booming from the other side.

“I’ve been trying to contact you for almost a week!” She whisper-shouted through gritted teeth. Her voice was breathy. Maybe her heart was twisting and beating just as fast as yours. You picked your phone up off of your face and brought it to your ear. The room started spinning as you tried to muster a response.

“I-I-I’m sorry?” You squinted your eyes and furrowed your eyebrows.

“You’re sorry? I’ve been trying to contact you with no response and you’re sorry?” You could hear Darcy exhale through her nose and scoff. “Look, I get it. Wanda ran away from you, but you need to stop running away from everybody else.” She was right. It hurt to hear, but Darcy was right, and you didn’t know how to respond. The words you were forming from your mouth lost all form and function, and they came out in a twisted scramble. You were playing a piano and pressing all the broken keys. You slid your fingers through your hair and gripped into your scalp.

Darcy just sighed.

“What’s going on?” Darcy lowered her voice until it was soothing and silvery. Her voice instantly settled into your muscles, relaxing you in preparation for the news you were to deliver.

“I…may or may not have applied to a job in Norway,” you closed your eyes and waited for Darcy to berate you about running away again. You heard Darcy exhale from her nose once more.

“Y/N, you’re acting irrationally because Wanda left. Look, you and I both knew this was coming. Fleeing the country isn’t going to get her out of your head. It’s just going to isolate you from the only support you have now.”

“Yeah, but what if I meet some hot MILF out there who turns my life upside down and fixes all of my problems?” You attempted to lighten the mood and forced out a laugh. Nothing.

“This isn’t funny, Y/N,” she emphasized your name to bring your attention back to the topic at hand.

“I know.”

“Then stay. There’s another internship opening up with Dr. Foster and you don’t need to be a college student to get in. You can work with me,” Darcy offered in the same tone your mother did when bringing up the assistant position back home.

“No, Darcy. I really do want this position. I think it could be good for my mental health to get out of the country and be somewhere new.”

“Do you even speak Norwegian?”

“No, but I can learn.”

“God,” there was a pause. “…okay. Wanna run by the bookstore with me tomorrow and see if they have learning material for that?” Darcy was being patient with you regardless of your spontaneous decision to leave the USA. She really cared about you, but you could tell from her voice she was worried, maybe even scared about you leaving. You felt sorrow fill your heart as you heard her voice break while speaking. You nodded to yourself.

“You don’t have to do that, Darce,” you replied.

“I want to.”

“Okay. Can I at least pick you up from your apartment?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you then. Noon work?”

“Yeah. See you, Darce. Love you.”

Click.

[truths33k3r4]

Day 7- Forced Sedation (Comedic Version) - SIW

(TW for needles, sedation, tranquilizer dart, and mention of dislocation)

I think y'all know what scene I'm referencing here from Rise. ;) Don was just testing the potency of his new tranquilizer, nothing moreeee~ And hey! Look at that- his little thief of a brother was the perfect test subject!!

Day 7- Forced Sedation (Angst Version) - SIW

I imagine this is what it looked like when Leo needed to re-locate Mikey's ankle from his fall in chapter 1 of my story. (here) Mikey usually isn't one to really express his pain. (Like, genuine pain, not making a big fuss just to get the attention of his family.) So Leo and Don seeing their little brother crying from the sharp, twisting ache of his injured ankle truly shook them. After injecting him with something to calm him down and zone him out, Leo and Don called Raph in, (cause there was no way he would be in the same room as a needle, thank you.) and they carefully relocated it.

There were a few different artistic challenges I had for this prompt. The first being I made a FULL comic- the second being showcasing the character's moods by the colors/vibrancy of their speech bubbles, and the third being DRAWING A HAND USING A SYRINGE. DUDE- That was- HOLY CRAP THAT TOOK A LONG TIME-

Anyways, enjoy! :)

~ Melissa

~ TMNTember Prompts List ~

[animeyanderelover]

Greetings 😊 Could I request Hashirama,Tobirama,Madara,Itachi,Pein,Shisui,Sakura and Sasuke with a darling that can shrink themselves?

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusion, paranoia, stalking, abduction, arranged marriage

Darling can shrink themselves

Madara Uchiha

🌑 Considering that Clans like the Nara, Akimichi and Yamanaka relocated into the Hidden Leaf Village after it's establishment, I can see darling also being part of a similar Clan. There's no major interest in any of those clans, Madara only cares about the fact that all those clans will make Konoha a very strong nation but I do see him being interested in the secret arts of all the clans. He can technically copy them, including the ability to shrink the own body if we're going to assume that it's not a kekkai genkai but a secret art passed down within the clan. The only reason he's refraining from it is because Hashirama tells him to not dig into the secret of those abilities since it will damage the relationship between the village and the clan. His darling would have to be special among their own clan to stand out to him, maybe they're just exceptionally talented and smart and get paired with him on missions a lot.

🌑 If Hashirama notices that his somewhat grumpy friend works well together with you, he'll definitely put you two constantly in the same team. Madara's not complaining though. You caught his interest, obviously he'll use every excuse to get to know you better. I do feel like he would feel somewhat weird during missions where you have to use your abilities and shrink yourself to the size where you can easily fit into the palm of his hand. The look he gives you the first few times where he witnesses it is priceless before he learns to mask his mild shock. Occasionally you make him mad on purpose and in such moments he threatens to squash you, you know that he's just kidding though. The Uchiha already have a good idea what's going on when he starts forcing you to spend time with him in the Uchiha compound, that doesn't make the following discussion with the eldest of the clan easier though, considering that Madara is stubborn. There's nothing holding him back from courting you although an arranged marriage will be held if you should refuse his advances.

Hashirama Senju

🌳 Considering the kind of man he is, I can totally see him trying to help literally every clan that settles into Konoha with the built of their compound, even if his brother reminds him that he has other things to do. For Hashirama it's important to take this time to strengthen the relationship between the clan and the fairly new village and connect with the people who will from now on call this place their home. So that's how you two meet when he pays the compound of your clan a visit to ask if everything so far has been working out and if there's anything he can help with. He's just walking up to you and begins talking with you as if he isn't the Hokage of this village. That makes it easier for you to talk with him though as you don't feel any pressure or stress like you'd feel normally if someone in a high position talks to you. So you engage him with your own quips and wits and before he knows it, he's spent far too much time talking with you. He couldn't help it though, you were just that great in talking. You don't think that it's weird that he visits often, you've heard from other clans that he does the same with them.

