#new theories on boredom

[lifeinpoetry]

How boring not to have a crush on anyone.

Did you ever have a kiss so bad you felt like you were the bad kisser?

I think this is related to how boring people make me feel boring.

Did you know that you can trick people into being more interesting by being more interesting yourself?

— Elisa Gabbert, from "New Theories on Boredom," Normal Distance

[dan-crimes]

It really is so sexy of me to be an art blog that never ever posts my own art LMAO

[msfantasy-comics]

The Perfect Match

Bruce Wayne x Reader

Summary: A head cannon on how you’re the perfect match for Bruce.

Warning: Established relationships

Masterlist - Tip Jar

Bruce had always considered the concept of a perfect match to be a feeble notion. The idea that a someone could be perfect and perfectly compliment one’s self was simply illogical and just not possible.

But that’s the thing about hypotheticals, they’re just theories until proven otherwise. Bruce can distinguish five instances on when he recognised you to be his perfect match.

Intelligence:

You weren’t a genius capable of rattling off theories and solving impossible equations. Not by any means. You were, however, incredibly intelligent when it comes to people and making them feel important.

It wasn’t a super power or psychological trickery. It was that you listened to people and ask them questions about their hobbies or family.

It was the way that you leaned in as if you were keen to hear what that person had to say.

It was the way you smile softly when people start to babble off in excitement as you reciprocate the conversation

Whilst you didn’t fully comprehend quantum physics or the engineering to Bruce Wayne’s degree

You sat there happily indulging Bruce as he discusses a new equation he solved

It was the way you made him feel like he could talk about anything without judgement or without your eyes wondering elsewhere in boredom.

Bruce: “Anyway, you probably have more important things to do.”

Y/n: “Don’t be silly. You’re just as important. Go on, finish what you were saying.”

Independence:

Bruce dreaded needy women who are utterly incapable of being self-sufficient. Who required rescuing and constant entertainment like a puppy.

Bruce: “I have an emergency work trip for an unspecified amount of time. I probably won’t be able to contact you too much. Will you be okay without me?”

Y/n *acting like a damsel in distress*

Y/n: “Oh no! I’m being abandoned in the biggest mansion with a butler, a library and a black Amex card. What could one do with one’s self? What a travesty!”

Bruce would return from his two week trip excited to see you again after not being in contact the whole time.

Only you weren’t at the mansion at 4pm on a Tuesday.

Bruce *calling your phone*

Y/n: “Hi honey! I missed you so much!”

Bruce: “Come home and show me how much you’ve missed me.”

Y/n: “What? I finish work in an hour, surely you can survive 60 more minutes without me- oh I have to go, I’ll see you soon my love!”

Supportive:

Bruce didn’t make it to your anniversary dinner.

He didn’t even have a chance to call you and cancel.

He exited the bat cave feeling utterly guilty for abandoning you on such an important occasion.

Bruce felt utterly defeated. A failure of a father. Batman got into a one on one fist fight with Red-Hood, attempting to save the Jokers life, only for his son to forsake himself. Now he had to face his failures as a husband.

Opening the door he sees you laying in bed, scrolling away at your phone.

As soon as you noticed him you tossed the phone and made a mad dash, pulling him into a bear hug.

Y/n: “Honey, I’m so proud of you. Being there when your son needed you most. You’re such a good man. Don’t be hard on yourself, remember that Jason is a grown man who made his decision.”

Pulling Bruce to bed, you pull him into a tight hold and continue to comfort him.

Bruce really appreciated that you didn’t bring up his absence.

Bruce: “I missed our -“

Y/n: “You didn’t miss anything. Your with me now aren’t you? Happy anniversary my beloved.”

Emotionally Stable:

Damian was over your nagging.

Y/n: “Damian, you need to get more sleep. I’m worried your burning yourself out.”

Y/n: “When was the last time you had a proper meal? You can’t survive off burgers alone you know.”

Y/n: “When was the last time you saw Jon? You have to maintain your friendships or else they fall apart.”

Y/n: “Stop having these energy drinks! It’s basically poison for your body - have you had any water today? You look dehydrated!”

You snatched the can out of his hand and threw it in the bin.

Damian lost his absolute shit.

Damian: “Enough with your incessant criticism!You’re getting on my nerves!”

Crosses his arms over his chest and looks off in irritation.

Bruce stands frowning behind him, ready to give his son the scolding of a life time.

But instead your laughter booms across the bat cave.

You find Damian’s little outburst amusing and adorable rather than rude and hurtful.

Y/n: “You’re right D, I’m sorry, I’ll lay off you a bit.”

You’d pull him into that tight hug he says he hates but he always leans into your comforting hold.

Y/n: “You boys be careful tonight, I’ll see you both in the morning”

[starlighz]

So the reveal that Lilith is in Heaven got me wondering.

The theory that Alastor made a deal with Lilith was spawned because they both had been absent for seven years.

If that is correct, this would make at least two people Lilith made deals with, because Lute also made one with her.

When Zestial explains that they thought Alastor had died his response was "I just took a well earned sabbatical".

But when Zestial asks why he would do something as foolish as helping the hotel? "That is for me to know".

Interesting.

Let's have a look at the pilot when he explained why he wants to help:

"I've lacked inspiration for decades. My work became mundane. Lacking focus. Aimless."

He says it is because of boredom. But to me it reads that doing the same thing over and over has become too predictable and he wants to find new ways to install fear.

This doesn't mean he is making deals left and right, no. He COULD, yes. But this won't benefit him for his ultimate goal, whatever this might be. When Rosie suggested that he'd make deals in that territory, he declines, doesn't even seem interested in the slightest.

His goal is extremely hard to read. Because one hand, a deal must be beneficial for both parties in some way, otherwise you wouldn't enter one.

He made a deal with Vaggie to help with the commercial on the condition that he wouldn't have to interact with television technology ever again. He would have entered a deal with Charlie that he'd help with the hotel, just that there'd be no magic voodoo strings attached.

When he does make a deal with Charlie, it is information in exchange for a favour, not her soul. Charlie definitely will have a play in his plan. He could have had her soul, but he just wanted that favour, at his time of choosing. He wants to guide her, but not for selfless reasons and definitely not for her sake. He wanted to make a deal with her as soon as possible, so that they'd had a contract.

Whatever his deal was probably didn't involve more power, because in the final song The Show Must Go On, part of his breakdown included that he isn't free, he wants to unclip his wings. And he almost died because of it.

What makes me wondering is: How does Husk know that Alastor himself is bound to someone? Is it because of physical characteristics like some people theorized? Or is it because his behaviour changed?

And what is Lute's whole deal? She said "Your deal is done and I am in charge now"

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

How would Death Note go if, everything was the same, except the way that Misa and Light got their notebooks was reversed? So Misa just found hers randomly and Ryuk is her Shinigami. But Light was saved by a Shinigami who was in love with him and gained both their book and their lifespan. And Rem. (Don't ask me why the Shinigami was in love with Light lol)

For the sake of this ask, maybe pretend that Misa doesn't get killed in an alley.

Caveat

I mean, in Light's Kira glory days, the Shinigami in general are all interested in what's happening with him and I can easily imagine one or two becoming enamored with this insane human who's giving them the entertainment of their lives.

Before then, well, Gelus clearly romanticized Misa as he watched her and saw her as a tragic figure in need of saving. She was young, beautiful, had a tragic past with the death of her parents, and he couldn't stand the thought of watching her die at such a young age because of this stalker.

The point being that he only knew of Misa from a distance and liked what he could see looking through a window. Now, Light doesn't have the tragic backstory to attract Gelus's interest, he had a great life before canon started with a family that loved him and a bright future ahead of him, but in theory Gelus could have become fascinated with this seemingly perfect young man who's dying of boredom on the inside and want to save him from his untimely death at the hands of a mugger.

So, sure, why not.

Misa Meets a Death God

Misa picks up the notebook and thinks it has a nice asthetic, Misa being very into gothic lolita, and that while morbid humor is the sort of thing she could have as a prop in her bedroom. Fits right in.

I imagine she doesn't think much about it, doesn't believe it, and that's when Ryuk gets bored actually. The thing with Light was that he waited a bit to see what the person who picked up the notebook would do and that he'd planned to keep dropping it around until someone interesting picked it up.

Ryuk felt thrilled when Light picked it up on the first try and went fucking insane with the death count. Ryuk settled happily in for the ride of his life, watching as Light murdered people in interesting ways and tried to murder that detective.

If Misa's not doing anything, and she's likely not, then Ryuk will take it back from her and try again until he gets someone who is interesting. Even if Misa accidentally killed a person, I don't think she'd have the will or interest to be Kira without Light's prior example. What Light did requires... well... being Light. Misa could become the second Kira because she already idolized Light and he'd made it, in a weird way, culturally acceptable. I imagine Misa might kill the man who'd killed her parents but that would be the end of it.

I imagine Ryuk would end up with a mobster eventually and be very entertained as it's used for inter-gang assassinations. But hold that thought.

Light Meets a Death God

Light, I imagine very shaken from nearly dying, walks away from the incident not sure how to feel then holy shit a god of death has come for him. He panics even harder than he did in canon with Ryuk until Rem explains that Light was saved by a Shinigami that was in love with him and here is his new murder notebook.

Now, the thing about canon, is that Light started in as Kira because a) he at first didn't believe it then killed a man and went "my god" b) he thought he was going to be taken to the underworld so started in killing as many people as he could before Ryuk met up with him. Light had about a day to talk himself into this where he goes from "oh my god I just killed someone" to "only I can kill fucking everyone!". Here, the circumstances are different, he hasn't killed anyone and he doesn't have the motivation to make the most of the notebook before a Shinigami comes for him as Rem is pointedly giving it to him.

I imagine Light mulls over it for a bit, a god literally died for him and gave him this as a gift, how should he use it if at all. I imagine his first instinct, as in canon initially, is not to use it/not to want to be a murderer. Then, however, I imagine he thinks of all the people he believes the world would be better without, a world in which he can get rid of violent crime entirely as an unseen god, and thinks about what the Shinigami saved him from.

Had it not been for Gelus, Light would have died, because a human wanted to stab him.

Then Light's back on the "only I can do this!" murder bus and Rem is... not entirely thrilled with any of this (while Rem pointedly never liked Light I do think it was more than just how dismissive he was of Misa but also that Light was casually making use of the notebook for such extremes).

I imagine Rem sticks around, as Gelus died for this motherfucker, but she doesn't like it.

Canon then proceeds pretty much the same except that L and Light end up in this stalemate in college as Misa doesn't have a Death Note to rock the boat. L can't get any real evidence on Light at all, his attempts to rattle him reveal nothing, and Light in turn can't get L's name and Rem refuses to tell it to him out of principle.

Except, at some point, I imagine Ryuk gets jealous. Why does Rem get this batshit insane human and he keeps having to drop the notebook all over the place? I imagine Ryuk asks Rem to trade, he'll give the kid his notebook, Rem can take Gelus's, and they'll switch so Rem can be with the kind of boring humans she likes and Ryuk can stick with this kid.

Rem of course refuses, as does Light who suspects Ryuk and knows how to bully Rem into doing mostly what he wants, and so I imagine a miffed Ryuk makes things hard for Light/more interesting. I imagine he starts killing people in a way so as to provide L 'evidence' so as to be able to get firmer suspicions of Kira.

A man dies shouting at Light that he's the devil then douses himself in gasoline then lights himself on fire. Another person dies doing the same thing but they throw themselves into a woodchipper.

(L hates that he can't use any of this as evidence not just simply because the entire world's gone mad about Kira anyway but also because these fuckers keep killing themselves before L can ask questions.)

I imagine Light, at his wit's end, agrees to trade with Ryuk but only if Ryuk tells Light L's name. "That's cheating" - Ryuk says as he did in canon (also, Ryuk is having a great time inconveniencing Light).

Death Note becomes a weird thriller comedy in which L is hunting Kira, but The Happening is going on, and Light is trying to find a way to manage Ryuk, Rem, and L all at the same time while also planning L's murder in a way that it makes it look like L just caught The Happening.

[cordeliawhohung]

Death of Me - part 2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part six (and then some) of "Soft Spot"

You and Simon attend the military ball, and you finally get to come out of the shadows.

warnings: none! mention of alcohol, and anxiety, but very fluffy and fun (: (terrible inaccuracies about military balls, i'm sure)

wc: 7k

It was the watchful eyes that made events awkward, especially for the lucky bastards who did well enough to earn themselves the right to wear those pristine suits.

While a majority of the men in the room wore mostly white uniforms with red jackets that stood out like blood on cotton, Task Force 141 stood out like sore thumbs with their black dress suits. Perhaps it was done on purpose to let everyone know just who they were; SAS, the best of the best. 

Normally, Soap would find himself slipping away to ravage the hors d'oeuvres, steal a drink or two, and maybe chat up an officer to stave off the boredom that always accompanied formal events such as a military ball. But not that time. His blue eyes scanned the room, desperately searching for a tall figure, praying it would emerge from the crowd. 

“Price found us a table,” a voice spoke up next to him. For the first time in what felt like hours, Soap looked away from the crowd in front of him and faced Gaz. He cleaned up well, his young features accentuated with the sharpness of his uniform. “It’s hidden in the back. Should keep most unwanted attention away from us.” 

Soap nodded as he threw a quick glance back at the sea of bodies around him. The entrance hall was full to the brim as soldiers and civilians alike chatted away as they caught up with friends or made new connections. 

“Alright. I’ll be there in a bit,” he said, nearly waving Gaz off. 

But the man didn’t leave. Instead, he settled in further next to Soap, standing with his arms behind his back as he too watched the commotion that raged in front of them. 

“Looking for Ghost?” Gaz questioned. 

“Trying to. Wanna make sure he doesn’t wander too far before we all get the chance to meet Spook,” Soap explained as he kept his eyes locked in front of him. 

Gaz glanced at the man from the corner of his eyes, yet he refused to fully turn to face him. He swayed slightly as he adjusted his position, inching closer to him so that he could drop the tone of his voice and still be heard. 

“I’ve been thinking… what if there is no Spook?” he asked. 

Now that got Soap’s full attention. He turned to fully face Gaz, and he shot him a quizzical look, almost as if he was offended he would even bring up such a thing. 

“You saw what I saw,” Soap retorted. “Remember his handkerchief on the plane? He never uses it, but he brings it with him everywhere. He won't admit it because he’s a quiet bastard, but there’s something there.” 

A sharp sigh came from Gaz as he attempted to sort through his thoughts. “I know, but what if you’ve got it mixed up? Maybe it’s a memento, or a reminder of someone he’s lost and you keep bringing it up like a dick.” 

“He woulda laid me out by now if that were the case,” Soap answered confidently. 

That comment caused a short chuckle to sound from Gaz, but he quickly shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Yeah, I reckon so. Or maybe he’s offering you grace and you keep throwing it back in his face.” 

It was obvious that no amount of words from anyone other than Ghost himself would convince Soap to lay off his theory about Spook. Though it wasn’t a secret that the two of them were as close as brothers, there were still walls that Ghost put up to keep people out. Everyone on the force did, to an extent. Gaz was just worried Soap would tear those walls down and not be able to run fast enough and get himself crushed by the rubble. 

“Alright. I’ll make you a deal,” Soap offered, turning his body to fully face Gaz. “If Ghost shows up tonight without a plus one, I’ll leave it alone. Won’t mention it to him, you, or anyone ever again.”

This caught Gaz’s attention. He raised an eyebrow at the Scott and gave the man his full attention. “Alright, deal.” 

Soap grinned, the type of devious smirk that showed that he hadn’t laid all his cards on the table yet. “But if he does show up with someone, you’re buying my drinks every time we go out after missions.” 

Gaz tilted his head to the side a little, a similar smirk crossing his lips. “Yeah, and when he shows up alone, then you’re the one buying all my drinks.” 

Finally coming to some sort of agreement, Soap held his hand out between the two of them, silently asking to seal the deal with a handshake. Gaz slowly moved his hands out from behind his back, right hand raising to meet with Soaps, but he paused just short. His eyes focused on something well behind the man, staring off into the crowd, and whatever evidence of a smirk he had was quickly wiped off his face. 

“Bloody fucking hell,” he murmured. 

Within an instant Soap’s back faced Gaz as he tried to follow the man’s gaze. It didn’t take him long to find Ghost in the crowd as the inky uniform and his towering height were obvious. That, and he was the only one in the crowd who wore a facemask. But his eyes didn’t linger on the man for long when he caught sight of you. Beautiful black silk and chiffon draping from your hips, elegant off-the-shoulder sleeves, and a dazzling smile made you stand out even more than the tall, burly soldier next to you. 

“Ah. Drinks next week, then?” Soap asked, turning around to bump his fist against Gaz’s shoulder. 

Gaz shook himself out of his stupor and found his eyes landing back on Soap. The man quickly shook his head while his hand fell back to his side. “I never shook on it.” 

“But you were going to,” Soap teased. 

“Just… hurry it up before someone gives your seat away to someone more agreeable than you,” Gaz said with a simple sigh. With that, he turned and weaved through the crowd, leaving the entrance hall and his lost bet far behind him. 

Neverbefore had you seen so many people dressed in dazzling gowns and sharp suits and uniforms. A sticky heat hung heavy in the air of the entrance hall that almost made it difficult to breathe, and you found yourself clinging to Simon’s arm as he led you through the crowd. 

“I didn’t expect so many people to be here,” you admitted quietly. 

“Guest of honor is an important aristocrat. No one was able to sneak their way out of this,” Simon answered.

“Not even you?” you teased. 

“Not even me.”

You had never seen him looking so, well, formal before, and you had to admit, it looked good on him. The perfect press of his clothes, the well knotted tie around his neck, the jacket of his uniform; it made your stomach twist with an odd desire you weren’t sure you wanted to entertain quite yet. 

“What makes them so different from any other guest of honor?” you asked. 

“Power. Influence. More so than others.” 

You hummed in response as Simon continued to guide you through the hall. Watchful eyes would glance at the two of you only to flicker away as soon as they did. Either they were just being respectful and not wanting to stare, or they were intimidated by Simon’s status and stony stare. 

There was one person who didn’t seem to be afraid of Simon in the slightest, though. A young man dressed in the very same uniform as your lover approached the two of you with a wide grin. His short and shaved mohawk caught you off guard, as you had never heard of a soldier doing such a thing before, but other than that, he fit in well with the others in the crowd. 

“Evening, L.T.,” the man greeted, his Scottish accent heavy and evident in his voice. 

Simon slowly stopped as the man approached you two, and you followed his lead. The Scot was beaming, and you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes kept landing on you every few seconds, despite how he was trying to address Simon.

“Evening,” Simon replied stiffly. 

You weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. Do you introduce yourself? Try to shake his hand? Or do you let Simon take the lead? Even though attending the ball with him was mostly your idea, you were slowly becoming aware of just how ignorant you were of the customs you were supposed to follow. 

Luckily, after a beat Simon turned to you and he slowly pulled his arm out of your grasp in order to motion to the soldier in front of you. “Sergeant John MacTavish. One of the lads I work with. The boys call him Soap,” Simon introduced. 

“Aye,” Soap confirmed as he held his hand out to you, “but it’s just Johnny to you, ma’am.” 

You gave him a polite smile and took his hand to shake. The sheer thickness of his hand caught you off guard, and you realized that it had been quite some time since you had greeted someone so formally. Still, you introduced yourself by name and folded your hands in front of you as you waited for whatever came next. 

“Gaz and Price got a table. You two are welcome to join us, if you’d like,” Johnny offered as he gestured towards the room just beyond the entrance hall. 

