#so my fear is the little tab for the split ring breaking | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sneezefiction · 4 years

Text

manager reader getting hit on

Tsukishima, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Ushijima x Reader - Manager Reader Headcanons

@belli-jelly‘s request: “May I req hcs for tsukki, oikawa, iwaizumi, & ushi wherein their manager!s/o during qualifiers, instead of kiyoko on s2, got hit on by terushima when their s/o went back the gym to get smth that the team left behind/forgot. What would be their reactions?? You can change things up if this is too specific hehe.”

a/n: okay so i used Terushima (our lovable f-boy) in Tsukki’s hc, but changed it up for the rest of them. i also made it so that you weren’t their s/o yet, but there are def feelings involved! hope this is ok!!

warnings: harassment, slight language

total wc: 1300

---

Tsukishima:

the Karasuno boys were getting restless waiting outside for their beloved manager by the bus

and it’s not that Tsukki was super worried… but you’d been missing for a little while now

you weren’t answering his phone calls and Tsukki had a sneaking suspicion that something was wrong

“What’d you do this time, y/n…” he sighs under his breath, making his way back to the gym

he starts his search where he last spotted you, but there’s nobody there

Tsukishima is slightly concerned now, listening out for any voices or noises in case it had anything to do with you

when he reaches the hallway, he recognizes the echo of your voice

“-not interested and I need to find my team, sorry!” your nervous response directed at a bleach-blonde volleyball player… with piercings?

“Come onnn, babe. I just want your number!” Terushima’s hand his now by your head, your back pushed up against the wall

“Oye, back off, asshole.” Tsukki’s voice rings out, still walking his way over to you

Teru only briefly glances at him then immediately turns his attention back to you, stepping closer

you have a panicked look on your face and for the first time in a while, Tsukishima’s chest tightens in empathy which morphs into a muted fury

“I said get off of her.” Tsukki’s hand is on Terushima’s shoulder now, pushing him away from you

“Jeez, okay bro.” Teru responds with a smirk, throwing his hands up, “I was leaving now, anyway.”

as soon as he’s gone you can finally breathe again

Tsukki turns to ask if you’re okay, but before he gets a word out, your arms are around his back

“Thank you, Tsukki. I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

the shock of your touch fades a little and he slowly wraps his arms around you, a barely noticeable flush on his face

“Stop going off on your own, stupid… and don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Oikawa:

it was 30 minutes into practice at the Seijoh school gym and you were a no show

which is incredibly unusual considering you usually arrived before the rest of the team (besides maybe Oikawa, who’s already warmed up)

Oikawa checks with the entire team, asking them if they’d noticed you on their way inside or if you’d said anything about missing practice, but no one has seen or heard from you

luckily, Oikawa keeps tabs on his team, which includes you since you’re their manager (and he kinda-sorta likes you a lot)

so he takes a short break, quickly making his way to your usual hangout spots and checking around corners

it takes him a moment to soak it in, but there are two guys cornering you near your locker

he knows, in most cases, you can handle things by yourself… but this feels so wrong

you’re clearly uncomfortable, uninterested… and once he catches you eye, he can tell you’re scared

before he knows it, Oikawa has already grabbed one of them by the shirt and shoved them away from you

“What the hell is your problem??” he shouts, “Get away from her.”

Oikawa is literally seething at this point, hand gripping even tighter on the boys shirt, threatening to tear the fabric

his friend recognizes Oikawa and knows that the whole school would find out about this if they didn’t leave soon

so they both take off down the halls

he turns around, grasping your hands firmly

“Are you okay, y/n? Are you hurt?”

“I... I’ll be okay.” but he feels you shaking

“Let’s just get out of here then. I’m gonna take you out for a few to get some fresh air if you’re okay with that?” he gently tugs you toward him

“...Yeah. Please.”

this will be the first time he’s missed a practice in years (but he’ll make up for it later in the week)

and right now, his main priority is you. making sure you’re okay and that you can recover peacefully... preferably with an ice cream cone or a cold drink in hand

Iwaizumi:

you and Iwa have shared several classes together over the years and happened to sit next to each other for most of them

so it really isn’t a surprise that y’all have gotten pretty close

he’s actually the reason you became the Seijoh manager in the first place since he’d been complaining to you about how unorganized things were getting on the team without one

unfortunately, being the manager doesn’t just revolve around caring for individual teammates… it also means you have to keep up with their dirty laundry sorry hun

Iwa, since he did drag you into this mess, normally offers to help take the jerseys and clothing to the laundromat with you

you usually refuse his offer, but for some reason, you let him join you this time around

you and Iwa bring in the first batch of clothing, greeting the laundromat owner, and get everything started

“I’ll head out to the car for the next basket, Iwa!” you tap his shoulder, letting him know where you’re going

“Okay, I’ll be here. Lemme know if you need help.”

he waits a while, but when you don’t return Iwaizumi lets a slight panic set in, hurrying outside to check on you

“Y/n are y-” he stops talking when he notices an absolute sleezebag hitting on you in the parking lot

the stranger is reaching out to grab your arm, but not before a fist collides with the man’s face

Iwaizumi knocks the man to the ground. his fist curl back, fingers digging into his palms, ready to swing at him again

“Get your filthy hands away from her.” he growls out

this sends the creep running, shock setting into your body

and you look over to notice just how tense Iwaizumi’s body is

you gently grasp his wrist with your shaking hands

“You shouldn’t have to come out here by yourself, y/n. I’m coming with you next time.” he says, and you notice a flash of guilt in his eyes as he turns toward you

you just pull him into a hug, releasing your own fear and calming the both of you down

Ushijima:

all of Shiratorizawa’s volleyball team is indebted to you

you’ve traveled with them to every single game, you’ve dealt with so many strange players, and above all, you’ve brought them together, completing their team

so it’s no wonder they hang out with you outside of their volleyball obligations, bc fr they all love you so much and you bring them some much needed normalcy

when you suggest heading to the beach for a day trip, they’re all on board. even Ushijima

you and Ushi usually end up sitting together on the way to any practice games or tournaments so you can plan and prepare together

so you both naturally sit next to each other… but it’s super casual and the conversation is actually fun and chill. relaxed Ushijima is such a nice change of pace

when you all arrive, everyone splits separate ways to get changed

but as you leave the changing room, all cute and beach ready, there’s a guy leaning near the door, outside

“Hey sweetheart, you need some help with that?” he smirks pointing at the sunscreen in your hand

“Uh… no thanks.” you say, starting to squirm under his stare

you attempt to walk away, but he just follows you, so you move faster

Ushijima spots you, noticing that your movements are a bit frantic, so he approaches you

as Ushi finally reaches you, the man runs into him and stumbles backward into the sand, Ushjima’s frame blocking him from you entirely

“Y/n, is he bothering you?” his eyebrows furrowing, looking at you with a tinge of concern

“Because… he really shouldn’t be.” A stone-cold glare overtaking his features

“No, I’m just leaving actually.” The man dusts the sand off his legs and walks away, annoyance (and fear) etched onto his face

you turn to the tall, incredibly attractive ace and thank him profusely, apologizing for the situation

“You’re safe with me, y/n. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

4K notes · View notes

miracle-sham · 4 years

Text

When Sitting on the Roof, We are but Coffee Sleuths.

| {Sequel to Death is the Stage, My Art is Your Grave.} |

| {Repost due to original post disappearing from tags.} |

| Triggers/Warnings: Mentions of drugs/drug ring (in regards to a case), Mild language. |

| After a long day of boring casework, there's nothing better than getting a new commission, and then drinking coffee and having a chat on top of a roof with a certain bat. |

| Word Count: 3051 |

==–==

| A/N: First of all, I'd like to quickly thank everyone for all the positive response and support the original oneshot got on both Tumblr and Ao3! It really motivated and inspired me to continue with this Au (expect at least another sequel, maybe more if I get more inspo but even if I don't there's definitely gonna be one sequel minimum to this). I'd also like to mention, that this took a lot longer to write as I got a cold halfway through writing it and also it's romance based fluff (which is not my forté), but thanks to those who've waited for this! And finally, for reasons that I'll explain in a separate post later, it might be a "little" while before I can start work on the sequel to this one but it will get written at some point. |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics, or a specific Au, then send me a DM or an ask! |

| Also side note, Don't Like? Don't Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

==–==

It's been a month since Marinette got kidnapped, kissed Red Robin, and solved the Elemental Park Serial Killer case. For three weeks she's been held off active duty to make sure her bruised ribs heal but now that she's able to be on active duty again, all the available cases are those that are paperwork heavy. A small part of her misses the immediate healing of the Miraculous Cure but she's not Ladybug anymore and even if she was, it would raise too many flags for her to even use it anyway. But logic doesn't stop her from missing the days when she could literally and metaphorically magic away her aches and pains.

Marinette groans and slumps into her chair, it's been a surprisingly slow day at the GCPD, so when her phone beeps rapidly for a few seconds, she thinks, please be something interesting, and can't help but take a quick glance to see what new notifications she has. The screen reads: '3 new messages from Red'. So she taps the notification and reads through each message.

>RedRob: Hey, found some new evidence on our case, want to meet up for coffee to discuss it?

>RedRob: Rooftop coffee after dark, of course.

>RedRob: I mean I could waltz into a coffee shop during the day in my suit but that might get too much attention for case talk.

Marinette snickers to herself as she reads the messages over a second time. She quickly taps out her response.

>MariBlue: Will we need to worry about one of the other Gotham vigilantes crashing our coffee not-date?

Almost instantly she receives a response.

>RedRob: I'll bribe Oracle or Batgirl, maybe even Black Bat, into keeping the others away.

She sends a heart emoji back, then returns to sorting out her boring paperwork.

Detective Grayson raises an eyebrow at her from over the desk, clearly having caught her looking at her phone. “Red Robin again?”

She flashes him a sheepish grin. “How'd you guess.”

He gives her a deadpan stare. “He's the only person you respond to when working.”

Marinette bites her lip. “Whoops, that obvious?”

“Yes.” Detective Grayson hesitates for a second, he leans in closer—and like a teenage girl at a sleepover in a cheesy teen drama, asks, “So are you dating yet?”

She shrugs. “Well neither of us have asked the other so not really.”

“But you guys are perfect for each other!” He exclaims, gesturing towards her with an outstretched arm—very narrowly avoiding knocking anything off the desk.

It's Marinette's turn to raise an eyebrow. “We literally have only seen or talked to each other when working…”

“So? What do you call you quote unquote "not-dates"” He huffs, making air quotes as he speaks.