🌳 You think it's nice how much he cares and you often wait for him to visit again. The time you two talk together when he comes over gets longer and eventually you take strolls together through the village where he excitedly shows you everything that the villagers have worked on and that he plans to do in the future. Then begins the phrase where he suddenly starts giving you flowers and beautiful kimonos as his mind seems to only revolve around you. The times Tobirama has caught him grinning like a lovesick fool whilst sitting in his office is far too much to count on all hands and feet. It's so easy to realize what is going on with Hashirama and whilst his clan initially hesitates a bit, they at least figure that you have a special jutsu. When your clan receives the offer of an arranged marriage between you and Hashirama, they seem willing to accept it, knowing that it would greatly benefit their clan. You search for Hashirama in shock who wasn't aware of the schemes of his clan either although he did plan on asking them for your hand in marriage. Seeing you so devastated with the thought of marrying him breaks his heart though, do you really hate the idea that much?

Tobirama Senju

🌊 Tobirama isn't such an emotional fool like his brother is, he just wanted you and your clan in the village to have as many strong people in Konoha as possible to have an advantage over the other nations. The comfort of those clans so that they stay in the village is obviously also important to him so makes arrangements to ease any tension and doubts. The people from your clan are mostly used for spying and collecting informations as your hidden jutsu suits such tasks perfectly. Eventually you get choosen personally from him as a new member of his own team of trusted and skilled shinobi so you often tag along when he goes out on highly dangerous missions. It's a huge honor for you and your clan so you dedicate your everything into helping him to succeed every mission. As someone who is rewarded with his trust, you realize that beyond that grumpy and serious facade is a more caring and loyal man than some might think. Tobirama just doesn't seem to be fond to show such a side of himself often.

🌊 Everything goes well until Tobirama starts acting weird around you. His newfound obsession disturbs him and he tries his best to not let it have a bad influence on your teamwork as he tries to keep it professional. Yet his feelings are something he can't beat with logic and worst of all, he realizes that his change of attitude hurts you and it awakens guilt inside of him. You still try to not let it get too you during missions, something that only makes him admire you even more. You don't see him very often outside of missions anymore as you just assume that he needs time alone, in reality Tobirama is watching your every step very closely. Be that with the help of the Anbu or with his sensory abilities, you can never escape him like this. Not even if you shrink yourself as he can always track you down. He doesn't want anyone to find out, the shame would be too much to bear for him. I do see him as less opposed to suggest an arranged marriage between his darling and him since he knows that your clan would all too happily agree if it means having a better relationship with the Senju. Only if you refuse him of course and hurt his pride.

Pain

🌧️ You live in Amegakure and are the last one of your family alive, meaning that you're also the last one who knows about the secret art of your family. It seems like this jutsu will die down together with you, that is until two very mysterious people approach you and ask you if you'd be willing to work for their organization. You lack the courage to reject, your guts telling you that it would be a bad idea to refuse their request. You've heard about the rumors of the god and the angel of Amegakure and just sort of know that the people in front of you are those legends everyone keeps whispering about. You're less responsible for catching any Tailed Beasts though as you're only given few information about the goal, origin and purpose of the Akatsuki. Your only job is to infiltrate, to spy and to collect certain pieces of information before reporting back to Pain and Konan. You never dare to run away or betray them out of fear that they might kill you as both always seem to figure out your location, even if you shrink yourself.

🌧️ You find it strange when your missions decrease and you're instead often kept in the tower where you just sit around before helping those two with whatever you can do within the tower. Pain's Rinnegan never seems to leave your form, something that gives you shivers as his unwavering gaze on you creeps you out. It's especially terrifying if Konan isn't there and the thick silence engulfing you two threatens to stop your heart out of sheer nervousness. There are times where he tries to break the silence by chatting a bit with you but it only does little to soothe your nerves. You don't know what's going on inside his head and it's only on the day where he suddenly tells you that you won't leave this tower anymore that you finally get an idea of what's happening. A few of his other bodies stop you from leaving as you glance at Konan, pleading silently for help before you see that she looks away guiltily and you understand that she won't help you. You can try to escape by making yourself as tiny as possible but Pain will always find you. Hopefully you know that already.

Shisui Uchiha

🍂 Both you and Shisui are part of the Anbu and you've been part of his team since years now. The reason is the simple one that you two make a very good duo together and always get the job done, no matter how difficult or bloody the task at hand might be. You can rely on each other and often know what the other one is thinking by simply looking into each other's eyes. Even outside of missions you two spend a lot of time together, you know Itachi and Sasuke very well because Shisui has introduced you to both of them already. You merely see Shisui as a really good friend of yours though whilst Shisui's feelings have changed throughout the years. A simple crush which he never told you about because he knew that you didn't feel the same as he did have turned over time into a deep obsession he's unable to get rid off. It's only because of his amazing amount of restraint that he hasn't done anything yet. You're part of a well-known clan in Konoha and a famous Anbu after all, not to mention that he admires and respects you so much. He would like to avoid underhanded tactics when it comes to you.

🍂 Yet there's this brooding feeling inside his chest as his patience runs with time thin as he starts wondering why you've never considered him as a potential partner for you. He's seen you crushing on so many people before and can't help in some emotionally vulnerable moments why you would choose them over him, someone you've known for years now. Why not him? The only saving grace is that you never went out of your way to ask any of those people and Shisui is partially to blame for that. He has stalked people that caught your interest, has observed them and memorized their routine and their tiny ticks and everything that he can use to help you lose interest as he points out why you wouldn't like that person or why you wouldn't be permanently happy. Even if you try to hide that you have feelings for someone, Shisui always finds out as he knows more about you than you're aware of. For the time being he holds himself back as he stalks you, waits for any sign that you might hopefully return his feelings one day. He's waited so long for you after all, he won't give you up to anyone else.

Itachi Uchiha

🍡 The history between you two starts as you join the ranks of the Akatsuki and get paired with Itachi for a new mission as Pain deems your abilities to fit perfectly for retrieving important information and scrolls, looking on how you've perfected your jutsu to the point where you can even shrink objects around you. Itachi is picked because he has experience as an Anbu and knows how to be stealthy so he is supposed to help you infiltrate the village and steal the scrolls. To your luck he's very silent and not as intimidating as you expected someone from the Akatsuki to be. The mission goes to your luck well as both of you exceed in teamwork as something about Itachi manages to ease your jittery nerves. As you collect more experiences with other members, you soon realize that you work best together with Itachi and Pain notices that too and puts you two permanently together. You feel relieved about it and even Itachi seems weirdly peaceful about it as you're one of the few members he's met who doesn't kill people out of fun or is necessarily happy to murder.

🍡 There's some sort of innocence surrounding you and he soon realizes that you're only here in the first place because you didn't have a choice, looking on how you're the last one of your family who knows the secret art of shrinking yourself and things around you. Almost as if to preserve your innocence, he starts hurting and killing others just so that you don't have to as he has already no chance to make up for his sins. He protects you from doing something you can't bring yourself to do and you appreciate it. Both of you bond like this as your bubbly attitude around him in peaceful moments is a breath of fresh air for Itachi, the last ray of sunshine in the world he has resigned himself into. Love isn't something that he deserves nor did expect to find so imagine the sudden paranoia he feels whenever you go on missions, the fear that you might get hurt. He tries to rationalize his fears, tells himself that you got chosen for a reason yet all it'll take is one miscalculation from your part which will get you seriously hurt for Itachi's paranoia to blind him. You don't belong into this world, so he'll keep you away from it.