Gaz and Price. Two more people on his task force, you assumed. Really, you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy at the thought of meeting more of the people Simon worked with. He had tried so hard to keep it all a secret, and though his intentions were pure, it was silly. It felt like Simon was finally letting you in, allowing you to see the parts of him he tried so hard to smother away with a mask. 

“That’d be lovely,” you said while glancing up at Simon. If he had any objections to that idea, he didn’t voice them. Instead, he only nodded his head and allowed Johnny to lead the way. 

An impressive ballroom awaited the three of you as you exited the hall, and you found your head beginning to spin at the sight of it. No expense was spared for the event, apparently, as countless tables circled around the room, all dawning spotless white tablecloths and the finest dishes and cutlery that shimmered underneath the high hanging chandelier. Aromatic floral centerpieces added a bit of color to the tables, and you wondered how they were able to get so many fresh, real flowers. 

In the center of the room was the dance floor, which was really nothing but a cleared out space on the hardwood floor that was void of tables or other obstacles. One large table sat at the front of the room raised up on a platform, leading you to assume it was reserved for high ranking officers. Smaller yet equally long tables lined the sides of the room housing refreshments and small snacks. A heavy, meaty scent hung in the air with the promise of a hearty meal to follow. Soft and peppy music droned quietly from speakers strategically placed throughout the room, and it really began to feel like something straight out of a movie. 

Eventually, Johnny paused at a table tucked away into the furthest corner of the room, well away from the dance floor and any amenities. Two men sat at the round table, both sporting the same uniform as Simon and Johnny, already waiting. One was a young man with a slight hint of dark facial hair lining his lips and jaw. His hair was short and shaved on the sides, yet longer on top where kinky curls sat. The other man was much older, and he looked up at you with eyes that held a million stories. He was as neat and put together as the other boys, but you couldn’t help but take note of his facial hair, which was styled in what you were certain was mutton chops. 

Once you were close enough to the table, both men stood, and it wasn’t until then that you realized just how tall everyone around you was. Simon was by far the tallest, but even the others were only shorter than him by a few inches. Even in your heels you were absolutely dwarfed in comparison. 

“Ghost,” the older man greeted, “glad you made it.” 

Simon huffed a little as he adjusted the mask on his face. “I would never miss a mandatory event,” he said, voice dripping in sarcasm. 

You giggled a little at his words, and you weren’t sure if it was because you found it genuinely funny, or if your nerves were getting to you. 

“This here is our commanding officer, Captain Price,” Johnny introduced as he gestured to the older man. 

“John is fine,” the man corrected. He also held his hand out, reaching across the table for you to shake and introduce yourself. “Pleasure.” 

Next was the younger man, who Johnny introduced as Gaz. He held his hand out as well, which you promptly shook. 

“Kyle,” he said, offering his real name instead. 

With proper introductions out of the way, everyone began to take a seat at the table. Before you could fully seat yourself though, Simon stood behind you, pulling the chair away from the table for you. Glancing at him from over your shoulder, you grinned at him and offered him a quiet thanks before sitting down and allowing him to push your seat in. 

Simon took the spot to the right of you, and Johnny was on your left, effectively sandwiching you between the men. Despite the large size of the table, the stocky and broad build of all the men at the table took up a majority of the space, making you almost feel smaller than you had when you were all standing. 

Awkward conversation filled in the equally awkward silence while you waited for the event to begin. Though they all looked well put together and confident, you had a nagging feeling that those boys were very much out of their depth. Or, at the very least, they didn’t want to be there. The glassy eyed staring into the distance and bored tapping fingers against the soft tablecloth was a dead giveaway for that. 

Eventually the opening speeches began, and that only fueled everyone's boredom even more. Long, wordy speeches came from men who held way too much power and made way too much money for them to ever be fully respected by their subordinates. You had started to wonder if Simon hid the ball from you to save you from the painful formalities of it all. That was one thing you had forgotten about the military; the bullshit. Simon hardly ever complained about anything, so it was easy to glance over the annoying regulations and traditions they had to uphold. 

Including, but not limited to, terribly bland speeches. 

It was the promise of dinner that finally freed everyone from the boring drone of well paid aristocrats, and that mouthwatering scent you had noticed earlier increased tenfold as waiters and waitresses swarmed the room carrying entries to all the tables. Soon, everyone at the table had their plates full in front of them. Well, everyone but Simon, who had excused the waiter away so that he wouldn’t waste the food he wouldn't eat. 

Golden roasted chicken, yorkshire pudding, fragrant greens, and creamy mashed potatoes sat on the plate with the steam still rising off of it. You could almost feel your stomach twisting in excited anticipation as the tips of your fingers ran across the silverware. 

“At least they gave us a proper meal,” Kyle hummed as he instantly dived in and began cutting up his chicken. 

“Probably more about showing off than it is to entertain,” John quipped. 

The boys all hummed in agreement while you followed their lead. It was certainly one of the best tasting meals you ever had, and it was something you knew you could only dream of making yourself. How they got the mash so creamy was beyond you, and the chicken was so juicy it was more like biting into a water balloon than meat. 

“So, Spook,” Johnny spoke up, and it took you a moment to realize that he was talking to you, “what do you do for work?” 

It took you a moment to swallow the food in your mouth, and you promptly wiped your mouth off on a napkin before throwing him a quizzical look. “Spook?” 

“Don’t mind him,” Simon murmured. “Just a nickname Johnny coined for you.” 

Still slightly confused, you decided not to push on that subject quite yet and opted to answer his question. “I’m a bank teller.”

Johnny nodded and gave you a kind smile as he stabbed a bite of chicken with his fork. “Interesting.”

“Oh, not really. It’s quite boring, honestly,” you admitted. “The most exciting part of my day is watching the machine count money, and maybe fixing a jam every now and then.” 

This earned you a chuckle or two from around the table, and you found yourself smiling slightly in satisfaction. There was something comforting about it. Like you were beginning to fit in with the odd group of strange, and certainly dangerous, men. 

“Every job’s important, I suppose,” John said. 

“So then, how does a bank teller run into someone like Ghost?” Johnny then asked, his eyes glinting with something mischievous as he looked between you and Simon. 

Unsure, you glanced up at Simon. He sat hunched forward slightly, elbows on the table in front of him as he stared at his teammate. His eyes were dark, and difficult to read from that angle, but he hadn’t protested in any way. 

“He would come into work, actually,” you said, turning back to look at Johnny. “Always came to my desk because I was the only teller there who wouldn’t force him to show his face every single time he wanted to get money out of his account.” 

Your added bit of information seemed to stir up some sort of excitement in Johnny. You could see it in the way his eyes lit up and the corners of his lips curled into something childishly devious. 

“Ah. It’s cute to think about Ghost asking out the sweet bank teller,” Johnny teased. 

“What is this, an interrogation?” Simon piped up. His tone was stiff in the way it got when he was uncomfortable, but he brushed it off easily as he leaned back in his seat, eyes refusing to leave Johnny. 

If anything, his reaction only made you want to tell even more about you and Simon. It was obvious he was trying to keep you a secret in some capacity, but you knew only limited information about his teammates, and they knew next to nothing about you. Simon had built that wall and you were hellbent on tearing it down. 

“I was actually the one to ask him out,” you informed him before putting a spoonful of mash in your mouth. “We went to the cinema and watched this god awful movie. I think it was supposed to be a chick flick but god it was boring.” 

Simon shifted slightly as he leaned closer to you. “I think you asking me to the bar was technically our first date,” he corrected so quietly you weren’t sure if the others could pick it up through the chatter of everyone around the table. 

Heat instantly rushed to your cheeks and you covered your mouth in a slight gasp. Was it really? God, you had almost forgotten that night. Trying to enjoy the Halloween themed drinks before Eric came waltzing in like the prick he was just to ruin your night. It was almost embarrassing to think about, despite the fact that it was quite literally not your fault. 

“Seriously?” you whispered back, though not as tactfully. “I’d hate to think that was actually our first date.” 

That comment piqued Johnny’s interest, but you saw him hold himself back as he continued eating instead. With your cheeks still burning, you followed his lead, shoveling your mouth full of food to try and wash away the odd embarrassment you felt whenever you thought of that night. Or maybe it wasn’t embarrassment. Was it guilt? Guilt that Simon had to come to your rescue like that? 

You bit the corner of your lip. 

“Make sure to eat your veggies, sergeant,” John spoke up, pulling you out of your thoughts. You looked up across the table and saw the man looking over at Kyle as he pointed his fork at the man's plate. “Have to make sure you grow up big and strong, now.” 

Kyle pressed his lips together in a tight lipped smile as he turned his attention towards his captain. “Sure you don’t want milk with that meal, sir? I heard bones grow brittle with age.” 

A giggle erupted from your throat at their bantering. For some reason it caught you off guard. Whenever you thought of the military, it was always manners and being proper, especially to your superiors. Yet those two were bickering like brothers. In a way, it was comforting.

About halfway through dinner was when the dance music started up. The speakers crackled and whined for a short moment as it sounded like someone attempted to shove an aux cord into their phone before the music sputtered to life. Soft classical waltz music you didn’t recognize bounced off of the large walls of the room, and a few couples bounded to the floor in the center and began dancing. 

It was a little strange to have a waltz playing in a modern day ball, but you weren’t exactly complaining. With the swishing gowns in front of you as the dancers spun around the floor, it looked like something out of a fairytale. Absolutely hypnotic as the lights glistened off of the sparkles on the skirts and the metals on the soldiers' uniforms. 

“You two should go dance,” Johnny said, causing you to turn around in your seat to face the table once more.

Really, you wanted nothing more than to dance with Simon. Even just the thought of it was enough to get your stomach fluttering. His hand on your waist, holding you close, guiding you across the floor. And everyone would look at the two of you and question how a big brute like Simon Riley, no, like Ghost, could do a thing such as dance. 

But something was telling you otherwise. Simon hardly wanted to go to that event, and if it wasn’t for the fact that it was mandatory, you were certain he would have skipped out on it completely. Making him dance would have been awkward for him in front of so many people. You were sure he would if you asked him to, but you didn’t want to subjugate him to torture like that. 

“Oh, that’s alright,” you said, brushing it off. “I’ve got two left feet. The last thing I’d want to do is embarrass your lieutenant on the dance floor.” 

You threw a cheeky grin over at Simon as you teased him. His head was tilted towards you, but only slightly as he gave you a challenging look, which only made your grin widen.

“Well, how about some practice, then?” Johnny offered. 

It took you a moment to realize what he had suggested, but once it clicked it took everything in you to keep your eyes from widening. Had he seriously asked you to dance? You looked from Simon, to Johnny, and back to Simon, wondering if you should even accept an offer like that from one of his teammates. It wasn’t like it was anything weird. It was just a dance, afterall, and Simon looked… unfazed, like he couldn’t care less. 

When he felt your eyes on him, he turned his full attention to you, gaze still unchanging. He easily read the odd apprehension in your stare, and he nodded towards Johnny as if saying go ahead. 

“Watch your toes,” he warned. 

And, well, that was all the encouragement you needed.

Before you knew it, you had agreed to Johnny’s offer and he led you out onto the dance floor where the two of you joined in the other spinning bodies as the next song started. His hand rested respectfully on your waist, not wandering too high or too low, and you realized how odd it felt to have someone other than Simon be that close to you. You had grown so used to his touch that anything else felt foreign. Still, you brushed off that feeling while you rested a hand on Johnny’s shoulder and the other in his hand. 

Dancing was much easier than you had anticipated it to be, as everyone seemed to be doing a simple sort of waltz. Honestly, even if you and Johnny had been completely off in your steps, you don’t think you would have minded all that much. 

“Lovely necklace,” Johnny spoke up, his eyes darting down to your neck for a short moment. 

“Thank you,” you said, glancing down as if you could view the necklace before looking back up at him. “It was a gift from Si- I mean, Ghost.” 

Johnny chuckled, but didn’t say anything about your near slip up. “He’s got good taste.” You nodded your head in agreement, and a short silence stretched out as the two of you fell into the groove of things. “So, what was your actual first date?” 

You gave him a breathy laugh as you stared up at him. With your sudden proximity, you were able to make out a few more features about him you hadn’t noticed before; namely, the scar that ran along his chin. He was young, and didn’t quite look like a hardened soldier yet, and you found yourself secretly hoping that it wouldn’t destroy the playfulness he had been demonstrating throughout the night. 

“I see what you’re doing,” you chuckled. “Using the dance as an excuse to interrogate me further, are you?” 

He gave you a toothy grin. “Getting anything out of Ghost is hopeless. Figured you were the next best bet.” 

You grinned back. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, he’s as tight lipped with me as he is with you. I hardly knew any of you existed before tonight.” 

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Johnny chuckled. He then paused for a moment before trying to encourage you one more time. “So… the date?” 

A soft sigh left you as you recalled the events of that night yet again. It wasn’t anything special, or at least you didn’t want it to be, yet it still felt difficult to talk about it at the same time. 

“I uh… invited him out for drinks under the guise that I didn’t want to go alone,” you said, beginning your tale. “Things were going great for a bit, but I ran into an… old friend, of sorts. He was wasted and got a bit handsy and…”

“Ghost give him a good smack?” Johnny finished. 

“Something like that.” 

It was a lot more than just a good smack. It was the closest you had ever seen to anyone losing themselves within a split moment. The sickening crack and squelch of his jaw, the way his eyes rolled into the back of his head, the loud thump that followed as he hit the ground. At first you were scared. Not really of Simon, just of the violence of it all, despite how necessary it was and how thankful you were for it. But as time grew on, you found yourself almost enjoying the memory of it despite the guilt. It was enjoyable how Eric finally got what he deserved. 

Maybe that was something to be scared about. How much you liked it. 

“Alright, is it my turn to ask a question?” you asked. 

Johnny nodded. “Aye, it’s only fair.”

“Why Spook?”

That question got a chuckle out of him, but he didn’t seem at all hesitant to answer. In fact, he almost seemed a little excited. 

“Well, it was only fitting, considering you’re with a man named Ghost. Ghost and Spook just felt right,” he explained.

The simplicity of it all surprised you. You had expected nicknames to come with long and complicated stories, not just something that someone thought of on a whim. Or maybe codenames and things of that sort weren’t as deep as you thought they were. 

“Cute. I like it,” you admitted. “Surprised he even mentioned me to you, though.” 

“Oh, nae, he never mentioned you. That part I figured out on my own,” Johnny admitted triumphantly. 

You hummed, though you weren’t at all surprised. “Smart man.”

���Ghost said the same thing to me once.” 

“How did you figure it out, then?” 

He paused for a moment as he adjusted his grip on your waist some, but his eyes began to glance around the room. They landed back on the table where the others were at for a short moment before he spoke again. 

“That handkerchief. Kept looking at it whenever we were out on missions.” His eyes fell back down to you. “Knew right then and there the poor bastard had fallen for someone. He kept sidestepping it whenever I asked about it. Nearly had me second guessing myself. Yet, here you are.” 

Out of any answer Johnny could have strung together, that had been the very last thing you ever would have thought of. But god did it light something within you. Something fresh, something overpowering and burning. 

“I didn’t even realize he still kept that stupid thing,” you muttered, breaking your gaze off of Johnny to look somewhere off to the side. 

“My turn?” Johnny asked, to which you nodded. “What’s it mean? The handkerchief?” 

His eyes flickered to your lips as your teeth sunk into them, biting at the raised scar that cut through the corner of your lip. You swallowed before looking back up at him. 

“My lip started bleeding at work once while he was there. He gave me his handkerchief to clean it up. I told him that I would just ruin it, but he insisted. I felt bad about staining it, and I certainly wasn’t going to give it back to him like that, so I went out and bought him a new one. Didn’t expect him to carry it around with him, though. It was mostly a gag gift, if anything,” you explained. 

Johnny watched you with kind eyes the entire time you explained yourself. He wasn’t just learning about you, he was learning about Ghost. The man he had been fighting next to, the man he trusted his life with. He’d fight tooth and nail for that man, and now that you were in the picture, that only fueled that desire even more. 

“He carries it in his back left pocket when we’re overseas,” he said, the careful and even tone of his voice catching you off guard. “Sometimes the corner of it sticks out, but it’s always there.” 

As if you needed another reason to fall in love with Simon, there Johnny went, adding another one onto the constantly growing list. It was such a simple and stupid thing, but it made your heart skip a beat all the same. But that feeling was quickly drowned by something else. Something a bit more painful. You could feel it in the way your chest tightened and your mind spun. 

“Can I ask you another question?” you piped up. 

“‘Course.” 

All the moisture left your mouth, and suddenly your tongue felt too big. The question that rattled around in your mind was a simple one, but you were terrified of the answer. But it was something you could never ask Simon. Not if you wanted a legitimate answer, anyway. 

“How much danger are you guys on your missions? Truthfully,” you asked. 

The question burned just as much coming out as it did keeping it trapped in, but you told yourself you needed to ask it. Johnny’s expression didn’t change much, but he was silent for a moment as he carefully curated an answer for you. 

“Well, we get excellent hazard pay, if that’s what you’re wonderin’,” he said, attempting to crack a joke. Though you appreciated it, it wasn’t the answer you were looking for, and he knew that, too. “But I won't lie to you. We get sent on high priority missions, dangerous ones. It’s what we agreed to when we joined the forces. Being in the SAS isn’t supposed to be easy.” 

Of course. What other answer had you expected from him? Simon gets to sit in the back of the humvee in full juggernaut armor just so he can go home safe to his little girlfriend? He was a soldier. Danger was a part of the job. Dying was too, in some cases. A case that you hoped would never happen to him, or any of them, for that matter. 

Johnny was quick to recognize the dejected look that invaded your eyes, and you felt his movements grow a little more firm as he continued to lead you across the dance floor. Really, he could have left his answer at that, as it was the most obvious and true thing he could say. Still, his playful smile softened into something more sincere. Something more understanding. 

“But keep in mind,” he continued, “we wouldn’t be in the SAS if we weren’t the best of the best. We’re good at what we do. Ghost is like a brother to me. I’d do anything to protect him, just as he would for me. We’ll get him home safe, hen. Promise.” 

You knew better than anyone that promises meant very little. They were easily broken, both willing and unwilling. Because of that, it was always difficult for you to put your faith in people. The promise to change, the promise to stay, the promise to be better; it had all been shattered so many times. Even your own broken promises laid in rotting shards embedded in the bottom of your feet. Everyone you ever knew left a trail of blood in their wake, just like you. 

But it wasn’t the promise that was important. It was the act. The want. The words. It was everything else. Johnny wanted to bring Simon home safe. In that moment, that was good enough for you. 

“Thanks, Johnny. I’m glad he has someone like you to watch his back,” you said, your voice coming out a bit weaker than you had intended it to be. 

The song ended and almost instantly rolled over into another song. The airy fabric of your dress flittered with your movements and it wrapped around your legs as you and Johnny continued to dance. More people had joined on the floor by that point, and there was a photographer wandering around taking elegantly timed pictures of every important looking person they could find. 

Simon wasn’t able to take his eyes off of you the entire time you and Johnny danced. Not because he didn’t trust Johnny to be a gentleman, but because he was enamored by you. How the dress fit on your body, how your smile outshined even the expensive chandelier above your heads, how your eyes glimmered in the light. He loved you best like that. Not when you were dressed up (though it was nice to see), but when he could watch you from afar. When he could just sit and watch you enjoy your life and catch every little detail about you that he could. It was perfect. 

You were perfect. 

