#immediately going to replay miracle mask now

[hershelchocolate]

It's been, what? 13 years? And professor layton and the unwound future still GETS me

[0mg-bird]

Come on Home - J Seresin x Wife!Reader

Summary: After a mission that he barely gets through, Jake reevaluates his decision of staying longer on his deployment and how much longer he can continue when he has his whole world at home.

Warnings: language- violence- mentions of war- Jake scared for his life basically- slight smut- mature- mentions of ovulation.

His head spun, his heart in his throat and when he landed - by some miracle not crashing - on the tarmac, he sat in his seat, eyes wide. He pulled his mask off, shaky hands as he tugs his helmet off too and opens his canopy. The other daggers land perfectly, on some sort of rush that this mission has gone well.

What do they consider well? The fact that they were far behind enemy lines, with advanced jets hot on them? Or was it the fact that they weren’t in the dogfight, that it was their Hangman who they tirelessly defended. They saved him, they have a reason to rejoice.

Right?

He’d been sent out with a crew of faces he didn’t really know, all except for one.

Rooster is out of the plane, watchful eyes scanning over the crew to make sure everyone landed fine. But he sees Jake hesitating on his exit, his head in his hands before he rips a small photo off his control dash. As he hops out, he blows past the guys who go to shake his shoulder in victory.

He tosses his helmet to a crew member, he’s quick to shed the equipment he wears, leaving him in just his flight suit. His steps are heavy and full of anger, everyone moves out of the way as he guides himself straight to his empty bunk room.

Something of anxiety scratches at him as he curses out loud. He sits on his perfectly made bed, fingers gripping his hair.

The moments replayed in his head. He’s never been one to scare easily, but this was no spook. It was fear, it was a nightmare, he was stuck with no visible solution. In that moment when his flares were gone and those enemy jets had him pinned, he was faced with the fact that this was the end, there was no escape. He looked at that photo stuck on his control dash, the one of you holding that beautiful baby girl, standing in the yard, wearing a yellow sundress. He shut his eyes prayed his girl would remember him in the end.

Then, by some miracle, he was out of that hot water. Now, here he was and he just wasn’t sure if he could go any longer.

He’s never been described as a soft man, his tough heart had only shed its callouses around you. But here he was, preventing himself from crying.

He reached for that satellite phone in his drawer and turned it on. Being in the middle of nowhere was a rather disadvantaged when trying to get ahold of you, all the way in Texas. So, he sat with a beat up phone, dialing your number.

It was just you and your mother in law, Jake’s mother, who were awake still. You and your daughter, Lainey, usually moved in with the in laws whenever Jake deployed. They helped you with her and it was an ease to your mind, knowing you didn’t have to sleep in an empty home.

Sat on the couch, watching late night television, your eyes started drifting closed before your phone rang. Leaning forward to grab it, Jake’s satellite phone number was on your screen. You instantly smiled.

“It’s Jake.” You tell DeAnn, and instantly the woman grins.

You answer, a cheery voice. “Hi, I wasn’t expecting a call.”

Instantly, just by his breathing, you knew something was wrong.

“Yeah I- well I just needed to hear that pretty voice of yours, darlin’.” He flirts despite his current state.

Immediately, you’re on your feet. “Jake, baby, what’s wrong?”

DeAnn grows a concerned look, but there’s nothing she can do about it.

Jake pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to choke his emotions down. “I can’t do it anymore, honey, I just, I gotta come home.” His breath is heavy, making you walk away from his mother’s eye and dash into your bedroom, Jake’s old room. “Listen to me, just breathe. Are you hurt- are you in danger or-or- Jake, tell me what’s wrong.” You stress, making him lean forward, elbows on his knees, head hung.

“I’m not hurt, I’m not bleeding out. Something happened…I just finished a mission and I-I don’t know how I’m still alive. Baby I should’ve been a goner, I almost was.”

At his words, it’s your turn to panic. Tears brim in your eyes, the thought of losing him was something you always avoided, but it’s forcing itself into your mind and you’re staring it in the face. He continues to talk as your wobbly lip gets caught between your teeth.

“How many more tours am I supposed to do? How many more times do I have to leave you and my baby? These kids out here, they ain’t got no one, they don’t have a wife waiting at their Mama’s house for them. I do and I can’t live like a young kid anymore. Damn it, I need to come home to you.” He says, voice breaking.

Tears slip down your face, your wedding ring hand wipes them away. Your love was miles and miles away, suffering and you could not get to him.

“Your time’s almost up, Jake. Just a month left, baby.” You say softly.

“Fuck that.” He breathes. “I’m getting on a flight at the next port.”

You spin your diamond around your finger. “I thought you extended your deployment for a reason? To assist with trainings?”

“I don’t care, as soon as I hang up this phone, I’m going to talk to my commanding officer and he’ll change my orders. Baby I…I have to come home.”

Who were you to say anything different? You wanted your husband beside you, you wanted his warm hands on you, you wanted to wash his dirty jeans and watch him rock that two year old to sleep. You wanted him in the mornings and you wanted him driving that pick up truck in the driveway.

“Come on home.” You say, tone broken as it comes out.

You two talk for a minute longer, then when the call is silenced, you sit for a moment, calming yourself.

“What’s wrong?” DeAnn asks as you come back out to the living room.

Your eyes linger on the framed photo, sitting next the many others on the fireplace mantel, the one from Jake and yours wedding. You stand with your hand on his chest, looking up at him in a smile while a jet flies over the top of you two.

The Navy was something that was always in your relationship, you knew the consequences going into it. All the way in the beginning, four years ago, you knew what it would entail. And you hurt, you pined, you cried and wished things were different, when you went through months of pregnancy alone, when you were sick, when the world kicked you down and all you wanted was your husband who was off being Mr. America, but you never complained. Jake loved flying, this was his job for a reason and if it truly was his wish to take a break, you weren’t going to start complaining now.

Clearing your throat, you look at the woman. “Jake’s coming home.”

~~~~~

His duffle bag slung over his shoulder, Jake crosses the airport at a determined speed. His skin buzzes, he knows you’re going to be waiting for him. His flight was long, his body ached. He didn’t care, he’d crawl home to you if he had to.

As crowds of people disperse and he continues forward, he can see your shape and instantly is soothed. He moves a little quicker, and you look up from the ground and instantly meet his eye. Your hair curled, a long sun dress over the tops of your boots, you start to beam at the sight of him.

Ten months is too long.

His bag drops to the floor, and in an instant you close the space between the two of you. His arms are constricting around you as you bury your face in his neck. He feels the same, smells the same, the heat of him is still the same. Jake is wafted with the scent of your lavender honey shampoo and the perfume you’ve worn everyday since he’s known you.

He pulls back, before you get a word out, he’s gripping your cheeks with his hands and kissing you so heavy. You could cry, feeling the utter emotion of his longing for you. Your hands hold his arms, chasing his lips as he’s done swallowing your air. Foreheads pressed together, you breathe out.

“Welcome home.”

Jake kisses you once more, adoring those words from you.

As you step back, DeAnn is coming forward, your toddler in her arms.

“Lainey.” He calls for his girl, immediately she twists in her grandmother’s hold, recognizing his voice. “Daddy!” She cheers, practically flinging herself into his arms. Her little hands latch onto his uniform, he adjusts her little romper and smooths her dirty blonde curls before kissing her cheek. “Hi, sweetheart. Hi, honey.”

Her head rests on his shoulder as he picks up his bag and kisses his mom on the cheek.

~~~~

Finally settled back in your own home after dinner with Jake’s parents, Lainey falls asleep after five minutes of Jake rubbing her back. Her night light casts stars on the ceiling and he pulls the blanket over her. When he gets up, he’s careful not to make her stir. Leaning against the door frame, you stand in a robe, stretching your hand for him to follow you. The door to her bedroom is softly shut.

You lead him to the warm bath, and the two of you settle into the large tub.

Jake’s relaxed, watching you clean off the razor in hand before leaning forward again. Half his face covered in shaving cream, he listens when you talk about things he’s missed. Carefully, you run the razor up his neck, slowly to not nick him. The stubble of his jaw is no match for your determination.

“You leave a clean cut man and come back to me looking like you got lost in the woods for a while.” You scoff, tilting his face to the side.

Jake hums. “What? You don’t like the rugged look?”

You pull away. “Baby, I have never liked the rugged look.”

Despite your fake annoyance, there was a sort of peace Jake felt when you were near. It could make him forget about his troubles, well, not entirely.

As you wipe any remaining shaving cream away, his eyes shut at the feeling of your hands smoothing down his cheeks. You kiss his stubble-free skin. “Much better.” You comment.

“I never want to leave you again.” He confesses.

You retreat back to your side of the tub, a sly smile on your face. He observes you, taking in all the features he missed. He liked it when your hair was clipped up but some pieces still escaped and framed your face beautifully, he thought it was sweet how you wore a necklace with his and Lainey’s birth stones on it.

“I’m glad that you still adore being ‘round me.” You say, but his serious tone hints to what’s on his mind. You shimmy further under the water, your knees popping up to the surface. A shiver runs through you as his hands grip them gently. “Your contract is up in less than a year…and something tells me that you’re not going to extend it.” You put forward.

Jake sighs, moving to rest his arms on either side of the tub. You know this is a serious moment, but you can’t help but feel the way your skin buzzes as you look over his toned muscles.

“I’ve been doing this for ten years, and if I was still twenty two I’d be all for it…but I’m not twenty two and a lot is different now.” He sighs, leaning his head back to stretch his sore muscles. “I’m starting to think I’m too old for this now.”

You laugh. “You are not old.”

Jake sits back up, looking straight at you. “These are kids I’m flying with, twenty something year olds who don’t even have girlfriends, let alone wives. I’ll admit, sometimes it’s nice to pretend I’m twenty five again but…how much longer am I gonna be doing this?” He says.

You nod, listening to his ramble, watching him dissect his thoughts.

“Darlin’ I can’t fly like I’m not afraid of death anymore, not like the rest of them can.” He looks down for a second, eyes turning from green to blue. “And I’ve been in plenty of tough situations, that’s just the name of this war game, but the day I called you, baby, I’ve never been so scared.”

You can practically see right through him, his face is so somber and serious.

“Those rogue bandits were on me, they were going down and I was going with them. And these guys don’t know what to do because if they shoot and take ‘em out, I’m gone too.” He swallows hard, running his hands down his face, then back through his hair that’s growing out slightly. “And Rooster- how he did it I don’t know- he got me out, made sure you didn’t have to give me a closed casket funeral.”

You blink back tears, not letting them fall. You knew the risk going into this, but hearing him say how things could have been different, it makes your lungs constrict.

Suddenly, you’re being tugged towards him, his hands cradling your neck. He looks down at you. “I’ve got so much to lose, I can’t keep leaving home like this.”

You nod, hands clasping behind his head. “This has to be a decision you’re sure on, Jake.”

You feel his breath on your face. “I could have my orders changed, I could make sure that when my contract ends, it ends for good without any risk of extension. I could wake up beside you every mornin’ and fall asleep with you every night. Every damn birthday and Christmas and anniversary, I’d be here for all of it.”

Your fingers comb through his hair. “Don’t go talking about heaven to me if you can’t promise it’s exactly what you want.”

“It’s what I want, I promise.” He’s so quick to say it, it makes your heart beat fuller.

You lean to kiss him, and he feels the way you smile against his lips. He doesn’t need any further words from you, his hands are pulling you onto his lap by your hips.

Did it always feel this good? Having his mouth on your skin, having his hands slide up and down your back? The gold wedding band on his finger is cool against your warm skin.

He picked a good week to come home, there’s a fire burning inside you. As he deepens his kiss and moves his lips across your jaw, a shaky breath comes from you.

“Jake, hey- baby, hang on.” You mumble, hands slipping across his shoulders. Pulling away, he looks almost hurt at the loss of contact. Despite your need for some kind of friction between your legs, you want to make him aware that there might need to be another way to go about this.

“What? What’s wrong?” He questions, moving to press your chest up against his.

“Let’s not throw caution to the wind, I’m ovulating.” You say, thinking it’ll make him nod and pull back, that he’ll suggest you take it to the bedroom instead, where there’s forms of protection.

It’s a silly thought.

“Seresin baby number two, whoo! Okay, let’s do it.” He cheers, making you fall into a fit of laughter, head falling on his shoulder. “Jake.”

He shakes his head. “I think Lainey is due for a brother or sister, we need to get started on that whole four more kids thing.”

“Four more! You’re insane, I think that high altitude thing finally got to you. Let’s just start with one more.” You say, moving to nudge your nose along his neck.

“I can do one more.” He says in excitement, shifting his shoulders back and lightly cocking his head left to right. “Okay, I’m ready, my head’s in the game, we can do it.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

[tyrahmen]

I know I’m 15 years late, but I need to talk about the Professor Layton prequel games.

Includes spoilers for Last Specter, Miracle Mask and Azran Legacy. Because I have words to say.

As a kid, I was a huge fan of the original three Layton games. Even though it was a long time ago, I still have fond memories of pouring over the riddles with my brother. We also watched the movie together some time back then, but only recently upon rewatching it did I find out that it belongs to a prequel series of games.

I got my hands on them and immediately my love for the games was reignited. I absolutely adore Last Specter, it was everything I still held dear in my memories and more. I finished the game at almost 100% in only two days or so. I’m planning on replaying the original games soon, but Last Specter might just stay my favourite game of them all.

Then I jumped into Miracle Mask and… I don’t want to say I hated it, but I struggle to find a less intense word to describe my disappointment. I really disliked the 3D graphics, the new controls, and most importantly, almost every single screen of the game. Professor Layton, for me, equals a cozy but slightly mysterious setting. It equals calm. Monte d’Or is anything but. It’s colorful and visually noisy, and that combined with the 3D graphics I dislike made for a very exhausting experience. I ended up rushing through the game to get it done instead of enjoying it and seeking out every puzzle I could.

I guess I went into Azran Legacy with lower expectations, because I found the graphics and controls much more tolerable there (even though I still don’t quite like them). It’s still competing with Miracle Mask for least favourite in my list simply because of the story.

Now don’t get me wrong, I did enjoy the story for the most part. It just… takes away so much from the other stories, especially from the previous two games. I loved the Layton stories in great part because they are so personal – the mystery is meaningful because it means something to characters we love/get to love throughout the game. Azran Legacy’s story is too grand. It affects the whole world, takes place throughout the whole world, and feels like it spreads itself too thin because of it. It doesn’t have enough time for individuals because there’s so much to do. And in the face of such high stakes, what was the meaning of saving a single town in Last Specter or Miracle Mask? That Garden of Healing, that was so important at the end of Last Specter because it means Arianna can live, is now relegated to being “just one of the Azran ruins”, just like the ruins of Akbadain (or however you write it, I can’t quite remember sorry), which had so much meaning to our beloved Professor and his childhood friends. Which, by the way, despite being alluded to being incredibly vital in unveiling the Azran Legacy, have no role besides like a half-sentence in the third game.

And… the ending. I refuse to accept what they did to Emmy as canon because it feels less like a plot twist and more like a “Oh, we forgot these are prequels and we need a reason for her not to be in the other games”. It doesn’t fit her character at all. It’s not a betrayal from her, but from the writers – they made this really cool character that we love and care about, and then, three games and a movie in, go like “haha jinx, she was against you this entire time”. Like—no?? Have you read your own characterization of her? Because I did, and there wasn’t a single line that didn’t read “she genuinely cares about the Professor and Luke and EVERYONE THEY MEET”. She saw how Targent treated people. No way would she still be unquestioningly loyal to Bronev, especially after knowing the Professor for a while. If you wanna drop this kind of “plot twist” on a main character, making them go completely against their morals and their previous characteristics, you have to have at least one thing, literally anything that foreshadows it. The Professor more or less got closure with his family matters there (which also seemed a little bit shoe-horned in, in my opinion, they could have just left it out and it still would have been fine), but the conclusion of everyone else’s arcs felt… so unsatisfying. Emmy I already went into way too much detail about. But Aurora too – her death was so cliché I couldn’t even be sad about it. They literally did the exact same with her as with Loosha, the “sacrificed herself so we don’t have to figure out the consequences of her existing in this universe”. I already didn’t like it in Last Specter, but I could accept it. But them pulling the same thing at the end of the series just feels cheap.

I think this is enough of a rant. If anyone ever reads this far, thank you! Feel free to let me know what you think/thought about the development of the games, and which one of all of them is your favourite.

I’m gonna go replay Curious Village now. It’s been so many years I barely remember the story, so let’s see if I remember any puzzles :D

[faulty-writes]

Warning: Blood mention, Injury mention, Spoilers from Manga. 

Fandom: My Hero Academia 

Characters: All For One, All Might!Daughter Reader, Toshinori Yagi, Izuku Midoriya. 

Word Count:  12,069

[ I present to you the long awaited part two of the All For One request. The first part is located here. I know there was an ask that I had received that requested a part two. I have no idea what happened to it. But, regardless. I hope you enjoy, I also hope the length makes up for the long wait. As usual, please excuse any spelling errors. ] 

[ It’s been over a year since you agreed to become All For One’s successor. Your disappearance baffled those you used to hold dear, including your classmates and your father. However, under All For One’s guidance. You learned to channel all your hatred into one goal. Though wanting to kill Izuku Midoriya and your father seems a tad irrational. Your mind is too far gone to believe otherwise. The destruction that follows would prove to be one that hero society wasn’t prepared for. ] 

The story of the missing UA student went viral almost overnight, there were several internet articles, even theories revolving around your sudden disappearance. Every news station in Japan did some type of report on it, the police were involved in several investigations which caused the UA campus to be littered with authority figures. Each one trying to gather clues that would lead up to a possible explanation for your disappearance. The hospital staff was asked several questions as well, such as when you were brought in, and if anyone had seen you leave.

The records showed you were not released from the hospital, so that led most conspiracy theorists to conclude something like you had been abducted or someone had used their quirk on you which effectively made you vanish from existence. But, the biggest surprise was your father, Toshinori Yagi also known as All Might, expressing his concern for you. However, what shocked the world most was when he revealed that you were his daughter. You found the confession pathetic. Truth be told, it had been over a year since your disappearance and part of you wondered if anyone even thought about you.

If your father felt any remorse knowing he was the cause of your disappearance. Given the pain and anger he had caused you, it was what he deserved. You should have had One For All passed down to you, but no. Your father chose someone so unworthy, so unfitting. Izuku Midoriya was now your sworn enemy and you wanted to see him and your father fall. All For One promised he would assist in your goal. It was almost amusing, your father’s worst enemy helping you. Treating you like an equal, believing in you. Acting more like a father figure than your actual father.

Still, the day after you agreed to become his successor, he introduced you to the League of Villains. You knew they were small in numbers, but you learned rather quickly that Tomura Shigaraki was not to be messed with. His psychotic drive to rule over the hero world and cast it into darkness was scary, but the fact that nothing would stop him from his goal was admirable. It almost inspired you, though when you first met him. He threatened to kill you, especially knowing your connection to All Might. He argued that no purebred hero, one who carried All Might’s DNA, should be deserving of becoming All For One’s successor.

You came to understand that All For One had adopted Tomura when he was a child, apparently, he had no where else to go. He was a lonely orphan and All For One took him under his wing. However, he seemed to know that Tomura desired to go down his own path as opposed to the one All For One laid out for him. Which led him to find someone else that would step into the position and effectively destroy All Might and his successor, Izuku Midoriya. That, someone, happened to be you and he knew you wouldn’t disappoint him. You had also met Dabi, Toga, Twice, and Mr.Compress.

You found Dabi to be rather standoffish while Toga was the exact opposite. It was strange having someone latch onto you and immediately go off about how happy they are to make a new friend. Mr.Compress was more polite than anything, but you got the feeling he didn’t exactly like dealing with kids. Twice was...an interesting character, who immediately treated you like you were a member of the family. But, you didn’t get to spend much time with anyone. All For One took it upon himself to immediately start your training, at first it was simple.

Running trails to assess your current ability, considering your father’s quirk wasn’t genetically passed on. Still, your quirk was impressive nonetheless. You had some extra physical strength and you could momentarily fly if you kicked off the ground hard enough. It wasn’t an aspect of your quirk that you normally used, considering you preferred being on the ground. You had tactical intellect, but you were a little slow when it came to using it in the heat of battle, and that disappointed All For One. Still, he found your skills impressive enough and fairly warned you how intense the training would become.

Warned that even if you were battered and bruised, you had to continue. You had to stand up on your feet again. At first, you thought he was exaggerating, but your assumption was wrong. As the training continued, you were beaten until you were a bloody pulp. All For One insisted it was to better yourself, to make you faster, quicker, sharper. More violent, more determined. You had to give him credit, just as he promised. He would show you more love than your own father, he’d always pull you into his arms after every training session.

No matter how much blood covered your person, he’d run his fingers through your unruly hair and whisper how proud he was of you and once again remind you that you were his successor. That all this pain and training would be worth it in the end. Six months in, All For One introduced you to the miracle that was his quirk. “My young successor, you’ll be more powerful than you know. I will give you a copy of my power when you finally prove yourself to me. For now…” you’d never forget how he reached out and the pain that coursed through your body as soon as his fingers touched your face.

You fell to your knees, clenching your jaw as All For One generously transferred one of his quirks to you. It was almost as though your body couldn’t handle the sudden surge of limited power, you swore you felt your heart stop just before blacking out. All For One seemed most forgiving as he understood the limitations of quirks to one's body, but made it clear he still expected the best from you. It was a strange feeling, possessing another one’s quirk and learning how to use it, what triggers made it click or appear.

You couldn’t help but think back to Izuku, was this the way he felt when your father passed One For All to him? You had to admit, it was a challenge. But, All For One insisted on intensifying your training. Believing that the added stress would quicken your quirk ability. Come 9 months, he bestowed another quirk onto you and he was rather pleased how well you received it. Unlike before, you didn’t blackout. Despite the toll the quirks took on your body, you were more than grateful to All For One and continued down your path as his successor.

Come 12 months, you had mastered your gifted quirks and learned to control them alongside your birth quirk. You knew it was finally time to unleash your anger, you would locate Izuku Midoriya and finally prove to your father just how worthy you were. All For One had gotten you a special outfit just for the occasion, you thought it was strange at first. Seeing as it resembled the suit that he normally wore, the same aspect went for the mask that was a part of the getup as well. The rest of your costume consisted of a long-sleeved shirt, made of a special material that would allow better movement and usage of your quirks.

That same material made up your pants and on your feet were heavy boots which All For One insisted would better keep your balance and cause more damage if you chose to use your kicking power. You took a deep breath, it was funny. You could barely recognize your reflection in the mirror and your mind was busy replaying the past year. Your memories of the first year at UA and the hospital where All For One convinced you to become his successor. You had changed so much since that simple time, not only was your heart blackened. You had physically changed as well, both because of the quirks All For One gave you and his training.

You had gained an impressive amount of muscle and learned how to shut off certain emotions. Despite that, you could hear that small voice in the back of your head ‘Is this the right thing to do?’ you shook your head. Of course it was, this is what you wanted from the very beginning. You nearly gasped when a hand grabbed your shoulder and watched as All For One’s reflection appeared alongside yours. You could tell there was a smile on his face before he leaned down next to your ear, “You look beautiful my successor,” he said before leaning up, you swallowed hard when you felt his hand run through your hair.

The image of your father doing the same popped into your head, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes. “Thank you,” the words were whispered, maybe you were a little anxious for whatever happened next. Still, you turned around, looking at All For One with a determined glance, “What now? I want Izuku Midoriya to fall, you promised you would help me achieve that,” you said with a hiss and your fists tightened as All For One laughed, was he mocking you? “Now, now…” he reached out, once more running his fingers through your hair.

“All in good time, be a good girl and do as I instruct and Izuku Midoriya will fall into your lap,” he promised, knowing that you were growing rather impatient. You had waited for this day, and he was rather eager to watch you cause destruction. In addition to knowing it would cause pain to All Might, which he particularly favored. The only remaining detail was how to get Izuku Midoriya to come to you. There were many ways you could do this, including pretending to be a civilian who needed help and have the unsuspecting hero run after you. Perhaps corner him and pounce. 

But, All For One suggested something a little more traumatizing, you’d reveal yourself to Izuku and the world all at once. After all, the game of cat and mouse was quite entertaining. The well-known fact about luring Izuku to you was that All Might, the former symbol of peace, would no doubt follow. So, you were rather happy knowing there was a chance you’d be able to take both of them out. “Very well, when do we start?” you questioned and watched as All For One smiled, which was something you were more or less used to. He then turned, raising his hand.

You were a tad confused when he motioned you to follow him, but you knew better than to disobey his order. Regardless if it was a verbal command or not. You trailed behind him, exiting the rather gloomy room that had been your bedroom for the last year. You walked down a darkened hallway and the only source of illumination was coming from a nearby elevator that you stepped into with All For One. You remained quiet as he pressed a button and the elevator began going up. You pressed yourself against the nearest wall and almost shyly glanced at the man.

The one who took you in, the one who trained you, the one who was helping you essentially get revenge on the ones that hurt you. Once more you felt your stomach twist and tried to push the small sense of guilt down. No, your father and Izuku deserved this. They deserved it. Your thoughts were shattered when you felt a hand come to rest on the top of your head, you jumped in surprise and All For One chuckled. “Thoughts bothering you again?” he questioned and you parted your lips to answer, but ended up glancing to the side.

“Hm,” he frowned and reached down to grab your chin. You hissed as he forced your head up and wrapped your hand around his wrist. Despite the fact All For One had no eyes, you couldn’t help but widen yours in fear. His grip was menacing and it only reminded you that if he truly wanted, he could easily kill you anytime he pleased. “Do not let guilt rule you, I have taught you better than that. Focus on your goal and only your goal,” he reminded you yet again before releasing your jaw, you could feel your skin lightly throb and partly wondered if he had left bruises.

Yet, small bruises meant nothing in comparison to the numerous injuries you had received throughout your training. When the elevator finally stopped and the doors opened, you followed All For One out and realized you were on the rooftop overlooking part of the city. Though it looked far away and the sun was setting which caused the buildings to illuminate, you could make out the lighted windows and a nostalgic feeling came over you. A powerful gust of wind came and carried your hair with it, oddly enough you recalled a memory.