Sasuke Uchiha

💙 A trophy of Orochimaru is what you are now, he saved you from the brink of starvation when he found out about your secret art that only you know about now as all your other relatives have been killed in attempts to figure out the Hidden Jutsu. It's not like you want to be here but you know that the man would otherwise either kill you or use you as a lab rat so you choose the less gruesome outcome. By the time you join, Sasuke is already there and your intial hopes of befriending him so you feel less lonely are crushed when you figure out how much of an asshole he is, rude and only focused on his own training. He doesn't bother with anyone who can't help him gaining more power and so you're left completely on your own with little to no choice but work on your own jutsu. Orochimaru expects progress from you after all and it's only when Sasuke finds out about your abilities that he seems to be a tiny bit interested. To your demise, Orochimaru for some reason wants you to train with him together looking on how the both of you are of similar age. He seems convinced that you'll benefit from your training with Sasuke.

💙 The training does pay off as you get significantly better in ninjutsu and taijutsu but it comes with the price of ruthless attacks, scars, wounds and many sleepless nights as Sasuke forces you through hell with the training. You don't know why he's all of a sudden that invested since he didn't want to spare you even a single glance before but now all he focuses on are his own strength and you. He forces you to tag along with him all the time, there's rarely a moment where you two are separated from each other and you can always feel his hardened eyes following you around, his grip on you tightening when something bothers him or he simply wants to warn you to not do something that will anger him. Sasuke himself is equally confused about the uprise of those foreign feelings as he wonders what it is about you that made him this way. Maybe it was your strength, maybe it was your surprisingly tenacious side at times. The only thing he does know is that you're close to his heart and that he will never allow you to leave his side for that reason.

Sakura Haruno

🌸You start training your medical abilities shortly after Sakura has been made the new apprentice of Tsunade and both of you end up spending a lot of time together for that reason. Sakura has known you before that too of course, you're from a clan in Konoha with the special ability to shrink yourself and even people and things you touch. That's about all she knows though so she decides to use the chance to get to know you better now, looking on how both of you train to learn medical jutsu. Sakura has an affinity for healing though which is why soon enough she is able to move on to the more challenging stuff whilst you're still struggling with the basics. You're not afraid to ask her for help though nor is she arrogant that she's better than you, instead both of you begin studying together. At one point you even show her your jutsu when she expresses her curiosity and in the end Sakura can only stare in amazement down before carefully letting you jump on her palm and lifting you up. That's when she starts wondering if it would be possible for you to use your jutsu to shrink the wounds of people which would be of great help. 

🌸 Both of you are at one point inseparable as you're constantly seen together. You study together, you train together, you take your meals together. Tsunade has pretty much made you her second apprentice because both of you stick together like glue but also because Sakura has told her about her idea how to use your secret art which the Hokage figures out might be possible. Honestly, people already wonder whether you two are a couple or not and Ino has teased Sakura about it already a couple of times, triggering a blush to bloom on her friend's cheeks. Sakura's behavior does not make any of this easier though as she essentially acts like she's your girlfriend. She's really affectionate, prepares questionable medicine for you if you're sick and even insists to nurse you back to health when you fall ill. She's delusional so obviously she doesn't shy away from her feelings as she doesn't view them as wrong, she's initially just a bit flustered with her growing crush.

[hobiebrownismygod]

Miguel x Desi!Reader - Wedding Edition

Request from @shadofireshinobi!!

This was really fun to write, I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! There's lots of good representation in there and if you've never been to a Desi wedding, you'll probably enjoy learning about it <3

Synopsis: Miguel gets invited to an Indian wedding by Pav and asks you, his neighbor and someone who doesn't really like him, to teach him how it works. The two of you end up going together and have a great time.

TW: None, just a lot of fluff <3

____________________________________________________________

"No."

"Aww, come on, don't be such a party-pooper. You'll have fun!"

Miguel squinted at his AI, an annoyed look plastered across his face. "I said no. I'm not going to a wedding, Lyla."

"You can't turn down an invitation from Pavitr! Come on, do you need me to ask him to give you the 'look' again?" Lyla asked teasingly, teleporting in front of Miguel and shoving her phone into his face, Pav's puppy-dog expression visible on the FaceTime call she had him on. "How can you say no to that face?"

"Ugh."

Miguel waved her out of his way with a grunt. "Come on uncle, I promise you'll never go to a grander wedding! These people are close friends of my auntie's and I'm telling you, they put so much effort into their parties" Pav explained, his voice emanating from the phone Lyla had refused to put down. "Its not a normal wedding. Its an Indian wedding. What would I even do there? No."

Miguel was trying to focus on the screen in front of him, tracing out the dimensional map for some new anomaly chase he'd been planning on assigning out. "Come on, I'll explain it all to you! Or even better...you could have Y/N do it" Pavitr said with a grin, tilting his head to the side as he looked at Miguel through the screen.

Miguel froze at the mention of your name, his expression softening slightly. "You invited my neighbor?" he asked Pav, an dumbstruck look on his face. "Yes. She's very nice and she told me she hasn't been to a function in a long time. Besides, Maya Auntie told me to invite all my friends." Pav responded with a sly shrug.

"Since when are the two of you friends?"

"Since I helped fix her rooftop that your battle with that anomaly ruined."

"So its settled then. Miguel, you're going, final say." Pav gave Lyla a high five through the screen.

"No-" Miguel began to argue back, but the two of them were completely convinced. He knew there would be no point in trying to turn it down at this point, as Pavitr and Lyla would most definitely succeed in forcing him to this wedding, no matter how much he objected.

You were a very out-spoken civilian who lived fairly close to the bounds of the Spider Society. Because of this, you were often affected by the fights that would happen in and out of the society, some of these leading to actual property damage. Even then, your spirts were high and you ended up getting to know a lot of the Spider-people that passed by, even becoming friends with some of them, including Pav.

As for Miguel, the two of you had a complicated relationship. Miguel tried to be nice to you but you barely tolerated him. After all, he'd built his society next to the home your family had lived in for decades. He'd actually asked you to move and even offered to relocate you but you and your family had refused. And thats when you decided that he was a jerk and that you'd try to steer away from him and his problems.

But apparently, he needed your help now.

_______________

"You want me to take you to the wedding?"

"I want you to teach me how the wedding works."

You scoffed, arms folded over your chest as you stared at the tall man standing before the frame of your front door. "And why would I do that?"