“She’s a sweet girl,” John spoke up, attempting to catch Simon’s attention. At that point, he wasn’t even sure death could rip his eyes away from you. 

“She is,” he quietly agreed. “More than I deserve.” 

John could only hum in response as he fished for something else to say. His eyes wandered over to the pint of beer that sat next to his empty plate. “When was the last time you went on holiday?” 

Well, it wasn’t quite death, but it was enough to shock him and finally get Simon to turn his attention to his captain. “Holiday? Being stuck on base is the only vacation I need,” he answered, somewhat sarcastically. 

Kyle sat between the two of them, awkwardly glancing back and forth between the men as if he were a child stuck between arguing parents. Neither man paid him much mind though, and he continued to pull out his phone as he attempted to block everything out. 

“I’m talking about an actual holiday, Ghost,” John corrected, and it was difficult to tell if the frustration in his voice was playful or not. 

“I don’t need a vacation,” Simon said with a small shake of his head. 

“Spook agree with you on that?” 

Simon tilted his head slightly, and his eyebrows quirked up with dangerous intent. It was as if he was challenging the man. He shifted slightly in his seat, leaning forward in a way that made Kyle look up from his phone. 

“If you’re tryin’ to say somethin’ just say it,” Simon urged with a sigh. 

“You haven’t taken proper leave in ages,” John elaborated. “You’ve got a nice girl in your life now. Maybe you should use some of that time off and spend it with her.” 

Never in a million years did he ever think he would be getting relationship advice from John fucking Price, yet there Simon sat at that small table full of stupidly expensive silverware, letting the man tutor him. He wasn’t sure what annoyed him more; the situation itself, or the fact that he knew the bastard was right. 

A sigh left Simon, which was quickly muffled by the thick fabric of his mask as he turned away from John and put his attention back on you. Throughout his entire career, he hadn’t ever taken a proper vacation. Whatever time he had spent away from work in the past was either picking up the shattered pieces of what was once his family, or healing from wounds. Sure he knew how to relax when he wasn’t deployed. Even between the paperwork he had to do on base as a lieutenant, it wasn’t like work consumed him all the time. But it did keep him chained and on a tight leash. 

“I’ll think about it,” Simon spoke, the tone in his voice marking the end of the conversation. 

Another hum came from John which quickly turned into a gruff chuckle as he raised his glass to his lips. “Better think carefully.” 

Eventually, you and Johnny got either too bored or too tired to keep up with the painfully traditional waltzes and returned back to the others at the table. The rest of the night was quickly filled with joyous laughter from playful jokes to entertaining stories while everything continued on around you. 

Later in the evening was when things began to devolve into something that resembled childish chaos. It was the type of chaos that was led by the tough members of the military, which only made it more entertaining to watch. Replace the waltz music with something that resembled more of a modern dance, and switch the water out for booze, and suddenly the ball turned into a genuine party. People swarmed the dance floor, stumbling around in their dresses and uniforms while attempting to sway to the fast paced music. 

“I think that’s my queue to leave,” John spoke up while patting his hands on the table. His eyes focused out on the crowd of drunken attendants on the floor, their bodies weaving together while their arms flung haphazardly around their heads. 

“Past your bedtime?” Kyle teased. 

“Everyone needs their beauty sleep,” John retorted. 

It wasn’t until the word sleep was mentioned that you realized just how tired you were. Between the excitement of that evening, and spending most of the day stressing and preparing for the event, you found yourself quite exhausted. You could feel it in the heaviness of your limbs and the featherlight airiness of your mind. 

“Tired, sweetheart?” Simon asked, his voice low and quiet. God, that hint of gruffness to his words made you want to wrap yourself in his voice so tightly that you would suffocate. 

“A little, yeah,” you confirmed as you looked up at him. You weren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed it earlier, but when you made eye contact with him, you realized you could see the reflection of the lights in his eyes. The dark brown, almost black, color of his irises mimicked that of a mirror, and you could see the beauty of the venue through them. 

“Sounds like we’ll be headed out, too,” Simon spoke up, addressing the table. 

“What? Already?” Johnny asked, dejected. “You two didn’t even dance!” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his childlike sadness. “There will be other dances,” you assured him. 

“Yeah, none he’s going to want to go to,” Johnny grumbled. 

It was for the best, anyway. Being able to attend the ball with Simon was a miracle within itself, and you weren’t going to push your luck by making him dance with you, something you knew would certainly make him uncomfortable. That night was already a dream come true, and you’d rather not turn it into something awkward. 

So the two of you said your farewells and expressed your gratitude in finally being able to meet them. Then you began to weave through the tables with your arm wrapped around Simon’s as he led you towards the exit. Laughter hung heavy in the air even as you left, and you let it fill the comfortable silence between the two of you. It was a good night, you decided. A magical one, even. But it was ending, and soon it turned into nothing but muffled music through a set of heavy wooden doors. 

tags: @ghostlythots @archonsabyss @crowbird

find my taglist here

[animehideout]

omg i adore your mbti series it’s so much fun, i was just wondering if i could request enfp?

Your MBTI, Your Relationship With JJK Characters Part 5

ENFP + ESFJ

Thank you Anon, @strawberrybuni , @shathanku and @chososwhoresblog for requesting ENFP. Also thank you @suchasecretiveninja for being interested in this MBTI series I really really hope you like these and that you are satisfied with the characters 🫶🏻✨💌

Currently working on the other MBTIs and oneshots requests, sorry if I'm taking too long <33

Divider credit: @cafekitsune your work is amazing *Chef kiss* 💖

ENFP:

Yuji Itadori = First and only love.

Full of enthusiasm both of you. Instantly drawn to each other like a magnet, since you share many personality traits. Your adventurous and curious nature has brought you two together. Finding joy in each other's company while embracing new experiences and challenges, both within your relationship and beyond. You're your own number 1 cheerleader. You want to start a new career? learn a new language? Yuji will be right there beside you, offering support till you reach your dreams. As an ENFP, you tend to feel jealous and anxious over the smallest things but with Yuji all your worries fade away. Hr constantly reassures you and express his love to you. Plus, he is incredibly loyal and sees you as his whole world. ENFPs get bored easily and crave constant amusement, luckily with Yuji's playful and humorous nature you won't be feeling any boredom. He effortlessly brings joy into every moment, making it his daily routine to crack jokes and find humor in any situation because he loves to see you happy and loves listening to your laugh. ENFPs are quite affectionate and needy, fortunately, you've got Yuji as your boyfriend, because he's so good at combining all love languages to satisfy your needs and make you feel loved. You have a childish and dramatic side that only Yuji can handle. At the same time you are very mature, so Yuji loves how you can be both depending in the situation. As an ENFP you naturally bring the best out if Yuji, so he works hard ti become stronger for you. Both of you are rays of sunshine and at the same time sunshine protectors. You would be 100% safe around him, and no one is allowed to hurt you.

Gojo Satoru = Frenemies.

ENFP and Gojo are friends but with tension. Gojo is an ENTP, he relies on the power of mind and analytical mindset, while ENFP tends to be more compassionate and emotionally driven. Gojo might tease you a lot and starts debating with you out of the blue. He would try to force his ideas claiming that they are more accurate and effective than yours because your ideas are idealistic but not logical. This clash of approaches may cause tension between you two. Also while making decisions, Gojo might try to assert dominance and make his own personal decisions work, overshadowing yours. And as an ENFP, you hate reinforced rules, opinions etc.. that may restrict you or prohibit you from using your intuition. Gojo tends to be very critical of people around him, and criticism stresses ENFPs out. He sometimes does that on purpose to annoy you since your type gets easily angry. Despite this tension, you managed to become friends. Both of you are chaotic, and your relationship is dynamic and full of energy. You and Satoru have have mutual traits like your shared passion for exploring possibilities, understanding theories even though each one of you have completely opposite perspectives. But your love for knowledge brought you together. Also both ENFP and Gojo are very affectionate and like skinship and closeness. So playfights and playful skinship is a common occurence between you two. He turns off his infinity on purpose so you can playfully slap his arm or throw a pillow his way. You'd be enjoying time together, laughing and being the loud extroverts you are and then in a split if a second, you start bickering leaving everyone around you confused. You perfectly portray a love hate relationship.

Yuta Okkotsu = Colleague.

I feel like despite ENFPs being an extrovert, they still can blend and get along better with introverts. ENFPs take emotions into consideration and with Yuta being a shy person, I think he'd work comfortably with you without being paranoid about being judged or misunderstood. ENFP type has an outgoing and expressive nature, Yuta is quiet and calm, so this would create a balance. You might also help him get out of his comfort zone without making him feel pressured or awkward, you'd create a supportive environment, free of judgment. While his thoughtful approach inspires you to reflect more deeply on certain matters. ENFPs are known for their empathy, so you'd respect Yuta's need for solitude and quiet moment while at the same time he tries to be more socially engaged for you. Yuta appreciates your understanding and considerate nature, even Rika gets along with you for treating Yuta right.

Miwa Kasumi = Bestfriend.

The friendship between you and Miwa is warm and filled with positive energy. The two of you value empathy and compassion. You are sweet and down to earth. Your nature made it easy for you to quickly bond with each other in no time, since both of you fostered a deep understanding and acceptance of one another. Your friendship is characterized by a strong emotional connection, where feelings and vulnerability are cherished, creating a safe space. You influence each other positively to channel and promote your kindness to the people around you. You also support each other through thick and thin. You have a healthy bond with less to no conflicts at all.

ESFJ:

Nanami Kento = Husband.

Despite you being an extrovert and Nanami an introvert, you unexpectedly made a good couple. Nanami's type is a responsible, trusting and organized partner, and ESFJ meet his preferences. Nanami is a wise man, so he would bring balance into you relationship. ESFJs are known for their warmth and sweet nature sibthisywould serve as a factor to help Nanami loosen up a bit and lower his guards in your presence so he can feel your comfort, express his feelings more freely and learn how to reassure you regularly since as an ESFJ you're sometimes needy and clingy, also he would learn how to help you when you struggle with self doubt and low self esteem. The F in ESFJ stands for feeling, so you depend more on emotional approach while Nanami more on analytical approach, so together you can strike communicational balance. As an ESFJ, you managed to break through Nanami's tough exterior, revealing his soft side, that he started ti show only in front of you. The two of you have shared values in terms of love, you and Nanami are loyal and committed to a long lasting relationship that eventually was crowned with marriage. Marriage strengthened your bond even more, making you deeply understand and align with one another. Also accept your difference and bring the best out of every challenging situation; always trying to create a positive outcome of arguments and turn mistakes into lessons that you'd learn from. Your relationship is well rounded and harmonious, you appreciate each other's strengths and peacefully live with the differences.

Ino Takuma = Interested in you.

You two have a dynamic and engaging relationship with a wholesome chemistry that led Ino to develop feelings for you. Both of you are extroverts with golden retriever vibes, you enjoy social interaction which made it easy for Ino to get to know you in a personal level, since ESFJ tend to share things about them with others, and to his luck you lived up to his expectations. He relies on feelings as well so he would feel the emotional connection with you making him willing to satisfy your needs. ESFJ is kinda similar to Ino's MBTI which is ESFP which results in a mutual interests. Both of you can relate to each other in certain situations, discovering a huge compatibility. Ino would be the one to fall hard for you. ESFJ has got a charming side that no one can neglect. ESFJ tends to be talkative as well and Ino enjoys listening to you rambling about random things. Ino's MBTI tends to jump to conclusions, so he might misunderstand your generous and empathetic side and think that you reciprocate his feelings. Overall, if you don't end up dating you would be good friends but if he chooses to go to ghost you in order to move on you would find it difficulty since ESFJs find it hard to move on from a breakup even if it's just a casual friendship.

Mahito = Ex-partner.

ESFJs trust people easily, with Mahito being manipulative he would find it easy to feed you with his lies and convince you that he is a good partner to make you fall for him and get you wrapped around his finger. But as every other lie, it gets revealed. Your values differ from Mahito's. ESFJs prioritize and take care of their loved ones and also value stability and loyalty, but Mahito prioritizes his goals and ambitions and isn't faithful. He is known for using people for his own needs and interests and that would be the case with you, you'd be one of his victims, which leads to you breaking up. You simply have a desire for structure and routine to ensure the stability for your relationship but Mahito feels restricted and can't serve as a good partner who would at least try. He's all talk but no action which is contrary to ESFJs.

Remember this piece of writing is for entertainment purposes only, also it is imo so it's not necessarily accurate 🫶🏻🥹

[lu-is-not-ok]

Let’s talk about K Corp Hong Lu

Look. He got me. He got me bad. I can’t explain just how badly he got me. There is so much I want to dissect about him. So you know what?

This is going to be my first Identity Analysis. Fuck it we ball.

Before I get into it though, let me make myself clear: unlike E.G.O Analysis, I will not be taking Identity Analysis requests. This is because Identities inherently come with A Lot more content to analyse, and it’s not really something I’m willing to sit down and do at the whim of anyone and everyone. E.G.O Analyses already take me a while to do. I hope you guys can understand that.

With that out of the way, let’s get into it. Cue Game Theory intro or some shit.

Let’s start with the obvious, K Corp Hong Lu’s uptie story and his dialogue lines.

While his uptie story serves mostly to introduce more lore about Class 3 Excision Staff, it does provide some additional context to Hong Lu’s situation in this specific Mirror World.

To summarize, Class 3 Excision Staff are effectively K Corp branded super soldiers, whose main trait is nigh invulnerability due to extremely heavy dosage of K Corp ampules. However, this comes at a rather ironic cost - this same dosage could instantly kill them if something within their bodies changes just enough to make them no longer compatible, rendering them extremely fragile to even something as mundane as dreaming. As such, they have to be kept in complete stasis when not deployed, to ensure their state is constantly stable and so that they don’t accidentally get fucking gooped from thinking the wrong way.

Effectively, they are forced to not exist outside of their purpose, as trying to could lead to their death. They have no freedom by nature of what they are.

Besides that lore dump, we also learn some interesting things about Hong Lu in that Mirror World.

For one, it’s his family who got him into this job. Specifically, his grandmother directed him here, stating she wanted Hong Lu to see more of the City and experience new things. A rather... odd motivation for putting your grandson in a position that stays stuck in a tube in suspended animation 90% of the time.

This is something the scientist in charge of waking Hong Lu up doubts it as well, wondering if Excision staff truly is the right position if that’s what she actually wanted for Hong Lu. Hong Lu, for what it’s worth, doesn’t seem to actually care about her motivations, claiming he’s fine with his situation as long as he gets to have new experiences. Put a pin in that, I’ll try to remember to go back to this.

Another thing we learn is that Hong Lu seems to react oddly to being put into complete stasis. It’s noted that he doesn’t seem to suffer from any side-effects upon waking up from suspended animation, and that him being able to immediately talk up researchers for attention is in no way expected behavior. However the process is meant to work, it’s implied to not be as simple as pressing the pause and resume button on a person.

Likewise, it’s noted as odd that he seems refreshed upon being woken up, implying that, again, this is not how it’s supposed to work, as Class 3 Staff doesn’t seem to be able to “rest” in the traditional sense of the word.

In fact, there’s something weird about him that I myself noticed that doesn’t seem to be directly pointed out. Hong Lu notes that he feels extremely bored when not deployed, saying that relieving that boredom is his reason for constantly chatting up researchers whenever he’s woken.

The thing is... by all means, Hong Lu shouldn’t be feeling bored. Being put into suspended animation is outright stated to put one’s consciousness into stasis as well, as subconscious thoughts are one of the things that could destabilize one’s ampule compatibility. Hong Lu, by all means, should not be cognizant enough of his surroundings and time spent in stasis to be able to be aware of how unoccupied he is during that time.

While it could very well be just a figurative figure of speech he uses to carry his point across (as Hong Lu isn’t exactly the most honest person in any Mirror World), the fact that there is Something Clearly Off about how he experiences stasis means there very much could be something more to it.

There is a chance that odd trait of his could be connected to the SP restoration abilities of his alternate versions. While K Corp Hong Lu is the second Hong Lu to not have any mechanics tied to restoring SP (Kurokumo Hong Lu being the first), it’s not impossible that for him specifically, they translate into something not applicable to combat.

Could it be that whatever is able to keep most other Hong Lus’ Sanity up is what’s causing him to potentially stay semi-cognizant in stasis? It might be a stretch, but I feel like the fact that it’s something that’s partially pointed out to us means there’s something more to it.

It would certainly explain a lot of his oddities. Why he’s able to so quickly bounce back upon being woken, why he seems to actually rest when in stasis, and why he seems to be aware enough of his time spent there to feel bored. For whatever reason, his consciousness seems resistant enough to not let itself be fully put into suspended animation.

Remember how I mentioned how Class 3 Staff has no freedom because of the nature of what they are. Well, I think this applies even more for Hong Lu in this specific case. Because of something inherent to him, he can’t be put into full stasis. Whereas other Class 3 Staff are able to stay blissfully unaware of their time spent stuck in their glass coffins, Hong Lu can’t. He perceives it, whether he wants it or not. In a way, he’s even less free than those who already have no freedom.

When it comes to K Corp Hong Lu’s dialogue lines, there’s something I want to note about their delivery. It seems to me that, in general, his dialogue lines carry notably less energy than the dialogue lines of his other Identities. There are a lot more lines where his voice is lowered, or in some way faltering, compared to other Hong Lus.

While most of the actual content of his dialogue lines is hinting at info we learn through the uptie story, there is some interesting things to note.

One - Hong Lu feels like it’s been a very long time since he began his job at K Corp. Hearing about daytime makes him reminisce about how he used to drink at that time of the day, and being asked why he joined K Corp he notes how it feels like it’s been ages ago, and even seems to be slightly unsure about it in fact being his grandmother who sent him there. ...Just how long has he been working there?

Two - Hong Lu’s desperation. It’s clear Hong Lu much prefers actually doing his job to sitting in a glass tube for days on end - he expresses excitement at the idea of being deployed more often, and takes joy in being able to breathe fresh air after a long while. He’s also notably down when he realizes Dante won’t talk to him anymore. However, the one line that stood out to me the most here is his Ex-Clear victory line, where he hesitantly pleads to have just A Little Bit of free time before he has to go back into stasis.

Now, time for the Fun Part. Time to look at the Sin affinities and try to dissect what the fuck they mean on IDs.

Before we talk about what Sin affinities K Corp Hong Lu has, let’s talk about one he doesn’t have - Lust. The Sin representing actions done to indulge desires or seek personal fulfillment.

I feel like this is extremely important, as every other Hong Lu ID has some Lust affinity in one way or another, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this specific one lacks it.

As a quick recap: Kurokumo Hong Lu has Lust as his Skill 1, Tingtang Hong Lu and Liu Hong Lu both have Lust as their Skill 2, and Base Hong Lu has Lust as his Skill 3.

To briefly summarize what I think this all means for each Hong Lu without getting into full Sin affinity analysis for all of them:

Kurokumo Hong Lu’s Lust represents how his actions seem at first glance. He’s acting according to his own desires and whims, not caring to follow other people’s orders if he doesn’t want to.

Tingtang Hong Lu’s Lust presents as a slightly deeper motivation. He seeks out a dopamine rush at every opportunity he has, diving head first into gambling and murder just to satisfy his desires.

Liu Hong Lu’s Lust is similarly a deeper motivation. He likewise seeks to indulge himself, though in his case it’s him fully leaning into the comforts his rich family enables him to enjoy, like the incredibly expensive tea he seems to be obsessed with.