Yes, you and your father had done this. Though you had to admit, your father was a tad odd and not the brightest when it came to educating children. Still, somehow or another he convinced you to join him on the rooftop of UA, something that you thought was against the rules. But, it was shortly after you had gotten into the hero course. It seemed like a lifetime ago now, but you recalled the way your father smiled and proceeded to tell you to do your best. Your hands curled into fists, that was the only real advice he ever gave you and now he’d be paying for it.

Your best was never good enough for the symbol of peace. You took a deep breath and walked over to the edge of the building, laying your hands on the cold metal railing. All For One remained standing behind you, uncharacteristically quiet. You partly wondered if he was waiting for you to speak or simply enjoying the sunset. Still, you turned to him with narrowed eyes. “When can I finally-” he held his hand up to silence you, “I said to be a good girl, I brought you up here to observe,” you raised your eyebrow and turned back to the distant city.

“Observe what!?” you exclaimed, arms out and hands moving all around as if something interesting would actually happen. All For One chuckled and laid his hand gently on your shoulder, “Look at the city, how quiet it is,” he began. You blinked, “Yeah?” you wondered where he was going with such a statement, “Imagine the chaos that will occur once you bring Izuku Midoriya down, you will be able to take this city. Crush anyone who dares oppose you, this is my gift to you,” he explained as his hand reached up to grab your chin, he was less forceful this time and gently turned your head.

You wore a blank expression as you stared at him. He remained silent except for the smile on his face, “Now,” he released your chin, “enjoy the moments prior to your victory, you start tomorrow,” he said as he turned to walk back to the elevator. Your eyes widened and you quickly spun on your feet, “T-Tomorrow?” you questioned, your voice coming off as clueless and rather shaky. He told you to wait and be patient only to tell you that your plans will be set in motion tomorrow? It didn’t make a lot of sense to you, however, you recalled being taught that villains were dangerous and their radical way of thinking often drove them to the point of madness.

Thus why a hero always had to be careful when facing a potentially dangerous threat, many heroes lost their lives to carelessness and this time, it would be Izuku Midoriya. The thought alone brought a smile to your face and you quickly adjusted your mask before following All For One into the elevator. “Tomorrow,” you whispered as the doors closed behind you. The following night was calm, though you couldn’t help but feel a sense of happiness as you laid in bed. All For One usually checked on you every hour or so.

You recall he did it more when you first agreed to become his successor. You assumed he checked on you to ensure you hadn’t escaped or were trying to. But, after a while, it turned into something that he did out of care and in a way, it helped you sleep. When you woke, you went through your normal morning routine which included getting ready for the day, eating something, and your usual training session which lasted until noon. After that, All For One ordered you to get into your costume which you happily did and once you were ready.

You followed him to the rooftop. “I assume you remember the plan, my successor,” you took a deep breath, the world seemed so still around you. “Mmhm,” you responded with a nod, but your eyes remained focused on the city landscape. A moment of silence filled the air before you climbed onto the railing, perfectly balanced. “Go,” All For One gave the single command and you jumped like a perfect obedient puppy.

But damn, you couldn’t help but feel alive as you descended toward the ground below. The wind whipped through your body like paper, your hair blew everywhere, and yet you felt utterly weightless. As you prepared to land, you angled your body just so and activated one of the quirks, All For One was generous enough to give you Forced Quirk Activation. This caused black jagged limbs to extend from your palm, you also had the option to use your fingers. Normally this quirk was reserved to activate others' quirks against their will, but it could be doubled as a weapon of sorts.

Easily piercing through human flesh, among other things. Either way, it proved useful as it split the pavement below. You clenched your jaw as a small pain radiated through your hand but you ignored it. More than likely, it was a sign that your body was continuing to try and reject your gifted quirks. You knew that a quirk was essentially an evolution of the human race and if you were special, you were gifted with more than one. An example of this was your old classmate, Shoto Todoroki. Ice and fire were his gifts.

His body was capable of handling those quirks while your body was merely a test dummy. But, you didn’t care. The pain was only a reminder of your goal, you focused your attention forward and continued to move. Surely you were noticeable and rather scary as you continued to close the distance between yourself and the city. As one would expect, as soon as civilians saw you overhead, they began screaming. This effectively caught the attention of the authorities, but they weren't worth your time.

Still, it was rather annoying watching as the cops scattered and barked commands into their radios. Your eyes narrowed as you continued down the crowded streets of Tokyo, more jagged limbs grew from your shoulders which gave your palm a rest. You paused a moment and looked at the lines of blood which dripped from your palm and seeped down to your wrist. “Worth it…” you muttered just as a few police cars sped toward you. The glare from their flashing lights irritated your vision.

Did they truly have to make such a scene? You were merely looking for something or rather someone. But, this was the ignorance of the hero world. Even if you were being “innocent”, merely on a stroll. They had to interfere with your business. You narrowed your eyes as one officer stepped forward and through their megaphone commanded you to surrender. You glanced at the pathetic barricade of police cars they had formed, did they truly think such a thing would stop you?

You couldn’t help the chuckle that left your lips and gave a wicked smile, “I’m just looking for someone, but if you’re going to be difficult…” you trailed off and raised your hand. You could feel vibrations course through your fingertips before a powerful air shock wave came. You watched in amusement as the city vibrated, almost like an earthquake. Causing the pavement to crack and the windows of the police cars to shatter violently. The nearby buildings seemed to shake, cracks appearing across their structure and broken windows.

As expected, the display of your power caused a panic. A single scream pierced through the air before civilians began to run to safety. Pushing each other down in an attempt to save their own life, pathetic. Yet, it somehow made you smile. In the distance, you could hear the sound of a helicopter. More than likely coming to do a report on your attack on the city. You’d deal with them later, instead, you retracted those jagged limbs and fell to the cracked street below. Landing on your knee with your arm outstretched to support you.

The civilians who were still running made sure to evade you as you locked your eyes on the remaining authority figures. At least some of them were brave enough to keep standing, did they think they were being heroic by living up to their duties? That was pathetic, however, you noticed one of them was standing in front of the others. More than likely the chief, the ones that stood behind him had their guns up and pointed in your direction. Rather a foolish thing to do when innocent lives were rushing around.

The heavy feeling of fear continued to linger in the air which only made your next set of words, somewhat terrifying, “Please, don’t be foolish.” you could see they were all shaking which caused those guns to tremble as well, you half expected one of them to fire theirs prematurely. But then again, surely they were too frightened to properly use those guns. But, you thought taking care of them first would be best. So, without hesitation, you held your palm out, and once more those air shockwaves came.

You didn’t care if they got injured as a result, nor that sickening crack that followed as their bodies hit the ground. Several gunshots sounded, more than likely triggered by their harsh impact. Luckily no bullet hit you. Yet, the chief seemed to have taken less damage. Having been thrown against one of the police vehicles, causing the driver door to get dented in and it appeared their arm was bleeding. More than likely from the shattered glass of the window. They seemed disorientated for the moment. But, that didn’t stop you from approaching them.

You leaned close and with a happy smirk on your face, you spoke, “Scared? Don’t worry, I won’t kill you...yet,” without warning, you wrapped your fingers around their neck. Your nails sunk into the flesh of their throat and you chuckled as they weakly reached up to try and claw at the back of your hand. But mere scratches didn’t bother you. A growl sounded before you pulled them forward and menacingly looked them in the eye. “I’m looking for Deku,” you growled, “Give him to me or...well, I won’t be responsible for my actions,” the sound of that helicopter grew louder and you glanced up.

You could clearly make out the members of the local news crew, and the reporter that was hanging out the open doors. Microphone shoved in their face, more than likely dribbling nonsense. How about that, you would be on the news.  You partly wondered what they were saying: “This just in, All Might’s missing daughter on villainous rampage. Looking to kill or severely injure a certain bastard that stole her father’s attention away.” Did that sound too selfish? Well, too bad. Actually, “Hm…” you continued to look at the helicopter, perhaps you could use them to your advantage.

You chuckled softly before releasing your hold on the cop’s throat. They dropped to the ground like the pathetic scum they were. However, your eyes remained locked on the helicopter and you shifted your feet just so. Your arms were by your sides and your palms were facing down. The surge of pain came as those limbs reappeared and lifted you into the air, you stretched your legs out and maneuvered your hands. Once more using the gifted quirk to thrust yourself upward from a building roof.

Your world blurred for a moment, but you knew you were heading straight toward that helicopter and yet again used your quirk to piece through the blades of it, effectively causing it to spin out of control. You could hear alarms going off as the pilot tried to regain control and the news crew hung onto the emergency handles for dear life. Your body was thrown around like a ragdoll, however, you once more used your quirk. You positioned one of your hands so it was facing the ground below and your fingers morphed into small jagged appendages that you used for leverage to steady yourself.

In one motion you pulled your arm back and fell toward the city below. You couldn’t help but grin as you watched the helicopter spin and crash into a series of buildings. Causing several explosions, would be a shame if someone was actually in those buildings. More than likely they would have died from the impact alone. But, whether or not anyone was alive, wasn’t your concern. You dropped to the ground once again, noticing the street was now covered in dirt among the crumbled pieces of building and broken glass.

You quickly made your way to the location of the fallen helicopter, noticing the way it had landed. On its side, the metal blades bent and broke, and the wires underneath it sparked. You could make out the news reporters however, seemed they were injured but more than capable of moving. You slowly approached, watching as they helped each other out of the helicopter and onto the street. You noticed one of them was still holding the camera and you pointed your finger at them. “You…” the word left your lips ominously and it was almost entertaining to watch their heads turn and the look of fear come to their eyes when they saw you.

“Point that camera at me,” you demanded with a menacing growl as you curled your bloody hand into a fist. Perhaps you were overusing the Forced Activation Quirk, even so. You weren’t willing to die until you faced Izuku Midoriya. “NOW,” you demanded before stomping your foot, which caused the ground to shake underneath you. The news reporters cowered and you watched as the individual hesitantly hoisted the camera onto their shoulder, you could see a faint red light blinking on the side of it. Good, that meant there was a chance you could get your message through. 

“Are we live?” you questioned in a gitty fashion. “Regardless…” you pointed at the camera, “My name is Y/n, daughter of the former symbol of peace, All Might. Yes, shocking isn’t it? I am here to settle a score of sorts, take something back that was mine. I am calling you, Izuku Midoriya. Come face me or...well, perhaps I could have fun killing off more civilians, burying their bodies under the remains of the buildings. Your call…” you chuckled before signaling them to drop the camera. “Hopefully, he makes the correct choice,” you muttered before activating Airwalk, a quirk that allowed you to levitate in midair.

It was almost entertaining, looking down at everything. You chuckled as you watched the news reporters scamper to safety. You took note the police officers had vanished as well. You were more than certain no pro hero would try to interfere now that you had made it clear what you wanted, and considering the damage you already did. It would be unwise for any hero to try and step in. You had established yourself as a threat and a very fearful one at that. In the distance you could see more flashing lights and crowds of people, more than likely the authorities were closing off this section of the city. Which was an impressive move or rather a smart one.

You chuckled and reached up to adjust your mask, you wondered if All For One was proud of you. He was always so gentle with his words, always encouraging or speaking to you kindly. You wondered if there was a possibility All For One enjoyed playing the role of a parent. You knew very little about his past, apart from the fact he had a brother who was seemingly quirkless. Regardless, you had never felt more encouraged in your life and you’d make him proud. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a tad bored.

“Mm…” you reached up, tapping your cheek before taking a struggled breath. Was it growing difficult to breathe? You could feel your heart racing inside your chest, was that from adrenaline or happiness? Well, you’d find out. You could see some buildings were left undamaged, time to change that. You grinned and raised your arm, feeling your skin tingle and expand as you used Air Cannon again.

The ground vibrated and you watched as the buildings that once stood tall came crashing down. It was satisfying to watch the city fall piece by piece. You let out a sigh as you lower yourself back to the ground, taking a few steps forward. Being careful to avoid tripping over your feet or over any garbage that was in your way. You paused momentarily when you thought you heard something, at first you thought it was your imagination. But, you quickly realized it was someone calling for help. Oh dear, was someone trapped under the rubble?

A hum sounded in your throat as you followed the noise, surprised to see an opening within one of the ruined buildings. You carefully stepped over the metal rods and glass, up a pile of dirt to look inside the dimly lit opening. Sure enough, you could see someone laying on the ground. They were dripping blood from their forehead and it appeared like their leg was trapped under something, maybe a metal beam. You weren’t sure, and frankly, you didn’t care. Still, you thought it was rather foolish of them to call out to you of all people for help.

You could only chuckle, “Of course, I’ll help. Death is an easy solution,” the words came off your tongue with a purr and you lifted your arm once more. However, you paused and looked out of the corner of your eye. You could barely make out the green streaks, more so you could barely dodge. Your ears rang as Izuku screamed your name, but you were too busy literally bending over backward. Your eyes widened as the world slowed down and you could clearly see Izuku’s fist gliding past your face.

The impact that followed caused your mask to fly off. Where it landed, you didn’t particularly care. You stumbled back, your facial features twisted with disgust and anger. Your hair had bits of dirt and blood in it and hung lazily in your face. “Izuku…” you growled, though you were a little shocked to see him handling that quirk without breaking any bones. Had he finally learned how to control it? Damn, you missed a lot. 

But, you had trained under All For One himself. You had multiple quirks and there was no way Izuku could beat you, yes...One For All was powerful. But, in the wrong hands like Izuku’s, it would prove worthless in battle. This is the only thing that gave you some confidence as you walked over to him, he was on one knee with his hand pressed against the cracked pavement. You imagined several pro heroes, including Endeavor and Best Jeanist were standing around, unable to do anything but pray that Izuku could stop you.

“Did dear old father come with you?” the question left your mouth in a teasing tone. However, a moment later your hands curled into fists and Izuku stood back on his feet. You had to admit, perhaps he had gotten taller and you could clearly see he gained more muscle. “Of course he came…” you hissed out, “Anything to protect his dear little, Izuku. Yet, he would never do ANYTHING for me!!!” you screamed, ignoring the way your throat strained. You could feel your eyes water, must be the dirt.

Izuku didn’t seem entirely phased by your words and only shook his head. Lowering his defenses a moment, you could see those familiar lightning-like streaks disappear. “Y/n…” he began, his eyes focusing on the ground, more specifically your feet. “You disappeared...a year ago, I…I w-was so worried something b-bad might have...happened to y-you…” his hand reached up, pressing against his chest. However, you rolled your eyes. “You damn well remember what happened in that hospital a year ago!” you snapped, accusingly pointing your finger at Izuku.

He only narrowed his eyes, “What happened to you, Y/n?! Why did you come back?! O-Only...only to c-cause this much d-destruction?! T-This isn’t you...y-you’re a...you’re a hero!” the very word made you gag, hero. Sure, a hero whose father ignored her and chose someone else to pass his quirk to. Cared for someone else more than his own flesh and blood, someone who kept the fact you were his daughter a secret. Some hero. “Don’t insult me,” you spoke in a low voice, you highly doubted you were ever actually a hero.

Back when you could still call yourself innocent, you had only wanted to become a hero to please your father. You wanted so much to be like him and have people look up to you. Well, they looked in fear now. Either way, you were getting the attention you so desired and no doubt people would be talking about you for years to come. “I-I’m not insulting! I t-thought something bad r-really had happened! T-To see you...here...p-part of me...just w-wants to hug you and...a-and make everything better!” you let out a frustrated growl and that Forced Quirk Activation came to surface.

Your fingers morphed into those menacingly dangerous limbs and they were aimed at Izuku. However, you might have underestimated just how quick of a reaction time he had. The dagger-like limbs embedded themselves into the pavement, instead of Izuku’s body like you had originally wanted. “Hm, and here I thought you were going to make this boring!” you snapped and quickly raised your other arm, once again those limbs came out and you smiled as you watched Izuku’s eyes widen.

He had jumped to avoid your attack and now he was falling through the air. But, it almost looked as though he were hovering, more than likely thanks to that quirk of his. The one that should have been yours, perhaps that saying could finally die along with Izuku and possibly your father. If you were lucky enough for that. ‘I won’t be able to dodge in time, but I’m sure this will work. Just have to wait for the right moment…’ Izuku thought as your quirk closed its distance. Once in range, Izuku held up his hand and you could hear a snap.

“What the hell!?” your arms instantly went up, shielding yourself from the dust and glass that was a backlash result of Izuku’s action. Your foot went back, trying to steady yourself from getting blown away. Damn it, you had to do something. Regardless of where Izuku was, more than likely he had hit the ground by now which meant you had a chance of hitting him if you used Air Cannon. You cleared your mind and extended your arm out, once more that familiar painful tingle came as the pressure built.

A moment passed before you finally released it, the ground around you cracked and fell apart. The surrounding buildings already bent, came crashing to the ground and their impact only added to the strong vibrations from your quirk. Izuku had indeed touched the ground just before it began to shake violently, his only option was to jump yet again. Believing your quirk wouldn’t reach him the sky, however, he mistakenly believed that your quirk was causing earthquakes as opposed to airwaves.

He let out a cry when his body was hurled back and you could hear the loud crash as he collided with part of a building. You couldn’t help the smirk that came to your face as you walked over, seeing the dust cloud from where he had made an impact. As it cleared you could see his body lying there, his arms stretched out as well as his legs. There were some cuts on his person, and you hadn’t taken into account that Izuku wasn’t in his hero costume.

His legs were exposed because of the shorts he wore and they were covered in a thin layer of blood and dirt. “It’s a shame you had to make me go and do this Izuku Midoriya, but All For One seemed to have thought it best. Unlike my father, he’s rather encouraging when I fail. Not that I will when it comes to killing you. But first, I’d like to have a little fun,” you chuckled, despite the line of tears dripping down your cheeks. You raised your arm and your fingers morphed, this time you’d pierce him with your quirk and you’d enjoy watching his reaction.

You couldn’t tell if he was conscious or not, but it was almost pathetic how easily he seemed to be defeated and by a simple airwave, no less. Well, it didn’t matter. You smiled as you watched those jagged limbs pierce through Izuku’s flesh and it seemed to jolt him back into reality. His back arched as he let out a scream which was music to your ears. You had pierced through both his shoulders, his legs, and his stomach. Sounds painful, but this particular quirk wasn’t known to cause much, if at all, any pain.

It was simply a way to force one’s quirk to activate against their will and it was a delight watching Izuku struggle as his body illuminated and One For All appeared. Surrounding his body in that almost cosmic energy, “How does it feel, Deku? I only wish this quirk could cause you pain. Does it feel uncomfortable when your quirk is activated and you’re not the one in control? Yeah...that’s similar to how I felt throughout last year, always watching you with my father. Using the quirk he bestowed onto you instead of his own blood!” Maybe that’s another reason why All For One had chosen you because you each shared a want to have One For All to yourself.

Still, you had never once imagined you’d get so much happiness out of watching Izuku struggle, his cries growing louder. His body moving every which way despite the minor cuts that scattered across his body. It must be so uncomfortable to wiggle your body like that when on top of a pile of rubble, not that you cared. No, you were enjoying the show at least for the few blissful moments it was occurring. Your eyes narrowed when you noticed a dark circle beginning to grow on Izuku’s stomach, it almost looked like a black hole.

“What the hell…” you muttered before suddenly blackness shot out. You watched it manifest into what resembled whips and honestly, you were too shocked to process what was actually occurring. You tried retracting your quirk, but you were too slow and felt one of the whips wrap around your ankle. “Oh no…” your world blurred as you were hurled through the air, it all seemed to happen too quickly. The next thing you felt was the impact of the ground against your shoulder and a loud crack echoed. This was only followed by a surge of pain that traveled past your collarbones to the opposite side of your body. 

You grunted, your hand now clenching your aching shoulder as you struggled to get back on your feet. You clenched your jaw in an effort to keep the whimpers that threatened to escape silent. Allowing them to pass your lips would only be a sign of weakness. You took a deep breath, All For One had not gifted you the quirk of Regeneration. He stated you were strong enough on your own and that the experience without rapid healing of any kind, would only continue to strengthen your character.

He had also promised that if you got severely injured despite your best efforts, he would take care of you. Something that you appreciated, but not as much as a healing quirk. “Just...walk...it...off,” you muttered as you stumbled to turn around, the sound of your pants filling the air. Your eyes settled on Izuku as he crawled across the rubble and much like you, stood on shaky legs. “Try that a-again!” you shouted as you took a sloppy step forward. All you needed was a little adrenaline and the pain would numb on its own.

Izuku sucked his breath in and shook his head, “You need to stop t-this...Y/n. Is t-this...because of what happened with A-All Might? I get he’s your f-father and all, but…” the last thing you needed was a lecture from the King of Muttering, “Shut up!” you snapped, obviously angered at the mention of All Might. “You know nothing about my life!” hell, no one did, “You know nothing about being a true hero, I have already destroyed this city. Oh, and if you’re such a great hero,” you grinned. 

“Then tell me, why haven’t you saved that poor civilian trapped under one of these destroyed buildings?” you spoke in a mocking tone, if anything to get a reaction from the green-haired boy. “Oh wait, they could be dead. My Air Cannon could have sealed their fate…” you chuckled and slowly removed your hand from your shoulder, “Let’s see if you can actually outrun my quirk this time, Izuku Midoriya,” you found amusement in the way his eyes grew wide and his face twisted with anger. 

Yet, you continued to smile, “I’d race you...but,” you took another step forward, “no promises,” you said before activating Air Walk. Izuku almost seemed memorized as he watched you ascend into the air, but his expression quickly changed into that of horror. You had decided it was time to try combining the quirks All For One had gifted you, though it was tricky and took a lot of energy. You took a deep breath and focused, channeling Air Cannon, Forced Quirk Activation, and Rivet which allowed rivet-like growths to appear on your arm.

Your eyes focused forward, you could still see the flashing police cars off in the distance and you could make out the heroes that stood among the police officers. One of them was glowing like a torch so you assumed it could only be Endeavor and it appeared your old teacher, Shota Aizawa, was also there. They weren’t exactly the ideal audience members you wanted, but there was little to be done about it now. They had decent seats for witnessing what was about to occur.

“Ready Izuku? I’d suggest you start running...now,” you growled, as those jagged-limbs extended out from your arm and the rivets that appeared alongside it, vibrated and would also help stabilize the increased power of your Air Cannon. The pressure that was building felt wonderful and honestly, you were quite proud of yourself. The wind came and ruffled your hair, you could feel it brush off some of the dirt that stuck to your face. Your shoulder though still radiating with pain, could move. But even if it couldn’t, you’d make it move. You felt such a strange sense of happiness fill you, they say power is dangerous.

But, if it gave you this much of a high. Hell, it was worth it. Izuku, on the other hand, had great power as well. But, unlike most, he hadn’t used it for evil purposes. No, he had chosen to be a hero. Even at the cost of his own life, he’d stop whatever villain stood to harm others and at this very moment. That villain was you. “One For All! A hundred percent!” he screamed just before kicking off the ground, the pavement already cracked and abused began to cave in on itself. You could faintly hear running water and you could only assume that you had busted a water pipe when you previously used Air Cannon.

Either way, it was amusing to see Izuku blindly racing forward. He had no idea where this civilian was. But, it didn’t matter. You grinned and released your combined quirk. The air shockwave came as a powerful force of energy, ripping apart what remained of the buildings and the pavement below continued to cave in, creating an abyss of sorts. You moved forward, thankful for your position in the sky. You had lost track of Izuku, which was somewhat amazing considering he had his quirk activated. However, when it came to justice and doing what was right.

He could move as fast as he needed to, the sound of his shoes slamming against the pavement echoed in his ears  “Hey!” he shouted, “D-Does someone need help!?” his question went unanswered. Which upset him, but he couldn’t afford to give up. He knew at any moment there was a chance you’d release that quirk and then this innocent civilian would die. He wasn’t about to allow that, no. The innocent should never die, “Answer me! I’m here! I’m Deku! I’ll save you!” he shouted again, his jaw clenching as he continued to run past what used to be buildings.

His eyes looked every which way, “Hello!” he desperately called out once more before he felt the ground shake, he lifted his head and gasped. In the distance, he could see the pavement splitting apart. “I have to think fast!” he declared, “Think of where they could be, they have to be an open area within what remains of the buildings. They must be further into what’s left of the city as well,” he couldn’t waste any more time. He dug his feet into the ground and jumped into the air. This would be faster than walking and he’d have more control over where he landed.

He covered an impressive amount of distance and he could see the resulting occurrence of your quirks. What was once the street was nothing but a dark strip. He clenched his jaw and nearly stumbled when he hit the ground. It was a tad tricky to keep your balance when the ground below you continued to shake. “Can anyone hear me!?” he screamed, ignoring the way his heart rapidly echoed in his ears. “Dang it,” he took off running, “Someone, anyone!?” he called again, passing by yet another building. He recognized it, he passed it most days.

A growl rumbled in his throat, he couldn’t fully understand why you had done this. What was turning into a villain proving? Obviously nothing, but then again. Most villains aren’t meant to be understood, some are just too crazy or too damaged. Sure sometimes life deals you a bad hand, but you had to stand up again and learn how to overcome it. Like he was trying to do, he was once a quirkless boy who dreamed of becoming a hero, and now...despite all odds, he had achieved that dream. His fists tightened, “Why...why would Y/n, d-do this?” he questioned before lifting his head.

He blinked and looked around, “Hello?” he thought he heard someone. He cautiously took a step forward, the shaking was growing more violent. He was running out of solid ground. He remained quiet, listening for the sound again and sure enough, he would hear faint cries. He wasted no time in running to the source, no surprise it appeared to be coming from underneath a pile of rubble. But, it had a small opening which provided him with enough light to see the outline of someone.

By the way they were laying, Izuku immediately assumed they were trapped or too injured to move. But, a good hero always made sure of someone’s condition before going through with a rescue and evacuate mission, “Excuse me! Are you injured?!” he questioned, either way, he’d have to be careful. “I’ll get you out, don’t worry I-” before he could finish he heard the road behind him crumble. You smirked as you watched the city become no more, it was quite satisfying to a point. You willed your quirks away, revealing your torn and bloody arm. Dark circular bruises appeared where those ridges had pushed past your skin.