He gave you a sheepish look, rubbing the back of his head. "Because I asked nicely?" You snorted. "That's a first." He sighed, "Look Y/N, I know I haven't always been the nicest to you, but I don't have a choice in this matter and I'd rather not be embarrassed at the wedding because I don't know what to do there."

You looked at him for a moment before groaning and muttered under you breath, "Fine." You opened the door all the way to let him inside, head hung in annoyance. He looked fairly uncomfortable too, shuffling in with his fingers fidgeting.

You gestured for him to sit down at the kitchen table and you sat down in front of him, leaning back and folding your arms over your chest. "You want something to drink or...?" He shook his head, still looking a bit awkward.

"Alright. Well, before I start, what do you already know?"

"Uh...nothing."

"Nothing?" He shook his head no.

"Okay. From the beginning then."

You spent a good thirty minutes explaining the intricate details of how Hindu weddings work to him, starting with the fact that they last anywhere from 3-5 days ("I'M GOING TO BE THERE FOR FIVE DAYS?" "No, only for a couple hours each day.") and the significance of each event. Then, you moved onto the attire, and even showed him pictures of all the things the guests would wear. Women would wear colorful saris while men would wear suits or kurtas.

"Please tell me you at least have a kurta."

"What's a kurta?"

You groaned. "I'll have Pavi drop one off for you." he nodded with a slight smile, leaning forward and resting his chin on his palm as he continued to listen to you speak. You told him about the food, and how it would be vegetarian on puja days but would probably have non-vegetarian options later on. ("You can't drink blood there by the way." "I don't drink blood!")

"Now, because you're not a close friend of the bride or groom, I'm guessing you'll only be attending on the third day. That's when the main ceremony is."

"What happens in the main ceremony?"

"The actual wedding. The other days are mainly just prayer days and for mingling between the families. But remember, its not like a western ceremony where we'll all sit down while the bride gets married. It'll be very Bollywood style."

"Bollywood?" He asked, cocking his head to the side slightly.

"Oh my god, I have to show you before we go!" To his surprise, you grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the couch, sitting him down before you began to search for the remote. He grabbed it off the coffee table and handed it to you with a smile, a bit taken aback by your excitement. "We?" he asked, sounding a little hopeful. "Were you planning on going with someone else?"

"No, no, it's just-"

"Besides, if I bring a date I won't have to worry about all those aunties trying to get their sons married to me." You said, shaking your head slightly as you turned on the TV. He stayed silent for a moment, trying to suppress the smile from forming on his face. "So I'm your date?"

"ah, here we go" you said, putting on K3G, one of your favorite Hindi movies. As the movie played, you pointed out the actors to him going "That's Shah Rukh Khan! That's Hritik Roshan!" despite him obviously not knowing who any of those people were. He just nodded along, watching you more than he watched the movie.

____________

The day of the wedding, you were in a rush getting ready, pulling on your sari hurriedly and fixing your makeup. You were wearing a dark green sari, with heavy jewelry that took ages to put on. Your earrings were also a dark green, matching with your outfit and making your skin and hair stand out beautifully. After you finished, all you had to do was wait for Miguel to show up.

The day you'd spent with him had been really nice. In fact, you found yourself liking him a lot more than you expected, considering how much you despised him at first. You were honestly really glad that he'd asked for your help, because otherwise you'd have never got to have so much fun rewatching your favorite Bollywood movie with him.

The doorbell rang and you rushed to open it, being greeted by Miguel standing in the doorway, wearing a sleek black kurta, courtesy of Pav. He stood there awkwardly, a slight smile on his face as he looked you over. "You look nice." he said quietly, as if he was embarrassed to admit it. "You do too." you felt yourself growing silent as you stared at him. He looked better than you'd expected. This man was full of surprises.

You cleared your throat and beckoned for him to come in. After filling him in on the details, and even giving him some bangles of your own to wear, the two of you were off to Pav's dimension. The moment you entered, it was like a blow to the face. The sounds, the sights, the smells, they were all almost overpowering.

The two of you head to the wedding venue, both fairly silent. "So...you ready?" You asked him, looking up to see his slightly nervous expression. He tugged at the collar of his kurta. "Yeah. I just feel a little...out of place."

"Don't. There's going to be plenty of other non-Indians there. Hobie and Gwen are coming too." You said, flashing him a reassuring smile. "Besides, you have me."

After entering the venue, the two of you greeted Pav who was there with Gayatri, being all smiles as usual. He pointed the two of you in the direction of the rest of the crowd where you introduced yourself to some of the aunties while Miguel followed like a lost puppy. He was noticeably taller than most of the people there, so it was a lot easier for you to find him than for him to find you.

As you greeted more and more people you found yourself slipping behind the scene, helping out with moving things and passing out food and party favors. Then, because Miguel was glued to you, he joined in as well.

You couldn't help but laugh to yourself as you watched all the aunties swooning over him. He seemed like the perfect gentleman in his traditional attire and with his helping hands on. It was sweet. "It's Miguel, right? Who are you here with? Your wife?" One of the aunties asked him, inspecting his kurta. "Uh, no, I'm here with a...friend." He said quickly, seeming a bit nervous. He noticed you looking at him and flashed you a quick smile before continuing to put things away with a little horde of women following him.

After at least an hour of helping out, you felt your feet starting to cramp, and decided to do a shoe change. After changing out of your heels into more comfortable sandals, you realized your jhanjharas didn't match anymore. So of course, you gave them to Miguel. "Can you hold these for me?"

He looked at you for a moment before taking them out of your hand. "What are they?" He asked, inspecting them carefully. "They're like anklets" you replied, already hearing someone calling your name to come help out again. "hmm." he responded, continuing to turn them around in his hands, dark gaze focused on the little gems and jewels decorating the thin material.

When he came to join you, you realized he wasn't holding them anymore. You opened your mouth to ask where he'd put them but then you saw, he'd put them around his wrists. You felt a blush forming on your face at the view. They looked so small around his wrists. You shook it out of your mind and continued what you were doing.

Eventually, as the event progressed, the actual wedding started. To entertain the guests, the bride and groom began their performative dance, a classic form of entertainment that most Desi weddings have. Miguel was standing next to you, arms awkwardly folded across his chest as he watched them perform, his eyes on you the entire time. "What?" you asked, returning his eye contact with a slight smile. "Nothing. I just...wasn't expecting a dance."

You laughed softly at this and continued to enjoy the performance as more of the guests joined in, the previously choreographed number turning into a mess of random people joining in and swaying to the music. Although a bit crowded, it was a lot of fun. You could see Pav and Gayatri dancing together and even caught a glimpse of Hobie messing around with some random Desi girl. Miguel seemed to notice this too and kept glancing at you until he finally mustered up the courage to ask, "So...would you like to join in?"