Base Hong Lu’s Lust is what I’d like to call his Core Sin. At their very core, Hong Lu’s actions are driven by his need to have his desires be satisfied, whether it’s his curiosity, his wish for comfort, or his need for attention. That’s the main driving force behind who he is and what he does.

As one can see, Lust is Incredibly Important to who Hong Lu is as a person in every Mirror World. So, what does this mean for K Corp Hong Lu?

It’s bad. It’s Bad? It’s really not good.

Because this means that in his current situation, K Corp Hong Lu does not care to have his needs satisfied. In fact, I don’t think he’s even in a position to be able to care about that. He’s reduced to only truly existing as a tool, a weapon for K Corp to use, and when he has no purpose to fulfill he’s put into stasis that doesn’t even seem to fully work on him.

How would he even begin to try to fulfill his desires in such a state? He’s barely able to resolve his own by-now-probably-chronic boredom, to the point he actually enjoys his job. Hong Lu, whose Mirror Identities consistently mention either not liking to do what other people tell them to do or simply finding it more tiring to do something as a job than doing the same thing off-the-clock? You’re telling me That Hong Lu is actually enjoying his job?

Can you see why this Identity has been fucking with me so much?

But oh wait, we’re not done. Oh hell no we’re not done. We actually have to analyze the Actual affinities K Corp Hong Lu has, cause hoo boy they tell a story.

The Affinity of an ID’s Skill 1 usually represents what Sin that Identity’s actions present as upon first glance. In this case, K Corp Hong Lu’s actions present as Pride, as actions done purely for their benefit while the consequences are ignored.

This, I think, fits what we know about him pretty well. He finds delight in deployment regardless of the harm he has to inflict as part of his job, simply because it provides momentary relief to his boredom. Likewise, one could interpret the action of becoming part of the Excision Staff as prideful. Hong Lu remains in his position for the sake of “new experiences” (and because Granny said so), all the while ignoring the way he suffers because of it.

The Affinity of an ID’s Skill 2 usually reflects a Sin corresponding to an Identity’s deeper motivation behind their actions. For K Corp Hong Lu, this is Gluttony, representing the motivation of hunger, whether in the form of hunger for survival or hunger for more.

In this case, I think we can firmly place K Corp Hong Lu on the Survival part of the Gluttony duality. As I laid out way earlier, Hong Lu here has no choice but to do as K Corp tells him, as otherwise he will literally die. There’s also a way we can interpret it as part of his motivation for joining K Corp in the first place. If his grandmother wanted him to work here, did he really have a choice, or would the consequences of disobeying be far worse than what he has to put up with in here?

Then, there’s Skill 3. I interpret the Affinity of an ID’s Skill 3 as the main driving force of that Identity, their Core Sin, so to speak. For K Corp Hong Lu, this is Sloth, the Sin of apathy, resignation, and inaction.

This, I think, is where K Corp Hong Lu’s deal is truly revealed. He is fully resigned to his fate as a Class 3 Staff. It no longer matters to him to do anything but follow orders without question, because what else does he have left? Staying half-asleep in a glass tube for the rest of his life? Dying? No wonder he’s finding delight in deployment, he has literally nothing else. The only reason he’s not outwardly hopeless is, well, because he’s Hong Lu. And a Hong Lu will try to smile through everything, no matter how badly it hurts.

I also think it’s important to note that there is only one other Hong Lu ID right now that shares K Corp Hong Lu’s Skill 3 Affinity - Kurokumo Hong Lu. This might seem weird, considering Kurokumo Hong Lu’s whole thing is being staunchly against being ordered around... Except this quickly falls apart when you actually look at his actions. Yes, he complains and doesn’t respect his superiors, but. He still follows orders. He’s still good at following orders. As much as he hates doing it, he has no choice but to do it. And so, he’s also just as resigned to his fate at his core as K Corp Hong Lu is.

Now, with all of that being said, there’s one more thing I want to talk about here. What does this mean for Base Hong Lu. Our Hong Lu.

While Dante’s Notes very directly point out that Mirror World versions can be nigh unrecognisable in personality to their Base counterparts, I think it’s a mistake to fully dismiss them.

I think, in one way or another, the alternate Identities of Sinners are meant to tell us something about the Sinner in question, whether by implying something that they may be hiding, or by paralleling the Sinner’s situation in a more symbolic manner.

Remember that part I said to put a pin in? How K Corp Hong Lu doesn’t care for his grandmother’s motivations for making him take this job, since he’s getting something out of it?

That. That feels extremely important to me.

While you could definitely make the argument that in general K Corp Hong Lu’s whole situation could be a symbolic parallel to how his family treats him as nothing but an object that ceases to matter once its purpose is fulfilled (which I think still applies as well by the way), I think there is something more important here.

The idea that as long as Hong Lu is being cared for by his family, as long as he benefits in some way from having to bear the pain, he will not question their motivations and goals.

In a way, we already knew that. We already knew from Base Hong Lu’s dialogue that he still views his family positively despite the abuse he very likely went through at their hands. However, I think K Corp Hong Lu’s attitude here further confirms that idea. That as long as his family shows Some form of love towards him, he won’t question how horrible they have been to him.

Because if they love him, there’s no way they’re Actually being that bad towards him, right?

...

God Canto 8 is gonna hit way too fucking hard for me and not even deep-diving into Hong Lu can prepare me for it.

[lifeinpoetry]

It takes a special kind of mediocrity to be offensive and boring at the same time.

If the language is boring, there should at least be some emotions or ideas or something.

Boring through, or thoroughly boring?

I was very boring today.

Sometimes the dystopia was boring.

At least everyone was boring at the same time about something inherently interesting.

Sometimes it feels like if I’m not fascinated, I’m bored.

— Elisa Gabbert, from "New Theories on Boredom," Normal Distance

[vikkirosko]

👻 Ghost Face x Reader headcanons Podcaster 📸

Danny used to be one of the most secretive killers, taking advantage of this. He knew that the survivors tried their best to be as quiet as possible, but he always found them and took advantage of the fact that they did not see him. However, when he heard a quiet voice during the trial, Danny at first thought he was imagining it until he saw you. You studied the place where you found yourself, saying something quietly into a dictaphone

Ghost Face has been watching you. He was curious to know what you were doing, and he was really able to find out when you lost your recorder while running away from him. After the test, he started listening to what you were saying into the recorder and it turned out that you were keeping something similar to an audio diary. You told me that you weren't completely sure where you were and that the people you met told you what you had to do to survive. You seemed to be talking about everything in the world. He told me his theories about those who were hiding in the fog, about the places where you found yourself. Danny understood that your voice recorder was important to you, and he decided to take advantage of it

It didn't take much for him to corner you and you would have fought with all your might if he hadn't raised his hand with your dictaphone. He said he would return your recorder to you, but only if you came to him after the tests. He knew he couldn't hurt you, but he was interested in learning more about why you needed a voice recorder and basically about you

He returned the recorder to you only after you told him that before you got to this strange place, you were hosting a podcast about various mysterious places. That's why you always carried a dictaphone with you. Danny listened carefully to what you were saying. In a sense, you were a journalist, just like him, and the new format seemed especially interesting to him

Danny was curious to know what had happened in the world since he found himself in the realm of fog and you could well be the one to tell him about it and more. He was interested in learning more about you, because you seemed to him a rather curious survivor. Or at least you could relieve his boredom

[missrosegold]

someone new

Synopsis: Post-war!AU. It’s the quite moments that Touya enjoys the most. Sometimes he still has a hard time believing they’re real. That you are real.

He has no problems allowing you to remind him of the latter.  

Word count: 16K

Paring: Dabi x Reader (fem!reader)

Warnings: Mentions of post surgical interventions, Touya has hints of survivors guilt and some suicidal idealization if you squint, Smut and additional warnings listed below and on A03 so Minors or Ageless Blogs please DNI. This is rated 18+

Playlist: Omar Apollo - Evergreen (You Didn't Deserve Me At All)

Authors notes: Written for @shibaraki Komorebi collab! Thanks for having me love! Hope you enjoy!

Title is from Someone New by Hozier

**You can read it on A03 here if the formatting on Tumblr is throwing you off! I cross-post all my works onto my A03 account!

Sometimes Touya wonders how he got here.

It’s a loaded question and he knows as much. He knows exactly where he is, and he’s painfully aware of the series of events that led him to this moment in time – but he often finds himself struggling to believe it.

A part of him doesn’t want to believe it – a gnarled, still-angry part of what remains of his soul is convinced that it’s all part of some elaborate dream – one that will fade away and leave him alone and bitter once more as soon as he opens his eyes.

He falls asleep again and again, trying to prove his theory, but every time he wakes back up, he’s still in the same place:

He wakes up in your sun-lit apartment, more often in your bed, with you – always close by, never too far away.

It’s where he is even now: nestled into the soft sheets of your—no, the bed you shared together, even though it’s pushing noon on a Tuesday. Despite his body screaming at him to move, he can’t bring himself to get up just yet.

It’s not like it matters if he stays in bed anyways, he doesn’t have anywhere to be. He doesn’t have his court mandated therapy appointment until Thursday, and it’s not like he has a nine to five job like most people do. Christ, he can’t even leave your apartment building without you or a Pro-hero escort with him. (Who, ninety-five percent of the time ends up being Shoto, since he’s about the only person who wants to deal with him these days aside from you, his mom, and sometimes Fuyumi and Natsuo.)

He rolls over slightly and listens for you, trying to hear the tell-tale tread of your footsteps echoing through the halls, or the sound of you humming a gentle melody under your breath as you do your menial chores around the apartment; before it finally occurs to him that it’s a weekday and you’re at work.

He stifles a groan as he finally pushes himself up, and makes his way towards the bathroom connected to the master bedroom, flicking on the light and shutting the door behind him.

That was his biggest problem these days: not wondering when his next meal would be. Not obsessing over ruining his father’s life as he had done his. Not charring himself past the point of no return as a means of exacting vengeance upon the world of Pro Hero’s that had long since turned their backs on him. No. That was all in the past.

For the first time in his life, it was boredom that was getting to him.

That was a joke if he ever fucking heard one.

Looking at himself now it’s hard to believe that he was once a homicidal serial killer, with a rap sheet several miles long.

He looks different now. He fights the urge to snort as he turns away from his reflection in your bathroom mirror while he goes about his business.

Like a snake that sheds it’s skin every couple of years, he’s changed his form once again; though this transformation wasn’t up to him. He had no choice in the matter; what happened to him after the war was decided for him. His opinions be damned. (Though, if he thinks about it, he didn’t really give All For One and his fucked up scientist permission to piece him back together after he incinerated himself up the first time. The irony almost makes him laugh.)

He forces himself to face his reflection in the mirror as he begins the painstaking task of his skincare routine – burning turquoise eyes staring a little too long at who looks back at him.

The worst of his burn scars are gone, though the shadow of them remains. His two-toned flesh has been concealed by pale, raised skin, but he can still see the lines in his face from his first Escharotomy – a reminder of Dabi; always lingering, never fully gone, even if he wears a different face.

The rest of his body is like that as well. No longer is he marred by wicked burn scars and surgical staples; he is one even skin tone now. He is complete by all accounts, even though he feels anything but whole. The skin grafts aren’t perfect – they’re textured and prone to drying out, and the skin around his eyes always looks bloodshot – but for the first time in years, when he looks in the mirror; the person staring back at him actually looks like Touya.

It's not a perfect visual, but it’s still closer than he ever thought possible.

Truth be told, he still has a difficult time looking at himself in the mirror. It’s jarring honestly. He’d gotten so used to seeing the horrific scarring on himself, that seeing his reflection without them makes him feel like he’s staring at someone new.

The skin grafts he received at some point after his barely responsive body was all but dragged off the battle field, still itch sometimes, but he knows it’s all in his head. He can’t feel anything. He hasn’t been able to feel anything since he was discharged from the hospital he been taken to after he collapsed.

His memories of that time are hazy – he had been doped up on heavy narcotics and other nerve blockers as he was subjected to surgery after surgery in a desperate attempt to fix his scorched body – so much so, that he doesn’t know how long he was out for, or how much time passed while he was in recovery.

He remembers Shoto coming to visit him shortly after waking up from the worst of his many surgeries, and explaining that while the doctors had been able to successfully graft new skin onto him, (how his mangled body had been able to withstand another set of skin grafts was beyond him), they hadn’t been able to fix his damaged nerve endings, and had opted to cauterize the few that still worked; leaving him completely numb to any and all feeling.

Truthfully, he hadn’t cared at the time, he hadn’t been able to feel much of anything for years before that, and the little he was still able to feel was nothing but chronic pain, so at the time he has seen the news as a blessing.

And then he met you.

Shortly after that, he found himself cursing the fact that he couldn’t feel anything at all.

-----

He remembers the first time he met you.

After he had been cleared to leave the hospital, he had been taken to a heavily fortified psychiatric ward, eerily similar to the med-bay in Tartarus: all sterile white walls and armed guards. His room hadn’t been much better: just a mid-sized white box with a cot and a small window for him to look out of, though there wasn’t much of a view outside. He had no idea where the fuck he was anyways.

There he had started his rehabilitation. 

It was hell. The first few months he spent there, he adamantly refused to speak to any of the doctors or physiatrists who came to work with him. Some were more persistent than others, poking their nose into his past (like he hadn’t just aired his dirty laundry out for all of Japan to witness), and those were the ones he got pissed off at the most.

In another life, Dabi would have had no qualms about turning the doctors to ash, just like he had done to everyone else who had annoyed him in the past, only; he wasn’t Dabi anymore. He wasn’t sure who he was now.

It didn’t help he had been hopped up on quirk blockers that canceled out his quirk, otherwise he probably still would’ve tried to incinerate them. But he couldn’t, and for the first time in his life, Touya Todoroki was fucking cold.

Turns out his quirk did a wonderful job of insulating him against the ice he kept hidden inside his chest all along.

He supposed he couldn’t blame them for rendering him quirkless while at the facility. Hell, he’d render himself quirkless if he was a staff member, having to deal with someone like him. Footage from the fight with his father and the all-out brawl with Shoto had been leaked to the public, showing his quirk’s true power in all of its devastating glory.

He had been told the aftermath of both fights had done irreversible damage to the surrounding areas, and no one was sure if they’d be able to fix the carnage he had created.

Good. The bitter, angry part of himself thought when he had been inadvertently told of the news. Suffer like I am.

He had been kept in isolation most of the time as the doctors tried to figure out what to do with him. His family hadn’t been allowed to visit him yet, and for that he was grateful – he hadn’t been particularly keen on seeing them after his recovery anyways. It was still too soon to face them, and he wasn’t ready to deal with the inevitable aftermath of what was to come. In the meantime, he still refused to respond to any of the medical staff who came to try and work with him, outside of sarcastic remarks and biting jabs that made the whitecoats squirm in their seats, much to his enjoyment.

Curiously, during one of the very few times he did speak to one of the doctors responsible for his treatment; he found himself asking about what happened to the rest of the League. Of course, no one would give him any answers aside from the fact they were alive and they were in custody.

He was more relieved than he thought he would be.

More time passed, and he still refused to open up to any of the staff who came to see him, though he had become more vocal with them – aggressively so – to the point he started to notice there was a continuous rotation of people now; it wasn’t just the same staff he was used to seeing when he first arrived at the facility.

Turns out, even the professionals were still scared of him – quirk or no quirk, his fiery reputation preceded him.

Eventually, the facility couldn’t keep cycling through their therapists, so they had switched tactics. Whether it was out of desperation, or the fact he made so many professionals break down after a session with him, he wasn’t sure, but he can’t say he regrets his actions, because in the end, he met you.

He remembers the day you met for the first time.

He had been forced out of his little cell and taken to one of the treatment rooms where he spent most of his time outside his own room. He had been shoved in there before he could make a snarky retort, and then… he saw you.

You had been sitting on the couch adjacent to the spot where he normally sat during his apptioments. He had been so stunned to see someone new, he’d been rendered silent. You’d looked up towards him, and for the first time since he arrived, you smiled at him.

“Hey.” You’d greeted him casually. He hadn’t responded, still unsure of who you were and what you were doing here instead of the usual staff.

You nodded to the couch across from you. “You wanna sit?”

He sat.

He fully expected you to introduce yourself, but you hadn’t. You’d just leaned back into the couch you were seated on and crossed your legs, giving him a content smile as you regarded him casually.

A few beats of silence passed. You didn’t speak and neither did he. A few minutes passed, then a half hour, and then an hour. Finally, one of the assistants came to bring him back to his room.

He stood up to go but you still didn’t say anything. He’d allowed himself to be taken back without a fuss but, he didn’t think anything more about it. The next day it was the same thing. He was taken out of his room back to the same treatment room, and surprisingly, you were already there waiting for him.

You gave him a little grin and nodded to the couch opposite you, and just like the last day, he sat.

Once again, you didn’t say anything, which was unusual, since all of the other doctors had always started off the conversation, but you sat in silence across from him – the gentle smile never leaving your face all the while.

A half hour of silence passed before he finally broke. “So, what exactly is this?” he remembers his voice sounding dry and scratchy after weeks of misuse. “This the part where you try and butter me so I’ll talk to you?”

You’d grinned at his remark. “No.”

“No? Then what the hell are you doing here? Is this some new technique the therapist’s showed you to try and get me to spill my guts to you? Reverse phycology or some shit?”

“Nope. None of that I can assure you. Actually, if I’m being honest, I’m not even a doctor.”

That caught his attention.

“The hell do you mean you’re not a doctor? How the are you in here then?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

He remembers being completely caught off guard by your answers, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the slightest bit intrigued by you. He remembers squinting at you carefully – taking you in – and for the first time, he saw you. Really saw you.

He could tell that you weren’t lying to him about not being a doctor. You were dressed casually, though you were still covering up a fair amount of skin – no doubt something they told you to do ahead of time. You looked more alive than the rest of the staff in this place as well.

He was loathed to admit it, but you were pretty.

He remembers you flashing him a knowing grin, clearly able to tell he’s been shamelessly checking you out, and it was enough to make him recede back into his shell; his walls going back up once more, as he rolled his eyes condescendingly at you.

“So what’s your angle then?” He’d asked you. “You’re not a doctor but you wouldn’t be in here with me if you didn’t want something from me.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I was simply here to talk?”

That had gotten a laugh out of him. A short breathless laugh, but it was the first one he’d uttered since he’d tried to incinerate himself along with his father. It felt weird leaving his throat, foreign even, and he’d cut himself off as soon as the sound exited his mouth. So, he settled for snickering instead.

“Really now? You want to talk to someone like me? Why do I not believe that?”

You had sighed, and leaned forward so your forearms were supported on your knees, fixing him with a stern gaze. The intensity of it had made him flinch before he remembered who he was. He returned the look best he could, but it hadn’t deterred you in the slightest. Instead, you sighed again.

“Look I’ll be honest with you: the staff here filled me in on your situation. I don’t know what they’ve told you, but from how it was explained to me; your family wants you back home with them. They’ve made a bunch of deals with the authorities about getting you out of here and not spending the rest of your life behind bars, but you have to successfully go through rehab first. The reason you’re here is so they can determine that you’re not a threat to society or to yourself, but the staff don’t seem to be having much luck getting through to you, and they’re desperate. They sent out a request to bring in outside help and I applied. They picked me because we’re the same age, and well… no one else really wanted to. Turns out most people are pretty scared of you.”

“Fucking figures. And you’re telling me you’re not?”

“Of you? No.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I’m not. I’m a little nervous maybe, but I’m not scared.”

That had made him pause. He’d swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling like it was packed with cotton.

“Why’s that?” he’d finally asked you after a moment.