She huffs and shakes her head. “There's a reason they're called "not-dates" and that's because we discuss work at them. And anyway it's too early to rush our relationship.”

“Fair.” Detective Grayson stills, frowns and then almost hesitantly, he asks, “Is it because if the mask? The whole not knowing his real identity?”

Marinette rolls her eyes and shakes her head again. “Nope, I couldn't care less about finding out his real identity—at least not without his consent that is.”

He hums, a pensive look on his face. “So you're not curious?”

She shrugs. “Not particularly, why?”

Detective Grayson shrugs back. “Just wondering,” he leans back on his chair and for a split second, Marinette fears he might topple over but somehow he seems unaffected by gravity, “I think you're the first person I've met, who doesn't want to know who's behind a vigilante's mask.”

A smile tugs at Marinette's lips. “I think it's kinda dumb that so many people are obsessed with the people behind the masks because if they're doing good, unmasking them will only deter them from continuing fighting the good fight and all that, y'know.”

He nods slowly, “huh, that's one way of putting it I guess but I agree, the vigilantes do more for this city than people think they do.” Detective Grayson then tilts his head towards the Commissioner's office. “Anyway back to work, don't want to get in more trouble with the Commish than we are already!”

Marinette huffs in amusement and rolls her eyes but complies nonetheless. Wouldn't do to get in trouble so soon after getting back onto active duty!

==–==

It isn't until gone seven pm, that Marinette finally gets home. She slips through the door, locking it behind her. Now that she's in, the first thing she does, as she does every day, is check her online portfolio and commission site.

Marinette plops herself down in her wheely chair and logs onto to her computer, going through all the verification and security Max had kindly added. A new commission notification grabs her attention. With three clicks, she brings up the new commission's details. She scrolls down to the name of the commissioner: one Mr 'T. Drake-Wayne'.

Curious as to why the name sounds vaguely familiar, Marinette opens up a tab on Google with a hum and types in the name. Upon reading the top results, she half chokes in shock and thinks to herself, Are you kidding me? She blinks and breathes in, a small part of her very glad she wasn't drinking anything otherwise she definitely would've fully choked on that or spat it all up from the shock. I know a bunch of well-known celebrities have all commissioned me many times before, but still why the heck is a fortune 500 CEO commissioning me? I'm not Audrey Bourgeois, Gabriel Agreste, or even Valen-hecking-tino. I do celebrities, not fortune 500. The heck. What. The. Actual. Heck.

Eyes wide and gobsmacked, Marinette shakes her head and clicks back to her latest commission's details page to read through the actual commission. After reading the first line, she scrambles for her sketchbook and begins jotting down notes and scribbling down ideas.

Half an hour in, Marinette takes a break to sort out and eat dinner, no point designing on an empty stomach but once she's done eating and washed up, she goes straight back to designing.

Even at a quarter past midnight, she's still at it—surprisingly only three drafts in and so thoroughly lost in her own head in designing, Marinette nearly misses the knocking against her window facing the fire escape.

The rapid rap-tap-tap spooks her so much that she falls out of her chair with an “Eep!”

Marinette, face flushing bright red, scrambles up and scurries over to the window in question. Shoving her blinds out the way, she stares through the window and is greeted with the absolutely glorious sight of a beaming and uninjured Red Robin holding two takeaway coffee cups on the fire escape. He waves at her with one hand and gestures for her to join him on the fire escape.

She can't help but grin back at him and deftly opens the window and slinks out onto the fire escape. He hands a coffee cup towards her and instead of taking it, Marinette gives him a good ol' bearhug—smooshing pressing her face into his Kevlar armoured chest. Which is unsurprisingly, very uncomfortable. She shifts her head to stare up at him (as he's at least whole head taller than her) “Hey,” she greets.

Awkwardly hugging her back, as to not spill either of the coffees in the process, “hey yourself,” Red Robin responds, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

Marinette pulls back from the hug and nabs the coffee cup that had been offered to her before their hug. “Thank you~!”

“No problem.” He then gestures towards the fire escape stairs leading to the roof, “after you.”

“So which of our cases did you manage to get a lead for?” She asks, making her way up to the roof.

“The one pertaining to the new drug ring in the fashion district. I've narrowed down where they're storing the drugs to potentially three warehouses near Miller Harbour.” Red Robin answers, following after her.

Reaching the roof, Marinette sits down on the half wall around the roof edge. She glances over at Red Robin as he joins her on the improvised seat. “That's the drug ring dealing Miraclo right?”

“Yeah, that's the one.” He pauses to take a sip of his coffee, “I got the intel from an old friend of Catwoman's called Mackey lives in an apartment that overlooks the Harbour and saw a shipment of the drug arrive at the warehouses.”

Taking a sip of her own coffee, Marinette raises an eyebrow. “And will Detective Grayson and I will be able to get that intel as witness statement?”

Red Robin nods. “Yep, Catwoman's vouching for you both.”

She jerks back in surprise, nearly toppling off the half wall but managing to cling to the edge in time to keep her from falling. Miraculously somehow managing to avoid dropping or spilling her coffee. Oof, if it wasn't for my stint in Spandex I definitely would've made a fool of myself in front of Red Robin. And here I thought that part of my life had since passed. Marinette thinks to herself, wincing at the newly gained superficial graze across her palms. She clears her throat and attempts to look like she didn't just nearly fall off a half wall. “Catwoman's vouching for us? Since when? I've literally never encountered her before.”

Red Robin, the traitor, snorts at her predicament. “You are the epitome of elegance. And Detective Grayson's bumped into her a few times on the job.”

“Thanks.” She responds drily, layering on the sarcasm thickly. She shakes her head and sighs. “So do you know what the addresses are for the warehouses and this Mackey's apartment?”

He takes an excruciatingly slow sip of his coffee before speaking. “Of course I can, what kind of vigilante do you take me for?” He then proceeds to rattle off the addresses.

Which Marinette jots down on the napkin that came with her coffee, and puts it into a pocket for safekeeping. “Thank you.” With it written down, she pauses then starts kicking her legs in the air. She sniffs. “And I take you for the kind that flirts with innocent police officers.”

Red Robin grins at her as he gently elbows her in the ribs. “I don't hear you complaining.”

Marinette scoffs and slaps her hand to her chest in an overly dramatic mock of shock. “Unfair! If I complained I wouldn't get any hugs or kisses from you!”

Humming he wraps an arm around her shoulders and presses a kiss to her temple. “That's true, what a shame it would be for you to miss out on all those hugs.”

She hums back and the two ease into a comfortable silence; leaning against each other and sipping their coffees whilst staring at the night sky.

Once Marinette gets halfway through her coffee, she glances at Red Robin and hesitates, her earlier conversation with Detective Grayson springing to mind. “Communication is key in healthy relationships,” she prefaces, “so are you okay with our current relationship? Y'know the flirting, the not-dates, the whole me not knowing your identity?”

Red Robin laughs, sounding slightly bitter. “Of course I'm fine with the flirting and not-dates but I'm not going to lie and say I don't have any worries over you not knowing my identity. It's one of the reasons a relationship I had with a fellow mask didn't work out.” Rubbing at his jaw, he tilts his face away from her slightly, as though reminiscing about something. He then shakes his head and turns back to her. “Really, I ought to be asking you that. So what about you, are you okay with how our relationship is?”

Marinette hums. “This isn't the first time relationship I've had with a masked hero.” Then takes a calm sip of her coffee.

“So you've got a thing for masks then huh? Lucky me I guess.” He responds, smirking mischievously, and whilst she can't see the rest of his face thanks to the cowl, Marinette just knows that he's wiggling his eyebrows at her from underneath that cowl.

His comment nearly sends her tumbling off the half wall—again. She coughs and splutters in laughter as she nearly spits up her sip of coffee. It takes her a full thirty seconds to recover and mock gripes, “remind me why I love you again.”

Red Robin cocks his head to the side and grins. “Because I bring you coffee?”

She huffs, “good point.”

“So back to the mask thing, can I ask what happened with your masked hero relationship?” He asks, tone hesitant. He stares at her, ready to back off the topic at the slightest sign of discomfort from her.

Marinette hisses through her teeth and states, “I can trust you.”

His stare conveys an 'I would hope so' whilst he bobs his head a little in a 'yes you can' and a 'please continue' gesture.

She takes a deep breath before speaking, “I used to be a hero, back when I lived in Paris.”

“Oh?” Red Robin freezes, thrown off guard by her admission.

Nodding, Marinette continues. “It was difficult. We started when we were barely teens and had no training and no support except for temporary heroes we could bring in when the battles got too hard for just me and my partner to handle. When we started, we were repeatedly told to never, under any circumstances, let anyone find out our identities. My partner and I, neither of us knew who the other was beneath the mask. And we only knew the identities of the temporary heroes because we gave them the ability to become superheroes. But even then we didn't always know their real identities and they certainly never knew ours.”

“Yikes.” Is all he can respond with, mind racing with questions. “That can't have been good, at least I had Batman and Nightwing when I was starting out, but you had no one to talk to about being a mask, outside the mask.”

She flashes him a watery smile and sighs. “No, I did have someone. Tikki. But we're uh, not in contact any more. Since I retired.”

Still, Red Robin makes a noise of concern at that.

“Anyway, one thing led to another led to another, and my partner found out my identity.” Marinette puts her coffee down then tips her head back and closes her eyes. “We started dating not long after that. But once we defeated the BBEG terrorising Paris and some… concerning things came to light, our—we,” She shakes her head, “we realised that because of that, neither of us were emotionally able to continue our relationship in a romantic way. So we decided to stay friends and I—uh, I retired and moved to Gotham.”

He puts his coffee down as well, and pulls her into a tight hug, although making sure it wasn't too constricting as to not make her uncomfortable. “I'm sorry.”

She leans into the hug, rests her head on his shoulder, and delicately wraps her arms around him in return. “What? Why? It's not your fault.”

Red Robin frowns, not that she can see in their current position, “I know but no one should be forced into becoming a hero at such a young age with no support network.”

Huffing, Marinette buries her face in his shoulder, somewhat muffling her voice but not enough to make her unintelligible, “what about Spoiler? She became a hero around that age and had no support network.”

He sighs. “Spoiler chose to become a vigilante, she wasn't forced. And anyway, she had Robin and the rest of the bats to support her once they realised what she was doing.”