You looked at him, slightly surprised. "You want to dance?" You asked, giving him a sly grin. He shrugged quickly, looking away. "Well, everyone else is doing it. Besides, you look like you wanted to join anyways." he said quietly, trying to hide the small smile forming on his face.

With a teasing eye roll, you stretched out your hand towards him which he promptly took, and the two of you melted into the crowd. He was shuffling along at first, his height making it difficult for him to blend in with the rest as well as you did, but eventually he grew more comfortable and took your hands, swaying with you to the music.

You were focusing more on the bride and groom than on him, and you barely noticed when your bangles caught on the edge of his kurta's cuffs. He laughed quietly at your embarrassed expression as you tried to pull it away. "Here, let me" He said, gently taking your hand in his and removing the bangle. While you watched, he removed the fabric from the bracelet before sliding it back onto your wrist, eyes looking directly into yours.

Even after he'd placed it on, the two of you kept your eyes on each other, unwavering until he chuckled softly and looked away. "I wasn't expecting us to get to know each other so well" He said, looking at you slyly. "Me neither" you caught your breath, clearing your throat before stepping back slightly, but he held onto your wrist. "Hey, we're not done dancing yet, are we?" he asked as he pulled you closer again, fingers intertwining with yours.

"Its a good thing you were willing to come with me. Otherwise, I probably wouldn't be having this much fun" he said quietly as he timidly placed his hands onto your waist, your arms going around his neck. While the rest of the crowd danced wildly to the fast-paced music, the two of you took it slow, eye contact seeming more intense than usual. "I'm glad I took you as my date." You said with a smile.

"Anytime." he gave you a lopsided grin, shyness slowly melting away as he held you.

"Anytime?" You asked teasingly, tilting your head up at him slightly.

"Anytime."

Taglist

@therealloopylupin2099 @daydreaming-en-pointe @vileviale @s6onder @puff-hugs

[swcctbitter]

[  olivia rodrigo,  demi woman,  she / they,  muse 20,  billie eilish  ] welcome  to  excesstv,  LUSIA “LULU” AMOR DE LUNA  —  or  should  i  say  the  dreamer  ?  …  a  quick  google  search  tells  me  you’re  a  TWENTY - TWO  year  old  MUSICIAN who’s worth $53 MILLION DOLLARS.  you've  called  avalon  home  for  THREE YEARS,  however  something  tells  me  there’s  more  to  you  than  a  flashy  resume  and  penthouse  17A  on  your  door  ?  it  seems  you’ve  managed  to  earn  a  reputation  around  the   city   for  being  ESCAPIST,  yet,  upon  further  investigation  it  seems  you're  also  quite  INNOVATIVE.  but  hey,  thats  the  kind  of  mix  that  keeps  people  guessing.  i'm  sure  as  a  PISCES  you're  used  to  people  commenting  on  your  DALBEN GIOELLI AQUAMARINE RING  /  an elegy for the lost, jamming to songs alone in your room, angel statues over graves, dream pop music playing from another room, the cycle of necrosis.  but  still  we  can't  wait  to  watch  you  flourish  (  or  fail  )  these  next  few  weeks  …  

╰ * STATS.

tw : familial abuse , hospitalization, incarceration + mental illness.

it’s a strange feeling, knowing who you are from a young age. most people spend their lives searching for something to call theirs and theirs alone, but lusia always knew what she was: a musician. and more, what she wants to do —— study the music, gut it from the inside out, inspect the innards and surround herself in the gore. it isn’t the future that her parents have tailored for her, but there is little that anyone can do to convince her that it is an ill-met fate. music threads through her veins and makes her heart beat. without it, she is bereft. so, too beloved by her family for them to deny her, the de luna's change their idea of what lulu’s life will look like.

at the tender age of eight, her parents find their marriage collapsing and her mother scoops her and her brother up and relocates them from the small village of ruidoso, new mexico to albuquerque. still, even in a bigger city, her dad coins her as a music savant by the time she's thirteen, putting her in a small rivalry with her step - father, neil, who tirelessly vies for her mother's attention that is won out by lulu or her older brother joaquin. she is frequently seen with her nose in a book discussing music theory or music history, and for her fourteenth birthday she is gifted her very first ukulele after begging and pleading for months on end. she is seldom seen not clutching a fretboard, mastering the craft with steadfast dedication. although it isn’t what they envisioned for her, she has represented more than most do when it concerns discipline, audaciousness and tenacity. and who better knows that than her own brother?

he supports her at every football game she plays xylophone in and lifts her high on his shoulders, parading her around like his own trophy, and she doesn't mind at all. especially when she gets into her spats with neil. once, when he dares to strike her across the cheek after finding her crawling through her bedroom window with a girl, joaquin does nothing but watch as she takes his baseball bat and slams it into the hood of neil's precious trans am, which does land her in juvie for six months. joaquin's even still there when she receives her bipolar diagnosis from a psychiatrist while in police custody. upon release, reintegrating into teen society is difficult. far more difficult than the strict routine of juvie and the numbing medications they'd force feed her inside —— but when she comes home, joaquin reminds her of her love of music, how it's always been a surefire escape, so that's exactly what they plunge themselves into.

this time, together. they start out slow, with minimally produced tracks mostly utilizing bass guitar and piano. however, the more they create, the deeper the dedication sinks its roots within them. they keep going. days off are nonexistent, all they know is the music. it becomes them. and after she releases her debut single in 2017 at the brilliant age of sixteen, they begin to realize that what's consumed them is beginning to engulf everyone else. it's a tailspin from there on out. mere months after the release of her breakthrough song, she and joaquin craft an excellent ep that receives critical acclaim. she isn't certain what to do with herself at first; the adrenaline rush from the constant stream of attention quickly becomes addicting, but she's reminded too soon that their work is not yet done.

when the time comes, she heralds a debut album that garners her praise from everyone she's ever wanted to impress, including the motherfuckin' grammy's, of which she wins three her first year nominated in the four main categories. she tentatively embarks on a tour, loses her mind slightly, cowers for a few months and painstakingly crafts a song for a blockbuster movie that earns her an oscar for best original song. in the years since, she's ebbed and flowed between tumultuous relationships and evaded the spotlight whenever she can, for her own wellbeing. after releasing two more albums, one while living in the avalon, she's decided to take a small break and indulge in something different. something like... a reality tv show.

[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?]

[spotaus]

Woah!!! Ec-4o.Verse reference?? Bringing you Geno! (With a bunch of notes that are intelligible off to the sides-)

Cropped versions for easier reading/zooming! But to be more fun about it, here's a Lore Recap for each design! (I'd say these designs are from... hmm, a hundred years or so? He's a Boss Monster so he lives a lot longer.)