You paid no mind to it as you hovered just above what was once the street, nothing more than an abyss. “Hm…” you reached up, cupping your chin as you made your way to the opposite side of the city. Surely Izuku couldn’t have outrun the destruction caused by your quirk. Your eyebrows knit together, maybe surveying the area would be a wise idea. You knew that Izuku was strong in the sense that he never gave up. He’d beat himself to a bloody pulp if it meant protecting someone, but could he stand a building falling on him?

You hovered past several piles of glass and plaster, carefully looking for any sign of Izuku or that one unfortunate civilian who happened to have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. You placed your hand on your hip, despite the movement aggravating the injured side of your body. Maybe you should switch to your good side, then again. Much like Izuku, you’d let your body become nothing but a ragdoll if it ensured victory. Still, your lips formed a pout. Had Izuku actually been crushed, was he buried under one of the piles?

That was disappointing, however, a gasp escaped you when you noticed a splatter of something against a piece of what you assumed was now a broken window still. You blinked and crept closer, your eyes widened when you saw it was dark and had a red tint to it, almost like, “Blood…” you whispered in disbelief, your eyes then drifted to a piece of ripped fabric. It was hanging off a nearby rock and you recognized it as a piece of the shorts Izuku was wearing. You carefully lowered yourself onto the pile of debris, letting out a cry when you almost slipped. 

You quickly regained your balance before reaching out to take the piece of fabric in your hand. Sliding your thumb across it, feeling the rough texture of it. A frown then came, despite your injuries. You had thought this fight would be more...exciting. It clearly wasn’t, which was a disappointment. “Always the loser, huh, Deku?” you released the piece of fabric and watched as it was carried away by the wind. It was then that you heard something which caused you to raise your eyebrow. You curiously looked over your shoulder, swearing you saw the slightest of movement.

Turning around, you watched as several pebbles began to shake. Almost like an earthquake was coming, but you had already finished using your quirk. Surely there was no aftereffect, so what was causing the movement? You took a step back and suddenly something clicked. You let out a cry and crouched down as dirt, glass, and combined pieces of building flew everywhere. “Dammit!” you hissed as you stumbled over, now against the uncomfortable surface. You could feel it poking and proding your body. 

But, you kept your arms up. Covering your face and shielding your neck, your legs were curled up into your stomach. Izuku had tried a desperate move and channeled One For All to his legs, giving him an advantage as he raced forward to save the civilian trapped under the rubble. Unfortunately, just as he feared their foot was trapped underneath a metal beam. At that moment, he did the only thing he could think of. Stood above them and activated his quirk, his arms facing out and palms ready to hold back the weight as the remains of the building collapsed onto them, possibly further trapping them.

His legs were shaking and he clenched his jaw as his trembling arms continued to hold back the weight, he couldn’t afford to die at this rate. His veins were glowing that pink-red color and those green streaks that were often accompanied when he activated One For All danced around his arms. He knew it might be a bad idea, but he yet again, made a desperate move. He channeled his quirk to his dominant arm, “Detroit smash!!!” he cried, and as soon as his knuckles made contact. A blowback of power occurred. The result of which built-up pressure and finally forced it to escape.

His panting filled the air as the dust cleared and he stood tall, the civilian cradled in his arms. Though their foot was bloody and bent in a way that wasn’t humanly possible. They looked limp in his arms, however, Izuku had received most of the damage. He was covered in cuts and pieces of glass were embedded into his skin. His legs were black and blue, blood coated each one, and it was possible he had broken a bone or two. His arm was darkened in color almost as though he had gotten burned. His fingers and knuckles were the same, the skin around them dark and blood was dripping along the length of the damaged skin.

He had a cut on his lip and one that ran horizontally underneath his right eye which looked swollen. Once everything settled down and you heard that panting, you pushed yourself up. Eyes growing wide when you saw the state Izuku was in, you looked at the civilian as well. Honestly, you didn’t care what happened to them. But, knowing they would remain alive was a little disappointing. Still, a chuckle left your lips and you stood on shaky feet. A small amount of blood was dripping from your mouth, maybe you swallowed glass.

The taste of iron was a tad distracting, but you couldn’t help the wicked smirk that came to your face. “Impressive, I should have expected such from a hero,” you commented, finding some amusement in the way Izuku clenched his jaw and his eyes burned with hatred. You were kind of giddy to see such an expression and directed at you nonetheless. “Are you mad at me, Izuku?” you questioned, “Good,” you chuckled and held your good arm out to the side.

Your hand curled into a fist and you watched Izuku’s expression change. His pupils shrinking in size and his lips parting. More than likely you assumed he knew he couldn’t move too quickly, else he’d cause further injury to the civilian he held in his arms. You remained silent, in such close range any one of your quirks could potentially knock Izuku off his feet, even your original quirk. Which you had neglected in place of your new ones. But, it seemed you favored using Air Cannon more than anything and that familiar vibration coursed through your arm. 

The smirk on your face only grew when Izuku took a step back, clearly, he knew by now there was no trying to talk his way out of this. “Are you happy this is what your actions caused, Izuku Midoriya? Because of you my fath-'' suddenly a sound echoed through the air, one that filled you with disgust and anger. Yet, a sense of familiarity and memories. Talk about perfect timing, you had hoped your father would make an appearance. Seemed whatever God or otherwise chose to answer your prayer was being rather generous. “Y/N!!!” came All Might’s voice, though it was hardly intimidating.

You were well aware your father had lost all use of One For All, the result was him remaining in his true form. That of a skinny, weak, old man. You stood there a moment and glanced to the side, part of you didn’t even want to look at your father. Feeling as though such an action would cause you to become nauseous, but you knew you had to. Especially if you wished to cause some well-deserved harm. “Hmph,” a soft growl rumbled in your throat before you lowered your arm and turned around. Sure enough, there he was. Toshinori Yagi, previously known as All Might.

The former symbol of peace, your father. You said nothing, only crossed your arms. A growl escaped you as you narrowed your eyes and fought the urge to smash your fist right into his face. You could hear movement behind you, more than likely Izuku running off to protect that no good civilian. But, surely he wouldn’t leave All Might alone. Your father was quirkless while you had multiple quirks. Fairness didn’t come into the equation here. Yet, you could see your father’s eyes widen. “It is you…” he whispered as he looked at you from head to toe.

You were covered in dirt and blood, your clothes were ripped. Your hair was messy and stiff. Bruises littered one arm and fresh blood continued to drip from your mouth which in a way, ironically was something that happened to your father frequently. You assumed it was due to that stomach injury he had received years ago when he faced down All For One. Still, you rolled your eyes. “Back from the dead,” you mocked and All Might frowned, “Y/n...I…” you growled and closed the distance between All Might and yourself.

You partly wondered how he had gotten this far considering the damage you had done to the road. But, you knew as a previous pro hero, he had his ways. Both of you were standing near the edge of what was once the road. One misstep and you’d fall into nothingness. “You can take your apology and shove it up your ass!” you snapped, acting like an angry child and essentially you were just that. Angry, pissed off, loathing the very concept of your father’s existence.

“I don’t care what you have to say, I only care about ending you. But, before I do. I want to know, did it hurt?” you questioned, however, your father looked confused. You had to admit, you were under the impression most were intimidated to be standing in front of a villain. Your father, however, continued to stand tall. You somehow knew he wouldn’t back down unless you forced him to and you’d get to that soon enough. “Did it hurt when you thought I disappeared? Tell me, did you think about that night? How you always favored Izuku over me!? Do you wish you could have hugged me instead? Do you ever regret treating me like shit!?” you snapped, your bloody spit flying as you grew angrier.

All Might held his hands up, “Y/n...of course I-” you interrupted him, “You wanted to keep me a secret from everyone, right!? Didn’t want your heroic name tainted because you had a bastard child, is that it!?” you growled, your teeth scraping together and you hoped your glare would physically make him burst into flames. Yet, you watched as his eyes softened and he lowered his hands. He glanced to the side and silence filled the air, “WELL!?” you snapped, clearly wanting an answer. Instead, you heard him sigh and he slowly looked back at you.

“I...I was never ashamed of you, Y/n. I…” his response made your stomach twist and you nearly gagged, his words were sickening. “You’re so full of shit,” you said with a low chuckle, “It’s funny, I never thought the former symbol of peace would be a liar. How does it feel, father? To know this destruction, all of this!” you exclaimed as you held your arms out, hands and fingers curling in an almost happy motion. “Is because of you. I should have had One For All, I should have been your successor. But, you never...you never wanted that did you!? No, instead you chose a pathetic little weakling to carry your precious quirk. Well, you know what. I’m here to kill him,” All Might’s eyes widened.

“Oh, here’s something else you might find shocking, I hope it hurts. I didn’t just disappear from the hospital, no. In fact, long before that. I had gotten a mysterious text, somehow the person who sent the text knew I was your daughter. One thing led to another and I came to find out, your sworn enemy. You know, the man you inflicted pain upon, took away his pride and his eyes. Came to me,” you saw a flicker of hate shine in your father’s eyes. “He saw potential in me, where you didn’t. Promised I could become something that the world would look up to, he believed in my skills, unlike you. He even asked me to be his successor which I gladly am!” you growled before bending your knees, your tongue came out to swipe across your lips.

Though you tasted dirt and iron, “Now that you’re a quirkless loser, I think this will be easy,” you activated your original quirk, it was nothing compared to the more powerful quirks one could be born with. But, it was strong enough to get the job done and you wanted the satisfaction of being able to kill your father with your own power. Hear that jawbone snap and watch as his blood spilled. With that blissful thought, you kicked off the ground. Bending your body so you could perform a direct uppercut to his jaw, it seemed All Might was still in shock. Which meant, he had no defense.

He could only accept the fact that karma was finally here to bite him in the ass. You smiled as you got closer, hand raised and fingers curled tightly together. But, as usual, nothing was ever that easy. You could hear a scream, and just before you turned your head to look. You saw Izuku’s fist come, “Leave him alone!” he cried and you quickly turned your body in an effort to stop him. Instead of your fist reaching All Might, it collided with Izuku’s. You could feel your knuckles snap and break, which caused pain to shoot through your already damaged arm and shoulder.

You growled, feeling the impact begin to force you back. Your feet were being forcibly moved along the limited ground despite the fact you were desperately digging them into the earth. “Stop. It,” you demanded with a hiss, you knew any further and you wouldn’t have solid ground. Your eyes were half-lidded and through the swirling debris, you could make out his facial expression. No surprise, he was pretty pissed. “You’re not going to hurt him or anyone else!” Izuku screamed and your eyes widened when he pulled his arm back.

You cursed yourself for not dodging or at least attempting to create distance, for that fist came back and collided with your face. Your head forcibly turned to the side and your jaw, along with a few select teeth broke. This only caused more blood to fill your mouth. A cry of pain left you, only to be swallowed as you choked on the blood that found its way down your throat. The next thing that occurred was your body flying, only to be stopped when your back collided with the sharp jagged edge of what was once the street.

Blood dripped down your chin, thick lines making their way down your neck and soaking into the collar of your tattered shirt. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you then fell forward, your body disappearing into the darkness. You felt the impact of several metal pipes hit your body, it almost seemed like they were working together. Every hit to your body caused an agonizing surge of pain and you partly wished you had just died. A weak cry escaped you when you finally hit solid ground.

You had fallen into a puddle of water and you could hear the sound of mice squeaking in this otherwise quiet place. You groaned in pain, feeling every part of your body ache. You were too afraid to move, knowing the slightest of movement would cause a violent wave of pain that was enough to paralyze you as a whole. You knew your jaw was broken, you doubted it was still connected on the side Izuku had punched. Blood continued to pour from your mouth and you swore one of your ribs had pierced through your lung.

Every time you tried to breathe, you ended up weakly coughing blood back up. Another groan came and you quietly spoke, “D-Did...I...do...good?” the question went unanswered and darkness clouded your vision. On the surface, All Might was still in shock. “Y/n!” he cried as he ran to the edge of the caved-in road, it was almost like a sinkhole. It would be hard to spot a human down below, but All Might still tried to make out your figure. He was clearly angry, his small skinny body trembling as he curled his fists and turned to face Izuku.

“What the hell were you thinking, kid!?” he snapped, which confused Izuku, “I…I was only trying to p-protect you, All Might. She w-was going to hit you and-” All Might shook his head, “That’s not how you handle a situation like that, if I was her target-ah. Forget it,” he growled before pointing, “Go down there and find her!” he snapped and Izuku took a step back. He was almost afraid All Might would hit him if he didn’t follow through with the order. He opened his mouth, about to speak his opinion when a dark and eerie chuckle came.

All For One was watching the whole spectacle from a distance. He felt rather amused during the first half of the battle, he was quite pleased to know how much pain and damage your body could take. How well the quirks he gave you were adjusting to your body, though he believed you had poorly chosen when to use your quirks and for what purpose. Nothing more training couldn’t fix. Still, All For One used his Warping quirk to appear before All Might and Izuku. Foolishly, Izuku activated his quirk. Ready to jump and attack, but All Might put his arm out and pressed it against Izuku’s chest.

A fair enough motion to get his point across, “Seems you’re a little shocked, All Might. I must say, I expected a little more fight out of your successor. Of course, I suppose enough of a punishment for you is not only seeing your successor fail just as you have failed but knowing your own selfish actions caused your only daughter to turn against you,” All Might lowered his brows, his lips turned in a frown. Yes, there were many ways he could have been a better father to you. Showed you he cared and took your feelings into consideration. But, nothing would change the result of this.

Izuku growled, desperately fighting the urge to jump and start another fight. Despite his body already being damaged, everything made sense now. All For One corrupted your mind, made you turn against your loved ones. His jaw tightened and his fists shook as he lowered his head, “All Might...I c-can’t forgive him, he...he poisoned Y-Y/n’s mind!” he hissed, feeling his anger slowly begin to consume him, and while All Might agreed. It didn’t appear like All For One had come to cause more damage, more than likely he was only retrieving you. 

It made your father sick thinking what further corruption All For One would expose you to. It hurt him, knowing he couldn’t save you. Knowing he had no choice in the matter of your fate, “I know…” he whispered sadly as he lowered his arm, believing Izuku would behave himself. “Don’t worry, you’ll see, Y/n again. Very soon,” his words almost seemed like a threat. Another warp gate appeared beside All For One and Izuku had already assumed the villain had collected you. 

He screamed out when the evil man disappeared into the darkness of that warp gate and All Might immediately restrained him. Wrapping his arms around the green-haired boy, though it wasn’t an easy task. “Calm down! You’re already injured enough. There is nothing we do for now,” he tried to reason, but Izuku continued to carry on. Violent tears streaming down his face, yet there was a hint of determination shining in his eyes. He would save you, he would make this right. 

You could feel yourself floating, at first you assumed you were dead. However, you could still wiggle your fingertips which you took as a good sign. But, you still felt weighed down by something. Slowly you opened your eyes, seeing your world was tinted blue and air bubbles floated past your vision. Your hair was floating in separate strands around you and it quickly clicked you were submerged in water. You reached up, touching the mask that was strapped to your face and your fingertips brushed the plastic tube that came along with it. 

More than likely that was the source providing you with oxygen. You then looked at your hand, noticing it was scarred up. Your arm seemed to be the same, long jagged dark lines ran from your wrist to your inner elbow. You assumed a massive amount of scar tissue made up your shoulder, but at least the pain you remember having before blacking out was gone. You weren’t sure if that was something you should be grateful for. 

You glanced around, you could make out several machines on the outside of the glass. Each one flashed with a particular sequence of lights, which confused you. However, the most familiar thing was a small television in the corner of the room. You could see shots of the damage you had done to the city, you couldn’t read the headline that flashed on the bottom of the screen. But, your eyes widened when you saw the scene switch to your father. 

You leaned forward, pressing one hand to the glass as you watched your father speak. He looked tired, shocked, and utterly disappointed. You could tell there was hurt in his eyes, well...it was what he deserved, right? You leaned back, nearly choking on your own gasp when you heard the sound of a heavy door open. You could hear chattering, but to you in your water prison, it sounded like nothing but water currents. You saw two figures come into view, one was short and wore a white lab coat, and the other you recognized as All For One.

“How pathetic, All Might begging for his daughter back,” he hissed, clearly disgusted at such a thing. It was amusing to a point when a hero fell, but now it was just pitiful. He crossed his arms before turning to look at you and for some reason, you felt a small amount of fear consume you. He walked over and pressed a hand against the glass that separated you. “Don’t worry now, my beautiful successor. You did well, I am very proud of you. Don’t be scared now, your body should be stable enough to handle more quirks,” he leaned closer, and his shadow cast over you.

Though his words were unrecognizable to you, the feeling of uncertainty made your stomach twist. “Then you’ll succeed where I failed, All Might won his battle against me, yes. But you, you will win against his successor and pave the path for a better world.” you shivered when he tapped the glass and turned away from you. Becoming All For One’s successor was not an easy task, you knew this from the start. But part of you couldn’t help but wonder what step was next and if you truly wanted it.  

[nincompoopydoo]

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— I’VE SEEN FIRE, I’VE SEEN RAIN ; PART 2 / ?

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 1909

SUMMARY: Being laid off isn’t very fun but Bruce tends to find himself even more entangled in your life, including his alter ego—Batman.

A/N: I’m loving this series and if you are, feedback is appreciated. Thank you for reading my crappy stuff aka my daydreams <3

WARNINGS: Guns! Death threats! Crying! A mental breakdown!

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

James Taylor’s Fire and Rain plays like a funeral hymn on the record player, echoing through your studio apartment. You’re sitting on the ground, back against the ratty couch with a pizza box on your lap. You take a bite of a BBQ Chicken pizza slice, furiously wiping your tears away as you replayed the events from six hours ago. From being called to the principal's office to only be told that you’re one of the non-tenured teachers to be laid off due to cutbacks. Gotham High was...a tough school. The students were mean to you because well, you're young and always gave them the benefit of the doubt. Plus, you taught English Literature and frankly, your students didn’t exactly enjoy the subject as much as you wanted them to. Nevertheless, you’re devastated. Teaching was a dream of yours, and it’s being taken away from you. You cried all the way back home, tried to call your mother but it kept going to voicemail. You must have called someone else, but you don’t remember and couldn’t care less to check your phone—the whole day went by like a blur.

Then, there’s a sound. An insistent buzz, it’s the doorbell. You furrow your brows, not recalling ordering anything else other than the large pizza from Domino’s. Yet, it doesn’t cease, and you’re forced to bring yourself to stand on your feet, instinctively flattening your tousled hair to make yourself seem somewhat presentable. Like, you’re doing fine and you have everything completely under control. Maybe, you did call your mother, and she’s at the door. You’re hoping she is although she’s going to kill you for the mess.

Another buzz and you’re toddling across the wooden flooring and towards the doorway. It’s starting to become infuriating by the second, like a house fly don’t won’t stop bugging you. Considering the mood you’re in, it doesn’t take much to tick you off. Swinging the door open, you expected to see the radiant face of your mother but to your surprise, it’s not.

It’s Bruce.

Shit.

You haven’t seen him in two weeks.

You nearly choke at the sight of him in a slightly crumpled oxford blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair as much of a mess as yours and tired eyes staring down at you with concern. You note how Bruce is very charming, no matter how disarrayed he is. Meanwhile, you’re realizing the current state must be a little startling. Your eyes are probably bloodshot, hair still in a tangled mess and glaring tomato stains everywhere on your GCU t-shirt. This is such a low point for you.

“Bruce,” you say, voice raising an octave with wide eyes as you stare at him like he’s grown another head, “What are you doing here?” His frown is immediate, seemingly confused by your question. “You called me.” He gestures to his phone within his grasp. “It sounded bad even though I couldn’t make out what you were saying half of the time,” He chuckles and holds up a familiar looking paper bag “So, I got you bagels. Three of them. Thought you could use some of these.”

It takes a second or two for you to finally process what he just told you before your emotionally wrecked brain decides to do the most irrational thing ever—You just start sobbing. You’re crying so hard that it terrifies Bruce. He blinks, thoughts racing. The sight of you in complete misery strikes him like a punch to his gut and for the first time, he doesn’t know what to do. Not immediately. Yet, through glassy eyes, you manage to notice the way his face dropped and morphed into pure horror. Justification is key, you don’t want to weird him out and think you’re crazy. You wave your hand in the air dismissively, rubbing your eyes as you spoke between strangled sobs. “I’m sorry, it’s been a tough day and that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me all week.”

Oh.

Your words are a tug to the heartstrings, and it sends his head reeling but relief was all that overwhelmed him. Bruce would never wish to see you hurt, especially when it’s caused by him. Actions of affection were primarily reserved for those closest to him, but he never experienced the urge to be intimate and care so much for a person ever since his parents died. Yet, out of everyone, you’re the one that brings out the most in him. Moving closer to you, he reaches and pulls you in a hesitant embrace. You stiffened at the mere touch of his arms around you, unsure of what to do with yourself.

Sure, you had a fair share of intimate moments with the man but this, this was different. You couldn’t shake the thought of how something so warm felt so right, smelt right. Despite the fact you had been trying to suppress your feelings for Bruce, and this was doing the exact opposite of that, you can’t help but feel this was what you needed at the moment. So, you let your body sag, muscles becoming loose and you let yourself truly cry for the first time.

You end up inviting him in later, when your tears are dry. You eat two of the bagels, sharing the last one with him. You called a peace offering, a gift of appreciation, for the whole emotional massacre you unexpectedly shoved at him. He simply laughs, eyes crinkling with fondness. He thinks you’re beautiful, especially when your hair is wild, laughing like you don’t have a care in the world. It’s what keeps him grounded, to know you’re raw and very real. The next thing you know, you end up shuffling cards of UNO until the wee hours of the morning—exchanging knowing smiles and Bruce trying to pick a Wild Draw card from the deck to get you to lose. But, he lets you win anyway.

He slept on your couch that night, still in his dress shirt. You must've peeked a glance at his sleeping form, squeezed onto the couch that’s clearly too small for him. Cute. You snap a picture before heading to bed. For blackmail purposes, of course.

-

You end up working a night shift at a burger joint called Big Belly Burger somewhere in midtown. Your first week comes and goes, and you’re starting to hate how your uniform itches and how the restaurant can get really filthy by the end of the day. Yet, it’s the kids from Cameron Kane High that come after school that keeps you going because it makes you miss being a teacher even though they tend to leave a mess after a meal.

Thursday comes and you’re exhausted. Even so, you’re thankful it’s a slow night. You’ve done all your cleaning duties earlier on and Lucie, the manager went out to buy a pack of cigarettes from the convenience store around the corner. Hence, it’s just you, slumped against the counter, devouring a Triple Belly Burger.

You’re half way through the burger when you hear the door swing open. Expecting to see Lucie, you turned around to see two men brandishing handguns your way. “Everything from the register, now!” The taller masked man shouted, gun gesturing to the cash register. Your eyes are wide, and you can feel your chest heaving. There was no way you’ll be able to fight them. Not two of them with guns pointed at you.

The burger drops from your hand and so does your heart. With trembling hands, you slide the drawer of the cash register open and begin pulling out dollar notes. From the corner of your eye, you spot your phone on the counter, close enough for you to make an emergency call. Your eyes scan the two men wearily and with every ounce of courage you had left, you managed to unlock your phone, pulled up the messaging app and texted the first name on the list: Bruce Wayne.

help, was all you managed to say.

To say your luck ran out was an understatement; you were never lucky anyway. One of the robbers must have caught on to what you were doing and just as the call goes through, he snatches your phone away, throws it onto the ground and shoots it.

So close, yet so far.

You don't know if the message got through.

The muzzle is now inches away from your forehead, and you hear the cock of the gun. “Don’t you dare pull somethin’ funny like or I’ll blow your brains out. Give us the money, now.” It was in that moment, your tears give way and your life flashes before your eyes. You pray for a miracle, a savior.

Then, you see him.

A looming figure appears by the doorway and your breath hitches. It’s Batman, looking like a Goddamn angel. The robbers seem to realize this too, guns quickly directed towards the vigilante. He launches batarangs to the pair of men and immediately disarms them. In a flash, he knocks them out, unconscious bodies dropping to the ground like dead flies.

You stare at him in awe although he’s very frightening and intimidating but Batman...just saved you. Now, this is a story you’re going to be telling everybody until the day you die. He approaches you with caution, and you instinctively take a step back. Then, he calls you by your name like it’s second nature. You stare at him with blank amazement, brows raised.

“You know my name?” Your voice dwindled; It’s so soft and timid you hardly hear yourself. Despite the mask, the vigilante looks like his brain just short-circuited for a moment. He clears his throat.

“...Bruce has mentioned you.”

You ignore how his synthetic voice makes every hair on the back of your neck stand and the familiarity that struck for a split second when he said your name because you’re too wrapped up with the fact that Bruce has discussed about you to his other ‘best friend’ as one might call it. Brooding over this lump of a thought, the corner of your mouth twitches. “He did?” you say with a hint of affection. It’s hard to read the man under the mask, whoever he was but you’re certain he looked taken aback by your response. Maybe, it was the way you delivered it—the longing in the very core of the expression. You may have outed your feelings for Bruce to...Batman.

This doesn’t get any stranger than that.

“Yes,” he replies curtly, and you hear the police sirens afar. “Are you hurt?” Like the true caretaker of Gotham, he wants to be sure you haven’t been injured. You shake your head, lips pressed together. The whaling of the police sirens grow louder, lights of red and blue flashing before your eyes. He appears like a shadow against the glaring lights from the police cruisers and before you can blink, he flees with a muttered ‘Goodnight’ and disappears before the police come flooding in and does Lucie. The poor woman looked at with frantic eyes as soon as she glimpsed the two men on the ground, groaning in pain.

The glint of the batarang on the floor captures your attention, you smile at this.

You may or may not have taken it back to your apartment that currently sits proudly on the bookshelf in your living room.