“Hmm… fair.” Marinette pulls back from the hug and pauses. “On a lighter note, I got a commission on my fashion site from Tim Drake-Wayne!”

Red Robin raises an eyebrow and with poorly concealed amusement, responds, “Oh? And what's so special about him”

She rolls her eyes at him. “He's the youngest fortune five hundred CEO, founded the Neon Knights among other charities, and often donates to various charities around Gotham! Plus Wayne Enterprises is one of, if not the most ethical company in the fortune five hundred bracket. Employees get living stipends, and training and higher education paid by the company. They get healthcare and dental insurance. They get flexible work hours, paid breaks, and receive above minimum wage pay!”

He laughs. “I guess he is a pretty decent sounding guy then.”

“Mhmm.”

“So what's the commission then? Or is it a secret?” He teases, leaning towards her.

Marinette dramatically places her hand over her heart. “I guess I can spare you the details this one time.”

“Wooh!”

She bites her lip before launching into a long ramble about the commission, gushing over what design and colour palette she's thinking of going with, what bots and bobs and patterns to add, what stitch to use and how to make sure it fits his style, etc.

Red Robin spends the entire time listening attentively, despite not really understanding half the fashion terms, and staring at her like a love-struck puppy.

“Damn, I love you!” He exclaims once she finishes speaking, then leans in to kiss her on the lips.

Marinette bursts into giggles and kisses him back. Her giggles are seemingly infectious, as once they part from the kiss, both are giggling and flushed red.

A bright flash of white followed by a camera shutter sound immediately distracts them both. They just manage to catch sight of Nightwing swinging away.

She gives him a look, which is somewhat less effective as she's still smiling from the kiss. “What happened to bribing Oracle, Black Bat, or Batgirl?”

Red Robin groans and drops his face into his hands. “Clearly Nightwing was able to one-up my bribe. Probably in the form of giving them copies of the photos both he and Detective Grayson have taken.”

“You mean to tell me those two are working together? No wonder Detective Grayson was asking about our relationship earlier today at work!” Marinette gasps, sounding mildly horrified and betrayed.

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” Red Robin asks, lifting his head up and grinning deviously at her.

She smirks back, “Revenge?”

He nods—the sagely kind of nod. “Revenge.”

==–==

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

@casual-darkness

#Miraculous Ladybug #ML x DC #DC x MLB #Maribat #Timinette #MariTim #Timari #Marinette x Tim #Tim x Marinette #Death is the Stage My Art is Your Grave #DitSMAiYG #DitSMAiYG Sequel #When Sitting on the Roof We are but Coffee Sleuths #WSotRWabCS #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

120 notes · View notes

honeypressed · 5 years

Text

SKZ Superhero AU based on @vampire-channie‘s au that you guys should check out!!! it’s amazing and i needed to write this so this is for you bub!! i hope you like it sakdjd also if you wanna rb please rb with the cut~ i dont wanna spam your blogs with a long post <3

No matter how many times they see Woojin shapeshift, it still feels weird and oddly intimate, like they’re watching Woojin bare his soul to everyone. A wolf, silver fur the exact shade of moonlight halts in front of them and curls in on itself, eyes glow a vivid purple, the light emanating until it glares too bright for one moment and then Woojin’s standing in front of them in human form, looking slightly weary and sporting several cuts and bruises. Hyunjin advances towards him, hands already glowing a pulsing shade of pink as he makes Woojin sit down and moves his palms over the wounds.

“They’re already at the edge,” Chan says before Woojin can even start talking. He looks tense, his eyes ringed in light blue as he surveys the patch of dark forest where they’re located.

“Read my mind,” Woojin says, with a little laughter, though his throat sounds extremely dry, “Yes, they’re at the edge of the district. The barriers around us is keeping them out for now since Jisung slammed a fuckton of electricity in there… But I don’t think it’ll keep them out for long.”

“So we fight now,” Changbin says calmly, standing up straighter, “We fight to protect what’s ours, what we love, don’t we?” He surveys the rest of them with a fierce gaze, “We protect our district.”

There’s one moment of silence then - all hell breaks loose.

A loud screech rings through their ears and the earth beneath their feet runs jagged cracks of dark blue as the electricity Jisung deployed before returns to him in a rush, and Jisung glows dark blue for a few moments, battling to control his powers. Around them, the earth starts to shake and dark clouds draw close above them, and Minho does not take well to this. At all.

“No fucking elementist is controlling our district,” Minho snarls, starting to emit a green glow as he throws his hands up into the sky and pulls them apart, letting the clouds disperse and the rough onyx sky emerges again, too fast, too sudden. Abandoning the sky for a moment, Minho slams his palm down on the earth and at once, the earth stabilises and in several lines, shoots begin to grow out, extending from his palm, and they continue to grow, now moving in erratic lines out of the forest they’re in.

“Leads to our enemies,” Chan forestalls Minho, eyes still shining bright blue, “And only we know what they are… If we’re lost, they’ll lead us back to each other.” He takes a hard look at all of them, the eight people that now mean so much to him, shrouded in darkness, and tries not to think that this could be the last time he sees all of them. “Fight well,” He says quietly, “Stay safe.”

Changbin is off before Chan even finishes his words, tracing one of the lines blooming with tiger lilies, figure sprinting alongside the rapidly glowing blossoms.

Felix takes Jeongin’s hand and they melt into the background, Jeongin’s invisibility powerful enough to shroud both himself and Felix. They follow a trail of sunflowers, bright yellow to cover Felix’s yellow trail as he speeds them ahead. The colour seems like hope in the dark, a flicker of something better in the grim today.

“I’ll take the south side,” Seungmin says, then he makes his way alongside blood-red poppies that dot the floor, like blood scattered in his wake, and a loud crash tells the rest of them Seungmin’s just toppled a tree and caught someone in it.

They barely have time to breathe before a strand of blue geraniums curl around Jisung protectively and the shoots harden, steel-like as a huge rock drops down on him. The shoots break off, but Jisung is unharmed - and furious.

“Come fight me properly, you scumbag,” Jisung hisses, hands crackling with electricity and eyes flashing a light blue akin to the most dangerous summer storms.

“Get out,” Minho says, edging him away, “I’ll deal with this person. You need to help Chan-hyung.” Another huge rock materialises and drops out of nowhere and Minho barely brings his hands up in time for a tree to block the blow. “Jisung, please, go!”

“I’ll stay with him,” Hyunjin adds, moving in with Minho and taking his back, “Jisung, go!” He swipes his hand at a wall of incoming spears and they fall to the ground harmlessly, faint pink smoke rising from them.

“Hyung,” Jisung says, running beside Chan, following the zig-zag trail of white tulips that are already stained with dirt and what looks like blood, “Hyung, do you know where everyone is?”

“Just about,” Chan replies, sounding like he’s a thousand miles away, and Jisung knows he’s keeping tabs on where everyone is. The line they’re taking splits away, and dark purple orchids sprout thickly, leading deeper into the forest, and Woojin stops, looking at them.

“I’m going here,” Woojin says, and before either of them can stop him, he’s shifted into a wolf, taking the path of the dark orchids, fur changing to blend in with the dark forest, and all they can do is trust that he’ll come back.

“We’re heading for the heart,” Chan says quietly, then switches to telepathy. We take down the heart, and we greatly reduce the power they have, and it’ll be easier for the rest to take them down.

We need to distract the heart, Jisung thinks, narrowly avoiding a stray arrow from the depths of the forest, aim for the weak spot and we can destroy them from within.

I’ll distract, Chan replies immediately, you stay hidden and attack when you spot a chance, okay?

Jisung doesn’t feel comfortable about Chan being bait, but Chan outright refuses for him to be bait, so he goes along with Chan’s plan, albeit somewhat unwillingly. The fear for the rest of his team increases tenfold when he spots Changbin facing up against a team of Ghuis, but Changbin decimates two of them in one blow, gaze burning ember-orange, and turns for his next target, a walking body of destruction.

He’ll be okay, Jisung thinks, holding on to that thought with all his heart, he’ll be okay.

I’m going now, Chan says suddenly, and Jisung has to restrain himself from standing up, trying not to give his position away. From his perch in a tree, he watches as Chan approaches the unmoving group of troops in the middle of their district, their land.

“I’m here to offer you an exchange,” Chan says, loud and clear, his voice ringing through the unnatural silence even as battle roars outside their little circle of terrifying tranquility.

“Speak,” A voice sounds, disembodied and from what Jisung can see, nestled in the centre of a circle of Milesminia. He resists the urge to swear. Milesminia, hyung! He says, somewhat panicked, the dishonoured soldiers! I need Seungmin with me to face them off, I can’t take them all out with my electricity alone.

You can, is the last thing Chan says to him before he feels Chan cut off telepathy with him.

“I offer you me, in return for you leaving my district forever,” Chan says calmly, walking towards the immobile troops, but as he inches closer, the outside flanks point their swords, dripping with fire and blood at him. Chan stops, smiles slowly at the heart of them, head high and proud, “Come, make a deal with the devil, why don’t you? We’re already in hell, you can sink no further.”

Chan stares straight ahead, eyes blown with blue, the colour threatening to take over his whole eye, and he’s pushing himself to find a mind, find a conscious that’s the only living one in the mess of these unliving troops.

The silence stretches long, too long, too long, and Chan is in danger but then -

Go back, he shouts, screams, finding the conscious he’s been searching for, this is not your district, leave us alone! For one moment, the troops all falter, and the Milesminia around the heart falter, revealing an orb projecting a spectre so gruesome, unlike anything Chan has ever seen - faded and patched, a Gyeolguk, something Chan never thought would be real - and everything dies away from one second then before it ends Jisung leaps in.

“Eat shit,” Jisung snarls, flying in from the air and punching straight through the orb, whole body crackling with electricity, eyes ringed with blue so dark the ocean could be in his eyes, and the same screech resounds through the air, hanging for seconds, minutes, decades, a forever and the orb pulses once, twice -

Explodes.

A dark light ripples from the center, obliterating everything inside their small circle of quiet, and everywhere, inside their district, the creatures falter, their source of magic destroyed. Between the rest of the team, the sense that Chan’s telepathy is always there, that they can feel it under their skin, is gone, and it’s terribly unsettling.

Felix stops, his sunshine-yellow trail lighting up the darkness and making him particularly visible in the night, and he squints up at the sky, wondering if it’s become darker. “Jeongin, let’s go,” He says after Jeongin manages to trick one of the Ghouls into slamming into a tree and destroying itself. Taking Jeongin’s hand once again, they speed through the forest, following the sunflowers that are starting to wilt, a mark of Minho’s strength wavering, and Felix’s heartbeat notches up as he catches sight of Hyunjin’s pink glow in the dark fog.