(Tw: Mentions of Death, Self-Loathing, Mental Illness, and I feel a few other things)

Pre-War:

Geno was a normal guy, had a dayjob, but was beloved by his friends for being a Programmer. He was lazy, had awful work ethic, but would pump out amazing quality work for cheap as long as he was given the time to do things at his own pace. He has a passion for Psychology, but was awful socially, so he designed programs that mimicked mental illnesses in Test Ectos (ectos not embedded with personalities or magic) so people could research mental health without risking patient wellness. He made A.Z. too, the first real mimicry of mental illnesses in children. Geno got attached and kept A.Z. himself, the last prototype of the code. The finalized ones can be found anywhere, but he kept A.Z. around, and even though A.Z. wasn't sentient it was such a good mimicry, Geno practically treated him like a son.

Geno was known for his work, and was contacted by the government of his country to come and work on a big nation-wide upgrade they were planning to improve ecto functionality. Again and again Geno simply ignored their letters, emails, chats, and attempts to call. It wasn't his field of study, so he could care less. So, all that led to the government sending people to confiscate A.Z. from Geno and shut down his workshop under the pretenses of 'unethical programming methods'. He was forced to relocate, and A.Z. was basically held as blackmail to force Geno into working. (Since A.Z. wasn't sentient, he was simply property, and therefore there was no legal issues with the government taking him.)

Before/During the War:

In this time, Geno was among hundreds of other talented people from all across the country who were 'recruited' to work on this project. People who didn't comply with orders went missing, loved ones were "lost" and life projects destroyed. Geno was part of the Programming team (there were also Medical, Bio-Enhineering, and Engineering teams) and he was initially supposed to just shut off the programs within an Ecto that gave them emotion protocols, even the ones infused with magic.

But, as things went on, he was told to do more and more. He was involved in more marketing and branding and announcements. He was made to be on screen, be the face of the change. His background was good for publicity (man who studied ways to harmlessly study mental health) and he was supposedly trustworthy. By day he'd stand up beside someone and listen to them implore people to bring their ectos in for this quality of life upgrade to their nearest government office. By night he'd be slaving away infront of code, being forced to find a way to make these robots kill people. Just enough people. To nullify themselves when it was all over. I'm his despair he tried to make it so that their emotion drives would at least register these events as something positive, so they felt no distress if they were sentient. He tried so hard to stop but any backlash did nothing. So he kept his head down and worked quietly.

And then he was transferred locations. Somewhere closer to the heart of the operation. He met Sci, a man unaware of the Culling Orders or the heartache, because they government had been treating him well. He was a bio-engineer, and his project (nicknamed Fresh) was like if a self-healing code was a living thing and could slow, or even heal, wounds. The government wanted it, in the case that it could unlock immortality. Sci was getting funding and a cushy life. Geno realized Fresh was the best way he coukd possibly end all of this war that was in the works. For good.

So he poured hid heart and soul into finishing that code. "A change of heart prompted by wanting so desperately for his prized project, AZ, to be saved" He claimed. There were a few useful bots that filled through the office. He offered to install code that would prevent the Culling Order from activating inside them since they were going to be preserved. While adding code he added failsafes and kill codes and important information from his and others work he wanted saved. He added the names of every researcher he knew had been drafted into this unwillingly. He did it in secret, so entrenched in code only another programmer would notice.

And then the war started, and Sci learned the truth, and people started dying. Geno had to convince Sci to help him after that. Sci feared being killed. He feared not being able to finish his work. He feared not being protected from the pain and destruction outside. It was a long plenty of *years* that Geno had to configure just the right plan, just the right way to ensure that Sci abd Fresh would survive it. That the rest of the base would be no threat and that it'd stop the Ectos and the Culling Code.

And then he did it. He put an end to the war, at the price of all the power on the continent running to every piece of tech, and at the price of his own arm and eye.

Post-War:

Geno was disfigured. He knew that to make an EMP large enough to cut off all electricity, he would need to overload his own master consol to the point of battery meltdown. An explosion. He didn't tell Sci. Only mentioned he'd need Fresh on-hand. So when it exploded, his left arm (non-dominent just like he planned), his chest, and the right side of his skull (his left eye was better) were demolished in the blast and dusted near instantly. Sci and Fresh managed to save his life, and Sci, resident Bio-Engineer, was able to replace his missing limbs and his wounds with spare ecto parts over the course of a few weeks.

Geno was slow to recover, nearly on the verge of falling down during recovery (He didn't know where they'd stored A.Z. if he was even still in-tact, he had been the reason so many humans and monsters had died, and now to reverse his mistake he'd taken out the electricity the country had been relying on for the past thousands of years.) But he pushed through. He was Determined. He needed to get to the four robots he embedded information and failsafes into. But they were scattered across the country for aafe-keeping. Incase he'd failed. So he has to hunt them down.

As soon as he can he leaves. Sci stays. Geno promises he'll come back (he doesn't). Geno takes a medical uniform, packs the supply belt with programming tools, and moves out. He enters the main story while on this trek to hunt down his Ectos. Not a single one is where they should've been, and he can't help but be furious, praying to a non-existant God that they weren't scrapped by heathens out for parts or destroyed in a rage by scared survivors.

Looking for the four? One day their trackers finally Light up again. One by one. All in the same location. And Geno follows it like a moth to the flame.

[wheresmycontent]

Cognitive Dissonance [Demon Slayer]

Muzan Kibutsuji x Reader [Gender Neutral]

C|TW: none,

For centuries Muzan spent his extended life searching for the flower that’ll help him conquer the sun. Dedicating his life to becoming powerful would be fruitless without being able to work in the sunlight. He’s read every book he could get his hands on and has followed each clue to its dead end. You’d think he would’ve made a discovery with the number of demons he has under his control but they’ve proven time and time again that they’re incapable of making him proud.

He’s long given up on the lower ranks providing anything other than failure, opting to use them as distractions and bait for the demon slayer corps. It’s the upper moons that are now responsible for aiding his research on the blue spider lily. Whether he wants to admit it or not it’d be just as pointless considering the plant hasn’t been spotted for decades. That won’t stop him though. The last thing he’ll do is accept that he’s never going to survive in the sunlight.

For years you’ve watched with fascination as your parents worked to create serums and medicine. Your father studied as a botanist and your mother was a pharmacologist. They’d teach you little things about drugs and plants, in the way a child would understand. It always blew your mind that with the right knowledge plants could change people’s lives and even save them. That’s why you followed their footsteps and combined both of their science backgrounds to continue to aid people.

Aside from making medicines or herbal remedies, you had a passion for unique plants. During your childhood your parents would often travel to different places and take you with them. It seemed that everyone had a special or mythical flower of some sort. Promising to heal mortal illnesses or give humans a gift. Sure it was relatively fictional but your curious mind would always wonder if you could discover a mythical or legendary plant.