You had gone quiet, seemingly mulling over his question before you finally responded: “I think you have a lot to say. More than you already have, and more then what people think. To be honest, I want to hear it.”

He had laughed again, but this time it sounded forced, even to him.

“If you watched my broadcast then you know it all already.”

“Oh, trust me, I think the whole world saw your broadcast, not just Japan. No one would shut up about it for weeks. But I think there’s a lot more to you. I think a part of you wants to talk to someone else – none of that scripted bullshit – and I want to talk to you. Honestly, I think you’re pretty fascinating.”

He had been very tempted as ask you if you had a thing for villains, but he held off.

“You must be crazy if you find talking to me enjoyable. The other quacks can’t even stomach me, let alone stand to be in the same room as me for more than a few minutes. Just how fucked up are you really?”

You’d grinned and wiggled your eyebrows mischievously at him as you leaned back and spread your arms out along the back of the couch. “The only way you’re going to find that out is if you agree to talk to me. I don’t just give up all my secrets willingly you know.”

It was his turn to go quiet as he thought about your words over and over in his head, taunting him. He hadn’t been in any rush to leave the facility and go back to his old house, even if his mother and siblings were waiting for him. On the other hand, this was the most enjoyable conversation he’d had with anyone since coming to this white hellhole they called a hospital.

He figured maybe he would entertain you for a little while. If nothing else it would get you off his back.

You were lucky you were attractive.

The sound of your voice calling out his surname brought him back to the present.

“Mr. Todoroki?”

“… Fine.” He had finally relented. “We’ll see who you really are, and for fuck’s sake don’t call me that. I’m not my fucking father.”

“What do you want me to call you then?”

“D—” he stopped short. Was that his name any more? Did he get to call himself that after everything was said and done? It was the name he had given himself when Touya died all those years ago, but for some reason, saying it now just seemed wrong.

“…Touya.” He finally muttered. “Just Touya.”

You had smiled at him and for some stupid reason, it made his heartrate pick up. Just a little.

“Okay then. Touya it is. It’s nice to meet you.” You extended your left hand, and he had clumsily fumbled around for a moment before shaking your hand. As soon as your hands touched, and he felt the gentle pressure of your hand in his own, he was struck with the realization that this was the closest to human he’d felt in God knows how long. The other doctors that would come in and out of his cell treated him like he was some kind of feral animal, but you had extended your hand to him without any shred of fear or disgust. 

Once you’d both settled back into your respective couches, he’d shrugged.

“So, what now then?”

“Now we talk I guess.”

“About what?”

“I think that’s up to you. The people who brought me in here didn’t specify what we have to talk about, but I am supposed to tell you that I can’t talk to you about the UA students, politics, current or former hero’s, or the League.”

Fuck. It didn’t seem like he’d be getting any answers out of you regarding his former group either.

“…fine. Ask away, I guess.”

To his surprise, you shook your head. “Can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I’m the one doing all the asking, then we’re only going to talk about things from my perspective, which isn’t the point. The only way this is going to work is if you talk to me first.”

That’d had thrown him through a fucking loop. Ever since he had arrived at the ward, all the doctors had done is talk at him, hoping he’d respond eventually. You may not have been a doctor, but you made for a better conversation then any of them ever did.

“…Well… Where am I supposed to start?” he’d finally asked, feeling like an idiot. To his immense relief, you’d simply shrugged.

Wherever you want. From the beginning maybe? It might be easier that way.”

He remembered swallowing hard. “Alright… from the beginning then.”

He remembers pausing and looking up at you, taking you in. “What the hell is your name anyways?”

You told him with a smile, and that was how it started.

For the next year, you came to see him almost every day.

He was taken to the same room where you were always waiting for him without fail at the same time every day. Even though at that point, he’d rather choke than admit it; he began to look forward to your visits – finding that they gave him a reprieve from his mundane existence at the mental ward.

He knew the doctors were always listening and recording everything you talked about during the hour you were together, but he found he didn’t care as much as you managed to keep the meetings interesting.

True to your word, you wouldn’t talk to him about current political events, or any news related to heroes (he knew better then to ask anyways), but you were open to chatting with him about anything that he wished to talk about, even though conversations were often hard for him to start – but you were kind and patient with him, more so than anyone had ever been to him for the majority of his miserable life.

He found himself growing found of you, the little smiles you give him when he’d sit across from you, bringing a hidden grin to his own lips, though he was quick to push it down, never letting his passive façade drop for more the a few seconds, lest his supervising doctors notice and assume shit, as they tended to do.

You may not have been a licensed doctor, but you helped him more than any of the ones who worked at the medical ward did.

There was a gradual shift in your relationship as time passed. Around the six month mark he could feel it, and he was almost positive you could too.

Your conversations had become more fluid, more casual. You were relaxed as you could be around him, and he found himself opening up more and more to you without being prompted. Most times he liked to keep the conversation light, but every so often, he’d tell you bits and pieces about his childhood – before everything had gone to shit. He never bothered telling you about everything that happened after Sekoto; he didn’t want to tell you about the years he spent on the streets, or his time in All For One’s medical center with the other children turned Nomu’s, and to his immense relief, you never asked him to.

In return for his openness, you rewarded him with tidbits from your own life growing up. You didn’t name anyone specific (he couldn’t fault you on that one), but you’d tell him about your childhood and some of the adventures you’d had when you were young, well into your teen years.

He learned that you were born an only child to your parents, raised in a caring household. All the idealistic, quaint things that he had wished from his own family. He’d told you as much one day, prompting you to laugh softly.

“Not always.” You’d told him quietly. “I had my own pressure on me when I was growing up. My parents and I fought a lot. We rarely saw eye to eye – they didn’t agree with a lot of choices I made when I was younger, but it was okay aside from that.”

“Still sounds like your parents were better than mine.” He’d told you with a bitter smirk. “My dad’s an abusive asshole, and my mom—”

 It was then he realized that he struggled for words to properly describe her. Broken images from his fire fight with Endeavor had come back to him, and he remembered his mother’s fierce determination to try and cool him down – to save him – even as the heat was melting her flesh. She had thrown herself into the fray to try and stop him from ending it all without a second thought for her own safety. Up until very recently, he would’ve described his mother as weak and submissive, always bending to his father’s whims, even though he knew she didn’t have much of a choice back then, but now… that description didn’t seem to fit her anymore.

“—she used to be a doormat for dear old dad to walk over when I was a kid… but she’s changed. She’s a lot stronger than I remember her being.”

“I saw bits and pieces of your fight with… him.” You’d admitted quietly then. “I saw the aftermath. Your mom, your siblings… they all ran in to save you.”

He’d fallen quiet at that, not truly knowing what to say, but when he looked up again, you had offered him a gentle smile. “I’m sorry if this oversteps a boundary but… they never forgot about you Touya. Even if it felt like they did, they never stopped thinking about you.”

For once, he remembered being grateful that his tear ducts were permanently sealed shut, because he suddenly found himself in danger of crying. The tell-tale prickling behind his eyes caused his face to scrunch up as he pushed the thought of his mom and siblings down. He had quickly forced his expression to go back to neutral, and prayed that you hadn’t noticed the switch, but if you had, you didn’t comment on it – another thing he liked so much about you. 

Instead, you asked him something that caught him off guard.

“Have you seen them? Your family? Since you were placed here?”

“No. Didn’t think they were allowed to come here. Why?”

“I think… maybe you should let them come see you – your mom and siblings I mean. Not you know who. I don’t think you’d be doing yourself any favours.”

“Why?” He remembers pressing you. “Have you seen them?” You’d shook your head.

“No, I’ve never met them, but I think it might help if you sit down with them and actually talk to them one on one. You must be getting so bored just talking to me day in and day out.”

“No!” he remembers saying a little too quickly, causing another one of those knowing smirks to creep up your lips. “I—no, you’re fine. I like talking to you.”

“Do you not want to see them?” you had asked him seriously. “Is it too soon? I understand if you’re not ready. That’s a decision you have to make on your own. No one can make it for you.”

“… I’ll think about it.”

Because in truth: there were things he wanted to say to them, and conversations he wanted to have.

In the end, it was you who finally convinced him to let his family visit. They had been cleared to see him at the faculty a few months prior, but he had always declined a visit from them, not wanting to see them so soon, since the last time they were all together had resulted in him almost melting his mother, Fuyumi and Natsuo.

There had been strict rules set in place for his family’s visitations: only one person could see him at a time so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed. they weren’t allowed to talk about outside events with him, and finally, under no circumstance was Endeavor allowed anywhere near the faculty. He was fine with his mother and siblings coming to see him if they wished, but he didn’t want his father to be anywhere near him.

He wasn’t ready to see him again so soon. Even after his apologies. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready to see his father again.

Thankfully the faculty had minimal difficulty honoring his last wish, as it seemed that Enji didn’t want to be around him either – or maybe he was purposefully keeping his distance. Either way, the old bastard wasn’t around him, and he figured it was for the best.

Once again you had been right; seeing his family again had been as cathartic as it had been terrifying.

There had been tears (from his family – he still was unable to cry), and there had been a lot of long, overdue heart-to-heart conversations with them of things that should’ve been said long ago.

It had been hard to sit down and listen to each of his family members without feeling the intense urge to get up and run when the guilt became almost unbearable, but he had forced himself to sit through it all for their sakes (and even his own), and soon he found himself scheduling more visits with his family, as well as seeing you for your daily interactions.  

You never prompted him to tell you how his now daily visits with his family went, but he’d told you anyways – not what was discussed, that would stay with him – but he had told you about his favourite visit. Hilariously, it had been with Shoto; something he never thought he’d ever say.

He’d told you about how Shoto had brought him lunch from the outside the day before. It wasn’t anything special; just piping hot udon noodles with vegetables in pork broth. They had sat down in silence and eaten together, sharing a meal for the first time in their lives. Nothing had been discussed, and yet everything had been said.

It had been nice. Comfortable, even.

He remembered telling you with a soft smile on his face, and you had pointed it out, causing him to scoff and wave you off.

“It’s better food then the shit they feed me in this prison. Seriously, that was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

“Well, once you’re cleared to leave, I’m sure you’ll be able to eat all the udon you want with your brother.” You’d told him as you tucked your feet under you. He’d shrugged, brushing you off, but you were ever observant, and had called him out on it.

“Do you not want to go back to them once you’re able to leave this place?”

It was a simple question in theory, but it wasn’t easy to answer.

He’d shrugged again. “Don’t really know if I can. Not after everything. I won’t go back if he’s there.”

“I don’t think they’d push so hard for you to come back to them if he was.” You reasoned with him gently. “Where would you want to go, if not there?”

You and your questions. Most of the time they were harmless, but sometimes they really made him think. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had an answer for you at that point, and you had quickly switched the conversation topic.

At that point, he’d be lying if he said he was thinking about what he’d do once he was released. Truth be told he hadn’t thought about it much at all. To him, it felt like he’d be in the psychiatric ward for the foreseeable future. He had no real plans for what he’d do once he was out. Maybe he would go back to his old house with his family, or maybe he’d try staking out on his own since that was what he was used to, if he was even allowed to go off on his own. He wasn’t sure what he’d be able to do once he was let out – but he certainly wouldn’t be free, he knew that much.

Maybe he’d try and reconnect with the League – assuming that any of them were even allowed to be released from custody.

It still bothered him on some level that he had no idea about what happened to them after the dust had settled. He had been carted off the battle field before any of them, after his attempt at going nuclear failed, and had been in and out of the hospital and the physiatrist wing ever since.

When he had first arrived, he’d asked the staff about what had happened to the remainder of the League, but they hadn’t told him anything aside from the fact they were alive – but he wasn’t sure how much of that he believed.

The only one he’d really trusted in the whole building was you. He knew you weren’t allowed to talk to him about any villains or heroes, but maybe if he asked you discreetly, you’d be able to tell him something more than what the medical staff had. He didn’t want you to get in trouble, but the curiously was eating away at him. 

Finally, one day he risked it, and asked you if you knew anything about the fates of his former teammates.

You had paused after he’d voiced his question, and went quiet for a moment, seemingly debating on what you could say to him. For a moment you looked like you were almost about to tell him that you couldn’t say anything, but the look on his face must have been desperate enough that you cracked.

You had given the cameras in the room an unreadable look before sighing loudly. “I don’t know where they are exactly. I never looked into it, and it isn’t public knowledge anyways.” You told him gently. “What I do know is that they’re alive, and they’re in different treatment centers receiving help. I know they were beaten badly and some of your friends almost died – but as far as I know, they’re doing okay.”

You’d then sat straight back up on your chair and loudly proclaimed, “I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to say that much to him, right? Don’t take it out on him or me once we’re done here.”

It wasn’t the answer he was hoping for, but at least they were alive, and were in similar situations to him. It made him feel slightly less alone.

When the timer beeped shrilly, signaling that your hour was up, you had stood up to leave just as you always did, but before you could say goodbye to him, he’d quickly lunged forward and grabbed your hand, incasing it with his large cold one.

You’d stared at him in shock, as he’d never made a move to touch you once in the six months, you’d been visiting him, but before any of the guards could rush in and pull him off, he’d let your hand drop, but not before muttering a quiet “thank you” under his breath to you, before backing off and allowing the armed guard to escort you out of the room.

He distinctly remembers feeling the pressure of your small hand in his own, but he hadn’t been able to feel anything else aside from that. He hated it. He suddenly found himself hating that all of the nerves in his body had been severed, rendering him unable to feel anything. He couldn’t feel the texture of your skin against his own, or if your hands were cool or warm like his.

He was forced to admit to himself that for the first time since he’d left the hospital; he wanted to feel something again.

He wanted to feel you. But he couldn’t, and it aggravated him more than anything.

There was another thing he remembered distinctly about that day as you were leaving him behind: For the first time since you had started your daily interactions with him; you had looked back.

You had looked at him like you were seeing him in a different light.

He didn’t see you for a few weeks after that. When he had been pulled from his cell, and into the room where you usually met him, he was instead greeted by several doctors that had overseen his treatment when he first arrived.

He had asked them where you were, and when they refused to answer his question, he had immediately become hostile and threatening. The walls that were slowly starting to lower since he first met you went straight back up, and Touya turned into Dabi once more.

For the first time in roughly seven months, he lashed out (quirk be damned), and was immediately taken back to his room and put on lockdown. He wasn’t allowed visitors, and the only times he was allowed to leave his cell was to go back to the same room with the same doctors who poked and prodded him – asking him increasingly invasive questions, until he shut his mouth and refused to speak to them once more. One last act of defiance on his end since he still didn’t have use of his quirk.

When it had become apparent to the doctors and specialists that he refused to speak to any of them, they stopped taking him out altogether. He spent countless hours staring out the tiny window in his room, basking in the weak sunlight and taking in the menial views he could see from his window.

He had wondered where you had gone; if you had been forcefully sent away after he had asked about the League. He hoped that wasn’t the case – he liked you, probably more then he should if he was honest with himself – and you were just about the only person he could actually carry on a conversation with in this shitty place.

A few more weeks in solitary had him about to snap. He had reached a point where he was about to try and strike a deal with the overseeing doctors about bringing you back if he answered their shitty questions, when one of the armed guards opened up his door and guested for him to follow.

Once again, he had been taken back to the same observation room, but to his pleasant surprise; you were there waiting for him.

You had beamed at him and before he could think about what he was doing, he had crossed the room towards you in three long strides until he was standing directly in front of you. He had begun to lift his hand up towards you, only for his action to halted by a curt bark from the guard who was still standing at the door. You had shaken your head, motioning to the guard you were fine and sent him on his way. As soon as the door had closed, he rounded on you.

“You left.”

You had nodded, a small, sad smile on your lips. “I did, yes. Not really by choice though.”

“Why did you go?”

You’d barked out a laugh. “I’ll be honest, the supervisors weren’t too happy with me when I told you about the League. I broke one of their rules, so they told me I had to go for a bit.”

He’d narrowed his eyes, confused. “But now you’re back.”

You’d given him a slight smirk. You turned to sit down on your usual spot on the couch, but this time, instead of having him sit across from you, you’d gestured for him to sit beside you, which he’d done so embarrassingly fast.

“You’re very stubborn.” You’d told him with a light laugh. “From what I was told, you refused to talk to anyone after I left – heard you got downright nasty with some of the staff, and they put you on probation. They called me a few days ago almost begging me to come back. Guess they felt you made the most progress when you were talking to me.”

You’d given him a look that was hard for him to read. “Why did you snap at them?”

He figured there was no point in lying to you – you’d find out somehow. “Didn’t know where you went. Fuckers wouldn’t tell me, and they kept prying into my shit. Didn’t want to talk to them so they put me in solitary.”

He remembers you looking sad at his answer. “I heard you were in there for several weeks. I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to happen to you. Not on my account. I didn’t… I don’t want to be the reason your release got delayed.”

For some reason, it bothered him that you blamed yourself for what happened, and he reached out to gently take hold of your wrist. To his surprise, you hadn’t stopped him, or made any move to pull your hand away from his, so he allowed himself to rub circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, even though he couldn’t feel it.

“Not your fault. Don’t worry about when I’m getting out. It’s not like it really matters anyways.”

“Do you know why they were pushing you so much?” you’d asked quietly, still not making any more to remove yourself from his hold. He’d shook his head and you’d simply leaned into him, damn near making him freeze up in surprise at your boldness.

“They told me that they’re planning on releasing you soon – with restrictions of course – but they were thinking that you’d be able to leave here sooner than expected. That was before your outburst, but if you’re willing to just hear them out and answer their questions, it’ll help speed up the process.”

“They seriously think that I’m fit to send out into society again?” he remembers scoffing, hardly believing what he was hearing. “Pretty sure the majority of them think I’m an irredeemable sociopath.”

“They’ve seen the way you act around me and your interactions with your family. You’re not perfect, but you’re trying, and sometimes that’s all you can do.”

“You do realize I have killed people, right? I’ve maimed countless others. They’re… not exactly wrong about me.”

Surprisingly, you’d simply rolled your eyes at his statement, acting like he’d just told you the sky was blue. “Of course I know that Touya. I’m not overlooking what you did. But they—your family – are fighting hard to try and get you another chance, a fresh start. They think you deserve it, and they’re out there right now, day and night, trying to convince others that you deserve a second chance too.”

You had twisted your hand in his so your palms were kissing, fingers laced together, and he could feel his heart pounding in his ears as you gave him that damn smile of yours.

“You’re right: the past never dies, but that doesn’t mean that it has to be your future as well.”

That simple statement had stunned him. For the first time in a long time, he hadn’t had anything to say in response to you.

He remembers fighting an internal battle in himself, trying to find something to say to rebuttal what you were telling him. A part of him understood why his family was fighting for his uncertain future outside the psychiatric ward, but on the other hand… he didn’t necessarily believe that he deserved it.

What kind of life would he be able to have even if he was allowed to be released? He had never planned on living this long, as morbid as that was. His original goal had been to go out in a fiery hell-blaze with his bastard of a father, but clearly that hadn’t happened. He was known a global terrorist, the right-hand to the symbol of fear. His quirk was legendary for all the wrong reasons. How could he possibly be allowed to live on the outside? There was no way the rest of Japan wanted him released, let alone wandering around. What kind of future could he possibly be allowed to dream about? Did he even dare to think about it? He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about what he might do if he was ever allowed out of the ward from time to time, but now that his impending release seemed like more of a possibility; he was starting to think maybe it was better for everyone – and maybe even himself – if he stayed locked away.