“Hyunjinnie?” Felix asks, and the pink glow falters for a moment.

“Lixie?” Hyunjin asks, “Oh - thank Kore - you guys aren’t too badly hurt… Minho-hyung really spent himself out, used all his elements in one attack and his magic drained everywhere, plus he’s sustaining these lines and trying to protect all the animals by cornering them together -”

“Stop healing me,” Minho says through gritted teeth, even though he looks like he’s in a lot of pain, “We need to find the others, quick. I’m going to lose my shoots if we lie here anymore so -”

“Guys!” A voice bursts out, and just as the last tiger lily dies and rots away, Changbin emerges, eyes still smoking orange faintly, and he looks shaky. “You guys are okay - I - we need to go find the rest and find Chan-hyung and Jisung, please, I was around that area when the blast happened and -”

“What blast,” Woojin demands, emerging from the northern forests, a mess of orchid petals stuck in his hair, “I made sure all the animals are fine, Minho, you can let go of them. What blast? I heard the screaming, but a blast?”

“Everyone!” Seungmin cries, bursting in, sounding distressed, “Please - come, quick - it’s Chan-hyung and Jisung - I managed to lift it off them but -” He cuts himself off, rambling now, and they get up, Hyunjin and Woojin helping Minho to stand as the elementist was on the verge of passing out.

They follow Seungmin through the forest, the last of the red poppies dotting the way to the rest of them. There’s an air of finality as they make their way through the forest and into the open of the centre, bathed in moonlight, and they see what Seungmin had meant.

Chan’s body, strewn in the middle, no visible wound but unmoving, and beside him, Jisung, cold and motionless, a sword bleeding gold lying to his left.

“I found the sword about to stab - stab him,” Seungmin says, breaking the horrified silence first, “When I was following the poppies. And - And I forced the sword off him, but it took so long, like it was sentient, and then the sword fell to the ground and started - leaking gold.”

Hyunjin’s already taken steps towards them, sliding towards them and his knees are grazed but he doesn’t care - his hands are glowing pink over Chan’s chest and shaking with a kind of deadly desperation, doesn’t really know what he’s healing, just hopes that Chan will wake up, and his mind is a steady stream of please please please Chan-hyung come back, please, we need you, please -

What?

The first wisps of consciousness comes back to Chan, and the familiar feeling of his telepathy washes under their skin, and everyone releases half a breath. Chan stirs slightly, opening his eyes, tinged with blue, and he stares straight up at Hyunjin.

“Hyun… Jin? I - oh - we were fighting, and I told the Gyeolguk to fuck off and - and Jisung!” Chan says, sitting up so fast he nearly knocks into Hyunjin, “Jisung punched the Gyeolguk’s energy source, he might be infected, I -”

“Don’t worry,” Minho says, panting slightly and on the brink of exhaustion, “I saw his hand start to bleed gold as well so I earthed him and he’s okay, he’s not infected. I think - Hyunjin just needs to see him.” He sways alarmingly and his knees buckle, though he waves away help and says he’s just tired, withdrawing all his shoots back.

“Jisung,” Hyunjin murmurs, now pressing his glowing hands into Jisung’s chest, exhaustion prickling at his skin and making his head swoon, “Jisung, come back, please.” He hardly knows what he’s doing, just knows he needs to expel the gold out of Jisung, make him come back to them, make him wake up, make him realise he’s protected their district and it won’t be their district without him.

It’s slow. Slow like how the night has elapsed and the sun is rising with slow determination. The light breaks over them slowly, gradually, and as it does, Jisung starts to stir, eyelids fluttering and and waking up. Hyunjin pushes on, pink light glowing even more ferociously as he works to clean Jisung, because though Minho earthed him and the gold won’t come in anymore, there’s still traces left in him that could mean Jisung never wakes up again.

But Jisung does. He opens his eyes as the first rays of proper sunshine dawns over them, casting a fiery red glow over the darkness and chasing the remains of the battle away, his eyes dazzling with the force of a thousand stars.

“What - What happened?”

They have a thousand days and more to tell him what happened. For now, they’re safe, and so is their district. Sadness and pain can wait for another day.

#stray kids fanfiction #writing #stray kids drabbles #drabbles #skz superhero au #for: vampire-channie #a h i crammed this in like 4 hours i hope its okay sdkojalsjaf #sorry i couldnt quite expand on everyones power but id love to in the future omg #i hope you like this!!!!!!!!#also i apologise for any typos #its nearly 11pm and i need to shower lmao #sorry its 2.5 hours i counted lmao #its a new record im shattering myself

18 notes · View notes

sakuurae · 7 years

Note

53 and 8 I know requests are closed rn but I'll forget to ask for this if I don't do this now lmao,, could you maybe do 53 and 8 with Johnny? If it's okay

prompts: “You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?”“I want my best friend back.”

pairing: johnny & reader insertincludes: light angstwc: 1.6knote: Not sure if this is the direction you wanted this to go down, but i hope you enjoy! I havent had the most motivation to write a lot lately, so this is probably the shortest thing ill ever release on this blog, lmaooo. I just needed to write a bit to see if itd help me get out of my slump :)

It was not an everyday occurrence for you to feel under the weather.

In fact, it was a rare event. Blue days for you were tabbed under the file of impossibilities in your life, for everything was peachy and placid for a short while. That was because you had Jung Jaehyun in your life.

Well, to be quite fair, your boyfriend, Jaehyun, still held a place in your life. It was just because he was no longer physically close to you. He had to move away for college, now at the opposite side of the country. To keep up communication was a promise, a determined task in order to hold up one of the pillars of the relationship. But even so that duty was met, it never felt enough for you—you craved to see Jaehyun, to be held in his arms again, and feel not the slightest amount of distance. The only proximity you wanted to be shared was the inches that his face were to be from yours, right before he shuts it with a fervent kiss.

And thinking about that made your heart swell—in all the good and bad ways.

Months had soared by and Jaehyun still remained on the opposite side of the country, even though it felt like he was crosswise on the universe. Back at your hometown you spent your college days with a man named Youngho. He was no stranger; in fact, he was someone who knew you as much as Jaehyun did because Youngho was, indeed, your closest friend. During high school the three of you hung out like peas in a pod—until the split happened.

It felt like fate to have Youngho attend the same university as you, especially since the rest of your friends became scattered across the country. But as if there was a transparent string that latched you to Youngho, moving away from him was futile.

Throughout the course of a few months soaring by, Youngho witnessed your blue phases waving over your being like a gargantuan tide. The smile he knew like the back of his hand—the grin he would be able to sketch from memory since it is imbued into his brain—started to fade along with the twinkles of hope that sparkled in your eyes.

Imperfect qualities that Youngho saw as flawless had no longer graced your being, and they were overtaken by a frown of dismal. You then started to walk as if there was an overcast lingering above you, and that weights were dragging your ankles back.

Tired of witnessing your tenebrous appearance, Youngho voiced the idea of lunch. To no surprise, you declined, and that only prompted him to pester you until you released a breathy ‘yes.’

Youngho accompanied you to one of his favourite local restaurants, the beam that painted in his face never faltering from the false belief that his joy would uplift your spirits. Confused looks were being tossed to him, and the question of why he was acting all jocular lodged into your throat, the words in tight knots.

You were sitting across the table from him in his favourite restaurant, an uncomfortable silence lapsing for the first few moments. Your cellular phone was resting on the surface, face up with notifications on in the hopes that your device would flash with an incoming call from Jaehyun. You were more attentive to your phone than Youngho’s words, and it caused him to release a sigh.

“I heard the food here’s pretty good,” he informed you, his fingertips drumming on the wooden table as the meals arrive. “I’m sure you’ll like it.”

You nodded, your lips pursed into a pout. “Yeah, I think I will too.”

Youngho’s expression dropped when he heard your voice. The words were hopeful, but laced with desolation, and it bored a void into Youngho’s chest. You were gawking at your phone, eyes barely peering up to Youngho and at your food. Though, the moment you and Youngho locked solemn gazes he forced a smile, the corners of his lips quirking up into an expression of reassurance.

Your hand was resting on the table and you started to retract it to grab onto your phone, but Youngho’s arm extended to stop you, his hand grasping around your wrist.

“Don’t think about him for one night—maybe even an hour,” Youngho told you with a beaming grin. His thumb circled over your skin in a comforting manner, trying to ease you out of your worries. “Just enjoy this food—I’m sure you’ll love it.”

You released a sigh, a sound Youngho had then became accustomed to throughout the night. “Fine,” you groaned, your hand retracting to your side. “I guess he’s fine.”

“Of course he is,” Youngho assured. “It’s Jae, after all.”

After he said that, you remained silent throughout the entire night. The most you touched your food was with simple prods with a fork, or spears into the sustenance with a knife, but you never consumed anything. Your worries chased their way into your mind in a pestering manner, and it diminished your appetite, making the food go to a practical waste.

Youngho was eating passionately across the table, the corners of his lips quirked upwards as if he believed the happiness was a virus that he would be able to pass onto you. Though, just as your own, his smile faded once you could no longer fight the urge to check your phone for messages, calls—anything from Jaehyun. You perused your social media when there was no luck, only to find a fresh trace of your boyfriend resting on your news feed.

Jaehyun uploaded a picture of himself at a football game, his arm looped around another girl as if he dragged her into an annoying embrace; the sight of it made your insides flame up with envy and fractions of antipathy. A thousand questions soared into your mind: why was he with her, how did he have the time to upload a picture and not respond to your messages for the past two days?

You, once again, sighed and placed your head down on the dinner table. The phone slipped from your grasp and it remained motionless on the surface, enticing Youngho to catch a glimpse of the reason you were under the weather.

Youngho pressed his lips into a thin line and spoke, “Is everything okay, (y/n)?”

You tilted your head, facing him with glossy eyes. “Yeah,” you assured. “Just Jae again.”

“You used to never worry about him,” Youngho commented, twirling his fork into his meal. “Well, you did—but not to this degree. Is everything okay?”

“Of course everything is okay.” You nodded, straightening your posture. You looked at your close friend intensely, the determination in your eyes to convince him present.

Youngho’s eyebrows came together, the worried expression sketching on his face making you slump in your seat. “You haven’t even touched your food,” he commented. “You’re not fine—what’s going on?”