You’re so telling Bruce.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

[woman-of-culture]

The traitor 2/2

Dabi x reader

I really needed to finish this bc I couldn't focus on literally anything but Dabis dick. 🥵

Warnings: 18+, smut, Dabis identity

Part One

Words: 7,864

What’s one word to describe this trip you ask? Nerve-racking, from the moment you left your apartment to the moment you entered the bus. Everything seemed like a blur at this point as you walked through the bus to find the only empty seat next to your target, Bakugou. It’s not exactly guilt you felt, you knew this was inevitable, but you did contemplate the outcome of this.

The League could fail, although that was unlikely from the plan Dabi told you, he could refuse or he could possibly join by some miracle. You haven’t the slightest clue but you were damn sure on one thing, you were gonna do everything in your power to ensure the Leagues success from the shadows. Sitting next to Bakugou you made sure to give him a curt nod as a sort of greeting.

“Haah? What makes you think you can sit there you damn extra?” “What do you want me to do? Stand for how many hours this trip takes? No thanks, if you don’t want to sit next to me then get up and leave.”

That seemed to pop a nerve in the boy, making him shout for a few seconds but ultimately falling silent when Aizawa told him to be quiet. ‘Thank God’ you thought to yourself as you laid back, thinking of ways to get the schedule for the next few days.

You put your headphones on, not wanting to be distracted by any unnecessary noise as your mind slowly drifts off to this morning.

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

You woke up to the annoying sound of your alarm clock bursting to life just to make your life a little more miserable. “For fucks sake, who schedules a trip for 6 AM...” You thought, silently groaning at the stiffness in your body. You got up, stretched, did your morning routine of brushing your teeth, combing and styling your hair etc.

Ready to go make yourself breakfast, you certainly didn’t expect Dabi to still be here, let alone fully awake and shirtless in the middle of your kitchen. You discreetly admired his physique from the entrance of the kitchen, gawking at the muscles on his back, flexing every time he reached for something.

‘Holy shit’ you knew Dabi was an attractive and physically fit man, despite his kinda lanky built, but this wasn’t what you were expecting at all. His shoulders and 1/3 of his back are the same charred skin covering his face and chest but what you weren’t expecting was he smooth, pale skin of the rest of his back. The contrast extremely attractive in your eyes as you do nothing but stare and wonder what the front view is like.

As if hearing your thoughts, he turns slightly exposing the well defined muscles of his abdomen. Your eyes drawn immediately to the harsh skin of his collarbone, down the valley of his abs to the exposed, very prominent and very attractive v-line dipping to his most private area.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the view but it’s not exactly nice to stare so hard for so long unless you’re planning on doing something about it.” Visibly flinching, you turn around, (poorly) hiding your more than flushed cheeks. “Get over y-yourself! I was just wondering why you were still here since you usually leave b-before I wake up.” “Aaw, dollface is so flustered she can’t even look me in the eyes. Don’t be so embarrassed, it’s normal to feel excited after that. You know, I could help with that in no time flat-...”

“OK, OK I GET IT! Shut up and answer my question, what are you still doing here?” You turn to face him, metaphorical steam coming out of your ears at his daring comments. He returns to what he was previously doing, which you now notice is making coffee and a sandwich. “Well I...don’t need to answer that.” He avoids the question completely, taking the 2 cups of coffee and sandwich to the living room table.

“That’s not fair Dabi! My house, my rules. Now answer the question.” Thinking he made a sandwich just for himself, you go to the fridge but stop once he called out to you “It’s your sandwich dumbass, I can’t eat in the mornings...” The last part being whispered as if it’s some secret.

You whipped your head so fast in his direction you’re surprised your neck didn’t snap. “What!? You? Dabi? The leach in my life who comes here just for the food, made something for me?“ You walked to the living room as you looked at him dead in the eyes. You leaned in far too close for his liking with narrowed eyes asking “What did you do to Dabi? Am I still sleeping? Toga, is that you?”

The proximity and teasing enough to slightly fluster him. He pushed at your face with his hand, blocking your view of him as he told you to shut up and eat like a normal person in silence.

You grabbed his hand, giggling as you removed it and agreed to eat while watching TV.

“...I won’t be able to come so often...” He mumbled into the coffee after a few minutes of silence. “Won’t be able to come? What are you talking about?”

“Well, you’re going to be at the camp in a few hours so I won’t be able to see you while you’re there...not to mention if this mission is a success and we get the explosive kid, that means I’ll have to be at the base more to keep watch and whatever. So I stayed today to be with you just a little more...” He said, not lifting his gaze from the TV during that whole monologue.

It now dawns on you, Dabi won’t be able to come in the evenings to spend the nights with you. “Oh” was the only word that left your mouth, unable to comprehend just how much this moment truly proved your feelings towards Dabi.

With a gentle smile on your lips, the slightest pink dusting the corners of your cheeks, you replayed his words over and over like a broken record. The smile on your face growing little by little as you thought of your own parents, who seemingly didn’t want you, just to then have Dabis words replay again and again assuring you there was someone who wanted ‘to be with you just a little more...’

The thought making you leap into his chest for a hug neither of you expected yet both enjoyed. “Uh, you okay Y/N?” He asked, patting you on the head. “Yeah! Can we - Can we just stay like this for a few minutes...please?”

“Sure, doll”

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

That was your final interaction with Dabi this morning, shortly after getting up and leaving to go to UA. The moment you closed your door you hoped wholeheartedly you could see him in a few days, unscathed and exactly as you left him.

“Yo, dumbass! Move so I can get off the damn bus.” “Ah Bakugou...always one to ruin the peaceful atmosphere.” You mumble as you grabbed your stuff and got off the bus.

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

“No more...” you mumble to yourself after the 8 hour trail down the mountain accompanied by some sort of clay beasts. While no one was paying attention, you quickly shot a text to Tomura with your current location. Your mentors for the duration of the camp, the Pussycats, praise you for the job well done and tell everyone to go to the dining hall for dinner and afterwards, take a bath and relax. The bath was a close call thanks to a certain pervert trying to scale the wall but thanks to the Kota he fell flat in the bath with a most endearing cry of pain, making the sadistic side of you giggle.

The next day was all about quirk training. Aizawa explained that everyone has grown emotionally but now was the time to focus on physical growth. Everyone got set up with personalized training, such as Bakugou dunking his hands in boiling water or Sero producing tape nonstop. You got set up with your own training regime and solely focused on that till about 4 PM - with the exception of a few breaks where you decided to snoop around a bit and ask one of the Pussycats if there were going to be more teachers here later on and the next days activities.

After the excruciating training, everyone was given the task of making dinner for the night, that being curry.

You smiled to yourself as you reminisced on the last time you made curry.

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

You made your way home, exhausted and sore from the sparing session you just had with Dabi. He was merciless but you couldn’t deny the immeasurable help he provided, pushing himself and you past your limits after such a tiring day.

You opened the door to your apartment and set what little ingredients you got on the way back. “So Dabi, what do you want to eat?” You asked, expecting him to ramble on and on about some complicated meals, forcing you to make a whole feast.

“Curry.” The one word response had you looking at him with an eyebrow raised. “That’s it? Just curry?” “Yeah, got a problem with it or something?” He questioned, sitting on the couch with you following shortly. “No, not at all. I was just expecting something...more?” “You want me to name more? Ok, let’s start with-...”

“No, no. Too late now, I’m gonna go make the best damn curry you’ve ever had in your life.” You jump up before he can get a word in and head straight for the kitchen.

He looked at the direction you ran off to, a small smile making it’s way on his face as he thought of the enthusiasm you displayed just to cook some food. He’d never tell you, but the only reason he asked for just curry is because it was easier to make, filling and took less time. He knew you were exhausted, mentally (from the meeting with HandMan) and physically (from your intense training session), so he wanted to lessen the burden. This is when he truly began to care for someone again, to care for their well-being. The thought putting an even bigger smile on his face.

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

Somewhere in the distance, on a cliff overlooking the whole forest lay 4 villains. 2 who you were very familiar with, that being Dabi and Toga. The last 2 you’ve never met before (thanks to your decrease in bar visits). One stood tall with a mask covering his face and a cloak covering his whole body from head to toe while the other had some sort of gasmask. 

“Throbbing, it’s throbbing. Let’s hurry up already” The one with a mask covering his face said, antsy to start a fight. “Need I remind you Muscular of the one person you can’t fight?” Dabi asked, turning with a glare towards the said villain. 

“Some (hair color and length) haired bitch with (eye color) eyes, riiight? What does it matter if I fight her? If I just passed her wouldn’t it seem suspicious? How about I break a few bones for good measure?” He taunted with a shit eating grin adorning his face. “Do that and I burn you till there's nothing left, not even ashes...” Dabi answered with full confidence, knowing he could easily cremate him - even with his quirk. 

He scoffed, side-eyeing him. “What’s even the deal with her? Is she your personal slut or something? If she’s here, that means she’s a hero or student right? And I came here to fuck up every hero, present or future.” 

Dabi, just about having enough of his ‘colorful’ language towards you turns but gets cut of by Toga. “Oh don’t be silly, how do you think we know the location of the camp? She’s the traitor amongst them.” 

“Exactly, so we are currently here waiting for her to send a message about tomorrows activities and the attack plan.” Dabi monotonously to everyone he was already forming a plan to keep him as far away from you as possible.

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

A new morning dawns and a new day of quirk training begins. Everyone resumed their training like normal except you who was more than visibly nervous thanks to the attack happening this evening at the test of courage. 

By some miracle, you were able to locate a schedule left behind by one of the Pussycats detailing how after dinner there was going to be a test where Class B will try to scare Class A to prove their courage and creatively use their quirks. It seemed like the perfect opportunity given that Bakugou will be with one person in the middle of the woods without any teachers nearby.

When the time came you were paired up with Midoriya to be the last pair to enter the woods.

‘Perfect’ There was no better scenario, you will be able to go to the cabin in no time once the students will be inevitably forbidden to fight unless there was a need for it.

The fifth team, Uraraka and Tsuyu, have just left into the forest leaving you, Midoriya, Ojiro, Mineta, Iida, Koji and the Pussycats.

You’ve sort of isolated yourself from the group because you couldn’t act like everything's fine while in reality you were practically shaking with nerves. The problem was, you weren’t afraid for your well being, you were terrified for Dabis. You knew he was a more than capable fighter since you have sparred with him on more than one occasion but that still did little to ease your nerves.

Just as you were about to question what’s taking them so long you felt a harsh scent of black smoke in the air.

‘Ah, only Dabi can create such a fire to the point of instantly calming my nerves with the warmth it spreads.’ you thought as your attention was brought back by Pixie-bob’s head being smashed into the ground thanks to Magne, and Spinners instantaneous voice breaking the silence.

Game on...

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

As instructed by the Pussycats you, Iida, Mineta, Koji and Ojiro ran towards the camp where you would have no other part in this attack. Your nerves for Dabi were hidden by the fact everyone thought it was because of the villains. You no longer needed to hide the fact you were shaking, eyes wide as saucers and slowly tearing up as you ran full speed trying to get away from the situation behind you.

Just a little more

Just a little...

“SENSEI!” The boys yelled for Aizawa the moment they saw the villain he pinned down...the same villain you hopped was far, far away from here...

“D-dabi...” You muttered, way behind anyone to hear as you stopped the moment the clearing came into view. ‘It can’t be...’ The thought of can and can’t leaving your mind the moment his head turned in your direction, making direct eye contact for just a second. In that second you clearly saw Dabis gorgeous teal eyes looking at you as if he didn’t expect you to be here.

You started heaving, chest rising up and down rapidly as you processed the scene in front of you. What was he doing here? You specifically warned him about Aizawa and that he couldn’t possibly fight him one on one. Dabi wasn’t the physical type, he relied on his quirk too much making him unable to fight someone like Aizawa for he would lose fast and hard.

You gulped feeling bile rise to your throat as you thought of your next move. No way...no way were you letting Dabi get caught. It would cost you your cover but you didn’t care. Taking a step closer, you decided to use the element of surprise to shock Aizawa with a simple attack, enough to distract him so you and Dabi could escape.

Before that could happen, Dabi used Aizawas shock at your arrival to get out of his hold and stand up. “This is as much damage as I can take, huh?” What did he mean by...that?

“Hey hero...” The capturing weapon gets tighter around him until it goes right threw him, revealing that the Dabi Aizawa was fighting was nothing more than a clone. “Are your students important?” He asked whilst looking at him straight in the eyes and disappearing into nothing but some brown sludge on the ground.

You couldn’t believe it...you almost blew your cover for a fucking clone...

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

“Ah, dollface what took you so long?” Dabi asks as you enter the bar in full disguise - a hood covering your hair and a mask covering 3/4 of your face. It’s a pretty simple porcelain mask covering the top half of your face and half of your mouth with a complex pattern around the eyes. You even bought a voice-changer for this specific ‘guest’ of yours so he wouldn’t recognize you.

“Had some trouble after the mission” You answered, your voice (deeper/higher) than normal and a bit more mature-sounding. You walked up to Bakugou, chained to the chair like some sort of animal, examining for any injuries received during the attack. He lowly growled his disapproval for your proximity and told you to back off, which you complied to. Stepping to the farthest corner of the room away from everyone else you sat there while Tomura had a chat with him.

After a while it got extremely boring just hearing constant ‘join us’ and ‘no’-s. “What’s got you so moody doll? You haven’t even said hi.” Dabi whispered as he leaned on the wall close to you.

“Nothing Dabi, I’m just not in the mood to talk.” Was your only response as you got up and made your way to the back of the bar. “Say, Bakugou-kun. Do you want anything to eat? Drink? You haven’t had anything in a while now, and the situation surely can’t be helping that”

“I don’t want anything your shitty ass makes, it would probably taste like crap anyways.” As if on cue, his stomack faintly growls signaling his obvious hunger. You rolled your eyes taking the simple sandwich you made to stand in front of him.

“Look Bakugou-kun. You can either eat this sandwich you watched me make so you could be assured I didn’t spike it, or you can sit there hungry until you starve. Your choice.” “And how am I supposed to eat with my hand completely restrained dumbass?”

“Aaw, does the baby want me to feed him then?” “FUCK NO YOU CUNT!” You giggled to yourself, amused at how Bakugou could be in this situation yet be so feisty at the same time.

During the whole conversation Dabi looked at you and him spitefully. So you didn’t want to talk to him yet you can joke with the brat like it’s second nature? He fumed on the inside yet kept quite as Shigaraki had something to say.

“That’s enough out of you (villain name). Leave it at the table and sit down.” You huffed yet complied as you sat in your previous position near Dabi. “So what was that about?” He tried to ask, emotionless as ever. “What was what about?” You ask, avoiding his burning gaze at the side of your face.

“That? You refuse to speak to me and immediately after hang around the brat as if he were your boyfriend. Mind telling me what I did so wrong for this sort of treatment?” It was subtle, but you could detect a hint of annoyance in his voice. This made you angrier and more annoyed than you previously were. What right did he have to be upset with you?

“Oh, I don’t know Dabi.” You sarcastically said as his name dripped like poison from your lips. “Maybe it was the fact you didn’t bother to tell me you had Twice make clones to distract Eraser. Or the fact I almost blew my cover trying to rescue a goddamn clone!” You whisper shouted, making sure no one but him caught the last part.

Meanwhile Tomura was giving Bakugou some speech about how corrupt hero society really is. You didn’t really pay attention thanks to the anger slowly boiling in your veins towards the man in front of you.

“Is that all? Really? You’re an idiot if you planned to do something as stupid as try to help ‘me’ escape, even if that wasn’t a clone.” His jealousy and anger ranting before the logical side of his brain could speak as he glared at you with anger, confusion and a hint of sadness. “I didn’t know you were going to retreat back to the camp. For all I knew, you were around the explosive kid over there. Was that why you were so apposed to this mission, you didn’t want us kidnapping your little boyfriend and him finding out the truth?”

Taken aback you do nothing but look at him as Tomura says to let Bakugou go (his order not reaching your ears because of your own conversation). He ignored him and simply told Twice to do it as he was still expecting an answer from you.

“I can’t believe it...you know full well why I rejected this plan and it was NOT for something so - so implausible.” You shake your head as your voice cracks at the end of the sentence.

“And what do you mean that’s all? I was scared for you, I actually believed you went to fight Eraser on your own. I wanted to help you because I care for you, I couldn’t possibly see you behind bars knowing I could’ve prevented it!”

“I never asked for you to care for me!” He didn’t even let you finish your little rant, slowly loosing what little patience he had, his calm-ish charade cracking. “There is no reason why you would waste your time with that and risk all the time you put into...infiltrating them.” He whispered the last part as he noticed several eyes drawn to the conversation.

“No...reason?” You looked at him in disbelief “Of course there’s a reason! I could never NOT care for you” Your voice, along with you agitation, slowly went higher as the sentence continued. “WHY? Why would you care enough to risk everything?!” He followed your lead, voice getting louder.

“BECAUSE I THINK I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!”

...

You could literally hear a pin drop at the end of your outburst. Everyone looked at you two. Even Shigaraki, who was now in front of an unrestrained Bakugou - who took advantage of the moment and set off an explosion right in his face, causing ‘father’ to be knocked off.

Everyone looked mortified, you most of all for both your outburst and the new development in Bakugous case, knowing that he was most likely going to get killed now.

“My bad for ruining the moment but I’ve listened to his endless talking long enough. Idiots can’t get to the point so they’re always talking for a long time. Basically you mean ‘We wanna harass people, so please join us,’ right?”

Oh he was soo fucked.

But what surprised you the most was the fact Shigaraki didn’t attack. No, he even ordered to not even touch him. Was this really Shigaraki? In any other situation he would instantly decay any person that dares touch ‘father’ let alone knock him off his face. He just calmly picked up ‘father’, placed it on his face and continued to talk. Has he...matured?

You though in complete disbelief, forgetting your outburst from a minute ago. But the person beside you refused to look away from your side profile, even to see Shigarakis next actions.

‘In love’ being the only phrase in his mind.

While there was a stare down happening between Shigaraki and Bakugou, a knock sounded from the door.

“Hello, this is Pizza-La, Camino store.”

You raised an eyebrow in suspicion as you looked around the room. “The fuck? Who ordered piz-...”

You weren’t even able to finish you question when a loud and obnoxious “SMAAASH!” was heard throughout the bar as, low and behold, All Might comes crashing threw the wall, throwing debris in every which direction making it impossible to see for a few seconds due to the dust that came along with it.

Those few seconds proved incredibly important as you weren’t able to see a piece of brick flying straight for your face, cracking your mask almost down the middle, barely keeping itself up at that point. The breeze that accompanied almost threw your hood down but thankfully Dabi was there to secure it into place. You looked at him, being reminded of your earlier mistake but quickly focused on the battle as Kamui Woods came next and captured everyone.

As Dabi was focusing on setting the trees on fire he didn’t notice Gran Torino who instantly knocked him out with a single kick. You screamed out his name, your voice-changer not functioning as your scream cracked in the middle, revealing your real voice for a second.

When Kurohiri tried to summon the Nomu waiting in the secret location, he was unable to teleport them as they seemed to be missing from their usual spot. Next he tried to teleport everyone out but was promptly knocked out by Edgeshot who seemed prepared for his next move.

‘No’...You were surrounded, unable to lift a finger and your mask slowly cracking and sliding down your face. ‘What now..think Y/N, think...’

“Didn’t I tell you earlier that it’d be in your best interest to stay put?” Gran Torino said as he began calling out every villain in the bar.

...Kenji Hikiiski

...Atsuhiro Sako

...Shuicki Iguchi

...Himiko Toga

...Jin Bubaigawara

You waited with bated breath...waited for your own name to be called out, maybe even Dabis but that’s where the list ended. ‘That’s it? That means they don’t know who I am just yet.’ The ray of hope diminishing the moment you realized the condition of your mask, as soon as it falls off every single person in the room will know your identity. Your heartbeat began to pick up it’s pace, panic setting in.

You looked around the room, trying to think of something...anything! that could possibly help in this situation. Your focus breaking the moment Tomura shouted ‘I hate you’ towards the no.1 hero.

Grayish-black liquid encompassed everyone in the bar, including yourself. ‘The Hell?! What is this?’ You thought panicking even more until Tomura mumbled on word.

‘Master?’ You questioned...MASTER, OF COURSE!

Relief set in at the thought of master saving you, looking over at Dabi you couldn’t help the serene close of your eyes the moment you saw him getting teleported as well. Thank God.

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

You fell to the ground with a thud as you looked at your surroundings. Everyone was here, including Bakugou, with master standing in the front speaking to Tomura. You quickly looked around spotting Dabi on the ground, laying still unconscious.

Quickly picking yourself of the ground you made your way to Dabi, picking his head up and laying it on your thighs so he could be somewhat comfortable, even if he wasn’t awake yet. However, you felt your mask cracking completely and falling to the ground. You quickly set your gaze downwards before Bakugou could get a look at your face, thankfully he seemed to be preoccupation with starring at master, a quite intimidating man who, by the looks of it, defeated 3 pro’s by himself, including the no.4 hero Best Jeanist.

Discreetly, you tugged on Mr. Compresses pant leg. “Atsuhiro, I know this isn’t the best time to ask, but could you give me your mask?” You ask whilst taking a peak at him to show him your mask completely broke.

“Of course, Y/N. Here.” He whispered back, handing you his mask. You mumbled your thanks as you looked at master who was having his own monologue.

“You’re here, after all, aren’t you?” ‘Oh for fucks sake, it isn’t over yet?’

Like an instant headache, All Might comes swooping in from the sky, attacking master instantly. Toga comes to you, protecting you since you couldn’t use your quirk with All Might and Bakugou here...plus the few uninvited guests behind a wall of debris. This just got a whole lot more interesting.

You let Atsuhiro use his quirk on Dabi whilst you took the pearl, securing it in your small weapons carrier you had for these types of situations. As instructed, everyone began attacking Bakugou hopping to recapture him.

While you were in the air thanks to some attack strategies you planned out with the rest a while back, you noticed Midoriya, Kirishima, Iida and Todoroki getting ready to execute some sort of plan to get to Bakugou. You landed just in time to see them propell themselves using Midoriyas quirk and then using Iidas boosters on Todorokis ice to fly high and fast. Kirishima yelled for Bakugou to come to them - which he did.

Ah, a truly brilliant strategy to save Bakugou whilst not engaging in head to head battle. You noticed Todoroki and Yaoyorozu making a quick escape but only smirked as you watched them leave. A sort of apology from you to them.

Since there was no longer a reason to stay, master urged us to leave, forcing Magnes unconscious body to propel every male towards you and Himiko, who were conveniently placed in front of the portal he forced Kurogiri to make a few minutes prior.

‘Well, this is gonna hurt’ You thought as 3 guys came crashing into you full force.

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

Dabi suddenly awoke with a searing headache, he couldn’t focus on his surroundings let alone remember what happened the moment prior to him pacing out.

“Good morning, here are some painmeds if the headache gets worse and the water is next to the bed on the table. I’ll be coming back every hour to check up on you, so don’t worry, get some rest and sleep it off.” You quickly mumbled as you noticed Dabi was finally awake after a few hours of taking care of him and non-stop worrying. Before he could make sense of the situation, you quickly left the room to go God knows where.

As he was left alone for a few seconds he finally remembered what happened a few hours prior, the old geezer of a hero knocked him out when he was about to burn the restraints off everyone. He looked around the room, noticing he was in a unfamiliar surrounding. A black blanket covering his form, a small work desk not even 2 meters away from him and a wardrobe on the opposite end of the room.

After analyzing his surrounding he remembered your brief words to him before your departure, everything slowly falling into place. He got injured so you took him to your apartment and cared for him until he awoke.

He also remembered your last conversation, or rather confession. He knew he needed to go to you and make sense of the whole situation but he was unable to get off the bed as he felt something restraining his left arm.

Handcuffs - kinky, but currently not appreciated.

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

For the past 2 hours you’ve been in the kitchen making all sorts of dishes just to pass the time and make up excuses not to go to your room. It’s been fun while it lasted but you couldn’t avoid this any more, what ere you going to do? Starve him to avoid him?

You made your way to the room, a millimeter away from the doorknob, second-guessing this whole thing. You turned around to leave and buy yourself another hour but a voice was heard on the other side of the door.

“You know, it’s quite rude to say you’ll be back in an hour and then leave for 2.”

‘Fuck’ was your sole thought as you entered the room, completely unaware of his expression as you looked to the foot of the bed, avoiding his gaze as much as possible.

“Sorry...the food took a bit more time to prepare than I thought” You mumbled as you made your way to the table near his bed, placing everything neatly and getting ready to leave.

As you turned around he grabbed you with his left arm, stopping you in your tracks. “You know we need to talk dollface.” He said as he pulled you a little closer to the bed.

“What’s there to talk about Dabi? I made a fool of myself in front of the whole League and practically yelled something neither of us was ready to hear... - wait” You exclaimed as soon as you noticed something was off. “Didn’t I cuff your left hand to the bed-?”

As soon as the thought left you he yanked you completely onto the bed, trapping you between himself and the mattress. Comfortably straddling your legs and cuffing both of your arms, in record time, to the bed frame so you couldn't struggle.

“ThE Hell are you DOing?” Your voice comes out as a shriek due to the immense surprise you felt in that predicament.

“Dabi, gEt off! You’re heavy and this is NOT the time to tease me” Tears formed in your eyes and your cheeks felt as if they were on fire, your struggling coming to an end once you realized he wasn’t budging. You gazed at his face, biting your tongue in anticipation for his next move.

He moved even closer if that was possible, looking at you straight in the eyes as your breath caught in your throat.

“What do you mean ‘you think’ you’re in love with me?”

Being caught off guard by the unexpected question, you just dumbly hummed a quiet ‘huh?’

“You said it earlier loud and clear, ‘I think I’m in love with you’, are you not sure Y/N?” The moment he used your real name instead of doll or dollface, you knew he was completely serious, no hint of sarcasm or malice laced in his voice as he kept on starring at your wide eyes.

His eyes encouraged you, silently begging for an answer as you moved your gaze away from him - a distraught look on your face.

“I...don’t know...” He slowly backed off, ready to get off you at your short response. “I get it...” But you continued before he could uncuff you and leave.