Thankfully, you and your perspective nature had picked up his internal struggle. You’d leaned into him and taken his hand in both of your own, allowing him to breathe again.

“What do you want Touya?”

What did he want? Christ he wasn’t sure.

“I… don’t know. Honestly: I never planned on living this long from the get go. Everything has always been decided for me. I kinda figured that this would be the same.” He had admitted quietly, the gentle pressure of your hands on his own, grounding his rapid thoughts.

“Do you think you’re ready to leave soon?” You’d asked him gently, prompting him to laugh, a bitter, ugly thing, but you hadn’t flinched.

“No.” he’d admitted after a moment, scrunching up his nose. “Dunno if there’s much of a point. I’ll never be free. No matter where I go, I’ll always be a prisoner. What kind of life could I even have outside of here? I don’t know how to live any other way aside from how I’ve been living since I escaped that damn—” he’d cut himself off last minute, reminding himself that you didn’t know about All For One’s hellish medical facility he had woken up in, and he had no plans on telling you about that.

“I just…” he remembered breathing out hard through his nose as he tried to collect his thoughts, focusing on the faint heat he swore he could feel emanating off your hands and leaching into his cold skin. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if they decide to let me out. Dunno if I can go back to the old house after everything that happened, and I’m not sure if I could bring myself to live with my mom or my siblings after… well, you saw bits of what happened on TV already.”

He hadn’t needed to say it for you to know that he felt a tremendous amount of guilt towards his mother and siblings – especially Fuyumi and Natsuo – for nearly charring them in the heat of battle. He may have held onto so much resentment and anger towards his family for his mistreatment as a child, but he was also self-aware enough to know that it hadn’t been their faults, and they had tried to help him in the only ways they knew how.

You had been quiet as you let him vent to you. You hadn’t said anything for a while afterwards as you mulled over what he’d told you. Finally, you had nudged his shoulder with your own.

“I think that everything you just told me is proof enough that you deserve a chance to have a life outside of these walls.” You admitted. “What you said isn’t something an ‘irredeemable sociopath’ would say. That’s something a self-aware person says. You’re not perfect Touya, but Christ if you’re not trying. I can see it, your mom, sister and brothers see it, and I think a lot of your other doctors are starting to see it too. I think there’s a point, even if you don’t think there is.”

In that moment he’d been convinced that if he could cry, he would’ve been.

“Yeah? Well, thank you sweetheart.” He’d muttered into your hair, fighting hard with himself to try and keep his voice steady. “I have no fucking idea why you’re so nice to me, but it’s… yeah.”

“I think someone needs to treat you like a normal human being, because I don’t think anyone did for a long time.” You’d looked up at him pointedly, but he’d seen traces of something else in your eyes when you’d asked him, “Did they?”

A simple flat look from him had been answer enough for you, and prompted you to squeeze his hand. “Didn’t think so.”

You’d both lapsed into a comfortable silence aside from the steady ticking of the clock, and he’d known without looking up that your time with him was coming to an end. Now, he was dreading it more then he normally would’ve been. You’d spoken up again, but what came out of your mouth next, had shocked him.

“When you’re released… If you’re still unsure of where you want to go afterwards… I could… if you can clear it with the people overseeing your progress once you’re cleared to leave… Maybe… you could come stay with me.”

He remembered staring down at you, shocked. “Is that even allowed?”

You’d shrugged in response. “I’m not sure. I think you’re going to have to initially stay with your family for a while, but if you’re really having a difficult time staying there… maybe I could work something out with your family, as long as it’s approved. It’ll probably take a while, but I can try.”

He had a difficult time allowing what you were implying to sink in. How? How could you be so trusting? To even suggest the idea of someone like him staying with you? Forget if it was even possible or not, the fact you’d even offered in the first place was mind-blowing. Before he could think about what he was saying, he’d voiced his thoughts to you:

“I’m sure your parents would be thrilled, you bringing a villain back to your home.”

You’d simply given him a small smile. “I’m sure they wouldn’t like it… if they were around that is.”

“Oh. They not in the country, or—”

“We’ll go with that.”

Ah. Seemed like he wasn’t the only one with secrets. That was fair, you were allowed to have your own. He wouldn’t pry.

“Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t know.”

You’d both fallen back into the same silence from before. You were still leaning on him, his hand trapped in your smaller one, yet he’d made no move to remove it from your grasp. Honestly, he was shocked the guards from before hadn’t barged into the room and forced him away from you. The close proximity must have been violating a rule of some kind, and yet no one had made any move to separate the two of you, Maybe the medical staff really had been as desperate as you’d claimed, and were willing to let some things slide. Either way, he wasn’t complaining.

“You’re a lot colder than I thought you’d be… with your quirk being what it is and all.”

He’d glanced down at you, only to see you staring down at your intertwined hands. You’d squeezed the appendage again, prompting him to respond.

“It’s the quirk suppressors. Haven’t been able to use my quirk since before I got here. The quacks made it so I’m hopped up on suppressors around the clock, just in case. Turns out I’m pretty fucking cold without my flames. Must be from the ice side, but I can’t use that either.”

“Well, maybe if you keep being nice, you won’t have to be on them indefinitely.” You had tried to give him a hopeful smile, but he knew what the likelihood of that happening was, and you must have too, since you didn’t say anything else on the matter.

The timer had sounded then, signaling the visit was over. Before the guard could come to collect you, he’d quickly pulled his arm out of your grasp, and had wrapped it around you tightly, much to your initial surprise. He’d begrudgingly let you go so he could help you stand, sending the guard at the door a pointed look as he’d seen him casting an unsure look between himself and you. You hadn’t been the least bit bothered by the anxious glances the guard was trying to send you as you stood slowly and sent him one of your little smiles he’d come to expect from you.

“You’re coming back?” he’d blurted out before he could stop himself.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time.” You’d told him confidently as you’d turned to leave, brushing your knuckles against his. “Don’t worry Touya. I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time since someone had promised him anything in a very long time, he’d believed you.

In the end, you’d kept your promise.

It had taken close to another year before he was allowed to leave the psychiatric facility (some minor setbacks had pushed his initial release date back), but you had come to see him almost every day at the same time.

Over that time, you’d grown exceptionally close to each other, even more so from when you’d first started visiting him initially. It was almost impossible for him not to grow attached to you – you were his constant source of company, his companion. You were the one person he could tell anything to and not have to worry about being scrutinized for his thoughts. You were his safe space – something he’d never thought he’d ever say about someone else – and once he’d worked out how he saw you; it had been game over. He’d fallen for you fast and hard before he’d realized it, and by the time he did, it’d had been too late. He was hopelessly and utterly drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

Surprisingly, you’d felt the same as him.

You’d openly admitted it to him one day near the end of his stay at the ward – even at the cost of possibly being prevented from seeing him again, since both of you knew you were crossing boundaries you hadn’t been meant to cross. He’d warned you as such, heart pounding in his ears at your confession, but you’d told him that he’d deserved to know with a simple shrug.

“Besides; if you keep up the good behavior and don’t have any more outbursts, you’ll be out before the end of the year anyways. Even if they don’t let me back after this – you can find me on the outside.” You’d told him matter-of-factly, boldly taking his hand in your own, before sending a shit-eating grin to the cameras set up around the room – knowing the doctors were monitoring every move.

He'd been certain that he could’ve kissed you right there and then.

Surprisingly, the medical staff had allowed you to continue coming back, even though it was apparent both of you cared for each other in ways that crossed professional boundaries. As much as the doctors were against how close the two of you had become, they couldn’t deny how far he had progressed since meeting you. He had gone from being the bitter, angry husk of a man, to someone who was still, and would always be forever scorned by the past, but overall, in a better place mentally.

Not too long after he’d sorted out his own feelings for you, he’d made you a surprising request:

He wanted you to meet his mother and siblings.

The meet up had taken almost a month of careful planning on the medical staff’s end, and had initially been met with some hesitation on both sides, but eventually you had agreed to it, and you’d sat down with him and the members of his family who he kept in contact with.

His father hadn’t been invited for obvious reasons.

The medical staff had allowed him out of his normal room so he could meet with you and his mother and siblings in one of the spacious sitting rooms normally reserved for guests. A row of floor to ceiling windows lined the far wall, allowing him to get a view of the outside gardens. He remembered the outside weather was slightly overcast that day but warm rays of sunshine would occasionally stream through the gray clouds, as you and his family slowly met with one another under his watchful gaze.

His mother had taken to you almost immediately, as well as Natsuo – both seemingly happy he’d bonded with someone who was relatively normal – Fuyumi and Shoto had taken a little more convincing. Shoto was more curious of you, while Fuyumi had been downright distrustful. She’d asked you right off the bat what your intensions were with him, but he’d seen right through her: she was concerned that you were somehow affiliated with the now disbanded League, or maybe even the Paranormal Liberation Front.

Thankfully, you weren’t so easily put off by her upfront questioning. You had been calm, almost amused, as you answered her questions; reassuring her that you were in no way affiliated with any criminal organizations, and how you were someone who’d been presented with an opportunity to help with his rehabilitation, and had taken a leap of faith when no one else would.

“Why though?” he remembered his sister pressing you. “Why would you want to help him even after knowing everything he’s done?”

You and him had shared a look then, and he’d known what you were thinking before you said anything.

“I guess I wanted to understand why things went so wrong.” You’d told her honestly, your shoulder brushing with his as you spoke. “I wanted to get his side of the story – the unscripted one. When the chance to talk to him in person came up, I took it. Everyone deserves to have their story told, and I wanted to hear his.”

“You’re a lot closer than just a support person to him.” Fuyumi had countered, making him bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from snapping at her to back off with her invasive questioning, knowing that he’d only land himself in trouble with the medical staff overseeing their visit if he had any outbursts.

To your credit, you’d simply shrugged, totally unbothered by her statement. “Yeah, well, that tends to happen when you see someone basically every day for over a year. Same time, same place. For as clueless as he is at normal relationships, your brother can be pretty charming when he wants to be.”

He’d been pretty sure the only reason you were outright lying to his sister was to try and make him look better in her eyes, but he almost hadn’t been able to stop the laugh that threatened to escape past his lips. Almost.

His sister had almost deflated then. Whether it was from disappointment in being unable to shake you, or relief, she’d simply nodded; finally accepting your answers.

“Well… if he’s happy… then that’s all any of us really need, I guess.”

The rest of the visitation had gone incredibly well, not that he was complaining. Plans for future meetings had been put in place, and from there, you and him had gotten into a semi-regular routine of seeing his mother and siblings, or whoever was available to come.

He never wanted to admit it to you, but the visitations you helped arrange with his family made his transition from the psychiatric hospital to his eventually moving into his mother’s new house after he’d been cleared for release, far smoother than he thought it would’ve been.

Eventually though, he was proven right about his earlier assumptions on living with his family – or rather – his mother and his siblings, again after so long:

He couldn’t do it. It felt almost wrong.

He’d felt like a ghost, wandering up and down the halls, looking at the pictures that lined the hallways of his mother’s house; comprised largely of his younger siblings. He’d watched as they had slowly grown up in each one, filling him with sense of melancholy.  

He’d missed the opportunity to watch them grow up. They’d done that without him. That was time he couldn’t get back – memories that weren’t there.

He’d felt isolated, and no amount of comfort or reassurance from his mother could change that deep-rooted feeling in him. Not even Natsuo’s constant presence in the home made him feel better, much to his younger brother’s disappointment, though thankfully he understood. 

He’d lasted two months before he’d finally cracked and called your number which you’d given him immediately after he was released. You’d both stayed in contact, texting every day (under strict monetization from police tech sectors), but you hadn’t been able to see him in person since he’d gotten out, as you’d both agreed that it would be better if he focused on trying to settle into his new home. He’d missed you terribly during that period – not used to not seeing you for such a long period of time.

He'd called you in the dead of night, and asked if your offer to have him come stay with you was still open. From there, you’d gotten in contact with the authorities in charge of his release to try and gain permission for him to come live with you, while he had the difficult task of trying to explain to his family why he couldn’t stay with them any longer than he’d already had.

As expected, you’d been met with resistance on both sides, but eventually his overseers had come to an agreement: he would be allowed to live with you, but he always had to have a tracking monitor on at all times, he had to be on constant quirk suppressors, he couldn’t leave your building without you and a Pro hero escort of some kind, and finally, he had to attend mandatory therapy sessions at least once a week, as well as call his probation officer weekly and give them updates about what he was doing. If he failed to meet any of the rules set out for him; he’d earn himself a one-way ticket to Tartarus, no questions asked.

As much as he’d wanted to argue some of what they wanted from him, he’d agreed to their stipulations, knowing full-well unless he agreed to their terms, he’d be stuck at his mother’s for the rest of his life, and while he didn’t hate living with her and his siblings, it was too awkward for him to try and face them every day, knowing his past atrocities towards the rest of the country and even them, would continue to haunt him for the rest of his days.

He couldn’t pretend that he was still the same person he was when he’d burned up at the tender age of thirteen. He was different, older, harder. Things would never be able to go back to what they’d once been, and honestly: he didn’t want them to. He couldn’t go back to living with them after such a long time apart, because he had no idea how to co-exist with them normally.

Thankfully, as much as he knew it hurt his mother to hear him express his innermost thoughts, she seemed to understand how he felt the most, and had simply told him that he was always welcome in her home, and she still wanted him to come stay with her from time to time.

“You’re my son Touya. No matter how old you get or no matter what you do, you’ll always be my baby.” She’d told him gently just before he’d left her house, wrapping him into a tight hug.

Sometimes he found himself grateful he couldn’t cry anymore. He’d just wished this side of his mother had been more prominent over ten years ago. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently if it had.

He’d seen you then for the first time in several months when you’d come to pick him up. He’d managed to keep himself calm while you spoke to his mother, but secretly he was elated to see you again after months apart. His excitement over seeing you again had probably shown on his face, since you’d made it a point to keep yourself close to him as his brothers had moved his important possessions into your car.

It was as you were talking to his mother; he’d learned that you had moved to a new apartment building some weeks ago, following the news that one of Japan’s former most wanted was coming to stay with you. Naturally, the people in your old building hadn’t been pleased, so you’d forced to switch buildings to an apartment located near several hero agencies, where the residents hadn’t been as concerned about an ex-super villain moving in, due to the multitude of patrolling heroes in the area. The change had been frustrating for you, but it was the only way he’d be able to stay with you without anyone kicking up too much of a fuss.

Eventually you’d both been on your way back to your apartment with Shoto in tow to help with moving his things into your apartment. Your new place wasn’t massive, but it had two bedrooms and a decently sized living room and kitchen. Shoto had helped him set his things up in the spare bedroom before departing, but not before giving you his number with instructions to call him if you ever needed help.

As soon as the door had shut, he’d been on you.

He’d slammed you up against the door, causing a started yelp to escape your lips, as he grinned down at you wolfishly.

“What’s the matter sweetheart? Nervous? It’s not like we haven’t been this close before.”

You’d turned beet red as you shyly traced your fingers up his chest. “No, but we certainly haven’t done this.”

He’d grinned as he dipped his head down so you and him were eye to eye. “Tell me no then. Tell me you don’t want this, that you don’t feel the same as me.”

He’d listened to your breath hitch, watching with delight as the flush deepened on your cheeks. “You wanted me to talk right? To be open with you about how I’m feeling? Well, I want you, and I think you want me too.”  

You’d looked up at him through your lashes, reaching up to lace your hand around his neck. “I do.” You’d told him gently, and your simple admission had made up his mind.

“Fuck.” He’d muttered, just before he’d dipped down and captured your lips with his.

The effect had been instantiations. His lips molded with yours, breathing in your air, as his hand cupped your cheek, long fingers curling around the back of your neck to keep you close to him.

You’d slowly peeled yourself off the door and grabbed at the collar of his shirt, pulling him with you further into the apartment, and into your bedroom. You’d managed to slam your door shut, just before he’d pushed you onto your bed – his lips never leaving yours as he pressed you further into the mattress.

He couldn’t keep his hands off you as you helped him take your clothes off. He could touch you, really touch you the way he’d wanted to for so long now. Nothing was there to hold him back, no cameras, no guards, no medical staff dictating his every move. It was just you and him.

He’d almost froze when he’d seen you’d laid out bare beneath him, soft and glowing against the pale sunshine streaming in from your bedroom window, warming your frame. You’d beamed up at him, tracing your hands up his arms.

“You can touch me.” You’d told him gently. “I trust you. Just be gentle.”

Gentle. Now that was a word he was certain he didn’t have in his vocabulary – but for you, he’d try.

He’d traced your curves gently, listening intently as your breath hitched, or how a small moan would escape past your lips when he touched a particularly sensitive area. Finally, you’d reached up to tug at the hem of his shirt, but he’d grabbed at your hands, making you pause.

“It’s not… I’m not… the scars… aren’t much better under there.” He’d tried to warn you. You’d given him a gentle smile, cupping his cheeks with your hands.

“I don’t mind Touya. You know I don’t care about all that.” You’d smoothed your thumbs over the raised skin of his face. “I love you for you. Regardless of what you look like.”

Love. You… you loved him, didn’t you? Even after everything he’d done while he was an active criminal – you’d somehow grown to love him, while most of the world hated him.

He didn’t necessarily think he was deserving of your love, but hell if he was ever going to point that out to you. He’d almost been tempted to ask you if you were a little bit crazy yourself, but you’d even told him when you had first met that he’d have to find that out for himself.

Maybe you were – just a little bit – but that suited him fine.

A normal girl would never have been able to handle him anyways.

He’d allowed you to help him out of his clothes then, and to your credit, you hadn’t batted an eye at the less than perfect skin covering his body. He may not have been held together by surgical staples anymore, and his body may not have been a mess of burnt patchwork skin like it used to be, but the new skin grafts were raised and patchy – never fully settling properly. It wasn’t often that he got self-conscience about how he looked, but you were different.

You had run your hands up and down the length of his body and marveled him like he was some work of art. He didn’t think he was, but you clearly saw him differently. You’d kissed his marred skin, and if he’d been able to cry, he would have.

You had pulled him down onto your bed and climbed on top of him, much to his surprise. He’d tried to prop himself up, only for you to gently push him back down onto your mattress, giving him a knowing smile all the while.

“Let me take care of you.” You’d whispered to him softly. “We’ll go slow. Gentle. It’s just me and you now.”

It wasn’t like he’d never fucked someone before, but it had been a while, and it was just that: he’d fucked, never loved. He wasn’t sure if he knew any other way when it came to sex, but he knew that he didn’t want to be rough with you like he’d been with his past flings, and so he had relinquished control to you.

He had allowed himself to relax into the mattress as you’d hovered above him, lining him up with your entrance. He was already painfully hard, his body reacting to yours as soon as he’d kissed you. You’d bent down to kiss his throat, relishing how he’d let out a shuddering breath as you’d sunk down onto him. He’d cursed as your tight heat had enveloped him, leaving him boneless and shaking.

He’d brought your face down to his to kiss you as you started moving, moaning as you slowly moved up and down on his shaft. You’d knocked the breath out of his lungs as you whimpered against his lips, still moving your hips against his own.

“Shit.” He’d growled as he’d reached up to wrap an arm around your hips. “Fuck baby. You feel so good. You’re so good for me.”

“You feel so good.” You’d sobbed. “I want you – want to make you feel good.”

“You do. Fuck you do. I want you. I need you.” He’d grunted as he planted his feet into your bed, pistoning his hips up into your body.

“Fuck.” You’d cried out, as you continued to bounce on his cock. “Touya!”

“I’m here. Fuck I’m here, with you. I love you.”