“Just Jae—”

“But what about Jae,” he continued sternly. You were practically able to hear the disappointment sketch on his face, his worries evident in the air. Youngho gained a desire to message Jaehyun, to give him the idea that he was causing you to pain unintentionally—that he was hurting you immensely just by ignoring you or brushing your presence to the side, but he was unable to for all the selfish reasons.

You heard Youngho sigh when you decided to remain silent. The truth was written on the walls, but you were unable to voice the complaints to Youngho—because saying it made you feel as if you were facing the end of your and Jaehyun’s relationship. It was a rocky path since he moved and you chose to give him the benefit of the doubt—always.

Youngho sighed and stared at you as you rose up and fixed your posture. “I want my best friend back,” he told you. You opened your mouth to reply, but he cut you off by adding, “You’ve been worrying about Jaehyun constantly. I think you need to talk to him on the phone about this. And I know he isn’t replying to you, but I’m sure he sees your texts. Message him saying it’s serious and call to sort things out—because I hate seeing you upset. It makes me hurt knowing I can’t do anything to make you feel better, (y/n).”

His words swam in your ears and it took you a while for you to comprehend. Youngho had a valid point, but your fear still took over you for a couple of seconds. “Fine,” you sighed, reaching for your device again. “What should I say?”

“Say you need to talk when he’s free—and that it’s important,” Youngho guided, slipping his phone out of his pocket to pass time as you send the message.

You stared at the screen emptily, the message window of Jaehyun on your screen as if it was mockery. You groaned, dreading such an act and a call, but allowed your thumb to roam the surface nonetheless.

You [6:53 p.m.] Jae, we need to talk. Call me when you can, okay?

You hesitated and looked up at Youngho, whose phone ringed off from a notification, staring at him before adding:

You [6:55 p.m.] I miss you a lot, jae :(

You smiled at the sent messages, the fence no longer feeling like a tall obstacle you had to hop over. Grinning at Youngho, you noticed a frown being pulled at his lips.

“Is everything okay, Youngho?” you asked him, the tables turning as you were worrying about him now.

But he remained silent. The effort Youngho pushed you to do went down the drain, and little did you know those messages to your boyfriend meant close to nothing.

Youngho stared at the message on his screen as if it was a lifeless taunt:

Jaehyun [6:53 p.m.] dude, i think i should break up with (y/n)

Jaehyun [6:53 p.m.] distance kills, and it just doesnt seem like we’re going to work out

Youngho forced a smile at you, assuring you of your worries as he put his phone away. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “Don’t worry about anything.”

#The last time i touched this was a month ago #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct angst #nct #nct fanfic #nct johnny #johnny angst #youngho angst #nct 127 #nct 127 scenarios #not my best out there but hey #i needed something #writing #anonymous #messages

79 notes · View notes

ethicallysourcedhumanmeat · 7 years

Text

Yooran Week Day 4: Mint Eye

Still dealing with computer issues but I’m kinda happy this is going up before my Day 1 fic. [AO3] All my @yooranweek things are from Headcanons related to Catalyst

Saeran had been watching them for almost as long as he could remember. Before wasn’t real. Not anymore. Mother and Saeyoung, pain and loss and she had come. Then there had been Jisu and school and people who’d loved him but it had been fake.

Time had started when she had come in the middle of the night, no longer the smiling woman with the golden hair, no longer his angel who’d given him life. She’d snatched them from their beds in the dark and the people he thought had cared for them smiled and thanked her. Her eyes were manic, her hair was dull and greasy and she was damp and smelled bad.

She’d put them in the cage together, until her lies were truths and the time before was just a dream, a thing to happened to someone else, and he was no one. Unknown

They’d been kept together at first, the scared little girl who’d lived in that house with him, but she was easier than him, she’d had nothing before him and she was more than eager to please the frightening woman with the harsh green eyes. She’d called her little peach and she’d melted. She’d been taken and fed.

He took much longer, there were more drugs, more names, no sweet names. She wanted him to be no one, wanted him alone and abandoned and broken. She wanted him mean, and he’d seen that person in his mother, he’d seen kindness in his brother. But starving and ready to die he had surrendered his name, surrendered his life. He was Unknown, a ghost, a nameless junk yard dog, and Savior held the leash.

At first she’d kept him in her rooms, a soft bed on the floor like a pet and the pretty girl with the pretty dresses and soft eyes would sometimes sit with him, pet his head, sneak him the scraps from her table. They’d been caught once and Savior had scolded her and beat him.

But as he learned, as he made himself useful she’d praised him. She held tight to his leash but as he grew, and learned to make himself hard she would give him slack.

The people of Mint Eye feared him. He was unknown and he was dangerous.

His only job, the one that mattered was to watch the RFA, to keep tabs on them all. He knew them better than they knew themselves, certainly better than they knew one another and he had his favorites.

There was heir, the sad dogs best friend who thought he was so smart but was so easily misled, who thought he was so cold when he was just a sad man with a cat. He liked to watch him in the evenings, when he’d look through photo albums and convince himself he wasn’t alone.

He liked to watch the actor, with his fragile ego mask. He was boring compared to the heir, going to work coming home, drinking alone, but sometimes he cried. He liked to see the pretty man with all the fans cry into his beer, afraid of dying alone.

But his favorite was the boy with the purple eyes. The sad, kind boy who thought he knew so much about her. He liked to watch him most of all. Sometimes he would argue with the sad blue dog and he would laugh. The boy was smart, and for a time, before she’d gone to collect her sad dog, the boy was the only one who suspected she could be alive.

The happy boy who was so sad, the happy boy who would break things in fits of rage when he was alone with his games, the kind boy who could ruin someone’s day if they made one wrong move in a made up world. He liked that boy. He watched him more than anyone else. He’d even played that game once just to ruin his day and hear him scream at him.

He likes his place here, in Mint Eye, he likes the fear in the eyes of the people who inhabit the castle when he makes his way through the halls. They way they whisper big man and cower. The way it had started as a joke, the smallest of her inner circle couldn’t be that dangerous, could he? But he was and he’d proved it time and again until even the most intimidating people she could find had trouble making eye contact.

Savior and her Peach are waiting in the server room, and all his hard work is about to come to fruition. Peach will get her name back, she’ll get a life and a job and then when Savior is ready she’ll help him deliver the RFA. This is step one.

Savior watches him teach her their names, he can see her stern face and narrowed eyes and the subtle quirk of her eyebrow when he hesitates for a split second as he pulls up the file for Yoosung Kim. Her chilling smile as she leaves them there to study in peace.

He remembers her face when he enters her private rooms, the echo of her Peach, can I have him.

He doesn’t mean to growl, doesn’t realize he had until her ring tears his cheek with the impact, Savior still smiling that terrifying smile and her Peach’s tinkering laughter.

He doesn’t reach for the wound, doesn’t poke at it with his tongue, he only waits as she smiles between them.

“I’ve thought of a lively game she says,” in a sing song voice that reminds him of than man who should have been his brother.

The pretty girl with the soft eyes who got to be Jisu again smiled and clapped her hands. “I love your games,” she coos.

He liked to see her smile, that genuine smile that touched her eyes. The opposite of Savior. It reminded him of the boy with the purple eyes.

“This is the best one yet,” Savior chirps. He hates this voice, the smiling Madonna figure she plays sometimes, he hates that this Savior is not for him. His savior is the cold dead eyes behind the smile, that pierce him to the place his soul would be if he were a person.

He would die for her, and he knows he may have to, he knows she asked it of others. He knows the Sad Blue Dog will get to die for her one day.

“I want the two of you to work together,” she says grasping both of their hands together between hers, “you’ll bring me the RFA, you’ll bring me those failures and traitors and we’ll show them paradise.”

It’s a lie in a way, they would work simultaneously but not together. He would watch and she would play. Savior had been telling him the plan for months now, as he laid the ground work, began to unravel Luciel’s defenses. Savior had also told him, should they need it, the Peach could be crushed to bring them here.

He watches her face light up, excited to finally have a purpose.

“I don’t care which of you delivers them to me,” she sings letting them go and turning dramatically so that her robes flare out and she looks almost girlish. “And as incentive,” his ears perk up. He’d never been give more than a meal or his usual dose, sometimes an extra communion should he go above and beyond in his daily task. “Yoosung is dear to me, but if one of you delivers me the RFA without the help of the other, you can keep him as your prize.”

Big brown eyes light up and she nods. She’s only bait but she doesn’t know that, she could die for the cause, he life could be in his hands but she doesn’t know that. The little peach thinks the game is fair, thinks the odds are even. She trusts her charms and her training and her ability to be a person.

She has no idea the game is rigged, that fairness depends on how he decides to play. But Savior knows, and she smiles and and twirls and coos with her Peach. Her cold eyes trained on him, she knows the game depends on him.

#Catalyst #Yooran #Yooranweek #saeran choi #yoosung kim #mystic messenger

14 notes · View notes

swiftwidget · 7 years

Text

Control - Chapter Four

On Track

Cowritten and Proofread by @aoimikans

“William Howard Wright,” he flashed his pass to the evidence technician, “I need the Yagi-Rishi case files and evidence.”

The young evidence technician adjusted her large, round glasses and squinted at the pass. After a moment of consideration, she nodded and pressed the lock release with a polite smile.

The lock clicked with a loud buzz, and William yanked the heavy door open.

“Noriko Shuuka,” the technician introduced herself, bowing slightly. Her shoulder-length, tightly curled brown hair bobbed about her face, “You’re with the visiting team?”

“I am,” William echoed her bow.

“I figured,” she said, “You all are the talk of the precinct.”

“Oh?” William quirked an eyebrow at the small young woman. “Do I want to know?”

“It’s not that interesting,” Shuuka deadpanned with a shrug. “We just don’t get international teams often, and people enjoy a fresh conversation topic.”

William huffed but smiled politely. His quirk, Aura Sight, pulsed pleasantly at the back of his eyes. The black aura of truth overlaying the image of the woman remained constant.

A refreshingly honest person, he thought as he followed behind her.

“Just over here,” Shuuka said, turning around the last set of shelves, “Yagi… Yagi.. Ya- Ah, here.” She reached up, standing on her tiptoes, and pulled down a white, cardboard box. Something metallic inside rattled.

“You think you can hold two of these? There are three boxes total,” Shuuka passed the heavy box to William.

“I can manage,” William said, shifting the box in his arms lower so the technician could stack the second box on top. “Thank you.”