“I don’t know what it’s like to love someone! I- I have never had parental love, no friends and I certainly don’t know what it’s like to have romantic feelings since no one ever knew me and fully accepted me for me!” You quickly responded with your eyes closed, fearing his expression.

“Every time someone tried to talk to me I immediately thought ‘What if they find out I’m a villain, what if they don’t listen to my reasoning and stab me in the back the moment I turn around?’ I’m afraid of people abandoning me as soon as it gets dangerous! I can’t go threw that, not again!“ You quietly sob as one of your eyes opened, unable to see Dabi clearly threw the tears.

“But not you, you protected me and cared for me. I don’t want you to leave, I don’t want you to hate me. I love it when you break into my apartment, I love it when you eat with me, I love it when you train with me, I love it when you accidentally fall asleep on me, I love your perverted comments and even your complaints,

I love YOU Dabi!”

You finished, finally looking at him straight in the eyes to make your point clear.

“That’s stupid” was his only response as he leaned backwards, sitting upright with a look you couldn’t describe. Baffled, you were unable to respond, feeling empty. You wish you could cry but you stared at him unblinkingly, asking why he thought it was ‘stupid’.

“You say I know everything important in your life, your past, your present. And you’re right. I care for you deeply, more than I’d like to admit, I want for you to succeed, I want you to be happy because of all I know about you. But that doesn’t go both ways.” You could only stare at him as he continued his monologue.

“ I have a lot more baggage than you’re ready for, doll. You claim to love me when you know nothing about me, not even my name.”

“So let me get to know you.” Was your simple answer. “You’re right, I don’t know your past but I do know you now. You’re a firm believer in Stains ideology, you prefer spicy over sweet and you snore when you sleep.” You giggle at the end, remembering the first time you were there when he slept.

“I know there’s a lot I don’t know about you, but I’m willing to put in the effort to try. I want to get to know you Dabi and I want to help carry that baggage you so desperately need help with, that is, if you’re willing to give me a chance?”

“I was hoping you’d say something so cheesy.”  Without missing a beat, his lips smashed ageings yours with fervor and a clear goal in mind to show you just how much he cares.

The different texture creating an almost intoxicating feeling, but of course, a simple peck was no good in his book. He tugged at your bottom lip as you complied almost instantly. His tongue invaded your mouth, creating incredible friction with his tongue piercing you didn’t know he had.

The longer the kiss lasted the faster his hands started roaming your body, every dip and every curve being explored with his abnormally warm hands. You wanted nothing more than to return the favor but unfortunately your hands were tied to the bed and no matter how much you struggled you couldn’t get free.

“D-Dabi...” You said in between impossibly short breaks he took for air. “Uncuff me, hah, I want- I want to touch you too.” You pleaded with a fog in your eyes, not being able to focus on anything other than the man in front of you - who situated himself between your legs during your little request.

“Not a chance doll, do you know what you did to me every time you teased me, even as a joke? Well now it’s payback time.” He finished whilst simultaneously sliding your shirt up to your hands, revealing your chest clad in nothing but a deep purple bra.

He went straight for your neck with a goal to leave the biggest and darkest mark humanly possible. He bit down, sucked and licked every surface your neck had to offer, leaving a few dark bruises in his wake. He bit down particularly hard on a spot just bellow your collarbone, breaking your silence as you let out a barely audible gasp and mewl.

He thrived on the thought that you didn’t mind some pain with your pleasure, smirking sadistically as you tried to ignore the hard-on that was pressing against your thigh. But the more you wiggled and squirmed the more prominent the bulge got, pressing higher and higher.

His hands move stealthily, agonizingly slowly against your chest and over to the back where he proceeded to remove it by burning the straps off. His knuckles barely brush against your now bare nipples as he eased his way down, truly a tease. He took a moment to look at your eyes, piercing blue staring at crystal (eye color). His eyes displayed nothing but dominance and a need for pure, white hot pleasure, you’d shiver if it wasn’t for the overbearing heat coming from his body and actions.

He smiles lazily, his hands withdrawing completely and to your sides where he leans a bit over you to look at you straight in the eyes.

“Tell me princess, what do you want next?” He husks right into your ear as you put no thought in your answer. “Anything, I don’t care what you do just as long as you make me come.”

“That’s not very specific doll, use your words and pick one - tongue or fingers” He situated himself back between your legs, taking off your shorts and (not so subtly) stares at your matching lingerie, taking in the dark spot with an ever growing smirk. “How about both?”

“Now that’s an answer I like.” His palms slowly drag up your calves as he places kisses along your thighs, getting closer and closer to the spot you wanted, needed the most. His fingers inch up higher and higher, under your lingerie, kneading the flesh of your ass. His tongue trails along your lower lips, getting only a taste of what’s to come.

You roll your hips to meet the sway of his tongue, feeling his fingers slide between the straps of your underwear, dragging it down in one quick movement. “Dabi...” You try to distract him from his starring as he lowers his head, immediately lapping up the slick that accumulated during his previous ministrations. You moan his name again, albeit louder than you previously thought you could.

He pokes his tongue against your entrance, slowly entering you with the mission to taste as much as his tongue would allow him. You’re moans increasing in volume once his tongue left your entrance and decided to tease your swollen bundle of nerves just above it.

What you weren’t prepared for was a singe digit making it’s way to your entrance, going in knuckle deep on the first go. “Fuck” You half moaned, half whined. You weren’t used to such an intrusion, his fingers being much larger and much longer than your own. You couldn’t deny the pleasure that started accumulating the more he moved his finger at an unforgiving pace and lapped up your clit as if it was the last time he could.

As time passed he added more fingers until he finally got to 3. By that time, the coil slowly building up was ready to burst and make for an unimaginable orgasm. You were moaning his name as if it was the only word you knew which, for the moment, wasn’t incorrect.

The moment he felt your walls constricting he quickly got up, leaving you empty and needy. He was even cruel enough to hold your legs apart so you wouldn’t even be able to rub your thighs together, he only watched as your walls tightened around nothing.

“Dabi, you jackass!” was your only reply, along with whines of protest as he got up and undressed himself completely - making a little show of his last piece of garment. Your whines and complaints instantly getting caught in your throat as you looked at the picture-perfect image in front of you. His scars perfectly contrasting his healthy skin. Your eyes wondering lower and lower until you got to the godly sight of his fully erect and weeping with precum cock. Drool practically pooling at the back of your throat as you looked at the image before you. His cock wasn’t really anything special when it came to length, but the part that got you wide eyed was the sheer girth of it and the Jacob’s ladder running from the base to the tip accompanied with a prince albert piercing at the very tip of his manhood.

“Aren’t you glad you waited Y/N? Would you have rather came around my fingers or around my cock?” He teased, fully aware of your sole concentration on his girth. “Say, I’m getting a little dizzy doll, how ‘bout you take the lead?” You  fervently nodded your head, eager to have him fully sheathed inside you, not carrying about the position as long as you could get off. “Good girl” was his only response as he took the handcuffs off you.

Without missing a beat you grabbed him by the shoulders, flipping your positions and setting his back against the headboard so you could comfortably straddle his lap. He tried to tease you about your neediness but ultimately failed as you ground your hips against him, making you both sigh in a short lived relief. It felt like an explosion behind your eyes, getting all the confidence you needed just from his faint growls.

His chest is pressed against yours, nipples rubbing on rough skin creating friction almost too much to bare. Fuck, you really needed more.Your heart pounds against your ribcage, creating an almost painful sensation as you start another lewd kiss, teeth clashing and tongues meeting in the middle.

His hand lands on your hip, the other teasing your folds apart as you get ready for the main event. The tip presses against your entrance, piercing creating an indescribable feeling as you slowly descent. You can feel yourself heavily breathing, pussy throbbing at the stretch of his girth.

Obviously he had a hard time keeping still as he almost breaks the skin of his lips. ‘No more waiting’ was your single though as you began a faster pace, bouncing on his cock, feeling stretched beyond belief. At the first sign of your pleasure, he began slamming upwards, matching the descent of your hips. You were sure the vice like grip he had on your hips would leave pretty noticeable marks but that was currently the last of your problems.

The feeling of his piercings rubbing against your velvety walls accompanied by the undeniable pleasure you felt as he hit the deepest spots inside of you was enough to make you moan akin to a pornstar. The look on your face, the sounds you made and the feeling of your iron tight grip had him slamming you faster, harder.

“FucK, Dabi! I-I want to come! So, sO badly” you’re moaning, mumbling words of praise to the man beneath you. He doesn’t react much except for quite, deep groans. But you didn’t mind at all, attaching your lips once more for a short kiss as you continued moaning his name like a broken record.

Your mouth doesn’t stop trembling as you scream out a final ‘Dabi’, collapsing into his chest as he continues chasing his own high. He pulls out, finishing in his hand and a little bit of it ending on your lower back, neither of you minding as he quickly cleans it and lays on his side with you comfortably in his arms, facing away from him.

“I love you Dabi, I truly do.” were your final words as you closed your eyes. What you didn’t expect was for him to continue.

“Touya...call me Touya”

You were confused for a second until you realized ‘Ah, that must be his real name.’ You wished to continue the conversation, but the exhaustion finally hit you all at once so you were only able to mumble a quite ‘Allright, I love you Touya...’

He wasn’t sure if you heard him when he said ‘I love you too Y/N’ but that didn’t matter now. He could say it all he wants from now on.

[dazais-guardian-angel]

☕️+ what things do you wish they did with descole (because I am weak and he’s my fave)

Apologies for the late reply to this; tbh I almost didn’t want to answer it, cause I feel like nothing I’ll say will be something others haven’t already discussed (especially since I just saw you asked someone else this same question), and also I’ve only ever played the prequels once back when they first came out and I haven’t reached them again in my replay yet, so I’m not fresh on everything done with his character and all the Azran/Targent stuff. But nonetheless:

In general, obviously, I wish Desmole’s character “arc” if you can even call it that as it is now + plot twists/identity had been much more fleshed out from the get-go and consistent with who they ultimately made him be, that is, Hershel’s brother and someone who never should have legitimately wanted to hurt him or people close to him. While I think the worst of this really only comes out in Eternal Diva, where he literally tries to swordfight Hershel to death and kill Luke on one occasion cause he goes insane once Hershel out-puzzles him, there really just should have been more nuance to him in the first two entries especially (and in Miracle Mask too of course, but he’s barely in that game so) where he shows some level of frustration and hesitance to go up against Hershel and his crew, even if he still does so because he absolutely has to carry out his revenge plan. Just SIGNS that there’s more to this guy than just a walking one-dimensional mysterious deadly flamboyant badass, beyond just Hershel going “hm he feels familiar”, like no of course that’s not near enough. Even if Desmole’s true identity still wasn’t going to be revealed until Azran Legacy, there still needed to be hints, breaks in his facade/character, hesitation, signs of remorse, even if some of these hints are not outright foreshadowing to a familial relationship/desire for revenge. He could still lose it in Eternal Diva, but just make it seem more desperate and broken, and less kill-crazy. Give him moments of humanization, show that Descole can be kind, such as around Melina or Nina; what I honestly wanted to see was him having interactions around girls other than Aurora where his fatherly nature might show (not that him and Aurora aren’t great, I just wanted more); he had to have spent a lot of time around Melina while making the Detragan, and the potential for their relationship while she was dying is so much. Hershel should have had more moments of familiarity, and thinking about him when he’s not around, trying to figure him out, demanding to know who he is because he feels like he needs to know for some reason he can’t describe, and Descole’s answers/non-answers are extremely telling/bitter/curious/thought-provoking. And Descole should imo have had a scene to himself at the end of every entry pre-Azran Legacy where it’s increasingly obvious this guy has Angst(tm) and some beef with Hershel that seems personal and not just to do with getting in the way of his plots, along with all the earlier hints obviously (iirc he had a final scene at the end of Last Spector but it was nothing more than showing “hey we’re not done with this guy!!”, so that definitely should have had more to it; at the end of Eternal Diva I REALLY wanted to see how he survived his fall, probably with Raymond saving him, cue more ~mysterious reactions to Hershel~ as he thinks on how Hershel cried out his name as he was falling despite the fact that they were enemies, etc; and then the one at the end of Miracle Mask is okay I guess, but I still wanted more to it, more, idk signs of regret or remorse or sadness from him before he goes after Bronev, and not just “grrrrrr finally my revenge is close I’mma take you down all I have is angerrRRRRR” also for him to not look so damn stupid when all Bronev has to do is knee him to take him down, like this is DESCOLE, THE KING OF BADASS, THAT ENDING IS SO PITIFUL; WE DIDN’T NEED THAT FOR A FAKEOUT UNMASKING SCENE THAT LEADS NOWHERE).

tl;dr, Desmole’s story being planned from the very beginning would have made it possible for the writers to foreshadow and develop him properly before you finally see him as Desmond, and make you attached to and interested in him much more than just as a cool badass you kinda wonder the identity of but mostly just enjoy watching be badass and evil. The PL series had never had an overarching villain in the main trilogy aside from Don Paolo, who was more of a comic relief villain who they could afford to not make up his beef with/connection to Hershel until the final game because it was a very insignificant reason in the grand scheme of things, and Don Paolo just..... wasn’t that integral to the plots of that trilogy, he was more of a bonus background villain not meant to be taken seriously or have any true emotional impact. But then you have Descole introduced as the key threat over the majority of the prequel series (you think it’s the Masked Gentleman this time, but no lol, it’s still Descole!!), and needless to say, “actually the protagonist’s long-lost brother trying to get revenge on their corrupt father, both of which are involved in an ancient civilization that ruined all their lives in multiple ways” is a biiiiiiit more important than... “jealous dead girlfriend rival” lol. And so there’s a jarring disconnect between pre-Miracle Mask Descole and post-Miracle Mask Descole, because the Azran aren’t even a thing until Miracle Mask at ALL, and so in Last Spector and Eternal Diva Descole just seems like this mad scientist with a dramatic flair and nothing more, who mayyyyyyyy be searching for eternal life? Since that seems to be the running theme with the golden garden and ambrosia? But even then literally nothing is revealed about him in that game and movie so who knows (and unrelated but it seems like those two places have literally no connection to the Azran aside from an offhanded mention of them in Miracle Mask? idk man); the point I’m taking way too long to make here is that it’s very clear the writers had no endgame plan for him until Miracle Mask at the earliest, and even then I wonder how much of it was completely hashed out (considering the... sort of mess that Azran Legacy is, I almost wonder if most of it was literally not decided on until then). My guess is that Descole was super popular after Last Spector so they decided to bring him back (his final scene in that game could have just been to show that he survived and was still “out there somewhere”, whether or not he came back next entry), but then realized they didn’t have a backstory or identity for him so they had to think up something way too late; I can’t confirm this though of course.

Then you get to Azran Legacy, and honestly, despite how bizarre and weirdly unimportant and filler-ish 90% of this game’s plot feels, I love the inherent idea of Descole finally coming to Hershel as himself. Hershel always shows up and gets in his way? Fine, he’ll come to him. He always sees through his disguises? Fine, he’ll come to him in the best disguise he has: himself. Ask him for his help in a mission his curiosity won’t let him refuse. Because then, of course, even though Desmond is doing this to further and finish his plot, and use them as tools, essentially, there’s the wonderfully painful obvious second reason for why he chooses to do things this way, and that is he wants to spend time with his brother, whether or not he consciously realizes this. This way, Desmond can be himself, he doesn’t have to hide his appearance or (most) intentions and can freely express a lot of his regular personality while still working towards his ultimate goal, but at the exact same time there’s so much he can’t show, that he can’t reveal or let himself do, and this has to be a hundred times harder than when he’s posing as Descole because now he’s friends with Hershel and the others, and a part of him must want so desperately to just stay with them forever as he spends more and more time with them and grows more attached to them, (again, no matter how much he may realize this). But this is where his “arc” continues to fall flat in that aside from one or two hints towards his daughter and having a brother, there is literally no depth in Desmond’s behavior in Azran Legacy pre-Descole/brother reveal, just like in all the entries before it. He should have shown small signs here and there of something being “off” with him, of sadness, of hesitation, of trauma and mental instability; strange things said to Hershel alone that makes him and the player start wondering things, just like with Descole. Everyone immediately goes, upon seeing Desmond for more than five minutes, “oh that’s Descole obviously” (plus Raymond is just... there lol), but it’s not for the right reasons; there’s nothing wrong with a predictable plot twist, but there needs to be some kind of hints towards it to make you emotionally invested in what you realize is coming, because you’re waiting for it and you know it will hurt but you just don’t know when and how it will happen; not that you guess it for no other reason than “well there’s this new character who isn’t an existing friend of Layton’s and everything is suspiciously calm and we’re 90% of the way through this and Descole has yet to show himself; it’s probably him”. For the record, I actually think Miracle Mask does its predictable plot twist a lot better, even if that game still has issues; I see a lot of people complain about how predictable Randall being the masked gentleman is, and it is, but honestly? The flashback plot mechanic in that game is EXTREMELY effective in 1) making it VERY clear who the masked gentleman is very early on, like they’re not trying to hide it in any way, but also 2) punching you in the gut to maximum effect when you get to the end of the flashbacks and pair it with the present-day plot. Like, they could have just told the player in dialogue/infodumps throughout the game who Randall was and what his connection to Hershel, Angela and Henry was, like Desmond does to Hershel near the end of Azran Legacy, but that would have been tedious and boring and the player wouldn’t care near as much, and the game wouldn’t have been long enough. Instead, you see it firsthand, you experience it with Hershel, and although I’m frustrated at how little is done with masked gentleman!Randall and showing connections/hints to who he used to be (look, my exact problems with Descole) and making Hershel more involved with him at the end, which would have been the icing on the angst cake, the entire flashback half of that game honestly left a huge impact on me and I think that’s why I spend so much time talking about/getting emotional about Miracle Mask despite always saying that Diabolical Box is my favorite, because getting to know Randall and see that friendship and see how it ended just makes it all hit so much harder, as flashbacks should do. The writers knew it would be obvious who the masked gentleman is and they leaned into that, it was a very deliberate choice, what the entire game revolved around, because the point wasn’t that it was unpredictable, but that you would feel for that character and it would hurt so much more. And while I don’t necessarily think Azran Legacy needed full-on flashback gameplay segments for Desmond like Miracle Mask had, I think having vague flashbacks every once in a while throughout that game, vague enough to not directly tell you it’s him or naming/showing Hershel/Theodore much but clear enough that you can reasonably guess it is Desmond, would have done a world of difference, along with all the little behavioral/dialogue hints I mentioned. Similar to the diary entries in Diabolical Box, or if anyone’s ever played Super Paper Mario, the flashbacks in that game after every chapter about an unknown person that it becomes increasingly obvious as you play through the game is the main villain. I just.... really, really wish, out of all the prequel entries, Azran Legacy gave Desmond so much more emotional depth and resonance once we finally see him as Desmond instead of Descole, so many more scenes with Hershel, and to a lesser extent the others, so much more development of his character, so much more of an emphasis put on his prior family and how much he’s hurting and caring and yet at the same time refuses to give up his revenge; all of this, no matter how obvious it made his identity as both Descole and as Hershel’s brother. The brother plot twist, too, feels slightly lame and overdone and out of nowhere, but honest to god I wouldn’t fucking care at all if they just foreshadowed it properly and made it so painfully obvious how much Descole/Desmond wants to be with Hershel and this family and how much it kills him to turn on them all again at the end of Azran Legacy even if he still goes through with it, and how much he regrets everything as he lays dying in Hershel’s arms, but we get none of that goddammitLevel5whydoyoudeprivemeofsomuch-

*ahem* apparently I still had a lot to say. i just wanted so much more for him; he’s SUCH a tragic character... the stupid wannabe phantom of the opera bread man still makes me cry, despite everything, because i am trash. Oh yeah and he should have held Aurora in his arms as she died. And Azran Legacy should have ended post-credits with Hershel opening his door with his hat off (to show that this is after Unwound Future), his eyes widening, then it shows the bottom half of the person’s face, just enough to see the bread hair tips, and the slight sad smile, and then cut to black. level-5 just hire the PL fandom to make the Desmond spinoff game pls

[nitholites]

Daminette Soulmate AU

Inspired by this post by @thepeacetea. Thank you for making an AU with so much Badass!Marinette possibilities. We. Stan. Epic. Marinette. I took a few creative liberties by changing how soulmates work a little bit, I hope no one minds too much. If people want more of this, I'll see what I can do. But, if this inspires anyone to write or add onto this- I personally highly encourage it! Seeing the works of art people can make from one thing are always inspiring to me. I'd love to see what, if anything, comes from this.

That's enough from me- time for the fic!

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Marinette sighed, letting her mind wander back. She remembered knowing several languages before she hit double digits, her body reacting to surprise by calming her mind, spinning around, assessing the situation, and figuring the easiest way to... disable whomever startled her. It took a surprising amount of self control to act like a normal kid, which made her wonder.

Who the heck was her soulmate?

She had to have one- not because she wanted one but because of all the skills she couldn't explain having any other way. She remembered asking her parents about soulmates, and getting a few answers. Soulmates weren't common- actually being extremely rare. The bond was usually the same, though. A kind of skill share.

The more your soulmate used a skill or integrated it into their life, the more normal the skill felt to you, becoming habit over time. Which is why Marinette always knew the exits, shadows, hidden corners, number of people in a room with her, direction, and how to... disable anyone at any given time.

Her footsteps were always silent, and she kept to the shadows of the room by habit. Several times, she accidentally sneaked up on her parents or friends when she thought she wasn't being sneaky at all. She was surprisingly talented at gymnastics, and the sport was relaxing to her, so she continued it all through school.

When she became Ladybug, she could only make a mental note to thank her soulmate profusely for knowing so many self-defense styles and aggressive fighting.

At first, Chat had a major crush on her, but after showing him he wasn't her soulmate (by yelling at him in every language she knew [which were about 5 he didn't]), he had to accept the facts.

Life went on, and soon Lila was brought into the picture. Adrien didn't help, and the class soon left Marinette behind, bullying her and excluding her. But still, Marinette continued to do the best she could as the class representative.

Two years after she became Ladybug, Marinette won her class a trip to Gotham to tour the city and learn more about the American school system. They'd stay for the remainder of the school year (about two months) and would have the chance to intern under several high-class businesses, industries, and names. Rumor had it that whoever earned the right to would work with the Waynes during the summer for their internship, a huge boost to the lucky winner's resume.

Marinette organised everything for the trip- the hotel, activities, tours, school, etc- nearly without help (if you counted Tikki and Luka- two of Marinette's last friends and people who didn't even go to her school!).

The plane ride to Gotham wasn't very interesting. Marinette sat in the back alone while Lila and her lackeys gossipped and lied (both knowingly and unknowingly) about this and that. Every so often, Marinette would hear something about a Dimitri Wayne?

She inwardly scoffed, wondering if Lila meant the only blood Wayne child. Marinette had done quite a bit of research into Gotham, it's heroes vigilantes, villains, and important figures. 99% of Lila's claims about the Waynes could be disproven by a simple Google search, yet...

Marinette sighed, watching the sheep flock to the wolf.

There's nothing I can do for those who swallow such obvious lies.

They reached Gotham around 9pm, going straight to the hotel and getting their rooms. Marinette, predictably, was alone. She was thankful for that, though, because then she could leave and go Ladybug-ing whenever she felt she needed to.

Of course, Marinette knew the rough locations of everything she'd visit, but... it would be handy, seeing Gotham from the air and in person.

"What do you think, Tikki? Should Ladybug say hello to Gotham?"

"Not Ladybug, per-say. What if Hawkmoth figured out we weren't in Paris?"

Marinette nodded at the flying Kwami, hovering right in front of her face. "A change in identities, then. Think you can whip up something I'd like?"

Tikki nodded with a smile, thinking for a moment before shooting her Chosen a thumbs up. "Tikki, spots on!"

Before she left, she took a look at herself in the mirror, smiling at the new outfit.

Her hair, once midnight black/blue, was red with black stripes, gathered up into a bun at the top of her head with a black ribbon tying it together and the ends sticking up to form antenna-like things. Her bangs, once swept to the side now framed her face, the left side red and the right black. The ends brushed her chin, but never seemed to get in her way. Her mask was black like the rest of her outfit, red decal swirling intricately across the fabric. Red accents outlined where her gloves, boots, and sleeves were against a black background. Instead of the skin tight onesie, her outfit was split into four parts- the top, bottoms, gloves, and boots. Her top took a different style, looking more like a Chinese or Japanese kimono top, the bell sleeves covering her palms and loose. Red swirled around the top in descrete roses, red lining the hems. Her gloves were red, black roses stitched into the fabric on the back. Her pants were black and only reached her mid-calf, red roses stitched near the cutoff. Her ankle boots were plain black, the three-inch heel not inhibiting her in any way shape or form (thankfully) and her yo-yo was still strapped to her hip, but harder to see. On her back was a staff like Chat Noir's, but black and with spots indicating the button.

She tapped her chin, humming in thought. "I suppose I'll need a new name for Gotham." She shrugged, deciding to think about it later. She easily opened the window and hopped out, getting used to using the staff almost immediately as she vaulted over the roofs near the hotel, quickly gaining distance.

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Nightwing frowned, eyes tracking the strange red and black figure who was easily taking down thugs twice their size. Seems like a new vigilante's in town, he thought, bringing a hand up to his comm. "Has anyone seen a new vigilante around?"

"No one's reported anything, why?"

He slid farther back into the shadows of the ally way he was crouched in, watching as the- what he could now tell- woman glanced around the small area. "I may have found one. See if you can find anything on her, Oracle. We'd better figure out if she's friend or foe before jumping in."

"Copy that. For now, track her."

"Way ahead of you," he said, silently jumping after her when she used some kind of baton to leap over the closest building.

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Marinette paused, stopping on the roof. Her tail seemed more interested in finding out who she was than kidnapping or attacking her, as they would have done so an hour ago when she let them close. She knew she couldn't allow that- no matter who was tailing her. She pulled her yo-yo off her hip, keeping her tail carefully behind her even as they slowly and stealthy approached. They sounded male, if the heavier steps meant anything.