He’d remembered your eyes blowing wide at his confession, just before your body had stiffened up, and your mouth had opened up into a silent scream, as your orgasm had ripped through you – your end triggering his own.

You’d both stayed there for a moment, trying to regain your breath, before you’d slowly separated yourself from him. He hadn’t let you go far – pulling you down to lay beside him, and wrapping himself around you as you nestled into the broad expanse of his chest.

“Stay.” He had rasped as he held you close to him, curling around your smaller frame protectively. He’d known what he was saying was nonsensical – he was in your apartment, you weren’t going anywhere, not really – but thankfully, you seemed to understand what he was trying to say without him outright telling you. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere Touya.” You’d breathed, placing a kiss on the side of his temple. “You’re home now. With me.”

That simple sentence had brought him more comfort than he’d experienced in recent memory. He’d passed out sometime after with you still nude and curled into him, sharing in his warmth.

That had been the best sleep he’d had in years.

After that, he’d fallen into a steady routine of normalcy with you. You’d go to work, while he’d keep himself entertained during the day. Normally, he’d open up the windows in your living room and perch himself on the couch near them, soaking up the feeling of gentle sunbeams on his face, and watching the outside world go by as he waited for you to return later in the evening. You had set up therapy appointments for him every Thursday, and either you or Shoto would take him depending on your schedules. Life settled down, and the outside world continued on around him, even though his world now consisted of your apartment and what he could see outside from your windows.

It wasn’t a coincidence that three pro heroes moved into the building roughly a month after he had moved the last of his menial things into your apartment.

He couldn’t say that he was surprised by the less then subtle way the newly reformed hero commission chose to keep an annoyingly close watch on him, but he was still allowed some freedoms with you, so he figured he could keep his jabs to himself for the time being. 

All and all, life with you was simple easy. For the first time in his life, he could say he was appreciating the little things he never could’ve before his life had turned into a living hell.

For the first time in a very long time, he had hope – something he’d never allowed himself to have before, because what had been the point? He had fully planned on taking himself out in the final fight against Endeavor… but life was strange, and it turned out that it had different plans for him.

While he couldn’t be sure what those plans were yet, they had brought you to him, and that was enough.

He had you, and in the end, that’s all that really mattered—

-----

The sound of one of his skin care products hitting the floor snaps him out of his reprieve. He blinks, and once again, he is standing in your bathroom with the sink running, halfway through the skin maintenance routine that you forced on him once he came to live with you. 

He swears under his breath as he bends down to retrieve the plastic tube with his right arm, only to freeze as he suddenly remembers:

His right arm is gone. He tore it clean off in the brawl against his dad.

He finds it surprising how often he forgets he doesn’t have both his hands anymore. Half the time he swears that his right arm is still intact because he can feel the damn thing, only to look down and see it’s still gone from mid bicep down. You once called it a ‘phantom limb’ and he thinks you might be onto something with how often he’ll go to do something with his right, only to remind himself the arm doesn’t exist anymore.

It doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. Natsuo had offered to set him up an appointment to get him fitted for a prosthetic, but he hadn’t made up his mind on it yet – finding most things pretty manageable even with the lack of his right arm – but he does have days where he wishes he had all of his limbs, and there are certain tasks were having two hands would be more useful than one.

His extensive skin care routine is one of those tasks.

Hilariously, it was one of the conditions of him coming to stay with you initially: for the first time in his life, he was being forced to look after himself.

He had protested initially when you had come back home one day with a plethora of different specialty products for sensitive skin – not seeing the point – but you had insisted that he use them to take care of the newer skin grafts, telling him that if he wanted to continue to stay with you, he’d have to start properly taking care of himself, or you would do it for him.

He had begrudgingly accepted, and he gradually incorporated it into his daily routine. Realistically, he knew he didn’t have much to complain about: he didn’t have many responsibilities as it was, and you had promised him if he kept up with it, you wouldn’t tell his parole officer that you weren’t forcing him take his quirk suppressor medication – one of the conditions of his release.

He grins inwardly to himself as he turns the sink off and pats his face dry. You hadn’t seen the need to enforce that particular rule, seeing how you were quite confident he wasn’t going to burn down your apartment building, and he didn’t have any plans to – lest he be forced to return back to his mother’s home.

Besides, after spending over a year feeling unnaturally cold without his quirk, he was in no rush to return to the weak, powerless state the psychiatric ward had left him in. Even if he couldn’t use his quirk to it’s full, destructive potential like he used to, just knowing that he still had use of his quirk intact was a comfort to him.

He makes his way out of the bathroom, flicking the light off behind him and, pads over to his side of your shared closet, stripping out of his sleep clothes and pulling on a loose shirt and baggy sweats, before heading out into the small living room.

If his younger self could see how he lives now, he’s sure he would’ve turned his nose up in disgust before calling him a sell-out, and a gnarled part of him still thinks that to some level, however; when he thinks back to how he used to live on the streets for close to a decade, he’ll take the easy, comfy life-style you allow him to live in your home in a heart-beat.

He used to wonder about where he would get his next meal – now his biggest inconvenience is that he’s bored whenever you’re not at home. How the times change.

He turns on the T.V. and sets it to a low volume as he moves into the kitchen and opens the fridge, pulling out a few miscellaneous items and setting them on the counter, before getting to work on prepping the food.

He doesn’t eat much, even now his metabolism is still messed up from the years of cumulative damage his body sustained, but he found himself making food for you when he first moved into your apartment as a way to keep himself occupied while you were at work. Most of his cooking attempts consist of cup noodles, and whatever else was easy to make, but every once in a while, he’d put a bit more effort into what he made, so long as you had the ingredients for it.

He curses to himself as he painstakingly prepares an easy meal of miso soup and yaki, his lack of a right arm slowing down his progress. Eventually he finishes his meal prep and puts his creation away as he waits for you to come home, moving to his usual spot by the window on your living room couch, before sitting down and indulging in some mindless reality T.V. show.

He watches the show absentmindedly, barely paying attention to what’s playing on the screen as he basks in the warm sunlight streaming in from outside. He glances over to his left to see his reflection staring back at him from a hanging mirror across the room, and has to fight the urge to flinch at what’s staring back at him.

Even after all of the love and tenderness you allowed him to experience while living with you, he still looked rough, and there were days where he felt it more than others. He may not have been able to feel pain in the normal sense, but his body aches constantly and there are additional issues he deals with daily. 

He’s painfully aware that he probably doesn’t have a lot of time on the earth. He’s in his late twenties, too damn early to be faced with his own mortality, but he knows there’s no use in trying to dance around the subject. With his body being what it is, he’d be surprised if he made it to fifty, but he knows better than to voice that out loud. The one-time he had confessed his inner thoughts to you, you had damn near burst into tears, and he found that he couldn’t stand to see you like that, so he keeps his morbid thoughts to himself.

The sound of the apartment door opening snaps him out of his depressing reprieve. He looks up, only to see you closing the door to the apartment, hanging your keys up and kicking your shoes off.  He gets up off the couch and pads over to you, greeting you with a little smile.

“You’re home early.”

You turn around to face him, smiling. “Yeah, I finished early today. Figured I’d come back and see what you were up to.”

He snorts as he takes your bag from you, setting it down on the small bench you had set up near your front door. “Not much, you know that. S’not like I can leave the building without you or Shoto escorting me.”

You roll your eyes, gracing him with a teasing smile. “How is he anyways? You talked to your family at all recently?”

He shrugs. “Not really. You know my phone usage is heavily monitored anyways.”

“I told them that – your mom reached out to me recently – she was hoping to meet up with you for lunch soon, and she hadn’t heard from you in a bit.”

“Ah. I don’t look at my phone very often. Tell her that I’m down. I’ll reach out at some point.” He nods towards the kitchen. “I made dinner.”

You beam at him. “You didn’t have to do that.” You lean in to press a kiss to the rough skin of his cheek, and he feels his heart speed up in his chest. Even though the physical affection you gave him isn’t anything new, it’s still amazing how much of an effect you had on him.

The fire that he keeps buried in his chest flares to life as you turned away from him briefly, but he doesn’t let you go far. He snakes an arm around your middle, pulling you back to him, causing you to look up at him.

“I’ve missed you.” He mumbles quietly into your hair. You simply wrap your arms around his torso and snuggle into his chest.

“Missed you too.” You tell him quietly. He swallowed thickly, as he allowed his hand to splay further down your back.

“I really missed you; I mean.”

You smile up at him gently, wiggling your eyebrows. “Did you now?”

“Mmmm.”

His hummed response causes your grin to grow wider. “Wanna show me?”

He doesn’t humor you with a response – instead opting to take you by the hand and lead you towards your shared bedroom with teasing grin of his own. He allows you to kick the door closed behind you, before dipping down to bite on the skin of your neck, causing a giggle to escape your lips as his hands wander up and down your frame.

“Off.” He grunts, tugging on your clothes. You smirk at his demand, pulling at the hairs at the nape of his neck to get him to look at you.

“I think you could ask me a bit nicer, right?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “Please.”

“That’s better.” You smile sweetly at him, separating yourself from him long enough to shimmy out of your pants and strip out of your shirt, leaving you in your bra and panties before him.

He kisses the back of his teeth as he closes the distance between you, wrapping a muscular arm around you as he captures your lips with his rough ones. He feels you sigh into the kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck.

It wasn’t often that he initiated physical contact like this – he not shy by any means, but he’s not used to having such close relations with another person. He’d been a loner for such a long time after escaping the hospital, and any physical contact he somehow managed to receive from woman he’d met in sketchy bars during those miserable years had never been meaningful or fulfilling. He wasn’t used to being wanted.

But you wanted him, and you weren’t shy about letting him know just that.

He had no problems letting you remind him of the latter.

He feels your hands travel down from around his neck to the bottom of his shirt, tugging on it. “Off please.” You murmur against his lips, and he separates from you long enough to yank his shirt off, before coming back to embrace your soft body with his own hot one.

He presses you back against the bed, gently pushing you down to lay on the mattress as he hovered above you. He dips back down to seal his lips with yours, as he feels your fingertips trail down the rough skin of his stomach until they reached the waistband of his sweats. He smirks as he feels you undo the drawstrings and push them down his slender hips, pushing them down low enough for his cock to spring free.

“Seems like you’re just as eager as me.” He sniggers as he sits up long enough to shuck them off, giving you a moment to unhook your bra and toss it across the room.

You don’t humor him with a response as you sit up to stroke his cock, causing him to hiss as your fingers wrap around his shaft. He lets you have your way for a moment before gently pushing you back down onto the mattress, causing you to look up at him quizzically as he shakes his head.

“Not today babe, let me do the work.”

He feels his heart pound in his ribcage, as a look of realization passes over your pretty features. A smile pulls at your lips as you open your arms and beckons him down to you, which he eagerly accepts. He nips and kisses the skin of your neck as he makes quick work of your panties, causing you to moan softly as he runs his fingers up the length of your dripping slit.

“God.” He groans as he attacks your lips again. “So, fucking wet for me. You want me, right?”

“Yes Touya.” You breathe against his lips, allowing your fingers to trace patterns into the scarred expanse of his back. “Always. Always you.”

He feels his destroyed tear ducts sting slightly at the sincerity of your confession. Even though you’ve assured him you only want him countless times before, it was something he never quite got used to hearing.

The entirety of his life before you was spent in fire and hardship. Kindness was something foreign to him, and being allowed to be vulnerable with another person was something he never even considered. He never thought he’d live long enough to be able to do so regardless – accepting that he destined to spend what was left of his life alone – and so the thought had never crossed his mind.

But he wasn’t alone. Not anymore. Not since you had unexpectedly come into his life.

He had you. Body, mind and soul, he belonged to you. He knew there was no way he would ever have the words to tell you that, so he hoped that he could convey his message clearly enough by showing you just how much you meant to him.

He taps your leg, getting you to wrap your legs around his lean waist, as he lines himself up with your opening. You thread your fingers through his soft white spikes as he slowly begins to push himself into your pussy, causing you to whimper as he begins to stretch your walls out.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He growls as he bullies his way into your tight heat. “You’re perfect for me. Just you – you’re the only one I want.”

“Me too.” You gasp as you dig your nails into his shoulder to ground yourself. “I’m so glad I got to meet you. S-so glad you’re here with me—”

Your eyes open impossibly, as he suddenly snaps his hips forward and drives himself home deep inside your walls, causing you both to moan. He barely gives you any time to recover before he starts moving. He fists his hand in the sheets beside your head as he focuses his energy into keeping his thrusts deep and strong, just how he knows you like it.

He grins down at you almost sadistically, watching as your eyes roll back from the force of his thrusts. “S’matter? Don’t tell me you’re giving up already?”

“N-no.” you moan as he gives you a particularly hard thrust. “I just—oh, fuck!” you wail as you feel him hit a practically sensitive spot inside you, causing him to grin wickedly.

“Eyes on me gorgeous.”

“You’re mean.” You huff, but center your attention on him regardless, causing him to chuckle, and reward you with another harsh thrust.

“I know.” He practically purrs as he shifts his weight to his knees. He grabs the meat of your hip, and starts pounding you harder than before, making you keen and fist your hands into the sheets as his pelvis brushes up against your clit deliciously.

“Fuck, Touya! I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum!” you cry out, warning him of your impending release, but it only makes him double down and fuck you harder, determined to see you climax before him.

“Yeah? Well, go ahead sweetheart: come on this cock. C’mon, c’mon; I know you’re going to, I can feel you squeezing me just right, so do it. Let go for me pretty girl, just let go.”

He feels your walls convulse around him and your back arches slightly off the bed as you climax with a desperate cry at his words. The sight of you coming undone beneath him is so hot it does him in a few strokes later, spilling deep inside your walls with a feral growl of his own.

You both stay like that for a few minutes, fighting to catch your breaths, before you unlock your legs from around his waist, allowing him to pull out of you. He pulls back to grin at the combination of your fluids that leak out from in between your legs, and you roll your eyes. He makes a move to the bathroom to grab you a towel, only for you to shake your head.

“Later.” You murmur, as you pat the spot on the bed next to you. “Come lie with me for a few minutes.”

He laughs quietly at your antics, but obliges your request, and climbs over you to collapse into the vacant space on the bed next to you, and you don’t hesitate to move over to him. 

“God, you can be relentless sometimes.” You pant as you curl up into his side. He simply snorts at your assessment as he drapes his arm around you protectively.

“Maybe. I am a villain after all sweetheart.”

“You were.” You manage to grumble as you make yourself comfortable, eventually settling on resting your head on his chest so you can hear his heartbeat. “You’re not now.”

“Yeah, well. Attitude never changed. Surprised you put up with me for as long as you did.”

“You weren’t so bad.” You murmur softly, tracing shapes into the rough skin of his stomach. “If I thought you were, I wouldn’t have come back after we first met.”

“Why did you come back after the first time anyways? I can’t remember if you ever told me.” He suddenly raises his head so he’s looking at you. You meet his blazing turquoise irises with a calm gaze of your own and wink at him teasingly.

“I’m crazy remember?”

“Must be, if you came to see one of Japan’s most wanted almost every day for damn near two years straight. But seriously, why?”

You’re quiet for a moment before you answer him. When you do, you shift your head slightly on his chest so you can see his face better.

“I suppose it’s because all your rage… all your anger towards the injustice of everything you’d gone through up until that point… it reminded me of myself, in a way.” You admit softly, causing him to quirk a snowy brow at your confession.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things you said on your initial broadcast—" you continue on before he can ask. “—like how there were a lot of shitty things about hero society you weren’t wrong about. Honestly, for a long time there, I felt just as pissed off with some of those so-called “Pro’s” as you. Some of them were only doing it for the money and fame, you could tell.” You exhale through your nose.

“But, on the other hand, there were so many good things happening to change those problems that you didn’t see because you were on the outsider.” You fall silent for a moment before adding:

“You just seemed so hurt, so raw with everything you were saying. I told myself there and then, if I ever got the opportunity to meet you, I’d show you not everything is as bad as it seemed. Never thought I’d get the chance honestly, and yet, one day, the opportunity to meet you face to face practically dropped into my lap. How could I not take the offer?”

“Was I what you’d thought I’d be?” he finds himself asking you, not completely sure if he wants to know the answer. You simply send him one of your glowing smiles that sends tingles down to his stomach.

“No, you were better.”

He snorts, shifting his arm so he’s tracing his warm fingertips up and down your nude body. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m serious. Even now, you’re doing so much better with handling everything then I thought you would. You’re resilient, and you adapt when you need to, but you’ve definitely changed… in a good way. You’re not as hateful anymore… you’re calmer, more accepting.”

“Yeah well, the shrinks have you to thank for that. Far as I’m concerned, they don’t do anything. I just see them so I can stay with you.” He grumbles, prompting you to giggle, before shifting you so you’re lying on your sides, facing each other.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, inwardly softening as he watches you lean into his warm touch, before dropping his hand back down in between your bodies.

“I know I’m not very good at these sorts of things, but… you know I love you, right?”

He’s hopeful that you understand. He doesn’t say it often to you, and he knows he probably should, but even after all the time he’s spent with you, that involves you showing him what a healthy relationship looks like, it’s still not an easy thing for him to say. Hell, he has a hard enough time saying it to his own mother, let alone anyone else.

He’ll probably always have a difficult time admitting it. Love is an emotion he’s never had a good understanding of, seeing how it was so sked for him a s a child. Even now, the concept is a foreign one for him to understand, but thankfully, you seem to be more aware of this than anyone else.

You find his hand with one of your own and lace your fingers together, squeezing it tightly.

“I know Touya. I’ve always known.”

FIN

[contentloadingandstuff]

I love the anal headcanons for Inazuma girls😊😊😊 I was hoping you could make one for the Liyue girls

Anal Headcanons - Liyue Girls Edition!

A/N: Hi anon! I'm glad you like them, and I hope you like these as well. Enjoy!

CW: Male!Reader, anal, bondage, femdom, spanking, mentioned pegging.

Picture not mine. I don't remember where I found it.

Cut... nsfw below.

Anal with Yelan? How bold of you to ask. Pussy or ass, it's not your choice to make - not with those tied hands of yours. You're not fucking Yelan - she is fucking you. She goes for whatever floats her boat at the moment, and anal is often on the menu. She's very keen on this type of play, bouncing on you and moaning beautifully like there's no tomorrow. Make sure to keep up, as if you can't please her ass, she'll have to use a dildo instead. But she's very indecisive…So how about she tries that cock on you first? 

Shenhe is quite sexually curious, so it didn't take her long to ask you for anal. It's… different from vaginal, she found. A good kind of different. It hurts a little, sure, but it gives her a whole new range of pleasures to explore. Shenhe likes to have plenty of prep before the thing, so anal with her is going to be announced days before the act. When the date arrives, you'll find her with a plug inside her and plenty of lube at hand, already spreading for you. She hopes you'll like it - because she certainly will! 

Ningguang likes variety in bed. It helps against her main enemy - boredom. She finds anal adds that delicious edge that vaginal just doesn't have. Fucking that hole adds an exciting hint of pain to your play, but her favorite part is the stretching. The feeling of her tight little sphincter being forced apart to fit your massive cock oh so slowly, as well as clenching and feeling just how wonderfully full she is, has no parallels in her books. 