Shuuka pulled down the last box and lead William to the front. Gently placing her box onto a dolly, she gave it a pat.

“You can use this to take the boxes,” she said, taking the top box from William and placing it beside the first, “Let me grab the proper forms, and you can be on your way.”

William signed the boxes out of evidence and rolled the dolly toward his team’s office. Ringing phones and conversations buzzed in the background as he passed through the police bullpen. One officer led a woman handcuffed toward her own desk.

“I’m telling you, I don’t know how trigger got in my purse!” the young woman exclaimed, wriggling against the officer’s firm grasp. “It’s not mine!”

William grimaced at the woman’s lies. White light swirled around her, growing brighter as she spewed falsehood after falsehood. Pain prickled at the back of his eyes as he hastened away. Gritting his teeth, he dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out an orange pill bottle. Shaking out two pills, he tossed them into his mouth and swallowed them dry. He stuffed the bottle back in his pocket as he shoved the conference room door open.

“Welcome back, Will,” Vera Lang said cheerfully. Her fingers danced back and forth across her braille terminal as she read the digitized files on her laptop.

William grunted in reply, making a beeline for the coffee pot. He poured himself a mug, sighing into the pleasant steam rising from its contents.

Bellamy shot him a concerned look, “Are you alright? You’re irritated.”

Snorting and taking a long swig from his mug, William nodded.

“A criminal playing dumb,” he said simply, rubbing at his eyes. The prickling sensation always lingered after witnessing a falsehood. On the bright side, there had only been one. Had there been more or, God forbid, a roomful, a little prickling would be the least of his problems.

Bellamy nodded in understanding, lifted an evidence box and removed the lid. He shifted through its contents and passed a couple files to Alba and Mary.

“Find anything from the digital files?” William asked, setting his mug down at his place at the table.

“An estimated timeframe of the abduction which matches with our information regarding the presumed mugging, a link to another case involving the homicide of one Hibiki Genji,” Vera listed, patting the Genji casefile box sitting beside her, “and a record of operations that took place with pro-heroes searching for All Might. Most of the heroes were his co-workers from U.A. Hero Academy.”

“Makes sense considering they wanted to keep things close to the vest,” Mary chipped in. “Especially with all the bad press the school has been getting recently.” At the odd look she got from Alba, she shrugged, “I like to keep tabs on U.A. Watching the Sports Festival is kind of a tradition in my family.”

Alba clicked her beak thoughtfully, “I suppose close friends and peers would help keep news from getting out. There was enough uproar in reaction to his retirement alone.”

William nodded absently, “So, no mention of anything that would imply Big Bad was involved?”

Bellamy shook his head, “So far, no.”

Damn it. William sighed, brushing his hand over his breast pocket, right above his heart, and the small photograph tucked inside it.

“There’s no such thing as a dead end, Wright.” His mentor’s laugh echoed through his mind, “Maybe a split end, but if you look hard enough, you’ll find a connection.”

“Keep looking,” William said, earning a chuckle from Vera and smiles across the table. Returning his attention to the box in front of him, he dug to the bottom. Curiosity piqued, he pursed his lips and pulled out a handheld recorder. Sitting back and plugging in his personal set of earbuds, he prepared a notepad and pressed play.

“If at any point you need to take a break -” Detective Tsukauchi’s voice sounded tinny in William’s ears. There was a rustling of cloth and faint background noise… Beeping?

“I’m alright.” A man’s voice, low and a bit raspy. So different from his hero persona, All Might. “I’m not as fragile as I look, Tsukauchi.”

The detective in the recording snorted with humor.

So, this is Yagi. William thought.

He jotted down quick notes as the interview continued.

“...Was she the only person you saw?”

“No. There were two others. All for One, the villain from the Kamino Ward incident, and this young man, Isamu Sato. He was coerced into working with his supervisor, Inoshita, and the villain, who Isa- ah, Sato- only knew as,” A slight pause, “Sensei…”

The tape continued to roll, but William wasn’t listening. He was staring at the words written on his notepad.

ALL FOR ONE.

A title only heard in whispers of fear or reverence. Old. That name is old.

A shudder ran down his spine, and he shook himself, pressing rewind. He hit play and heard the detective continue.

“What were the roles of the three?”

There was a shuffling movement, a quiet thump.

“To be brief, All for One provided the quirks forced -”

William’s brows furrowed as he tried to focus in on the background noise during another long pause. Forced? Quirks?

“Do you need a moment?” Detective Tsukauchi asked softly, a slight crackle muffled the speaker.

A hand brushing over the mic, perhaps.William pushed against the earbud, listening intently.

“Just growing pains. All for One provided the quirks forced into my system. Inoshita personally administered one and regularly changed my IV solution. Nurse Sato was made to deliver meals and ensure that I survived the quirks that put a greater strain on my body.”

William blinked, pressing pause.

What?

He pulled out an earbud, “Mary, pass me the photos we showed Tsukauchi.”

Mary raised an eyebrow, setting aside her papers.

“Sure thing, here,” she said and passed along the folder she pulled from her bag.

William stared at the photos, and the detective’s pitch black aura resurfaced in his mind’s eye, “There’s been a misunderstanding. The man in the first and last photo is Toshinori Yagi.”

“Quirks…” he muttered softly. He hadn’t really believed…

“Got something?” Bellamy asked.

“I might… One moment.” William said, almost breathless. A shaky smile pulled at his lips as he pressed play.

“Survive?” Tsukauchi sounded… worried.

William gripped his pen tightly as he waited for Yagi to reply.

“The tail quirk-” His eyes shot to the second photo, “-added a significant amount of body mass… Without that young man, I would not have lived through the change.”

William grinned, “We have him.”

Genji looked up, pale, “Are you sure?”

“I’m certain,” William nodded, predatory glee bubbling in his chest, “Big Bad was here. And - And Montgomery's quirk theory was correct. We have our living proof.” He smacked the second photo as a laugh escaped him.

Eleven goddamn years… He pat the photo in his breast pocket, But you were right.

He carefully pulled out the earbuds and set the recorder on the table, speaker up.

“Listen to this.”

The whole dorm smelled of curry. It brought a smile to Toshinori’s face as the elevator door opened to the first floor. Adjusting the strap of his gym bag on his shoulder, he looked down at his phone as it buzzed.

Power Loader sent his reply:

[Yes, I can meet you at the faculty gym. Let me just gather some measuring supplies.]

[Fantastic!] Toshinori quickly texted back, [I’m on my way now.]

He looked up just in time to see a green mop of hair disappear around the corner and into the kitchen.

“Midoriya, my boy!” Toshinori called out. He chuckled at the sudden thumping scramble of footsteps as the boy rushed back around the corner.

“Yes?” Izuku asked. He was dressed in his running clothes, much like Toshinori was now.

“Heading to the training fields?” Toshinori asked, approaching him.

“Y-yeah! I was just grabbing my water,” the boy gestured to the fridge with his thumb.

Toshinori nodded, “I’m headed that direction myself. Why don’t you grab your water and walk with me?”

Izuku blinked up at him, brows raised, and nodded, “Sure!”

Toshinori could have sworn he saw the telltale light of One for All as Izuku dashed to the fridge and back, water bottle in hand. He smiled and led the way to the front doors.

The day was bright despite the thin layer of overcast clouds. Blue sky peeked between great swaths of grey. A cool wind brushed over Toshinori’s skin, rustling his sweatpants and t-shirt.

I should have grabbed a jacket, he thought before remembering none of his jackets were tailored. Regardless, being outside felt … He didn’t have the words.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, smiling at the cool, crisp air filling his lung.

He opened his eyes, blinking in the sunlight, and movement caught his attention. Izuku stretched his left arm and rubbed at his neck.

“How’s your shoulder doing, my boy?” Toshinori asked quietly.

Izuku quickly pulled his hand away from his shoulder, “It’s fine! Really,” He took a deep breath and sighed, “It just tingles, but that’s Recovery Girl’s healing side effect really. Um, but you’d probably know that.”

Toshinori chuckled, “Oh, would I?”

Izuku’s face flushed red, and he bowed his head, “I- um-”

Toshinori ruffled the boy’s hair, grinning at his stammering.

“I’m teasing,” he said with a laugh.

“O-oh,” a small smile twitched on Izuku’s face before it faded to something more serious, “How’s your - um - How’re you feeling?”

“Well,” Toshinori adjusted his bag strap again and smiled down at Izuku, “I’m walking again, and I’m pleasantly full from earlier. Definitely a positive turn of events, considering...” His smile fell, and he looked the boy in the eye, “I want to apologize. You should have never seen that… I was hoping you - and your classmates, for that matter - would never have to see that side of my… condition. I,” he traced the uppermost spike on his neck, “I should have taken proper precautions. If I had, you wouldn’t have been hurt.”

Because of me… Again.

Toshinori glanced at the scars lining Izuku’s hands and arm, “For that, I am sorry.”

Izuku looked up at him, a pensive frown on his face. Then he bowed and shook his head, “Thank you. It’s really not your fault though...”

A small smile softened Toshinori’s expression, and he clapped a hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “I also want to thank you for listening this morning. Everyone’s acceptance,” he paused, searching for the right words, “It helps.”

Izuku grinned, eyes a little watery, “I’m glad to hear it!”

For a short distance, they walked in comfortable silence. Toshinori’s tail found its way around Izuku’s waist, giving it a small squeeze before swinging back into place.

Rubbing his stomach, Izuku laughed, “Does your tail still have a mind of its own?”

“Of course,” Toshinori said, swatting the boy’s back with his tail. He darted to the side with a laugh when Izuku attempted to catch it. The boy righted himself too slow, and Toshinori snagged him, holding him against his side with the crook of his elbow.

Izuku sputtered and hopped along with Toshinori’s long strides, and Toshinori shot him a cheeky grin, suppressing the laughter bubbling in his chest.

“So…” Izuku said between a small hop and a skip in his uneven gait, “What’s on today’s training menu?”

A sudden overwhelming sense of familiarity brought a wide smile to Toshinori’s face.

“What have you worked up to?” he asked, looking down at the boy trapped against him.

Izuku smiled proudly, “A mile warm up, no quirk. Six mile run at five percent. Three miles at eight percent. A mile cool down, no quirk. Weightlifting with and without One for All. Cementoss built a fairly simple obstacle course, and I try to complete it three or four times as fast as I can. It changes every week, and sometimes he’ll offer to change it while students run it. Adds adapting and quick thinking elements to the course.”