With practiced ease, she opened the weapon, reaching into the glowing pink and pulling out the Fox Miraculous. She had long since started putting the Box of Miracles in her yo-yo when she transformed, careful to keep the Miraculi out of Hawkmoth's hands. She slipped the necklace on, nodding once at Trixx. She held out her hands as she said, "Trixx, Tikki, unify."

Orange replaced the red in her costume, an orange glow surrounding her for a second. No more red was found on the heroine, the dark color replaced by a dark orange and the staff replaced with a flute on her back. She turned on her heel towards her tail, a carefully blank look on her face. "Come out," she demanded, suppressing her surprise when Nightwing appeared.

Neither spoke for a moment, eyeing each other and mentally figuring each other's strengths and weaknesses. "Why were you following me," she asked, keeping her spine straight.

"The better question is, why are you here? Gotham has more than enough protectors."

"I won't be here for long. The League has made it's decision loud and clear, and I won't 'waste your time with pranks'," she angrly spit out, heavy quotations in her sentence. She watched as mild confusion spread on the bird's face, but felt only a slight ping of regret, her emotions having watered down and muted over the years of fighting Hawkmoth. Ladybug couldn't be compromised, after all.

"What are you talking about?"

"Ask those receiving requests for help about a French heroine named Ladybug," she said, pulling the flute off her back. She played an ancient tune that flew into her fingers, removed the instrument from her lips, and fired the glowing orange ball towards the ground, shouting, "Mirage," as she did so. Orange smoke filled the area, a million masked heroines going in all directions and tricking the sensors in Nightwing's mask as she went back to her room, only staying awake long enough to feed the Kwamis and fall into her bed.

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Red Robin frowned as he and Oracle looked through the footage from earlier, replaying it over and over. "Magic?"

"Has to be," he said, his brows furrowing as he scanned the footage once more. "There's no holographic projectors, and she didn't seem to know about the hidden cameras on him."

Oracle hummed, fingers flying away. "Any luck finding sources for the so-called heroine in France?"

Tim had been looking ever since the girl mentioned heroes in the country, only finding the Ladyblog. He didn't count it as credible, what with the obvious CGI. "No. Just a fake source," he said, sighing. "Maybe we should look through the League records. See if we can find anything."

"Way ahead of you," Barbara said, hitting the final key decisivly. "Four clips, one response."

"Play them."

A girl in a red and black spotted mask looked into the camera, the Eiffel Tower in the background. In accented English, she spoke. "Hello. My name is Ladybug, and I'm a new hero for Paris. My city is being terrorized by a villain who preys on any powerful, negative emotions he can find using the power of the Butterfly. I haven't been a hero long- today marks the full week. But I know we need help. My partner and I don't know what we're doing yet, and I can only drag us through battles so often until we run out of steam." Her blue eyes softened, hope and uncertainty in them.

"Please. If you get this- send help. Preferably someone with detective abilities and a good handle on their emotions so we can find Hawkmoth faster. I don't want to think of what damage Paris would go under if we had to fight an Akumatized member of the League..." She sighed, giving the camera a hopeful smile. "Bug out."

The next was in the middle of the day, giant bubbles floating in the air. The camera zoomed in on one, seeing adults trapped. The angle shifted to the streets, where kids were running rampant without supervision. "I don't know if I can fix the damage they'll do," the same voice called from out of the shot. "My Cure only works with very specific damages- and I don't think this counts. Please- the longer this goes on, the more powerful Hawkmoth becomes." Her voice held so much hope, it was nearly painful. "Ladybug out."

The next was again in the middle of the day, but this time, the streets were flooded. Only a few hundred people could be seen safe on roofs, and Ladybug did a full sweep of the city on camera before landing beside a blond hero in a black cat costume. "Syren is the most deadly Akuma we've seen so far," the heroine- Ladybug- said somberly. "I don't know what this will do to my people's mental health. It's already been months since Hawkmoth started his reign, but the changes may be permanent. Even a week after he started, I could see the changes in my people. They're more... empty. Like shells of the people they once were, scared to feel anything for the threat of Hawkmoth and harming their loved ones. I only pray my power continues to erase the memories of all those who become Akumatized, dead, or under the victim's control. My people are traumatized enough already. If anyone sees this, please.... send help."

The final clip showed a furious Ladybug staring into the camera, fires raging behind her. "It's been over a year since I first asked for your help. After so long, I thought I had accepted that no help was coming. But understand- you're leaving the fate of the world in a few teenagers hands! We can't keep going on like this- we'll burn out and Hawkmoth will win! Look at what Hawkmoth caused this time!" She turned the camera slowly, gathering the flaming city of love on screen. Craters filled the streets, no building over a story was intact. Bodies littered the streets- some charred and some bleeding. The Eiffel Tower was in pieces, crushing more people. Flames wracked the once-beautiful city, ash blocking the sun. "He will only get stronger, as will the Akuma he creates. But we won't without guidance and training! And no one on Team Miraculous has any kind of detective training- we aren't getting any closer to the source of the problem! And if Hawkmoth defeats both Chat Noir and I, the entire world may be doomed, depending on his wish." The camera was set down, Ladybug walking in front of it with a spotted object- something looking like a frying pan- in her hand. She threw it up, shouting "Miraculous Ladybug," as she did so. Millions of pink dots swarmed the city, fixing all damages and bringing people back to life wherever they touched. She swung down to a boy with black hair tipped blue, camera on his face, yet it was blurred to protect his identity. "Sir, tell me about this attack. I'm sorry to bring it up so soon, but the League cannot ignore an innocent's cry for help."

When he spoke, his voice went through a some kind of modifier. "Okay, Ladybug... Well, my sister and I were walking home from school. We had band practice later today- I guess that's cancelled. Anyway, we were minding our own business when Inferna came. I tried protecting my sister, but..." He took a deep breath. "She was too fast. My sister burned alive right in front of me, and I couldn't do anything."

"I'm sorry," Ladybug said, a hand coming to lay on the boy's shoulder. "I'm sorry we didn't stop her in time. That you had to see this. That you have to remember. If I could wipe that memory from you, I would, but..." A heavy sigh came from behind the camera. "Thank you for sharing." The process repeated with a couple more people- some young some old, and some who died during the experience. All were traumatized from this Akuma, and previous, yet they had hope. At the end, Ladybug turned the camera on herself, face stern. "I know this may not seem possible to you. I know this may look like editing, and that this may be a waste of time. But if you think that, spend a weekend in Paris. See for yourself what we've become. Ladybug out."

The only thing left was a letter from the League. It amounted to, "Don't send in prank calls anymore. You're taking away from those who need it."

Tim and Barbara were furious. But this issue needed care.

It was time to call the Batman.

.

.

.

Bruce's brows drew closer and closer as the clips played, his anger obvious when the letter was shown. But, unsurprisingly, his reaction was the most subdued of those in the room.

Anger freely rolled off of Jason, Dick, Barbara, Damian, and even Alfred. Tim had already started to get his feelings under control as his fingers flew across the keyboard, his face reflecting his concentration. "I don't recognize the signature on the letter," Bruce stated. Which was strange, because he kept tabs on everyone who worked for the League. Just in case.

"You're not the only one," Tim said, keeping his eyes on the screen in front of him. "I can't find this guy anywhere. I'm starting to think he doesn't exist, but..."

"That would mean the League has someone who's either working with Hawkmoth- who seems to be the one attacking Paris- or someone who doesn't want the situation to be known," Dick said, crossing his arms. "Neither situation is good."

"So what can we do about it?" All eyes turned to Damian until he explained. "She said Hawkmoth was using the people's emotions against them. Members of the League aren't exactly the most emotionally strong, and a lot of them use negative emotions to strengthen themselves in battle."

"You're uncharacteristically angry about this," Bruce observed, watching as his youngest didn't react to his statement outside of raising an eyebrow. This wasn't the first time Damian reacted differently than expected. Bursts of outrage or annoyance at specific groups of people, almost muted emotions, nearly inhumane emotional recovery. At first, Bruce hoped the Wayne was simply getting a better control on his emotions, but after a while of observing... He realized that wasn't the case. "What's going on, Damian?"

The teen hesitated, the expression he usually made when he scolded himself appearing on his face. "What's your view on soulmates?"

Bruce blinked, having categorized that specific response as less than likely. "I think if you have one, you should be able to decide to seek them out or not. To have the option of creating a life with them if you so chose. Damian, is your soulmate in trouble?"

"My first language, as you know, is Arabic. But my second is French- if you can call it a second. The language simply appeared in my head the same time I was learning Arabic as a baby, according to my caretakers. I'd switch between the two without thought as a child," Damian explained. "While I was learning other languages, the same thing happened to Mandarin. When I had a pastry for the first time after I moved in with you, I could instantly tell what ingredients the chef used, how much, and what adding more or less of certain ingredient would do to the final product. With all this, I've deduced my soulmate is a French-Chinese baker," Damian revealed. "Now, with this information about Paris..."

"You think your soulmate is in danger," Dick accurately guessed. "Damn, that must be infuriating."

"How many times have they died when help from the League could have saved them," Damian wondered. "How many times have we let them down?"

"You have to remember, Baby Bird- your soulmate gets your skills, too," Tim called, still clacking away. "Whoever they are, they'd put up one hell of a fight if anyone tried attacking."

"I'm aware, Drake. But that doesn't mean they're invincible to drowning and getting crushed."

"Why do you think they're in Paris, specifically," Dick asked.

"It takes effort to feel negative emotions now," the youngest Wayne said. "All of you know I don't have the longest temper. But when I'm not thinking about it, my negative emotions just... dissapere. All of them."

"If what Ladybug said was true, and their terrorist uses emotions to take control of the person, that's likely what the people have taken to to avoid being controlled," Dick hummed, frowns appearing on everyone's faces.

"For now, let's inform the rest of the League," Bruce decided, walking to the computer. "Let's see if anyone has an idea of what's going on."

Alfred, meanwhile, frowned. If the Ladybug is in play... the world is at stake.

.

.

.

Marinette never had good luck in her day to day life. She guessed all her good luck was spent as Ladybug, and she needed a luck balance or something. Which is how she chose the one outlet in the entire hotel that didn't work. Her phone died during the night, so she woke up late, the clock on the bedstand reading 8:17 am. The bus was set to leave at 8, but she wouldn't be surprised if Lila had convinced them to leave earlier. It was only thanks to the Kwamis that she got up that early, but she still missed the bus. She scrambled to get ready, sprinting out of the hotel after five minutes. She found a nearby allyway, ducking into it and letting Tikki fly out of her jacket. "We gotta hurry. Tikki, spots on!"

.

.

.

Damian scowled, pinching the bridge of his nose as the group in front of him scrambled to find their missing student. "Didn't you call roll," he asked in French, being the translator and main guide for Wayne Enterprises.

"Well, yes, but... I swear Marinette was with us!"

He was starting not to like the teacher too much. Or the gaggle of girls gossiping about how the missing student just wanted attention. "You realize Gotham has the highest crime rates in the US, correct?" At the teacher's shaky nod, he continued, his scowl deepening. "Then why on Earth would you allow one of your students to go missing?!"

He was about to rant more when the doors slid open, a girl with pigtails running through and out of breath. "I'm here," she gasped, her hands resting on her knees.

"Marinette! There you are."

The bluest eyes Damian had ever seen (a high honer considering his father and Grayson) looked up, holding regret. "Sorry, Madame. My phone died, so the alarm didn't go off. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't. We're going to have to hurry through this to stay on schedule."

"Now hold on," Damian growled, steeping between the teacher and her students. "You were just saying that she was in the bus this morning. Now you're saying it's her fault you didn't check the bus properly before leaving?"

The woman paled as surprise grew in the girl's eyes. "It's alright now," she said, standing and catching her breath. "I'm here and safe, and we're already behind. Let's just leave this in the past and go on with the tour."

"You don't seem to understand the danger you could have been in, miss...?"

"Marinette."

"Marinette. Any one of Gotham's rouges could have picked you up, or a common thief or mugger could have cornered you. Especially if you were alone."

"I'm aware," she calmly responded. "That would have been their mistake. There's a reason few Akuma come after me anymore."

"Oh, yeah," a dark boy with a red cap said. "I keep forgetting your crazy soulmate, dudette."

"Soulmate," the dark girl with glasses asked, looking to the boy in confusion. "Marinette doesn't have a soulmate. She would have told me."

Marinette sighed through her nose, seemingly gathering herself. "Alya, I don't like talking about my soulmate. I don't know what they're comfortable sharing about their skills, so I try not to talk about it."

Damian's respect for the small girl shot through the roof. "Yeah, but the dudette was awesome against playground bullies," the boy said, gathering attention. "Kim, you remember?" A tall boy nodded, a grin on his face.

"It was really cool to watch this tiny little girl in pigtails completely destroy them," he commented. "Dunno how she did it to this day, but there were always two things Marinette's never stood for. Liars and bullies."

"Then how come she is one," the glasses girl from earlier asked, her brows furrowing. "Something doesn't add up."

"Maybe she changed," a girl with sasauge hair said. "People do that."

All of a sudden, the atmosphere changed, interest becoming hostility. "Guys, let's just do this," Marinette said, looking tired. She grabbed the extra pass in the tub and plopped it around her neck.

.

.

Lunch couldn't come soon enough for Marinette and Damian. The former because she forgot to grab breakfast, and the latter so he could talk to his family about Marinette's treatment within the class. He heard everything said about her during the tour, and his anger at the class only grew. Usually, he wouldn't care and just be annoyed at the gossip, but even he could see how kind she was. Several times, she interacted with the staff the others ignored, seeing if she could help them carry something or open doors or pick up something they dropped. She was fluent in English, too, and more often than not whatever language the employee spoke first. Which was odd, since WE prided itself on its diverse hiring and multicultural assistance, meaning most people wouldn't be able to converse in so many languages.

She spoke in well over 10 languages- all ones Damian was fluent in, as well.

What a coincidence.

Word about the French angel spread fast through the building, as Damian heard whispers following his steps. At one point, a group of employees came up to him to ask about the French girl, wondering if the rumors were true.

Most of them were, but he was on a mission so he didn't spend much (if any) time dealing with the people. When he found an empty meeting room without anything booked for the next hour, he called one of the best people he knew to get to the bottom of this, as much as he hated admitting it.

"Hello?"

"Drake. I need a favor."

.

.

Lunch went by without major incident- besides Lila claiming a 'Dimitri Wayne' was her soulmate and childhood friend.

Marinette inwardly scoffed, knowing that Damian had been living with his mother until he turned double digits, and that he spent a year or two getting used to Gotham before ever announcing his existence to the world. Even then, no one is even completely sure what he looks like, let alone his friends, and those who actually knew him would be sworn to secrecy by the Waynes. Again, though, she realized how little power she had to change her classmates' views on the Italian and her tall tales. Marinette's instincts told her of someone approaching from behind, and she whirled around on her heel without much thought, pausing as she saw the tour guide walking up to the group. "Okay, lunch's over! Let's get this show on the road, hm?"

Her class quickly gathered around the tall man, ready to continue the tour. Marinette, like usual, was in the back of the group, sketchbook out and pencil flying across the page.

"You're very skilled at drawing."

She didn't jump or whirl around, having heard the approaching footsteps and slight muttering a while ago. "Thank you, but I still have a long way to go." She quickly wrapped up the rough sketch, then closed the book, sending a bright smile at the boy. "And thank you for speaking in my defence this morning."

"Think nothing of it." The teen waved his hand dissmissively, eyes trailing back to the front for a moment.

"Still. My name's Marinette, by the way. Marinette Dupen-Cheng."

"Damian," he said, nodding. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise!" She smiled once again, her shoulders a little more lifted than what they were before. "So, how long have you worked at WE?"

They talked amongst themselves for the remainder of the tour, Damian pointing out and explaining more than the guide for most of the tour. And when there wasn't anything educational to talk about, they spoke a little of themselves, getting to know the person beside them a little better. Damian also asked more about the situation in Paris, earning a sad look from the girl beside him and quite a bit of new information. All too soon, though, the tour ended. Over the course of their conversations, Damian learned that that morning wasn't the first time Marinette had been left behind, and quickly deduced that it wouldn't be the last with the children called her classmates. So, when the time to part came, he offered an alternative course of action.

"Gotham can be a beautiful city. Why don't I show you a few inspiring scenic places?" Marinette blinked at the teen, but smiled.

"Let me ask Madame real quick- I'm sure she won't mind too much."

[inspired-by-the-music]

For You: 4 O’Clock

Taglist: @jineunwootrash​

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All This Time

"Honestly, Yesung," I smile as we wrap up at the studio, "I'm gonna miss this. I can't believe this is our first time singing together!" 

"It does seem long overdue, huh?" Yesung grins, sitting back in his chair. "We can always do this again, Lei. I'm happy to see you back in the studio after all this time!"

"You know," I sigh, "I think I am too." 

I hadn't planned to return to S.M. as an artist, but I never quite ruled out the possibility. I guess I find comfort in open endings. When I first went on leave, I started working toward degrees in a variety of foreign languages— the ones I learned as an idol— intending to return to the agency as a translator. 

Then, Yesung sent me a demo of the perfect duet and asked me to sing it with him. Being the perfect husband, Taemin encouraged me to do it. "One song doesn't commit you to a career," he said, so now I am here: reimagining my dream of being an artist. 

The days of nonstop touring and practicing from sunrise to sunset have passed; my priorities are different now. Here in the shade with Yesung, where the light is gentle, I am comfortable. I am not ready to take the next big step. 

"You're glowing, Lei; you were meant to share your voice." Yesung beams at me. 

I want to tell him that I am only reflecting the light he and so many others have shone on me, but I don't get the chance. In his next breath, he asks, "How's our little miracle doing, by the way? Do you think he's expecting tomorrow's surprise party?" 

As fond wrinkles form around Yesung's eyes, my heart swells and overfills with adoration. I shake my head. "No. Obviously, Mom can keep a secret. With time, Taemin has gotten better at holding his tongue. With Lucas, Donghae, and Heechul running around the house, though, it's amazing that the cat is still in the bag. I try not to question miracles." 

"That seems wise," Yesung hums. "Best to enjoy secrecy while it lasts; they still have a full—" he glances down at his watch— "almost a full 24-hours to spoil the surprise!" 

We laugh. Then, a joyful sort of pout— yes, I realize that is some kind of an oxymoron— pulls at my lips. I run a hand through my hair after releasing it from its ponytail. "Can you believe that Tue is turning five?" 

"No!" Yesung's hair falls into his eyes when he shakes his head. "Just like I can't believe that you actually came around calling your son Tue after all those times you scolded Kim and Lucas for using that name!"

"Having two Lucases around gets confusing." I justify my change of heart, shrugging. "Plus, my boy is unique enough to justify that kind of name!" 

Yesung repeats, "Unique," agreeing with a subtle nod. "He reminds me a lot of you, especially now that he's reaching that age you were when we first met." 

It's strange— thinking about how much time has passed— thinking about how some things never change— realizing that some images repeat and replay. 

"Really?" 

Tilting my head, I study my lock screen picture. Lucas took it just last night; he immortalized the moment that Tue sat between me and Taemin at the piano in the den, and I don't know if I have thanked him enough. I squint at the photo as if that will help me see similarities between myself and my son; it doesn't help. 

"I think Tue is a carbon copy of Taemin in appearance and personality," I admit through laughter. "These days, he loves to watch music videos. He can replicate any choreography— and I mean any choreography— after seeing it just once. I've never seen anything like it!" 

Should the agency find out, I sometimes think and spark worry in my gut, they will set their sights on him. 

There it is— the reason why I am so reluctant to return to the stage as an idol: fear of drawing attention to Tue. It was difficult enough when he was born and everybody felt entitled to see him when he was too little to decide whether he wanted to exist under strangers' stares. 

What worries me most, I think, is the fact that I don't know when he will be old enough to make that decision. Five is definitely too young— Taemin and I agree about that, so we take great precautions to protect his privacy. Nobody who knows Tue posts pictures of him on social media; whenever he leaves the house, he wears a mask like we do; as Mom considers early retirement (and therefore takes on fewer group clients), her job has become primarily threatening paparazzi who consider releasing rare photographs of him. 

I have never cared whether people think I'm overprotective. I know too well of the pressures that come with living in the public eye, and I will defend my son from them for as long as I can. Tue is a star, and I know it's just a matter of time until he tries to follow in the footsteps of everybody he loves. I only comfort myself with the thought that it's not happening yet; it's not happening today; it probably won't happen tomorrow. 

"I've seen something like that!" Yesung's boast drags me out of my train of thought. "I don't know if you can still do this— I don't understand child prodigies all that well— but when you were a kid, you could play any song on the piano right after hearing it for the first time. Donghae said teaching you to read sheet music was like pulling teeth because you played everything by ear." 

Knowing that reading sheet music is still not my strong suit, I redden at Yesung's recollection. "Tue can do that too!" I want to brag. "He's the most talented person I've ever known, and he is barely five years old. He's the most gifted person I know, and that's saying something, given how many gifted people I've loved." 

Yesung nudges my ribs. "Why else do you think Henry was so obsessed with you? You both spoke the same piano language!"

"You know," I say, "Henry asked about interviewing Tue for his program about child prodigies."

"Oh yeah?" Although he knows me well enough to predict the answer, Yesung asks, "What did you say?"

"I said that he's welcome to see Tue and play music with him any time," I answer Yesung just as carefully as I answered Henry. "You know that there's nobody I could trust more than you guys— Super Junior— to lead Tue into the entertainment industry, but—" 

I squirm, and my stomach knots. "You know how I am. You know that the thought of sharing Tue— no— not the thought of sharing his talent and his sparkling smile and his sweet voice and his kindness— that's not the problem. I know that the world needs more people like my son. I just—" 

After all this time, my voice still trembles when I think about how cruel strangers are to good people. "I just wonder how well the world treats people like him. I wonder how much the world deserves people like him." 

Yesung rises from his seat to embrace me. His chin rests on the top of my chair. "I don't think anybody understands that anxiety better than your Mom." 

And it happens again: my love for Mom grows. My beautiful Mom. My kind Mom. My Mom who stood in the wings, my Mom who stood comfortably in my shadow. I always thought she was naturally aware of when to hold on and when to let go, but maybe balance was challenging to her too. 

Hearing Yesung describe our shared fear makes me imagine that I have grown to resemble Mom. Tears fill my eyes. I am always sensitive; especially about Mom, and especially around Tue's birthday. 

Before the first tear can fall, he is running to me, crawling into my lap, and holding my face in his hands that are so small, so soft— uncalloused and young. "What's wrong, Mommy?" 

Because the tears evaporate so quickly, I almost believe that they never existed. For a moment, when I cup Tue's rosy cheeks and give him my truest smile, I believe that I have never cried in my entire life. "I was just thinking about how much I missed my beautiful boy! It's all better now that you're here!"

Tue giggles when I push his dark curly hair out of his face and kiss his forehead. He's especially cute these days because he likes his hair long; he likes for the ends to tickle his dimpled chin. 

"I missed you too! I asked Daddy to bring me to see you and Uncle Lucas and—" his eyes— the feature that most closely resembles Taemin's because they contain all of the universe's stars— widen in time with the growth of his smile. "Great Uncle Yesung!" 

Tue transforms into a reincarnation of my childhood self when he abandons all thought in admiration of Yesung. He leaps out of my lap and runs into Yesung's laughing embrace. 

It's beautiful— thinking about how much time has passed— thinking about how some things never change— realizing that some images repeat and replay.

I consider that on my walk to the doorway, where Taemin stands, watching the scene with a smile. His fingers trace absentmindedly at the ribbon on his wrist that hasn't faded with the passage of time. The color hasn't faded since he restored it on that night by the lake. 

"I'm sorry if we interrupted your work," Taemin says softly when he catches me staring. "I told Tue not to just run into the studio, but you know how he gets when he's excited: just a teeny tiny bit disobedient. Or a teeny tiny bit forgetful." 

After teasing, "I wonder who he gets that from," and earning a chuckle in response, I assure Taemin, "You didn't interrupt anything. Yesung and I are done with the song. We just got to talking." 

Maybe Taemin noticed the tears before Tue carried them away, or maybe he hears that longtime blend of anxiety and craving for peace that almost always reveals itself in my voice through our conversations. His brow furrows as he wraps an arm around my waist. "Do you want to talk about it?" 

"Yeah," I answer immediately because I always want to talk about everything with Taemin. I told him once that I would grow to trust him with everything, and I have; for better or for worse, I hold nothing back. Watching Tue throw his head back laughing as Yesung tickles his ribs just below his armpits, right where he knows he's most ticklish, I condition, "Later though. Smiles and laughter for now, please." 

Taemin doesn't press the issue. In the beginning, he was always in such a rush, determined to force intimate conversation, no matter my discomfort. Now, he must realize that there is nothing I will keep from him forever. Now, he must understand that everything will come to light when we lie together under the moon. He no longer races to the rising of the moon or the rising of the sun; he lives in every moment. I admire him for that. 

Taemin smiles and winks at me before fixing his sight on Tue. "Hey little dude," Taemin says during the brief break in Tue's laughter, "Mommy is done for the day, and she wants to hang out with us! What do you wanna do?" 

Tue runs to us from Yesung's side. He reaches for Taemin, knowing well that his father will waste no time in lifting him onto his shoulders. 

"Alright." Taemin squats so Tue can climb on easily and so he doesn't hit his head on the doorframe. It's funny to watch Taemin, who was once spoiled rotten, who is still a bit rotten at the core, literally bending to the will of a small child. "What's the plan, kiddo?" 

Tue wastes no time pretending to think about his dream activity. Although he sees his namesake almost every day, he declares, "I wanna see Uncle Lucas!" 

Trusting that I still memorize my best friend's schedules, Taemin glances at me. Luckily enough, I still know where Lucas is at all times. Some people jokingly call it twin-telepathy, but it's only through my nagging reminders that Lucas ever gets where he needs to be. 

"He's downstairs teaching a dance class with Mark." I look down at my phone again; I couldn't hide my smile at the picture even if I tried. "It should be wrapping up soon, so—" 

Taemin cheers, "Off we go!" and runs toward the elevator. Tue squeals all the way down the hall, and I wish more than anything that I had been ready to record this moment. 

Before following my boys, I linger in the studio to tell Yesung, "Bye! Thank you for everything!" 