Now having the knowledge and resources you sometimes set your duties aside to research unique plant life. For most it seemed like a waste of time yet you were able to resurrect a flower once said to heal deadly illnesses. The Moonlight Zinnia. Its delicate petals shimmered as if they were dusted with silver and the ends of the petal were a soft blue. It was a beautiful flower that allowed you to finally create a cure for the common cold. Its unique genes aided in fighting against multiple rhinoviruses, thus providing the necessary material to create the vaccine.

Humans weren’t the only ones applauding your success though. Posing as the adopted child of an elderly couple that happened to study pharmacology, Muzan heard the news. His false parents were marveling at your contribution to the world of medicine and hoped to collaborate in the future. Surely you could help them develop a drug to cure their son’s deadly condition. While the vaccine itself caught Muzan’s attention he was more interested in the fact that you actually managed to resurrect an extinct plant.

The next night, Muzan broke into your home as you slept. Searching through your lab trying to find the notes you have written about your discovery. He wanted to read every detail so he could understand how you were able to achieve such a feat in a matter of months while he’s been going in circles for centuries! His temper seemed to get the best of him as he grew annoyed, the thought of a mere human beating him was enough to have Muzan breaking anything in his reach. It was clear to him that he’d be better off forcing you to do his work.

You wake up in confusion at the strange walls and decor, it wasn’t hideous or anything, it was just unfamiliar. As in you don’t understand why you aren’t in your home. There’s an eerie silence, disturbed only by the sound of your breathing that becomes heavier as you start to panic.

It pissed him off listening as you lost your mind at the simple act of being relocated. You’re supposed to be above this, seeing as you have a great mind. Yet you’re sprinting through the halls embodying a frightened child that has lost its mother at the market. He unclenched his teeth and relaxed enough for the veins on his face to disappear before having Nakime direct you to him.

You’re not given a moment to comprehend what’s happening. Muzan begins asking you questions, expecting you to answer swiftly. Giving you the same treatment he would the lower rank demons, failing to bear in mind that you’ve just witnessed the walls and doors change around you in a way that shouldn’t be possible. He shouts your name through clenched teeth in annoyance, causing you to freeze up.

You didn’t expect him to ask you questions concerning the fabled Blue Spider Lily that went extinct. Sure you’ve heard a few rumors and stories about the flower but that didn’t explain why you were snatched from your home and trapped in some maze of a mansion! It got worse though, Muzan had no problem admitting that he wanted you to dedicate your life to resurrecting the flower for him. That his goal was to walk into the sunlight as a demon and conquer the human race.

His words go through one ear and out the other as you’re trying to understand the reality of your situation. You hear Muzan mention transforming you into a demon to have control over you, in case you got any ideas. Snapping out of your thoughts, you blurt out that it’ll ruin your chances of bringing back the Blue Spider Lily, veins appear on his face and his nails become like claws. You reason that according to the rumors the flower only bloomed in the sunlight at certain times so being a demon, you wouldn’t be capable of growing the flower.

The woman, Nakime, struck the chords of her biwa before you could continue. Now standing in the empty halls the eerie silence filled the space again, leaving your mind to race as you wondered what would happen. Were you going to die alone without your family finding you, are your parents even going to know where to look? Since Muzan and that woman playing the biwa are demons, does that mean they’ll devour you?

The next time you heard the music, you were suddenly in a room standing in front of Muzan. He tells you that from this day forward your sole purpose would be serving him. That you’re to dedicate your life to reviving the Blue Spider Lily in order to create a serum. Because you’re most useful as a human you’d be forced to do your research under the watch of Doma. The second rank upper moon. You’d be under heavy supervision, surrounded by the members of his cult with nowhere to go.

Again, before you had the chance to protest Nakime struck the chords of her biwa. This time you were falling between the walkways and opened doors. When the sight of the doors faded from your vision you fell onto an empty path. You look to see a tall demon with pastel rainbow eyes staring down at you, smiling wide as he held a fan near his face.

[karatekels]

Valek TIG. Reader is Jack’s daughter (18+). The church put the cross at a church at a catholic boarding school for slayer’s children in training to be future slayers, trying to keep everything that needed guarding together. But in reality Valek is able to get the cross and a definite reason to keep Jack engaged in the fight. What would be better than turning Jack’s only family against him. Enemies to lovers.

I'm SO excited to finally get to this one! I hope that it's worth the wait - I'm anticipating it to be 4 chapters in total, and this is definitely going to be the shortest one.

TW: Indoctrination by the Catholic Church, implied death, blood (very minor... for now)

---

Heirloom - Chapter 1

---

Deep in the centre of Tuscany sits the medieval town of Monteriggioni, perched on a hill and surrounded by high stone walls. A centuries-old fortress, it has long been a place of protection for its allies, and can become fully self-sufficient during times of trouble.

It has been operating as a self-sufficient town for decades now, its gardens plentiful.

While official records claim a population of ten thousand, the number of people living in this little city fluctuates like the ebb and flow of a powerful tide.

The comings and goings of its occupants are a well-kept secret, known only to those who are allowed access to the city in the first place.

Within the walls of Monteriggioni, the next generations of Slayers receive their training.

To the public, this education is given a generic name of importance, one that oozes prestige but does not invite questions: The International School of Siena.

To anyone that looked over the curtain wall of the battlements, they would observe a quiet town with more than its fair share of churches, a large fortress at its centre. In practice, each church was a classroom, the fortress a dormitory to thousands of children and young adults, all slayers-in-training.

Some were orphans taken under the protection of the Catholic Church, others were the children of slayers, descendants of the Crusaders.

All were soldiers. Or at least, they would be before they were allowed beyond the city’s walls.

Those responsible for the Scholars of Monteriggioni (as they were known) held various roles: providers, priests, parents. But above all, they were protectors and educators.

And when you had completed your scholarship and were done being protected and educated by the Elders, you waited.

You, Y/N Crow, have been waiting for years.

You aren’t exactly thrilled about it.

You had spent the first thirteen years of your life raised by a single mother that had done everything possible to keep you from the dark world your father operated within. You hadn’t even met the man until a few months after the fire that had destroyed your life and taken your mother from you.

The Catholic Church had claimed you as a ward with the written permission of your biological father immediately upon your mother’s death, a strange and unwelcome presence as you had not been raised with any sort of faith in your life. Having nothing left in America, you had been relocated to the tiny town of Monteriggioni and introduced to the terrifying reality of vampires that walked among us in the night.

You hadn’t believed the stories until you were forced to witness the execution of a goon with your own eyes, the memory of their screech and charred body burned into your mind forever afterward. You had spent the next ten years being moulded into a warrior, a weapon wielded by the Church to exterminate the unholy scourge of the earth that was the growing vampire population.

And you’ve spent more than two years now waiting to be recruited so you could leave this place.