Toshinori nodded as Izuku counted off the parts of his regimen on his fingers, smiling with enthusiasm. He hummed thoughtfully, and Izuku quieted. The boy looked up at him expectantly, and Toshinori playfully ruffled his hair earning himself a small squawk of protest.

“Not bad, my boy,” Toshinori’s tail swung cheerily as Izuku sputtered and squirmed his way out of Toshinori’s headlock, blushing to his ears.

“Sounds like you’ve got your own menu in order,” Toshinori grinned as they reached the training field and gave the boy a small push from behind “Go on then, I’m off to meet Power Loader. Your warm up and cool down are important, so make sure to do them properly.”

Izuku nodded, smiling wide, “Right! See you later, All Might!”

The tip of Toshinori’s tail flicked with his amusement as the boy dashed off.

The faculty gym was large, much like the rest of U.A. The building had once been an armory and used for training young military officers before the founders of U.A. bought the property around it. Its rectangular base and high, curved roof was large enough to house a small blimp, though it never did in its history - at least, not to Toshinori’s knowledge.

He pulled open one of the many doors lining the sides of the old brick building and stepped inside. Immediately, Toshinori was greeted with the smell of rubber, dusty heating vents, linen-scented cleaning solution, and sweat. It was warm, familiar, and sent a pleasant rush of renewed energy through his long limbs. He chuckled at himself as his tail swung excitedly. Dropping his gym bag and slipping the prototype sandals from his feet, he jogged onto the track.

Toshinori carefully sat and stretched as Recovery Girl showed him.

“All Might!”

Twisting in place, Toshinori raised a hand in greeting, “Good morning, Power Loader.”

Higari Maijima was out of his mechanical suit, instead wearing his casual clothes, a grey shirt and a pair of thick, tan work pants dotted with welding burns. Behind him, he rolled one of his mobile tool cases.

“Good afternoon,” he said, rolling his case up to a bench by the track. Maijima grinned as he came to sit near Toshinori, giving him enough space to swing his long tail around to stretch it, “You’re looking better.”

“I’m getting there,” Toshinori said with a grunt, nearly folding himself in half to touch his clawed toes. New muscles pulled, but he couldn’t help grinning at the familiar ache. “Working my way up to running again.”

Maijima hummed thoughtfully, “The prototype shoes working at all?”

“They’re a bit loose,” Toshinori admitted, “Slides a bit.”

“I see,” the inventor tapped his chin, “Maybe something more form fitting. May I?” He gestured to Toshinori’s feet. “I want to do some more measurements.”

Toshinori nodded, shifting to face Maijima. Pulling Toshinori’s foot into his lap and starting from his hock, Maijima stretched measuring tape across each joint.

Maijima muttered under his breath, “Your claws present the biggest issue, but one I’ve worked with before…” he wiggled his own fingers, blunt iron claws flashing in the sunlight streaming through the large windows. He pressed the pad on the ball of Toshinori’s foot, watching as his toes curled before spreading each and examining the partial webbing between them. “In warmer weather, I would say your pads would be fine barefoot - though etiquette demands footwear. Hm. Do you have a preference where style is concerned?”

Toshinori shrugged, “Just something comfortable that won’t overheat. So, breathable material. That may be too much to ask, though.”

“Not at all,” Maijima replied, “Breathable material that’s strong enough to withstand pressure from your claws. I may have just the thing back in my workshop.”

Toshinori grinned, “Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

Maijima moved to wave him away, but he paused, “Ah, multiple pairs are a given, but having a separate athletic pair will definitely be useful. If you don’t mind, would you allow me to observe how you run? To see how flexible the material will need to be.”

Toshinori’s ears perked, and his legs itched to move. Running.

He nodded.

Maijima pulled his gear from the track and dusted off his pants, “Alright. Whenever you’re ready.”

Toshinori pushed himself to stand, shifting from all fours to two as quickly as he could.

He walked to the starting line, the rubber path felt rough against his toes. The track stretched out ahead of him and he took a slow, deep breath. His legs tensed and his tail whipped behind him. Claws digging against the track, Toshinori leapt forward. He started at a fast jog, feet thumping against the track and getting a feel for his stride. It was longer, bounding and pressing forward. His heart pounded, strong in his chest, as his body warmed to the movement.

He sucked in another deep breath and let it loose, charging ahead.

His mind felt so clear.

Grinning, Toshinori sped up, arms pumping at his sides and tail curving as he made the wide turn of the track. His breath puffed around his face, blood roaring in his ears.

Faster.

He ducked his head, pumping his arms - almost leaping through the air.

Faster!

His chest burned, and his back muscles pulled. Bending forward, he relieved the strain, grinning ear to ear.

He loped along the track, wrists and arms bending - softening each impact. The sidelines blurred with his speed. Focusing on his breaths, his steps fell into an easy rhythm - One, two, in. One, two, out. Nice and even.

Reaching the turn and digging his right hand into the ground, he -

He blinked, noticing the track inches from his nose, and jerked back.

Shit!

His tail thrashed as he stumbled through the turn, hands and feet scrabbling for purchase.

Shit-shit-shit!

His foot crashed against the back of his arm, and he tumbled to the ground. Toshinori grit his teeth as he ducked into a roll and slid across the track. When he came to a stop, he coughed, tasting copper.

Rolling with a groan, Toshinori sat up on his haunches and rubbed at his scarred side.

“Ahh,” he hissed through his teeth, “That smarts.”

A sharp pain pricked the back of his neck. He quickly brushed through the mane and felt around his third spike. It was still there - loose, but still there. Toshinori breathed a sigh of relief. He would hate to have to tell Isamu he’d already knocked it out.

“All Might!” Maijima jogged across the track and came to a stop beside him, “Are you alright? That was quite the tumble. Not used to running on all fours, huh?”

Toshinori’s ears drooped and he rubbed his palms together, grateful for the thick calluses on his palms built up over years of hero work.

“I-uh, no,” he frowned at his claws. A few of the caps had slipped off.

Just different, that small mantra repeated quietly in the back of his mind, Just different.

“All Might, it just so happens that we have several students who do the same. One of which walks and runs as a quadruped full-time,” Maijima smiled down at All Might and held out his hand.

Toshinori took it and let his peer tug him up to stand.

“I’ve got something for you,” Maijima said, beckoning Toshinori to follow. He led him to his tool case, opened it, and dug through it. “Recovery Girl mentioned the dual nature of your stride, and I figured you might be able to use a pair of these.”

From the case he pulled a pair of fingerless gloves. Maijima handed them over, smiling as Toshinori curiously turned them about and prodded them with his claws. Thick, tough pads were sewn into the palms of the gloves.

“They’re running gloves,” Maijima explained simply when Toshinori gave him a questioning look. He grinned a toothy grin, eyes sparkling from behind his long, shaggy bangs, as Toshinori carefully slipped them on and flexed his fingers.

“They’ll help grip the ground during those turns,” Maijima continued, “There are also a few running videos I know of that could help you figure out how to steer with that long tail of yours. If you’re interested, that is.”

Toshinori’s tail swayed thoughtfully, and he nodded, “I think I’d like that.”

Maijima smiled contently, then suddenly jolted, “Oh!” He bent and dug into his tool case, “Nearly forgot. I noticed you used to do a fair amount of boxing in here, but I imagined your claws would make it difficult to make a fist.” He pulled something from the case, “And I made something for that.”

Toshinori stared down at the gloves Maijima held out and grinned.

Since listening to the taped interview, William’s team worked with a feverish energy, searching for any and all mention of All for One. The Emperor of Darkness whose name was only whispered by the few foolhardy enough to cave during interrogation.

Their “Big Bad.”

Arch Montgomery had been one of many to go after the man called All for One.

“Yes,” Montgomery had said so often, looking at William over his thick-rimmed reading glasses, “All for One is as much of a man as you or I.”

William still remembered the late nights searching for whispers of his name on the wind, pouring over books and police records, following the trail of bodies he and his subordinates left behind.

For a retired history professor, Montgomery had a surprising number of contacts and more energy than men half his age. He kept in near-constant touch with dozens of investigators, private detectives, and police worldwide.

It had been a woman from Uruguay who theorized that All for One was merely a title, passed down from person to person. While some quirks provided longevity, it seemed unlikely that such a quirk would make the man live for generations. Especially not with the horror stories from scant witnesses. They spoke of a man in a suit with a highly destructive quirk, though the exact nature of said quirk was never consistent.

“So, naturally, Lucia believes that there is no consensus on All for One’s quirk because there is not only one quirk - There is not only one man,” Montgomery had said in his London office, reading the email Lucia had sent him. “All for One is both a man, or perhaps a woman, and a legacy. A title.” He gently tapped his bourbon glass, leaning back in his wooden desk chair, “An interesting theory.”

A theory William - a man in his early thirties at the time - was quick to accept as the most obvious answer to the mystery of All for One’s apparent longevity.

Montgomery… had not been so quick to accept that answer. His own theory was born of the mad ravings of a quirkless man.

All for One was a man who stole quirks away.

“There are too many different stories.” He rambled, pacing the floor of his library and leaning heavily on his cane, “Distinctly different accounts with contradictory quirk descriptions!” Montgomery ran a hand through his usually impeccably combed white hair. “Think, Will! Think! There are at least forty descriptions of the same man with different quirks.”

“Maybe you should lie down,” William had cautioned, holding out his hands.

“I’ve not gone senile, Will! Do not-” Montgomery collapsed then, cane slipping and clattering across the floor.

William had to keep him in the house and using his oxygen tank, not that the retiree thanked him for it.

Stubborn old man.

“Wright?”

William blinked, looking up and tucking the small photo into his breast pocket. Bellamy stood beside him, another file in his hands. His kind face crinkled with worry, but he kept his empathic observations to himself.

“Detective Tsukauchi is here,” he said, giving William’s shoulder a covert squeeze.

“Thank you,” William said quietly, sending a significant look to Mary. She quickly flipped through the small pile of papers and pulled out the transcripts of the Yagi interview.

“Good morning,” Tsukauchi greeted them with a respectful nod. His dark eyes swept over the room and halted at the boxes of evidence. “Already hard at work then?”

“We took the liberty of going through the Yagi case files to better familiarize ourselves with them,” Vera Lang said, smiling in the direction of the detective.

Mary handed William the transcripts, and he turned to Tsukauchi.

“I do have a few questions regarding your talk with Yagi,” William said, moving to stand beside the detective. He tapped down on the name in question, asking, “This nurse, Isamu Sato, he was integral to keeping Yagi imprisoned. Why hasn’t be been detained?”