"See you tomorrow!" Yesung waves both hands. "You're welcome for everything! Never forget that I'm proud of you!" 

I smile because it is impossible to forget what Yesung has told me since we met.

. . . 

Although Taemin, Tue, and I stand quietly at the back of the room, Lucas notices us immediately. 

"Hey!" His booming clap disrupts the class, and all eyes fall on us. "There's my mini-me!"

It doesn't matter that Tue is identical to Taemin (apart from the wavy hair he inherited from me); Lucas has called him "mini-me" since the day he was born. That's just a consequence of naming my baby after my best friend. It's a consequence I can live with. 

It doesn't matter that Tue sees Lucas almost every day; they always greet each other with wide smiles and open arms as if they have been separated for lifetimes. That's just a result of the bond they share. 

Sometimes, I think that Tue was born not just to fill my every void and fade every scar. He was born to be the best friend Lucas always deserved. He was born to teach Taemin that he is much more than an idol. He makes us better just by existing. I have never loved anyone so much— with my entire heart, my entire soul, with every part of me that has ever existed and will ever exist. 

I run a hand through Tue's hair before Taemin passes him to Lucas. This transition of our most beloved person into the arms of another dear friend occurs without the arguments that gave me headaches at the start. We have accepted it by now: Lucas is Tue's favorite person on the planet. 

I don't care much to challenge that title since it means so much to Lucas and since I know from experience that the role of the mother is special on its own. I don't know much from experience about the role of the father except that its absence painful in more ways than words can describe; I don't know much except its absence leaves a void that most will try to fill with anything; I don't know much except Taemin is doing a good job, and I tell him so every day. 

Now, I tell him by reaching for his hand and lacing our fingers together. This— holding his hand— has always been my favorite act of affection. It's crazy to think that, once upon a time, I would have hesitated— I would have refused— I would have denied the desire to reach for him outside of our hotel room and our home. 

Sometimes, like now, Taemin looks stunned when I touch him. He flinches as if my touch is frozen or scalding or electric, but then he smiles and melts into me a little more. Every time I think we're done melting into each other, when I think that we already blended to create the perfect human being, we take another step together. 

"Hey!" Tue leans over Lucas's shoulder to look him in the eyes. "It's big-me!"

"Sh," I instruct quietly, bringing a finger to my puckered lips. "They're practicing, baby. We're guests, so we have to be quiet." 

Generally, Tue is a well-mannered boy. He just forgets proper etiquette when excited, and nobody excites him quite like Lucas. Turning slightly pink in the face, Tue nods and brings a finger to his puckered lips too. 

Moments of correction are always short-lived because Tue takes instruction well. I wink at him, and he winks back. The thing is— Tue has inherited Mom's lack of facial coordination, so he blinks both eyes. 

The sight makes Taemin laugh. When I was a kid, I would have wanted to cry if someone (especially someone as beautiful as Taemin) laughed at me. Tue's lips don't tremble in preparation for tears, though; his lips curl into a gap-toothed smile. Oh, there's another thing my baby gets from me: a gappy smile! It looks much cuter on him; I almost hope he never corrects it with braces.  

Because Taemin laughed, Tue laughs. He always copies his father. 

Raising my eyebrows, I give Lucas a look that clearly means, "Aren't you supposed to help Mark with this class?" 

Lucas understands. Maybe his understanding is the result of (fake) twin-telepathy or— more likely— it is the result of having known each other for eternities. Securing his hold around Tue, Lucas softly sings, "Priorities change, Lei." 

Because I completely restructured my life for Tue— and that's much more significant than ditching the last five minutes of a dance practice— I can't argue with Lucas. I can only nod. 

At the front of the room, Mark announces, "Alright guys, we're done for the day! Great work!" 

I hope that he hasn't ended practice early because we have caused an interruption, but it's hard to stay worried when Mark's trainees break into excited chatter. The atmosphere in this room is unlike anything I experienced as a trainee. People like Mark, people like Lucas— they have changed this place. They have brought light into the rooms, and I— I think I want to help them. 

Then, I look at Tue, and I know that I don't want him to spend his days sitting alone by the vending machine. I don't want him to spend his days sitting in the corner while I teach trainees. In no way do I resent my childhood; I just want to protect Tue from the loneliness that darkened too many days. 

Life is about finding balance, I think. Balance between Lei the idol and Lei the human. Balance between Lei the fearful and Lei the brave. Balance between Lei the skeptic and Lei the romantic. Balance between Lei the individual and Lei the wife. Balance between Lei the idol and Lei the mother. Balance between Lei of the past and Lei of now. Some of these, I have mastered. Some of these were easier to achieve than others. Some of these are a daily struggle. Some of these remain a mystery. 

I'm trying, though; that's enough for me now. I am proud of who I am now. I am proud of who I will be tomorrow. 

I wave to Mark, thinking that he has always had the best influence on others. Smiling, Mark waves back, calling "Happy Early Birthday, Lucas Tue!" (and receiving a chipper, "Thank you, Mr. Mark Lee!" in response) before I follow my family into the hall, led by Taemin's hand, with the sea of trainees. 

We sit at the table by the vending machine. It's much smaller now than it is in my memories. Maybe that's because I've grown so much; maybe that's because my family fills it with energy so bright that I don't notice the empty seats. 

Sitting in Lucas's lap, Tue asks, "Did you know tomorrow is my birthday?" 

Lucas gasps, "Tomorrow is your birthday?" 

Taemin laughs at how Tue's face contorts in utter bewilderment. His lips part, his brow furrows, and his skin is painted a flustered pink as he whines, "I don't know! Is it?" 

Because everyone has been so quiet in discussing birthday preparations around Tue, he must not realize the date. "Tomorrow is May 29," I tell him, "so you're gonna turn five years old!" I wiggle five fingers toward his face; he laughs when I tap his nose with one of my fingertips, throwing his head back against Lucas's chest. 

"What?!" Lucas cries; Tue laughs harder at the overreaction before Lucas even prods at his ticklish ribs. "Five?! That's crazy, man! That's older than me!" 

Tue sputters, "No— no it's not! You're way— way— way older than five!" 

"I am not!" Lucas argues, dropping his jaw to feign offense. "You know who is way older than five, though?"

As if sharing the same brain cell, Lucas and Tue settle their sights on Taemin, who, tightening his grip on my hand, drops his jaw, taking genuine offense. “I am not! I’m the biggest baby at this table!”

When Taemin crosses his arms over his chest and pouts his pretty lips, nobody thinks to argue. Lucas and Tue snort, failing to contain their laughter at Taemin’s expense. I so badly want to laugh with them, but I want more to kiss Taemin, so I peck at his lips. 

At the kiss, Lucas and Tue do not squeal in disgust like most little boys would; they squeal in utter delight. 

. . . 

It’s hard to find an alone moment with Mom in our full house, but I find one after Taemin and I tuck Tue into bed. Mom is setting up Finding Nemo decorations around the pool. We chose that theme for Tue's party since it's his favorite movie. 

Even wearing her pajamas with her hair tied up in a messy bun, Mom looks beautiful among the moon and stars. "What's going on, Lei?" She drapes a cloth over a fold-out table. "You're wearing your pensive face." 

I try to laugh at myself by saying, "I'm always wearing my pensive face." 

Because I have yet to tell Taemin about my conversation with Yesung, my worries are a tangled knot at the forefront of my mind. It's a messy business, untangling the knot, and it's always easier with Taemin's help. 

Tracing my finger along Nemo's little lucky fin on the table cloth, I prod at the knot on my own. "I'm just wondering how you knew when to hold me close and when to let me stand in the spotlight." 

Mom stills to meet my eyes. "I know I wasn't perfect," she prefaces. When I try to disagree, she interrupts. "I'm human, Lei. I did the best I could, but I know I could have been better. Anyone can see through hindsight, in any situation, that they could have been better. They should have been better." 

Mom has this way of speaking that nobody can replicate. She acknowledges faults and shortcomings through a lens that is never degrading, never belittling. She looks at the past in such a light that does not inspire regret but instead inspires a better tomorrow. 

I admire Mom for that. I want to be like her. After all this time, I have not grown out of aspiring to be like Mom. 

"When I think about how you used to sit alone at that table by the vending machine before Lucas walked into your world; when I think about how you used to cling to the wall in the corner of every room; when I think about how I used to hear you crying in your room at night when you thought I was asleep— when you thought your radio was loud enough to drown out your tears with SHINee's voices—"

Mom's voice wavers, and her gaze crashes onto the table. Now that I see her so affected by past pains even in the happiest stage of life to date, I understand: it was never easy for Mom. She just carried the burden where I couldn't see it. 

"I always wondered if I was doing the right thing. I wondered if the spotlight found you because you walked into it or because I nudged you toward it. When you became a trainee and Donghae told me that Sehun said people were being cruel to you—" Mom bristles— "you don't know how much I wanted to pull you out of the agency. You don't know how badly I wanted to take you and hide you someplace where nobody could hurt you. But—"

Mom laughs— genuinely laughs— when I wrap my arms around her, thinking, knowing that a place without pain does not exist (at least not on earth). It's enough that she wanted to take me there, I think. It's enough that she wanted that place to exist for me. 

She asks, "Do you know that part in Finding Nemo where Dory tells Marlin, 'Well, you can't never let anything happen to him. Then nothing would ever happen to him'?"

I nod. Even though Tue often falls asleep in my lap by that part of the movie, I know it well.

"Quickly— maybe instantly— I realized that you are too special not to share with the world." Mom cups my face with both hands. She kind of pinches my cheeks because they are still full; they still make me look very much like a child. "This world would be a sadder, duller place without your light shining in it. I decided that if anyone out there tries to dampen your light— well—" 

Mom smiles, so I smile too. 

"I would work a million times harder to keep it burning."

. . .

When I tell Taemin about my conversation with Yesung in the studio and my conversation with Mom under the moon, he says, "That's all very beautiful, baby. It almost makes me want to cry. But I still think Tue is way too young to be an idol." 

I have almost drifted to sleep with my head on Taemin's chest because the steady beat of his heart has always been one of my greatest comforters. I lift my head to narrow my eyes at him. "How did you gather from any of that that I want our son to be an idol?" 

Taemin squints, trying to make out my features in the dark. "I don't know! It just seemed like you were coming to terms with letting him wander into the spotlight, and I thought maybe it was my turn to be the voice of reason!" 

Even without the slightest aid offered by the pale moonlight, I would see the smirk curling his lips. "The last time I was the voice of reason was during our first New Year when you dropped your dress—"

"Let it go, Taemin!" I chastise, wondering how and why I let his sentence get that far before rolling my eyes. "That happened how many years ago?" 

"I don't know. Time is all relative anyway." Taemin probably feels like some kind of genius or the mysterious picture of a soulmate he was at the beginning. "It happened how ever many years ago, and it's still one of my favorite memories! It never fails to make me smile." 

I shake my head and lay on my back beside him. "We're way off track. Anyway, I completely agree: Tue is too young to be an idol. The agency wouldn't even let him audition until he turns ten. Even then, I'm not going to suggest that he audition. I'm not going to actively nudge him anywhere near that path." 

Moments pass in silence. Taemin rolls onto this side to trace patterns on my stomach. In addition to calming me, this gentle affection helps him organize his thoughts.

"I think we should cross that bridge when we come to it," he says, as usual. "Obviously, I want to support him in anything he wants to do. I won't really know how to help him if he wants to be a doctor or a lawyer, but— well— think of how much we can guide him if he wants to follow in our footsteps." 

Taemin makes a good point. Having two idol parents might make Tue a target for bullies— I know that having a manager for a mother made me one— but cruel people will justify their actions with any excuse. What makes Tue stand out could double as a strength; I know having my particular mother made me stronger. Similarly, Tue could turn to me and Taemin and Mom and Lucas and his entire network of well-wishing idols for advice, and we would all be equipped by our experiences to help him in some way. 

"I'm so glad I have you." I roll onto my side so that my face is level with Taemin's and I can clearly see the night sky reflected in his eyes. "You embody that perfect balance between listening and advising. You always have. I love you so much for that. I always have." 

He smiles, and my heart flutters. "I'm glad I have you too. Thank you for trusting me and listening to my advice. I love you so much for that. I always will." 

Taemin creates the perfect atmosphere for honesty. With a glance, he encourages me to carry my darkest thoughts into the light. It feels like he is carrying them with me; they are less heavy this way. That's why I admit, suddenly on the verge of tears, "I'm afraid that I haven't made my love for Tue clear enough."

I have rarely cried since taking a break from being Lei the idol. My outburst must send Taemin back in time to the very start when I first cried to him under the moon's watch— to the night when the moon became ours. Back then, he was so careful. He resisted the destined desire to touch me, to embrace me, because he didn't want to frighten me. Now, he moves instantly, instinctively, to hold me. 

His lips meet mine for a second. After just a second, he tries to part, but I need him. I need him, and that hasn't scared me in so many moons. I need him, and I bring him back down to me and hold him here until we have kissed most of my worries away. 

We always keep a few worries because Taemin says they keep us safe. He thinks my talent for spotting danger is, in moderation, one of our greatest strengths. I'm good at seeing a storm cloud from a million miles away; Taemin is good at making a hurricane feel like an overdue summer drizzle. That's why we are the greatest team to ever exist. 

"Tue knows you love him," Taemin assures me in a whisper against my lips. "Anyone who knows you— anyone who knows us knows that we weren't really breathing until Tue took his first breath."

That's not to say that life wasn't worth living before Tue existed. Just like my life was as happy as it could have been before Lucas, and it was happier once he laughed and painted the world anew; just like my life was as happy as it could have been before Taemin, and it was happier once he handed me the moon; my life was as happy as it could have been before Tue, and it was happier once he breathed. 

Tue's breath gave me every beautiful wonder I never knew existed— the heavenly traces on earth that nobody can see with the naked eye until they have seen and felt and loved their child. 

"Does the world know?" My mouth hurts from frowning. "These past five years— have we done the right thing by keeping Tue off of social media? The agency issued the briefest statement about him, like, a week after he was born, and I don't even know if they mentioned his name. Mom deletes all leaked traces of him from the internet. Any time interviewers are bold enough to ask you about him, the agency pressures the network to cut the clip." 

They do all of these things at our request. 

Taemin wipes the tears spilling from my eyes as I wonder, "When Tue gets older, what will he think about the fact that his parents said nothing about him where the world could hear?" 

"Hopefully he'll understand that his parents loved him enough to protect him until he was old enough to protect himself," Taemin answers in a tone that does not belittle my fears in his effort to quell them. "It's not like you've been active on social media at all these past five years, Lei. If Tue ever asks, and I doubt he will, we can explain that you spent all of your time with him while I—"

Taemin's voice falters. 

One of his biggest insecurities— maybe you could call it a regret— is that while I walked away from my career the moment I felt Tue's life, he hadn't deviated much from the course he had been on most of his life. I never pressured Taemin to make a career shift in any direction; at every opportunity, I expressed my belief that there is no right or wrong move when finding the balance between family life and work. Needs vary, and I believe that people can adapt to almost any situation. 

Taemin's pace has changed somewhat over time. Early morning practices with Jongin became scarce after Tue was born; now, they are almost obsolete. He says that he likes to be home for breakfast and early morning cartoons. 

He isn't as excited about promoting abroad when Tue and I can't tag along. As you can probably imagine, some trips cannot function as family vacations. He swears that video calls before bed are not enough to fill the void in his day when we aren't there. 

He doesn't look forward to awards ceremonies like he once did. We agreed that Tue shouldn't attend events where strangers' cameras abound. He says that even if we did attend, he would be expected to sit with his group, not with us. 

The studio isn't his second home anymore. Whenever he has to stay later than expected, he comes home with a million apologies, a bouquet of roses for me, and a new toy for Tue. At this point, Tue has an entire colony of plush Nemos on his bed; he sleeps cuddling every single one. It doesn't matter how often I tell him that he has nothing to apologize for; he apologizes and apologizes and I know he will apologize again. 

I know that he feels torn between his roles as Taemin the idol, Taemin the husband, and Taemin the father. I just don't know how to help him. He made so little time for Taemin the human being that, sometime during the first week of May, he had some kind of emotional breakdown at the studio that compelled SHINee to delay the release of their new album. 

Deciding that he didn't want anybody to blame Taemin for the postponement, Jinki offered to take the heat. He told Mom, "Issue a statement claiming that I'm suffering from a gluteal strain after an impromptu breakdancing battle!"

Jinki's Rationale for the Gluteal Strain Story:

"The key is to tell a lie so outrageous that nobody can doubt it! Nobody will question a story about a literal pain in the butt!"

Anyway, that's why Taemin and I have swapped roles lately. He is taking his first break from being an idol to spend time with Tue. While they watch movies and play the piano and work through those online pre-school activities, I am dipping my toes back into the world of recording. I don't know yet what I will do in terms of a career, but I know that Taemin will return to the stage revitalized. He is remarkably resilient, born to shine. 

Knowing I can't alter Taemin's self-perception, I card my fingers through his hair and praise him anyway. "Taemin, Tue learns so much about hard work, passion, and dedication from you. He truly admires you in the purest way. He doesn't see the distinction between his father and his idol because you fulfill those responsibilities so well—so much better than I ever could— so much better than I was willing to try." 

I kiss the crown of Taemin's head as he buries his face in the crook of my neck. "We're so proud of you. Don't forget that." 

"Thank you," Taemin mumbles against my skin. "I haven't forgotten. I just— I'm so proud of you for being Tue's mom, but I'm sorry if I pressured you to walk away from your dreams to carry my weight here—"

"Taemin." I nudge him until he looks down at me with wide apologetic eyes. "You didn't pressure me into anything. You didn't pressure me into anything at all." 

He looks unconvinced, judging by his pout, so I explain, "I have so many dreams! To be a genuine artist, to be a loving daughter, to be a reliable friend, to be a comforting wife, to be an inspiring Mom." 

I wrap my arms around Taemin's waist and hug him closer. "I heard once that growing up is a process of letting your dreams die one by one, but I disagree. Every day that I'm with you, I discover a new dream I don't think I have to choose one over all the others. I just have to find balance. And we'll find it together; that's what we always do." 

Finally, Taemin smiles. I smile. We can breathe again. 

He lays against me, and our chests rise and fall together. We melt a little more, and I— I can't tell where he ends and I begin. I can't remember a time when we were separate beings. I don't ever want to remember. 

"Do you want me to go on Instagram live to say that my wife and son are everything to me? Or should I air footage of one of Tue's baby albums? Or should I post videos and pictures from life with you these past five years? Or should I read our story where anyone can hear?"

Between each question, Taemin has kissed me. His lips hover over mine as he begs, "Tell me what to do, Lei. Tell me how to make your dreams come true, and I'll do it. I'll do anything." 

He doesn't understand that I am already living my dream. I don't know how to make him understand. 

"Just kiss me again," I instruct softly. Sweetly, Taemin complies. "And let's think about something special we can do to love our son on his birthday."

When Taemin and I tiptoe into his room early the next morning, we expect to find Tue fast asleep, snoring into his pillow while clutching a Nemo plushie. Instead, we find him lying with his belly against the floor, kicking his bare feet int he air while doodling on a piece of paper. 

While Taemin sits before Tue, I sit beside him and ask, "Can I see your drawing, baby?" 

Tue has never denied me access to his art before. I love seeing the smile that curls his lips whenever I express interest in his creativity. "Yep!" His enthusiastic nod sends his unruly morning curls flopping. "But I'm not just drawing something, Mommy." 

Taemin's brow furrows as he tries to decipher Tue's handwriting. He is at a disadvantage because a.) from where he sits, Tue's letters are upside down, b.) the note is written entirely in English, which still isn't Taemin's strong suit, and c.) Tue has chosen to write with the palest yellow crayon in his arsenal. 

Sweetly, Taemin asks, "What is it?" Leaning forward, he sets his elbows on the hardwood floor and props his chin in his hands. 

Tue delights in the opportunity to explain anything from why he thinks the sky is blue to why he thinks roses are the prettiest flowers to why Finding Nemo is the best movie ever. His face lights up at Taemin's question.

"It's a letter to Mr. Mark Lee!" Tracing his little fingers along his letters, Tue reads, "Thanks for saying 'Happy Birthday' yesterday. I forgot my birthday. You didn't. You make me very happy!" 

Tue turns the paper so Taemin can read it. "And look! I drew me here and Mr. Mark Lee here, and we have big smiles and party hats!"

When Tue gives Taemin his gappy smile, I can't contain myself. While Taemin takes the paper from Tue's hand, my heart explodes as I pull Tue onto my lap. Holding him around the waist, I pepper his forehead, cheeks, nose, and chin with kisses; he giggles all the while. 

"You're the sweetest boy in the whole world, Tue!" I boast, and he beams at the praise. "Who taught you how to write 'Thank You' notes?" 

"I dunno!" He shrugs his shoulders. "Probably you or Daddy. You and Daddy teach me everything!" 

I raise my eyebrows, giving Taemin this look that means, "I told you so. He knows that you're a great father. I told you so!"

Taemin probably doesn't notice. He smiles at Tue as he returns the paper to his baby soft hand. "You're going to give this to Mr. Mark Lee the next time you see him, right? I bet getting a letter like this would make him very happy." 

At that suggestion, Tue's face burns crimson. In many ways, he is one of the most confident, outgoing people I have ever known; in others, he is even more bashful than I have ever been. In five years of knowing him, I have yet to figure out how he manages that degree of duality. Considering that Tue is forever charming — whether bold or shy — I am inclined to believe duality is another quality he inherited from Taemin. 

As he leans into me and hides his face in my shirt, Tue entrusts his paper to my hand. "Can you give that to Mr. Mark Lee, Mommy? I want to make him very happy, but I can't give it to him! I just can't!

Maybe I should gently nudge Tue out of his comfort zone, especially since there is nothing to fear about approaching Mark. Maybe I should take this chance to teach him that self-expression is nothing to be embarrassed about. I can't do it, though. As precious as he looks with rose-colored cheeks, I can't darken my baby's blush. 

"I'll give it to him," I promise, urging him to lift his head to meet my bright smile. "He'll love it! Now go to Daddy, alright? He's gonna help you get dressed." 

Looking down at his pajamas donning Nemo's face, of course, Tue pouts. He crosses his arms. He really looks and sounds like Taemin when he whines, "I don't wanna get dressed!"

"Well, you have to," Taemin says as he scoops Tue into his arms. Carrying him to the closet, Taemin responds to Tue's whines, "If you don't get dressed, I can't take you to your surprise!"

As I walk to the door, I hear Tue squeal, "Surprise?" Taemin laughs at his reaction. Tue's squeal and Taemin's laugh are the reasons why I smile when I walk downstairs to tell everybody that the birthday boy is on his way. 

. . . 

I push the curtains aside and from my side of the kitchen window, I watch Donghae carrying Tue on his shoulders in the pool. Following Mom's instruction to "Behave! At least around the baby!" Heechul stands beside them, donning a smile for Lucas's camera. 

The sight is especially comforting considering how annoying Donghae and Heechul were at the beginning. Apparently, when nobody was listening, Heechul told Tue, "Call me Grandpa, and call him—" he pointed a finger at Donghae— "Grandpa 2." 

Tue was too young and too sweet to understand that Heechul was up to his old shenanigans of competing with Donghae, so he followed the instruction faithfully, much to Donghae's dismay. 

"Don't worry," Tue said to Donghae's frown, flashing him a big toothy smile. "I'm a 2 too!"

I wish I or Mom or Lucas— since he has appointed himself the family photographer— had recorded the smile Tue sculped onto Donghae's face. I would love to carry a picture of it with me so I could show it to you and everybody I meet, saying, "This is my son's mark on the world, and it's the most beautiful mark anybody has ever made. He is five years old, and he has never hurt a living creature. He is five years old, and he makes smiles wherever he goes." 

My mental images of Tue's gappy smile and those he leaves in his wake are among my most prized possessions. I am admiring them when Mark walks in through the back door, carrying an empty bowl. 

His eyes widen as if he has interrupted something. He beelines to the refrigerator, muttering, "Your mom said there's more watermelon in the fridge." 

Glancing down at the platter of snacks I have assembled, I frown at the utter lack of watermelon. "I should have known that we would need more watermelon with you and Tue eating at the same place at the same time." 

Mark laughs, dropping the empty bowl into the sink. "Well, what can I say?" He grabs the bowl of sliced watermelon Mom prepared last night and tosses a slice into his mouth. "Little man and I have good taste!"

"Speaking of little man—" I smile at Mark's nickname for Tue as I close the refrigerator door and point to a pinned paper— "he wrote this for you." 

After setting the bowl onto the counter, Mark takes the page into his hand. He doesn't have to squint to make out the letters. "He's writing 'Thank You' letters? To me? At five years old?"

I can't help but smile at Mark's awestruck expression. "You made his day, and I guess he wanted you to know."

Mark's slack-jawed expression transforms into a radiant smile. "Can I keep this?" 

"It's for you," I repeat, nodding, "so I think you're supposed to keep it. See the little faces at the bottom?" Mark nods, so I explain, "The artist says the big one is you and the little one is his latest self-portrait." 

Mark smiles at the paper once more before folding it into his pocket. As we grab our snacks, we walk together to the back door. We stop once Mark asks, "Before we go back outside, can I ask you something?" 

"Yeah." There's something petrifying about Mark's quiet voice, so I hope my smile will encourage him to speak up. "What's up?" 

"You know how I'm working with the trainees?" When I nod, Mark continues, "As far as I'm concerned they're all set talent-wise. I only really work with them on dancing and rapping— Taeil is the vocal instructor." 

Based on what I saw in the final five minutes of dance practice yesterday, I agree. It seems that the trainees get better with each generation. "They seem like they will make excellent artists one day." 

"They will!" Mark beams, seeming as proud of his trainee's progress as he is of his own achievements. "I've been thinking about how else I can help them grow, and I think maybe we should spend time talking about, like, emotional wellbeing."

"That sounds like a good idea." I, for one, could have benefited from learning about that as a trainee. 

"I'm glad you think so," Mark says slowly, "because I kind of want you to help me with those conversations." 