How was it that you, daughter of the infamous Jack Crow, Master Vampire Hunter, hadn’t been added to a team yet? And even if the nepotism hadn’t helped you, you had excelled in your training. So what could possibly be the reason you were still stuck in Monteriggioni?

You suspect that your so-called father has something to do with it.

You really hate the man.

Where did he get off, taking you from your home and everything you’d known and forcing you to follow in his footsteps and then not even letting you out into the world to prove yourself? The best years of your life, the time when you were supposed to find yourself, had been unceremoniously taken from you, and for what?

With nothing better to do, you had taken to exploring the catacombs beneath the city as of late, trying to map out the complex system of tunnels you had grown up on top of. You would hardly say that you were even an amateur cartographer at this point, but your ever-expanding maps made sense to you, at least.

Your focus over the last few months has been the western quadrant of the tunnels. Your exploration of the other areas have all yielded at least one secret passageway or hidden room, but you haven’t found any in this section yet.

These dark, underground halls had long stopped being scary to you, but today something feels different, like there is a chill in the air. While it had been early evening when you’d descended into the tunnels, night was likely only falling now, and you knew it took a few hours after sundown for the night’s chill to seep this far into the ground. You’d been dealing with an inexplicable draft as well, which shouldn’t have been possible underground, but there it was, playing with the flame of your torch again and threatening to extinguish it.

Ordinarily, you could fiddle with the fuel and the airway to create a smaller, more stable flame – with all of your training, you really only required the tiniest fraction of light to see in the dark – but the symbols marking secret entrances were small, and you needed as much light as you could get if you didn’t want to risk missing them entirely.

You were right to do so, coming across two small symbols shortly after reigniting the torch for the fourth time today: one in the shape of a crescent moon, the other an empty cup. You had seen the latter symbol before, here in the catacombs; it indicated the need for a blood sacrifice for the passageway to open. The moon, however, you had only seen in ancient texts, usually used to symbolize change or transformation due to the multiple phases of the lunar cycle. It probably had something to do with what was housed inside, which meant that it wasn’t one of the disused passageways that led out of the city.

Eagerly, the curiosity burning within you, you set your torch on a nearby sconce before unsheathing your dagger, slicing your thumb with the ease of long practice and pressing it against the symbol of the cup. When you remove your thumb from the wall, the symbol looks like a goblet of wine, and a deep rumbling can be heard before the wall slides open a crack.

Bracing yourself against the opposing wall, you press on the newly revealed door with your leg, pushing it open, the sound of stone on stone grating but not unpleasant. Stepping inside the room with your torch in hand once more, your breath is taken away by what’s inside.

Up on the old stone altar, dozens of candles guiding your gaze upwards like the bannisters of a divine staircase, is a large black crucifix, adorned with gold and rubies. A real, sacred relic, right before your very eyes, glittering magnificently in the torchlight…

Relics like these were rumoured to have been stashed all over the city over the centuries. You’d come across some of the altars where they had been kept during your explorations, but they had always been empty, the precious artifacts moved somewhere else or destroyed.

Did anyone even know that this was here? Should you know that this was here? What were you supposed to do know that you had come across it? You weren’t exactly supposed to be poking around down here; you hope you don’t get in trouble.

“Crow…” an unfamiliar voice, husky yet soft, purrs from behind you. You turn guiltily, hoping that a priest or cardinal isn’t about to condemn you for being down here.

But no one is there, waiting to pass judgement on you.

Something about that whisper of your name has your hair standing on end, and you suddenly feel quite claustrophobic in this stone room beneath the city. Time to get out of here.

Taking one last look at the cross, you take your torch in hand and return it to the sconce in the main hallway, moving to reseal the altar room. Your eyes skim past the symbols that marked this place, before doing a double take.

The cup is no longer red with your blood; instead, a dark stain fills the chalice, the way rock did when it got wet. A shudder runs through you, and you think that the spike in adrenaline will at least make it a bit easier for you to push the think wall of stone back into place.

“What is your name, child?” a new voice, this one equally as unfamiliar as the first, asks from the shadows. You shriek, diving for the torch and brandishing it against the darkness, looking for the speaker.

“Where are you?” you demand, fighting to keep your voice from wavering. “Show yourself!”

“Your name…” the voice demands again, high and clear like the ringing of a tuning fork.

“Y/N!” you cry out, wanting the voice to stop more than anything. “Y/N Crow.”

“Did I not tell you, Cassandra?” comes the deeper voice, clearly a male. “Her blood does tempt me so, just the same as her father’s. The blood of a Crusader…” the voice hisses, and you come to a horrifying realization.

Your blood sacrifice hadn’t been absorbed by the stone.

It had been licked clean.

Vampires were underneath Monteriggioni.

Sure enough, two figures slowly emerge from the shadows, staying just on the edge of where the light of the torch fades. From what you can see, both are dressed head to toe in black, only their faces and hands visible, bare and ghostly white. The female is short, shorter than you, with long auburn hair that falls in waves like spilt blood, while the male towers over you even from this distance, his hair dark and brushing his shoulders.

You don’t reply, you can’t reply. You can’t even breathe.

You just turn and run.

You think you hear the faint whispers of a conversation between them, but it’s hard to be certain as your heart pounding in your ears drowns out every sound but the thudding of your feet on stone.

You desperately try to picture your map in your head, but this was the area of the catacombs that you were least familiar with. Left… you need to go left.

There’s a whoosh of air, and your torch flickers again, nearly going out, and then the female vampire stands in front of you with a gentle smile.

Oh. They had been the source of the breeze down here.

Placidly, you wonder how long they had been down here for, how long they had been following you for.

You don’t give it too much thought; you’ll be dead in a moment anyway. You’re glad that the dormitories didn’t have any entrances to the catacombs; that would give everyone else a chance, at least.

“Come with me,” Cassandra’s piercing voice demands, extending a clawed hand towards you.

You take an immediate step back; it’s more of a reflex than anything. She gives you an encouraging smile that doesn’t meet her wide, pale eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you, little one,” she insists, despite being several inches shorter than you are. “Now come with me,” she purrs, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes seem to glow, and you find yourself moving towards her, feeling like you were floating. She was mesmerizing you.

Knowing that her powers of hypnosis are at work does nothing to break you from their spell, and as you find yourself walking into her open arms, Cassandra laughs delightedly, wrapping you in a cruel imitation of a hug.

“Now… sleep.”

Weightless, your world fades to black.

---

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Epilogue

One of the things that disappoints me the most about John Carpenter's Vampires is that there are quite a few cool ideas and concepts that are just... not built on at all, in favour of more screentime for Katrina's abuse or James Woods's unpleasant quips. I really want to build up this world, and that starts with giving at least SOME of the other Master/Mistress vampires a name, starting with Cassandra!