Detective Tsukauchi frowned slightly at the page before moving to the coffee machine and filling his mug, “He was integral in Yagi’s escape, and as per Yagi’s request any charges against him have been dropped.”

William hummed, turning to look at his own case files. He pulled out a stack of photos, spreading them across the table, “Nurse Sato was in an out of that building the most. Here, we have several pictures and videos of him carting supplies into the building - and yes, I made sure to double-check his identity. In fact, he’s the one who drew our attention. Are you certain you have all of the facts?”

Tsukauchi glanced over the photos, sipping from his mug.

“I trust Yagi’s judgement,” he said simply, the black aura around him unwavering, “However, I still intend to question him. He suffered grave injuries at the hands of Yagi’s captor, and I’ve been waiting for his doctor’s approval.”

Trust him? All Might, the man who shined the brightest.

William frowned at the clear, black aura, “And you believe this nurse is without guilt? After what he put your friend through?”

Tsukauchi’s shoulders stiffened.

Mary sighed as her plant withered in its jar on the table, and Bellamy shot William a stern look.

Then Tsukauchi straightened and turned, “I am sure Sato is convinced of his own guilt. He freed Tosh- Yagi. A man who did not feel guilt or acknowledge the wrongness of the situation would not have acted.” His voice was even, expression firm, aura unchanged.

The corner of William’s mouth twitched. Touché…

“Fair enough. I would like to be present when you interrogate Sato,” William said with a pleasant smile, moving to the coffee machine and refilling his own cup, “Along with Genji, if you don’t mind.”

Tsukauchi took another sip of his coffee, eyeing William over the brim of his mug, and for a moment William envied Bellamy’s insight.

Tsukauchi’s stare remained blank, a well-practiced emotionless mask, “Alright. Prepare a list of questions you would like addressed, and have them ready by 4:00 sharp. I have business to attend to this afternoon, and I’ll see if Sato is ready to be released from his doctor’s care on my way back.”

William nodded, “Sounds reasonable. Thank you.”

BAP! Toshinori’s gloved fists sent the punching bag swinging on its squeaky chain, Bap-bap! Bap-bap! Bap!

Shifting his stance with a couple featherlight steps and a sway of his long tail, he threw another hard punch. Bap!

Toshinori panted. Drenched in sweat, his shirt and ridged mane stuck slick to his back. Every fiber of his body ached and burned, and his scar twinged with effort.

He’d never felt better.

Shaking his head and blinking sweat from his eyes, Toshinori whipped his tail from side to side and struck the bag again.

“Your form is shit.”

Toshinori jolted at the gruff voice and turned -

“Gloves up!”

Toshinori twisted, arms up in a block. He stumbled back at a sudden impact on his forearms, claws digging into the padding on the floor, but he did not fall. He dropped his arms and looked down in surprise.

“Torino?!”

Gran Torino frowned, giving Toshinori a careful once-over and leaning to the side to look at his swaying tail. Toshinori’s tail stilled and hesitantly tucked closer to his legs.

“Reflexes are fine,” Torino huffed, crossing his arms, “A bit slow.”

“A bit- ?” Toshinori’s hackles bristled a little apprehensively, but he grinned, “Are you sure you’re not the one slowing -oof!”

He landed on his side in a tangle of long limbs and wheezed, clutching his abdomen.

Gran Torino stood above him, a stern frown on his masked face, “I’m sure.”

“Go easy on him, Torino,” a familiar voice called out.

Toshinori grunted and waved weakly to Naomasa, who raised his hat in greeting.

“You couldn’t have warned me?” he shot an accusing gaze at the detective, though his tail thumped happily against the mat.

Naomasa shook his head with a grin.

“He knew better not to,” Torino waved his hand carelessly.

Toshinori nodded, conceding to the fact. Rolling and pushing himself up, he sat back and stretched out his legs. His tail swung around and draped across his lap, tufted end flicking nervously.

“What brings you to U.A.?” he asked, not missing the hard glare Torino was giving each change.

“I can’t check on my dumbass student from time to time?” Torino grumbled.

Ah… Toshinori’s eyes widened marginally, He was worried.

“Tsukauchi and I were here to see Nedzu. Don’t get any ideas!” Torino scolded, pointing sternly at Toshinori’s wagging tail tip.

But you didn’t have to visit me here.

Toshinori grinned, tail wagging faster, “Good to see you too.”

Torino bristled and stalked away, “Yeah yeah, you’re fine. Don’t know why I bothered dropping by. I’ll meet you by the car, Tsukauchi.”

Toshinori quirked a lopsided smile as his old teacher exited the gym, griping about youngsters giving him cheek.

Naomasa sat beside Toshinori on the mat, grunting softly as he did, “Torino’s getting soft in his old age.”

Toshinori whipped his head around, hackles bristling nervously.

“Don’t let him hear you say that!” he said in a hushed voice, gesturing downward with his gloved hands.

Naomasa chuckled, leaning and bumping Toshinori’s shoulder with his own. His laugh and the gesture soothed Toshinori’s nerves and hackles.

“Feeling better?” Naomasa asked.

Toshinori nodded with a contented smile, “I was able to speak with Midoriya and his classmates about everything - well, nearly everything. They didn’t need any gorey details. They’ve got enough on their plates as it is.”

Naomasa hummed in agreement, “I’m glad.”

“Me too,” Toshinori’s tail shifted and wound its way around Naomasa’s abdomen.

Toshinori cleared his throat awkwardly, “Sorry, it does that,” he said, the tips of his ears heating a little, “And you? How’re you doing?”

Naomasa huffed a laugh, absently resting his hand on Toshinori’s tail, “I’m alright. Doing better now that I’ve seen how much you’ve improved.”

Smiling, Toshinori pulled off his boxing gloves and flexed his hands.

“You were right,” he said.

Naomasa shot him a cheeky grin, “When am I not?”

“Shut up,” Toshinori elbowed Naomasa, “I meant about the restlessness.”

“That so?” Naomasa asked, tone suspiciously innocent, “So, just another thing I was right about then?”

Toshinori scoffed, then jolted when Naomasa gave the end of his tail a playful tug.

Naomasa grinned, but coughed when Toshinori gave his abdomen a squeeze. Dramatically flopping his back and patting Toshinori’s tail, he wheezed, “I tap out!”

Toshinori snorted and unwound his tail from Naomasa’s waist, “That tap out was too fast!”

Naomasa laughed, hat falling off, and rubbed at his belly, “Maybe I’m the one going soft.”

Shaking his head, Toshinori barked a laugh, “You’re fine the way you are.”

Naomasa shook with laughter, rolling a bit on the mat before sitting up and pushing at Toshinori’s shoulder.

“Hey! I mean it!” Toshinori grinned wide, “If you disagree, you could always train with me like old times.”

“I might take you up on that,” Naomasa said seriously, smiling.

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence. Then Toshinori shifted, pulling up and resting his arms on his knees.

“So,” he paused, rubbing at the back of his neck and tracing the spikes there, “What were you meeting Nedzu for?”

Naomasa sighed, picking his hat up from the mat and tapping it against his leg, “There are rumors that the Villain Alliance is on the move, preparing for something. We just had a standard, be on the look-out, meeting with Nedzu,” he frowned, “Especially with the recent spike in media attention. I’m assuming you’ve seen the news?”

Toshinori grimaced, “I have. I need to write a press release to publicly address,” he gestured to himself, “this. Though I am certain Nedzu already has something prepared.”

“It would be like him,” Naomasa said with a small nod. Then he glanced at Toshinori, a small frown pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“What is it?” Toshinori asked.

Naomasa’s frown deepened and he furrowed his brows in thought, “Wright - he’s with the international team - he went through the evidence, and he wants to interview you and nurse Sato. I’m here to pick up Sato, if Recovery Girl gives her leave, but… Something’s off with Wright.”

“Gut feeling?” Toshinori asked.

“Yes,” he replied, dark eyes far off in thought, “I’m still not sure what his motives are.”

Toshinori hummed, “Can you ask him?”

Naomasa snorted, “Oh, I’ve probed. He and his team are a rather secretive bunch, but Tsuragamae trusts them. They’re not bad. Just… I suppose single-minded would be the word.”

Toshinori nodded, “Do you know what they would want to question me about? Ah,” he frowned, “More importantly, you will be the one to interview Isamu - ah, Sato - I assume?”

“Yes,” Naomasa said, “I still lead the investigation, and the international team is technically under my supervision. Though Wright asked to sit in with one of his subordinates. I thought it’d be best to see for myself what they’re after, so I agreed.”

Naomasa shrugged, “That’s all I have for now. I’ll save your interview for a later date,” he paused, glancing at Toshinori, “Unless you have more to add right now.”

Toshinori shook his head, “No. Nothing you don’t already know about.” He paused, furrowing his brows and looking down at his claws, “There is something...”

Naomasa quirked an eyebrow, “What?”

“You remember the USJ Noumu? There were multiple sets of DNA in its body,” Toshinori rubbed his palms together, then asked, “Would there be a way to find out where, or rather, who my quirks came from?”

Naomasa stared at Toshinori, looking a bit taken aback.

“I know where my spikes came from. Nurse Sato,” Toshinori continued, gaze fixed on his claws as he fidgeted, “A student asked where the others came from. I suppose it piqued my interest, and…” he furrowed his brow, “I need to know, Naomasa. They’re victims of All for One. I need to know their names.”

Who they were… He ran his thumb over the claw on his forefinger. If… if they’re still alive.

“Okay,” Naomasa said.

Toshinori’s ears perked as he turned to his friend, “Okay?”

Naomasa let his hand fall roughly on Toshinori’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“We’ll find them,” he promised, “If you come with me to pick up Sato, Recovery Girl could draw some blood I could take back to evidence with me. We can run it through our system and the quirk registry.”

“Thank you,” Toshinori sighed, a small smile brightening his features. He rocked back and pushed himself up to stand, pulling Naomasa up after him.

Naomasa paused, brushing off the seat of his pants, and gave Toshinori a cheeky smile, “You should probably hit the showers first. You reek.”

Toshinori sputtered, and Naomasa barely ducked in time to avoid being swatted by Toshinori’s tail.

Canvas 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Catalyst 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Control 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

Collapse 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8

Contained 1 / 2 (WIP)

Find the whole series on Archive with fanart at the end of each chapter HERE!

Check out Aoi’s and my sideblog @toshinoumu for more series content!

91 notes · View notes