Beidou honestly prefers her cunt. Life on the ship is not easy, and getting the necessary prep before anal is hard and time consuming. She often forgets to buy condoms or lube, so you won't get anal often. But you'll still have a chance to enjoy her this way when you're at Liyue Harbor. When she does it, it's certainly loud and intense - just the way she likes it. One thing though - give her a hand when she's drunk, would you? Her aim is poor when she's had too much to drink… 

Yanfei signed a contract to live her life to the fullest, so of course she’s going to use every hole she has. Well, in theory at least. In practise, it turned out to be more difficult to enjoy anal for her. Even with a lot of prep and lube, the feeling of her sphincter being forced open is not very enjoyable. She’s a little bitter about that, but it’s not the end of the world, right?

Poor baby can barely take two fingers and just sliding your dick inside can make her cum, and you ask for something so intense of Ganyu? She'll agree, of course, but it will end up a misfire. She'll find that your cock is far too big for her little donut, and it hurts quite badly. Don't worry, though! Ganyu is very into the idea of training her butt to please you. Diligent as ever, she'll buy lots of toys and arrange weekly sessions for you to slowly ease her into anal. Give her a month or two and she'll discover just what immense pleasure you can bring her through her tight backside. 

Being a die-hard masochist, Keqing loves having her ass used more than her pussy. It hurts so amazingly! Especially when she's tied up, with nowhere to run from the intense fucking she's subjected to. She likes anal with a side dish of hard spanking and little to no prep beforehand. Actually, she can't tell what she likes more - having her asshole destroyed, or the soreness that comes afterwards, legs trembling and unable to sit down. She's very vocal during anal - a constant barrage of 'It hurts! Please stop!' and 'Don't stop!' flows out of her mouth. Don't worry about her, and pay no attention to everything she's screaming out. This girl knows her limits, and will say the safe word when things get too intense. 

Anal isn't very fun for Yun Jin. She has a hard time making space for you, and the pain in her butthole lingers for a few days, making dancing unpleasant. And even if those weren't problems, she still would prefer her pussy - or even better - her mouth to be used by you. She can't help but think that hole is especially nasty and full of germs. It still feels weird to let you use it despite her deep cleaning it and using a condom. Don't worry, though. She'll make it up to you with her pretty little mouth. 

Hu Tao has one rule for sex - whatever one of you does to the other, they must be okay with it happening to themselves. So if you wanna do anal, you have to be okay with getting her strap inside you at some point. But don't worry - it's her that will suggest it at some point. Hu Tao just enjoys sex, with a special emphasis on anal. Why would she deny herself then? For a girl of her posture, she handles your cock like a good girl. She even gags herself when she can't help but scream from how intense the intrusion inside her is. Fucking her ass is also a good method of taming her raging libido, thanks to how intense it feels. Use it wisely!

Thanks for reading!

[barren-heart]

what we theorize in the shadows

Season 6 theory time plus S6 bingo card

Theories

1. Guillermo, not being a vampire anymore, works on a new life goal, potentially leaving permanently as a familiar and working on different jobs. Maybe we will see him working with a group of legitimate slayers as he battles whether or not he should kill vampires.

2. Colin will try out other jobs. I hope to see him and Guillermo bond, potentially working the same job together. I’d like to see Colin date again and more of his backstory.

3. I think it would be great to see Nadja explore more leadership positions. I would love if she wrote a book, possibly with the help of Guillermo and do a book tour.

4. I’d love if Nandor had an arc where he was actively trying to survive. A lot of his arc has been about loneliness and boredom. Being the oldest in the house, I like to see him struggle with fighting to stay alive. I’m hoping we get to see slayers and they actively hunt him, causing Guillermo to get involved. Also, I think it would be interesting to see Nandor try and get a new familiar, but hate it.

5. I’d love more science experiments from Lazslo. I think it’d be funny if he accidentally invented something like time travel. I’d love for him and Sean to do more things together. Their friendship is priceless. I’m hoping for them to join a competitive sports team, possibly bowling or something else like that.

6. I predict the Guide will get a promotion. It’d be nice if there was a position she got to have that wasn’t punishment.

These arn’t necessarily everything I want to happen, but what I predict will happen.

You’re welcome to play along with me!

[everybodyshusband]

stargazing

mushy may ; day twenty !! (approx. 1k words)

read under the cut or on ao3 :)

@forlorn-crows is your mushy may 2023 still good for late april of 2024 ? asking for a uhhh... a friend...

The campfire in between the pair crackles gently, greedily eating up the kindling the two quintessence ghouls had deposited onto it once they’d arrived at this spot. Aether had argued—good-naturedly of course—that the campfire would impede on his and Aeon’s ability to see the constellations he was trying to teach them. One look into Aeon’s pleading eyes and a sly “but I’m cold, Aeth…” whispered by the new quint had shut his argument down instantly; he couldn’t say no to a face like that. And so that is where the two of them find themselves: bundled up in winter coats with heavy blankets wrapped around their shoulders, a pot of hot chocolate boiling away over the campfire and another blanket spread out beneath them prepped and ready for stargazing.

Aeon must admit, when Aether had suggested waking up in the middle of the night to stargaze, they had been more than hesitant. In theory it sounded incredible, but it’s almost winter and the nights are frigid, even inside the Abbey’s walls; they didn’t want to imagine how cold it would be if they weren’t bundled up under a mountain of blankets. Luckily for Aether, he knows how to wrangle his ghouls out of bed and it’s as simple and promising warm cuddles, mugs of hot drinks and the view of a rare, once-in-a-human-lifetime meteor shower. It wasn’t even the meteor shower that convinced Aeon. The promise of snuggling up with Aether under a blanket in any situation was more than enough to rouse them from their sleep when he’d come into their room and shaken their shoulder, gently laughing at them for sleeping through the alarm they’d set for themselves.

Now that they’re both here though, Aeon can’t stop the beginnings of boredom creeping its way in as they wait for the meteor shower to make its way across the sky. “Aether,” they start, sighing dramatically when they’re met with no response. “Aeth!”

The elder quintessence ghoul snorts and gasps as he’s woken suddenly from his accidental nap. “Hmm, what?”

Aeon cackles. “Nothing, old man, you go back to your nap.”

“No, no,” Aether presses. “What is it?”

They sigh quietly, melting into Aether’s side. “I’m bored, Aeth.”

“What?!” Aether exclaims. “There’s a whole universe above you, Ae, how can you be bored?”

“Well, my guide to the universe fell asleep and ventured into his own before he could teach me about this one,” they tease, prodding Aether’s chest with their finger and giggling at the bewildered expression his face contorts into as Aeon flicks his nose after he looks down at their finger.

Aether shakes his head, amused. “Alright, alright,” he concedes. “I’ll teach you, with pleasure.” The last part of his sentence is spoken with such beautiful sass that Aeon can’t help but press forward and wrap their arms around the elder quint’s shoulders. They can’t help it, still new enough up top that their emotions escape in short, intense bursts that call for action rather than the slow, steady streams the rest of the pack experience. But Aether says they’ll learn and Aeon believes him, he’s been nothing but kind and welcoming to them and Aurora since the two of them climbed Up Top together.

“Hello? Earth to Aeon?” A hand waves across their line of sight. “Now who’s off in their own universe, huh?” The corners of Aether’s eyes crinkle as he grins, his hands ruffling Aeon’s hair as they slowly meld back with reality.

“Yes!” They flop down onto the ground, resting their head on the pillows Aether had the foresight to bring with them to maximise comfort while stargazing. “Teach me about the universe, oh, great sky master.”

Aether laughs as he lowers himself down next to them. “You know,” he starts. “Aether is a god in Greek mythology. Lots of sources say different things, but some say he’s the god of light and the upper sky.” Aeon turns their head to the side to watch Aether as he talks. He’s a vision in the starlight, hair shimmering ever so slightly and hands coming alive as he talks. “I’ve always liked that, y’know. It doesn’t really fit with the whole idea of this place but I like to imagine my namesake sitting up there amongst the stars, keeping an eye out for everyone down here.” He turns his head to look at Aeon and his eyes light up as he realises they’ve been looking at him the whole time. He takes their hand in his and Aeon swears they can feel the tips of their fingers spark when they make contact. “Oh, hi.” The crinkles around his eyes are back and he’s gorgeous in the moonlight.

“Hi.” They feel like they’ve been rendered speechless by Aether’s ardor for the stars.

“You want me to keep talking? I can teach you some constellations if you’d like.”

“Yes please,” Aeon breathes, feeling for all the world as if they’re pinned down under Aether’s gaze but somehow it’s not a bad thing, nor is it the same feeling that they get when Dewdrop does the same thing. In fact, they quite like the way it makes them feel.

Aether practically giggles in happiness at Aeon’s plea. “Oh, thank you! You lay back and listen, yeah? I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

Aeon knows that later on Aether will jokingly test them on everything he’s telling them right now, but the sparkle in his eyes and the way his hands are dancing across the dark backdrop of the night sky as he talks about his deepest passion are enough to keep Aeon occupied. No matter how hard they try to pay attention to Aether’s voice, it keeps getting drowned out by the excitement in his tone and the excited twitch his leg makes against theirs as he explains a sky crab and a… frying pan in the sky? Yeah, they’re definitely not paying enough attention. No matter, there are always other nights to drag the elder quintessence ghoul out of bed for another tutoring session. In fact, Cirrus said tomorrow night is supposed to be free from clouds, maybe they can start then.

[wakeupthemembersofbylernation]

omg why is the byler tag flopping 😭 we used to get minimally 200 posts per day, now it's nothing. oh bylernators, what is happening...

You’re right, the tag has been dry as a California summer lately, and it is sad.

I think people have left for a wide range of reasons (the controversies, general frustration with the tag, boredom, developing other hyperfixations, exhaustion from the constant time loop of discourse, there being nothing else to cornplate in the show, etc), but also just literally because there isn’t really any content to get hyped about other than the semi-regular Friday posts from Ross and the ST ig account.

There was a new wave of activity on here when filming started up again and when we initially started getting bts/leaks, but that has kinda been slow overall. We’re all just living leak to leak, interview to interview, and making theories/art based on that, as well as voting on polls and such. But I hope March 22 saves us with Will bts! 🙏

[edutainer2022]

UNREQUITED Ch 7

Co-written with @janetm74

Ch 6

AO3 (1-7)

This installment found a place in the tapestry of a vaster story, thanks to the amazing insight of @janetm74, making the implications so much more exciting to ponder and to explore further!

(Page Six)

Ever since Kat Kavanaugh buried a hatchet and wasn't chasing conspiracy theories about them on Global Holovision anymore, watching the news live was a once in a blue moon activity in Casa Tracy. They followed the major world events through John and Eos (maybe a bit of social media on a relatively quiet morning), and they were likely to be part of those in some capacity at least a third of the times. Sometimes a half.

But it was one of those days. A relative lull in rescues compiled with the exhaustion of the previous fortnight streak of disasters bred mildly numb boredom. Batteries too low to pursue their usual hobbies, they gravitated to the lounge.

Scott was ever at the desk with holo screens full of quarterly budget reports, because their biggest brother did stock market numbers for LEISURE, apparently. Virgil was playing, as usual, but the music was slowly fading to a halt. Alan was gaming, or pretending to be while napping, his VR goggles on. Kayo was going through some specs, half leaning on the couch cushions. Even John was in a quiet lull up in orbit, his hologram just bobbing at the comms unit, hanging out with everybody, but not really a part of any conversation.

That left Gordon scralling lazily through newsreels. The sudden yelp sent Alan tumbling on the floor and Scott at least half an inch closer to a cardiac arrest under thirty. A keen observer would have noticed Kayo reaching for a knife in the ankle holster. The piano music keened on an abrupt note and stopped. Several pairs of VERY unamused eyes stared Gordon down.

The Fish was on his feet already, bursting with excitement, sending the news holo to the center of the lounge.

"Did you guys know Fischler has a brother?!?!"

The assorted grumps and groans across the lounge indicated that they not only didn't know, but weren't in the least thrilled by that information.

Only John and Kayo shared a quiet look, because OF COURSE they would know.

Gordon surveyed the lounge in triumph, setting the stage for a punchline.

"He has a brother and he's getting married!"

"Who, Fischler?"

Alan was still scrambling up from his hardwood landing and making a show of rubbing an ouchie. Scott at least looked ready to switch gears to the full "hurt brother!" mode. Gordon was not deterred.

"No, dummy, not Fischer! His brother is getting married!"

"And that's any of our business how?"

Alan was still not ready to relinquish attention from his boo-boo. Not with so many big brothers in attendance. But John, Kayo and Virgil were already sharing concerned LOOKS.

Any widely publicized event with cameras rolling and hundreds in attendance, involving Fischler, could potentially turn into a showcase of his latest "invention", or ten. Which would mean potential casualties and work for IR. They would need to be on the look-out and on standby. Scott waved at the comm to get the volume up.

The holo displayed a close pic of a younger and significantly more polished version of Langstrom Fischler, hair sleecked back, but a weaselly smile just a tad on the manic side.

The celebrity news anchor was gushing about a "dashing fresh face on the World Senate, a philanthropist and patron of innovation, a devoted brother and a consummate athlete, setting off to be a force of a positive change in the world" and "his drop dead gorgeous fiancée, a once Miss Brazil runner-up, who dedicated herself to the selfless life of service, decorated for honor and courage".

The picture on the screen changed to an official GDF snapshot of a tall young brunette in dress blues. The insignia on the collar indicated the rank of Captain and breastplanks - several high ranking awards for valor. The picture switched to a series of candid paparazzi snaps of the "happy couple".

The show host droned on with one corny cliche after another about the "match made of dreams" and a " high profile dream wedding" scheduled to take place on a cozy remote island.

Gordon interrupted the stream of saccharine platitudes:

"Huh? How come we're not invited? Scott, you know like everyone in the World Senate!"

His voice was drowned out by the deafening snap of the metal stylus, broken in Scott's fingers. The sound of the desk chair hitting the floor, as Scott stood up and all but ran from the lounge, was even louder.

"Huh?!"

Gordon, yet again, surmised the bewilderment of everyone present.

Jade eyes squinted a fraction as Kayo watched Scott's outburst and hasty retreat.

Virgil was half out to follow Scott, when a ping came through on Gordon's comm. The sign flashed pink.

"Yay! Looks like I'm going after all! Penny needs a plus one! John, can I borrow your tax?!"

John half waved his brother off, brows furrowed and hands already flying over invisible files, when another pink ping came through. It was Kayo's turn for a "Huh?" moment.

"Looks like Penny needs a plus two, as well. I'm invited".

That deflated Gordon's initial excitement enough to notice Virgil leaving in the general direction of Dad's office, where Scott had locked himself.

Before Virgil reached the door to try and reason with big brother to talk about... whatever that was, John sent two files to his comm.

One - a picture they all saw a hundred times on Dad's desk back in Kansas, but it didn't compute out of context. Scott's Airgroup Wing after a training flight. All hugging and laughing, still in flightsuits. Scott and the girl from the news today - Fischler Jr.'s fiancée - at the center.

The other Virgil never saw before. It would figure since it was a screenshot from, what he recognized with some dread, was Dad's old phone. There was a picture sent to a private chat with Dad of the same girl, in a sundress, and Scott in a polo shirt, apparently both on leave. An almost ten years younger Scott was smiling like he could power up a sun. The message to Dad read "SHE SAID YES!!!".

The date of the message indicated about a month and a half before Scott's mission to Bereznik.

Virgil sank to the floor, leaning on the wall, never going through with the knock on the locked office door.

***

It was such an unbelievable cliché it felt surreal. The thunderstorm, the lightning, the lash of downpour across his face. Then again, it was fitting, as his world was going crashing down around him. Yet again.

There was nothing surreal about the hard edges of Mom's ring she just gave him back.

For about six weeks he was the happiest man alive. Dad's IR project was well underway, and he was to share that dream not only with Dad and brothers, but with the love of his life. He should have known better...

The words were real too - hard and ruthless. About Dad yanking his leash, and expecting nothing but dutiful following in his footsteps and his vision, concealed by his looming shadow, and giving up what they both dreamed about and worked so hard for - test flights, command ranks, career in service.

The echo came back to him often, in one dark hour or another, after his world shattered to pieces yet another time.

Dad voiced his reservations clearly, but did agree to give him Mom's ring. "When you know, you know". Wasn't it how he and Mom got married?

It WAS too soon, they WERE too young, and frateenization within a unit WAS an issue, but with IR lifting off that wasn't to be a problem, once he told her the full scale of the classified project. He should have known better...

He last remembered the ring yanked off his neck with the dogtags chain by a smirking Berezniki guard.

He put up a hell of a fight for that and was beaten within an inch of his life. The first time.

Next time he found it, inexplicably, in Dad's safe on the island, after the search for Zero-X was called off. He meant to ask Kyrano, as he wasn't conscious or coherent enough for the extraction op, or for months after, but the man never returned his calls anymore, sending in a resignation after half a year of following leads on the Hood.

There wasn't much room in his mind or hours in his days to give it more thought for years after. Or more pieces for his heart to break into. He should have known better.

And now she was getting married. To someone bright and promising, changing the world for the better, who wasn't him. The story of his life!

He should have known better as well.

The sound of glass shattering against the wall and a visceral scream finally sent Virgil in, wild-eyed, breaking past the lock.

***

John lifted an eyebrow in a perfect quizzical arch, putting the tablet down, as the "wedding party" poured, or rather, limped into the lounge.

Gordon's tuxedo sleeve was torn clear off, his bowtie, undone, served as a makeshift tourniquet. Parker sported cuts, bruises and a glorious shiner. Penelope's elaborate updo was in disarray, one heel of a golden pump broken. Kayo's slip dress hem was torn, exposing a garter holster.

As John hurried to the kitchen for the first aid kit, he heard her hiss something to the effect of "You should have seen the other guys".

The villa was quiet. Grandma had Alan on the mainland for the weekend. Virgil chased Scott up the volcano. There was a good chance biggest brother and his stormy mood was best quarantined at the Round House for the rest of the day.

John was waiting in the lounge for the fallout, one way or another. He wasn't quite prepared for the sight on display, handing out ice packs.

Gordon hissed too and bit off a curse, as John set about cleaning the bullet graze on his arm.

"Pen, do all your friends whip out a standard issue gun at the altar and read the groom Miranda rights instead of vows?"

Lady Penelope was busy trying to look poised while breaking the second heel off a designer pump, to make them even.

"It was a deep undercover mission to round up a drug and slave trafficking ring. A destination wedding was a most fortunate venue for the occasion."

Kayo looked up from the kitchen isle at that, not pausing to stop extracting a considerable arsenal of throw-knives from her bodice.

"Looks like the Fischler brothers were bankrolled by mafia. The crazy inventions AND the World Senate election. In exchange for some... perks."

Kayo snorted and went back to her inventory of weapons.

Gordon perked up as the anesthetic cream kicked in and forgot to NOT wave the injured hand around to assist his narrative.

"It was actually kinda cool! The bride barked out "Hands up!" instead of "I do"! The bridesmaids all dropped their bouquets and brandished guns. The bridal party were all Organized Crime and Counterterrorism. Well, and us... A little  heads up wouldn't have hurt, Penny. Then all hell broke loose. Rose petals and confetti everywhere. You should have seen Fischler's face!"

Gordon was nearly flailing with excitement, so John's hands pushed him mildly back into the seat. Turquoise eyes found Penelope's line of sight, studiously avoiding Kayo:

"So... no wedding?"

"No wedding indeed."

Up on the Tracy Volcano Virgil's comm vibrated, switched to silent mode hours ago. John's message read "No wedding."

Virgil exhaled a sigh, but didn't yet know how to break the subject with a brother, seated next to him on the sun-warmed boulder, overlooking the ocean. Blue eyes were fixed on a point far away in the distance, or maybe far away in the past, Scott still wouldn't talk about.