My jaw drops. "Me?" By no means have I ever considered myself an expert on emotional wellbeing. "Why?"

Mark's head goes aslant; he looks at me as if challenging me to look at myself. "When I think of strength, I think about how you carried yourself in training when those girls were mean to you. I think about how you stayed best friends even when people watched you and whispered. I think about how you didn't fall apart when the media used to speculate about the idol who never debuted. I think about how you held your head high when people criticized you for dating, then marrying, then having a baby with Taemin. But mostly— " Mark smiles — "I think about how you changed your whole life for Lucas Tue. I can't think of anyone better to teach the trainees that as much as we love music, as much as we love being idols, there is a lot more to life than the spotlight." 

I blink, wondering how, when, and why Mark became so well-spoken. My gaze falls onto the snack platter in my hands. "I— I don't know how to teach anybody that." 

Mark sighs, dejected, and I compulsively admit, "But I want to learn. I would love to learn, Mark."

Before Mark can reply, Tue runs in through the open back door, asking, "Mommy, where—" 

His voice falls flat as his eyes widen at the sight of Mark. "Mr. Mark Lee," Tue stutters, "I— I—" 

Before Mark can reply, Tue runs back outside. 

Mark looks at me, raising his eyebrows. "What did I do?"

Making my way out the door and into the summer sun, I explain, "He's being bashful because of that letter. He gets into shy moods from time to time." 

"Oh, okay." As we set our snacks onto the table, Mark asks, "Wait, did I hear you right? Did you mean that you would help me with the trainees?" 

From their sunchairs nearest to the snack table, Lucas and Taemin look up. Tue has concealed his flustered face against Taemin's chest, and he doesn't perk up at the sound of Mark's voice; he retreats further into Taemin's embrace. 

Taemin meets my eyes. Although he is reluctant to pressure me with vocal encouragement, he offers a gentle smile that seems to whisper, "Go for it. You can do anything." 

Lucas, true to who he has always been and always will be, is much louder about his support. He lowers his sunglasses. "Wait, you're gonna help me and Mark with the trainees? As in, we're having a mini ot8 SuperM reunion?" 

Mark glances at me with apologetic eyes as he pops another slice of watermelon into his mouth. Once upon a time, I think I would have glared at anyone for putting me on the spot like that. Depending on who it was, I might have even scolded them. I can't bring myself to scold Mark, though; I can't bring myself to glare at him, and I don't want to try. 

"I'll help," I decide easily, "in any way I can." 

I guess I don't want to disappoint Mark's perception of me; I want to live up to it. I guess I want to believe Yesung— that I am meant to share my voice. I guess I want to believe Mom—  that I can make the world a happier, brighter place with my light shining in it. I guess I want to be to the trainees who Mark is to them, who Mom has always been to me: someone who works a million times harder than the light dampeners to keep their light burning. 

Tue lifts his head from Taemin's chest to cheer, "You can do it, Mommy! You're the best helper!"

As I sit by his side, Taemin raises his eyebrows, giving me a look that means, "I told you so. He knows you perfectly. I told you so." 

"Thank you, baby," I wink at Tue. I whisper in his ear, "Mr. Mark Lee loves your letter, by the way." 

Tue smiles and lays his head back on Taemin's chest. When he closes his eyes, he looks exhausted. I think he falls asleep in an instant.

Lucas follows Mark to the pool, I think, for fear of waking Tue with his booming voice. Thus, Taemin and I are alone with our son again, even at the bustling party hosted in his honor.

Taemin asks, "Are you happy today?" in a voice so quiet that I think he's whispering sweet nothing to our sleeping boy until his eyes rise to meet mine. "I remember you said, once upon a time, 'Life doesn't always go as planned, and I think that's okay as long as you like where you end up.' And I'm wondering again if you like where you ended up— if you like where you're going next." 

My heart always flips when Taemin quotes our story. "I recall saying, 'Anywhere with you is where I want to end up.'" I reach for Taemin's hand— the one closest to me, the one that isn't secured around Tue. "I still feel that way, Anywhere with you is where I want to go next." 

Taemin flashes a sparkling smile before puckering his lips, wordlessly daring me to kiss him. Because I am no coward, I accept the dare before he can even blink. And just when I think that this moment is too beautiful to pass, I hear it. 

The snapping of Lucas's camera capturing us in a photograph.

[sidereal-fantasies]

Mayhem Nights [Ateez Witch Hunter AU]

one

Characters: Reader, Yunho

Category: Ateez Witch Hunter AU

Warning(s): Minor Cursing

Genre: Supernatural AU, Little bit of Horror

Seoul didn’t always look like a place drenched in the fumes of perturbation and uncertainty.

Ever since the first major witch attack, which had happened just a few decades ago, Seoul’s thrilling, fast-paced atmosphere slowly turned into a tense environment coated in fear and suspicion. Night trips between friend groups and sleep deprived college students to tempting clubs filled with alcohol and heavy bass music drastically dropped over a span of a few years. Loners and wandering souls suddenly traveled in large groups, distressed that they might be the easy targets for creatures of the night. To most civilians today, traveling alone past the hours of dusk was a death wish.

However, [Name] could not help it tonight.

Specific directions written in her mother’s hand outlined not only a list of odd ingredients to gather, but certain shops as well to retrieve these items from. Due to timing, the girl had simply dismissed it as extra precaution born from the natural concern caused by the recent rise of witch attacks. And so, here she was, outside the grim shop illuminated only by an ‘open’ neon sign with a hand tightly gripping a bag full of lavender and yarrow. Had she not fear the wrath of her mother, she would have turned back and lied to her about being unable to find said herbs. Despite said temptation being skipped on, she adjusted her jacket and began her trip back home, making sure her gaze stayed ahead. Even the shadows that peaked around the corners seemingly triggered some paranoia beneath her thoughts.

–

At the end of her quick walk through the city, [Name] stepped inside the safety of her home around one o’clock in the morning. Quietly, she set her shoes off to the side before padding down the narrow hallway to the living room to announce her arrival. Suddenly, she stopped and ducked behind a wall at the sound of murmurs coming from the room.

“She’s going to find out sooner or later. It’s best to tell her now,” Her father’s hushed voice echoed. Another sigh escaped from her mother’s lips, the tiredness and stress of the ordeal already taking a toll on her.

“I understand, but it was my mother that nearly ruined our family name. It’s my fault I didn’t take the chance to burn this cursed book when I could have. I just don’t believe it’s time to tell her the entire story,” her mother retorted.

[Name] gripped the edge of the doorway until her knuckles turned white. She drew in a shaky breath, wondering whether she should be thankful that this book was none of her responsibility or beyond fuming over the fact that an entire family secret had been kept away from her. Without a second thought, she stormed into the living room with clenched fists and furrowed eyebrows.

“I heard it all. What’s this book and how did grandmother nearly ruin our family? Why the secrets now?” She demanded.

Her parents exchanged a few worried glances, words lost over the initial shock from the revelation that their daughter had overheard. Her father, still convinced that [Name] wasn’t ready, opened his mouth to tell her off, but ceased to do so when her mother placed a gentle hand on his arm.

“[Name], I think we need to sit down and talk—“

Knock, knock, knock.

The three froze for a split moment before all their eyes landed on the wall clock off to the side. It was nearly the ungodly hour of one in the morning which bemused the family for who could be visiting them at such a time?

“[Name], take this. Stay in the kitchen for now and if you hear anything odd, run for it,” her mother instructed as she ushered the young girl off to the kitchen while she handed her a very worn book.

“Mom—“ [Name] began to protest. “It’ll be okay. Trust me. When you run, don’t look back. If you smell hawthorn, you’re not safe. Remember that.”

[Name] looked at her mother before she accepted her fate and trudged into the kitchen with the tattered book in hand. She settled down by the back door and positioned herself in a spot that covered herself, but allowed her to watch the shadows of her parents at least. Please be a mistake, she thought.

Goosebumps covered her arms instantly as she heard the locks of the front door clicking followed by the creek floorboards. There, she saw two more shadows join her parent figures, both significantly shorter than the couple.

[Name] carefully unlocked the back door and opened it just slightly. Her throat ran dry and left a lump hard to swallow as she strained to hear the hushed voices. She struggled however, and gave up only to listen to her increasing heartbeat. Something was very off to [Name]. Before she knew it, her mother appeared at the entrance way to the kitchen, pale and shaky from whatever she had witnessed beforehand.

“[Name], run!!”

Her heartbeat skyrocketed as she scrambled to her feet. Blood curdling screams echoed from the other room along with startling flashes of light that chased shadows into the kitchen. [Name] whipped the door open before she could see the tragic disaster behind her and sped out like lightning.

Distant cackles echoed as [Name] ran from street to street until she found herself back in the city. No body lingered on the sidewalks as she slowed to a lazy jog to catch her breath. Majority of the shops already had their curtains pulled shut with artificial lights out and candles burning brightly just at the edge of their doors. Alleyways turned into inviting places for victims to be mugged.

Cloaked figures zipped across one street to another out of the corner of [Name]’s eye, immediately sending her heart into a frenzy. Numb, her feet carried her down one backway where a purple light illuminated a steel door. She threw the door open before shutting it behind her with a loud bang followed by a click.

“Shit…” [Name] heaved out as she heard the distant cackles.

Her hand fell from the cold steel door handle. With a defeated sigh, she turned to look around the open room she found herself. Parts of artifacts lined the room behind silver chains while a large plant occupied the middle of the dim-lit room. One sniff led to her choking on the air she breathed for the stench of sage and hawthorn covered the vicinity around her. She gripped the book close to her chest with one hand and covered the lower half of her face with the other as her wary feet began traveling down the only hallway in front of her.

Blue light was cast upon the path while being accompanied by a thin fog that covered the ground. She glimpsed down at the book in her hands. It was the first time she was able to have a good look at the foreign item since it came into her possession. A cover black as the ink used for calligraphy decorated with silver lines and swirls held the pages and secrets inside. Tattered and worn pages stuck out on the side either ripped, bent, or folded; obviously having been abused by hurried hands flipping and turning them for years without a thought. She furrowed her eyebrows before she decided to tuck it beneath her jacket in hopes to hide it for the time being.

[Name] peered up only to be met with a crossroad. Peering left, then right, each path was identical; neither having an indication of what lies ahead. Swallowing a hard lump in her throat, [Name] let herself travel down the right hallway, finding that sage and hawthorn were less distinct in this direction. However, the coldness did not let up and continued to nip at the tip of [Name]’s nose. Whether it was the environment or superstition—

Creeeak!

Blood ran cold at the sight of one of the steel doors opening. [Name] rotated on her heel and dashed in the opposite direction she intended to travel in hopes that it wasn’t a witch that just emerged.

“Hey! Stop!” A deep voice rang.

[Name]’s feet skidded to a stop as she slowly turned back to face the source of the voice. There, she was met by a tall male adorned in all black. Soft, dark locks fluffed a little from frustrated hands running through it. A mask was pulled down to reveal his face which contrasted his initially cold exterior. Eyes took in the pocket knife that hung just outside his pocket.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

[Name]’s eyes made contact with a pair of concerned brown ones and she swore she must have been charmed for a sudden warmth erupted in her chest. However, chills ran down her spine and accompanied by the initial feeling of frost in her veins.

“J-just in a bit of trouble, that’s all,” [Name] stuttered as she ripped her gaze away. Heart pounded against her chest while sweat coated her hands. It was a miracle that she was still breathing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked in a gentle tone. “My name’s Yunho, by the way.”

Frantic eyes scanned her surroundings before they landed on the stranger in front of her. With furrowed eyebrows and a slight pout, he looked truly concerned, yet her thoughts were already replaying the worst possible outcomes in her mind if she were to let her guard down any moment. She couldn’t flee now, however. One way or another would surely lead her back to the face of horror and trouble.

“It’s not that simple to explain,” she began as she inched backwards.

The tall male followed suit, taking a few steps forward to maintain the distance. “Look, it’s obvious that you’re in trouble. I’m not going to leave you alone, e-especially in a place like this, until you let me help you out.”

She gripped the book tighter, almost crushing it against her chest. He’s absolutely correct, though as she thought about her dwindling options. She ran without any consideration for where she was going; all she knew in that moment was that she had to get away. And with that, she found herself in an oddly abandoned place filled with endless corridors mixed with the faint scents of sage and hawthorn. Retracing her steps was suicide to her at this point for all these hallways looked the same to her. She realized that she was only left with one option that would guarantee her just a little more time.

“Then help me out. Help me find my answers.”

[bngtnblues]

reverie

genre: strangers to lovers!AU + non-idol!AU + fluff

author’s note: im reposting reverie again because my dumbass didn't realise if you changed your url, all your original content will be deleted as well :(  you can read iniquitous here to get the backstory as this is an alternative version <::: credits to @jitonic for the gif!!!!!!!

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader | a scenario

blurb: You, a constant sore thumb, didn’t realize how painfully obvious you were, gawking at the strawberry-scented boy who’s alluring enough for you to start sketching him.

word count: 1,870

You were quite terrible when it comes to expressing your feelings. Especially when it comes to liking someone. At a mature age, you should’ve known how to start up a conversation with this person but how the hell were you supposed to do that, since whenever he made his presence known with that strawberry scent of his, you voice gets stranded in your throat and as always, the train ride resulted in him sleeping and you stealing furtive glances at him.

And today was no different.

He sat in his usual seat; head slouched onto the window, earbuds plugged in as slow breaths exhaled out, not a single trouble on his face while the train barrelled along the rails. And then there’s you, in the seat opposite him, twiddling your fingers, then biting your lips out of habit, the process in a ceaseless replay as your conscience flew out the window ever since his toned legs made his way to the seat.  You didn’t even notice the woman, sitting two seats away from you, rolling her eyes at another episode of your obvious infatuation with the handsome man.

And boy, was he handsome. He had the type of face that could occupy your eyes from a mile’s distance. Chestnut brown hair tousled in the middle, rosy lips parted from sleeping, even his nose is perfect. To most, it might’ve been slightly big but to you, it was just right. But you never clearly saw his eyes. Masked from his hoodie’s shadow and his head tipped down whenever entering the carriage, his eyes remained vague to you as he always closed them instantly when taking his seat, much to your disappointment.

It’d be an understatement if you said this “non-existent relationship” with the hot stranger has become rather unhealthy.

So, today you thought to change your predetermined course of stolen glances and finger twiddling, you decided you might as well save the twenty-or-so minutes of this train ride by sketching him.

In your head, this was a progress from staring. In your head, you thought this would be a satisfying first step in finally asking out the hot stranger. That specific part was still complicated but all in all, it seemed like a win-win situation.

You gingerly brought out your sketchbook from your bag and soon, the artist entrenched in you made sure you captured every ounce of his face, from that small mole under his lips to his slender neck, the pencil worked tentatively onto the white page. Finishing it off, a frown formed on your face as you studied the drawing with an unsatisfying feeling because there is no way the drawing could be finished without his eyes.

And it was as if the gods above finally answered your calls after the four or more rides you’ve shared with him, but only in response to seeing your embarrassment unfold right in front of the only guy who made you question your sanity. To start on a positive note, it wasn’t your fault. It was the trains and mostly him. Your fingers compulsively grabbed onto the pencil once more because his lips just weren’t right and as you ready yourself to glimpse at him, you find yourself in a sudden shock to see him looking right at you.

Nut brown. Large, doe eyes with specks of nut brown. Damn.

You merely thought as you kept on gawking, too entranced by his bright orbs that peered right back. You felt your cheeks betray you with pink and it was a miracle your heart didn’t ram into your throat which had difficulty functioning at the moment.

Even if you were already a wreck of anxiety while he watched with such curious eyes, clearly it wasn’t enough for the gods, because you didn’t notice your sketchbook steadily falling from your hands onto the floor. It took a matter of seconds for the doe-eyed boy to break the intense stare down to direct his gaze towards it.

You followed his gaze and for a second, you thought, someone might as well shoot me now because there it is, your sketchbook lying flat open on that one shitting page. Becoming awkward while trying to seem normal in front of him turned out to be not such a good idea, because, in the next moment, your mouth opened to splutter out nonsense on how that sketch couldn’t possibly be of him.

“O-Oh, t-that’s my brother, just so you know. N-Not you, of course, because that would be just weird… but y-you look a lot like him when I think about it,” you stutter out, your heart easily matching the pace of the train. For your first actual words, you manage to say to the hot stranger, who still had his gaze fixated onto the sketchbook, you mentally cringed at how absurd you sound. That’s my brother just so you know… fucking hell, Y/N!

When he finally looked up, you were surprised to see a faint blush on his cheeks as he leans down to pick the sketchbook off the ground to offer it to you. You expected him to say something in return, a repulsed reply maybe, but his rosy lips remained sealed as he placed the book onto your hands. A process in which his fingers touched your palm, the gesture causing nerves in your body into some kind of joyride, enough for your plummeting self - confidence to hit rock high.

“It’s actually pretty shit looking, don’t you think?” you chuckle tensely, “Without the eyes and all,” you mumble the last part. Your second attempt of garnering a conversation seemed to fail as you stare at him from the corner of your eye, his eyes now focused on the ground, and an even more distinct tinge of blush spraying across his cheeks. The action making you wonder, given that there was nothing for him to be blushing about. As a matter fact, the roles should be reversed, however, here you are sprouting out crap, and there he is, flushing as if he initiated this whole drastic situation.

At once, the effects of this catastrophe was coming to an end as you noticed the train was nearing his stop and your fixated gaze on the floor saw from the corner of your eyes his legs getting up, and, all of a sudden, your mind was concocting some kind of desperate plan for you to at least to find out his name.

You set the sketchbook into your bag as you also stand up, your legs tremoring from the train reeling to the stop, your arm instinctively gripping onto the handlebar. Swallowing tensely, you train your eyes upwards, but your muscles stiffen as if your body could ignite into flames because what you least expected was the scent of strawberries inches away from you.

You feel your cheeks multiply in heat and you feel his fingers grazing yours as both of you hold onto the same handlebar above in hopes of not falling onto one another. The ding! of the doors are heard as a stream of people get off the train and you noticed the proximity with the stranger was still lingering. Why wasn’t he getting off? Your mind was spinning endlessly while more people entered the carriage.

You deepen your attention onto his hoodie, not daring to look up as you mutter out, “ My n-name’s Y/N, by the way…umm, isn’t this your stop?” and when you finally have the courage to peer up, you see him staring down at you with those eyes of his and it was as if all you could, in return, was treasure his beauty. You gauge his subtle expression with a clobbering heart and some sweaty palms and he held your stare with inquiring eyes. You compel your mouth to mutter out something, anything before he cuts you to the chase.

“And for a second I actually thought that sketch would be of me .” His voice whispers so delicately to you, so lightly with a hint of a tease, it mesmerizes you to the point where you wondered what he was whispering about. In a matter of a heartbeat, it dawned upon you that he was implying about the sketch that led to you being in this position.

You blink, stunned and perplexed by his answer. “W-What?”

His lips curl into a dazzling smile as he sees your dazed face. “You’re-” The monotone words of the train announcer disrupt him as she signals the doors closing, and you hear a curse fall out of the hot stranger’s mouth as he darts his eyes to the window behind you. When he fixes his eyes back onto you, he seems hesitant to finish the sentence, as if he lost the confidence to say whatever he wanted to say.

With a sheepish smile, he ruffled his hair to utter a sorry, before he dashes out, through the doors with earbuds stashed into his jean’s pocket and a waft of strawberries left behind. You simply watch him leave before impulsively grabbing your bag and rushing out behind him, barely scraping through the closing doors. As you step out onto the platform, you instantly look for his retreating figure through the deserted station. When your eyes land on a white hoodie a few steps ahead of you, you call out into the breezeless night.

“Wait, what were you going to say?!”

He immediately looks over his shoulder in alarm and when he saw you slightly out of breath form, his face contorted into a startled expression before his lips slowly curved into a slight smirk. With long strides, he reached you in a matter of seconds. You straightened yourself up in attempt to peer up at him and utter out,

“I know I’m quite insane to jump out of the train to follow a complete stranger… b-but I won’t be able to sleep tonight without thinking about what y-you were about to say, “you pause to curse yourself for stuttering(again) before quickly adding, “and also it’s been bugging me to know your name ever since the moment I first saw you.”

Your eyes fall to his black sneakers and you slowly let out a long-held breath.

“I was going to say you’re shit at lying.”

You instantly widen your eyes, still staring holes at his shoes while mentally wince.

“But it’s not every day a cute girl jumps out the train for you.”

You slowly look up at him, wide-eyed and all to see the station lights giving him an angelic glow and his eyes fixated on you with amusement as he holds out a hand, enough for your cheeks to heat up again.

“And as for my name, it’s Jungkook.”

You clear your throat and cautiously stretch out your hand to meet his, a prompt of warmth embraces you as he envelops your hand into his. You internally relax a bit as you gently beam up at him.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Jungkook.”

(^-^)

Bonus ending:

“Was it that obvious I was staring at you during all those rides?”

“Oh, definitely.“

“ Then, why didn’t you say anything?“

“Let’s just say good things come to those who wait, Y/N.”

[gravitymirage]

The World Under the Moon

“AND THAT’S A CHOICE! NOT A CURSE!”

Seemingly bullshit rambling, a passing comment made in anger, a joke. Not the words that had become what he was forced to live his life by. Why would it mean anything? Werewolves aren’t real, right?

Mark had believed the same thing.

His childhood home had been bordering the woods, something he and his brother had loved. A quick escape. An endless stream of adventures, daydreams and challenges. A lot of injuries, but all in good fun. Mostly Mark doing things that he heavily denied to be stupid, although that was probably the case. It was sad really, ironic. The one incident that had been detrimental to the rest of his existence hadn’t been out of idiocy. Some could argue he shouldn’t have been out in the woods by himself, but he was so acquainted with the place he hadn’t thought anything of it. A young teen, storming out into the woods alone in anger. That was more accurate. Not idiocy, anger.  

Mark had needed to cool off after a heated argument about something stupid he’d no longer recall. It hadn’t been important. Shouldn’t have led to everything. Sometimes he wonders if he’d just resolved the quarrel amicably if everything would’ve been better. But it didn’t matter. It was anger that had driven him to storm out into the woods one cold night. Away from everyone, as he sat alongside a body of water, throwing stones as far as he could. He made a racket with his tossing and frustrated mumbling. It had been an excellent way to let off steam, and when he had silenced and taken a moment to look around, it had been beautiful. Cold, senses alight with the smell of crushed leaf-litter and undergrowth. The world cool greys and blues, which contrasted all the heated rage that had boiled his blood moments before. A trickling stream, glowing bright with the light of the moon, almost hazy, ethereal in contrast to the dark hues around it. The scampering of creatures coming out in the night. It should’ve been a positive moment of discovery when he looked back on it. Some shit about how the world didn’t change with how you felt, it was constantly moving, that you had to take a moment to appreciate it yadda, yadda. He had been a stupid teenager, and even he could appreciate the solace of it. Alone, free, calm, quiet. Those were words that came to mind. Well, not alone. It wasn’t even quiet. Quick to discover it wasn’t even calm, or that he wasn’t free. He’d presumed in passing there to be a little mouse or something making its way through the damp, dead leaves littering the ground. On second thought, it was a lot bigger sounding than a mouse, now that it was closer, and he’d been paying attention, perhaps a stray cat? He stood despite himself, heart racing. That wasn’t a cat, hell, a dog? He could hear its ragged breathing, see the bushes disturbed across the river. Eyes glinting in the shadow, the shrubbery growling with malice. Had that, thing, been there the whole time? Stalking him? Awaiting opportunity? How had he not noticed its approach till now?

Now this, this was stupid. He ran in the opposite direction, not thinking about any particular escape plans. He hadn’t even considered running home, although that may have been more disastrous looking back now. He’d been slapped back into instincts, sudden adrenaline telling him to run from it. But there’s one thing you don’t do with a dog, and that’s run away. They consider it a game, a chase. Hell, that was probably what that monster had been waiting for. A good, fun chase. A moment of realisation where the victim bolts for it, and you get to show your strength in the hunt. Mark had reacted like prey, and, in that circumstance, he was. He was no longer top of the food chain, no longer angry and fearless. He was sprinting like a coward through the woods, unable to call for help as his brain shoved all useful oxygen into the task of running the fuck away. Immediately he heard the strong thumping of the beast following after, and that only edged him on to run even faster. He swore he heard it howl. What the fuck was it? A dog, coyote, a wolf? How the fuck would that be possible? This close to home? He didn’t have the time to explore such ideas, he had to focus on not slamming into a tree and meeting his demise through tooth and claw. He was sure this creature was messing with him, it certainly wasn’t running as fast as it could. It was luring him around in wild, panicked frenzy. Playing with its toy until it inevitably ran its batteries flat. Mark didn’t think it was possible for animals to think in such a sadistic manner, but it sure as hell felt like it when his lungs were being ripped apart with every breath and shuddering step thumping against the hard, uneven ground. Eventually he was going to slip up, and he liked to believe he put up a good fight. But adrenaline, as much as it’s a seemingly helpful high, it makes you jittery. Easy for him to slip up and trip on a stray root. He fell with little grace, body littered with cuts and bruises from the unending assault the forest had lashed against his skin, ripping his clothes. Right after he’d considered it to be beautiful. A slight, winded bitter laugh leaves his lips as he makes impact with the ground. Almost hysterical, eyes brimming with tears as the pain hits him like a blow. He can’t breathe anymore, choking silently after the impact his chest had made against the cold, compacted dirt beneath him. Mud and grime coated his front, useless attempts to spit it out leaving a pool of muddied drool and spit beneath his face. Of course, this was the dignified way he’d meet his end. The creature steadily approaching from behind, movements slow, lurking. Probably disappointed its prey had fallen so quickly, failed to entertain it for very long. Now pitiful, Mark dragged himself away, the second air flooded his lungs he flipped onto his back in a vain attempt to push himself away faster. The beast was now visible in its morbid glory before him. And it was terrifying.  

Although hunched over, the monster had to stand well over 6 foot. Not a dog, human height. Its eyes glinted amber in the trickling moonlight. Cunning, but crazed. Famished. Dark, misshapen pelt, short and bristled. It crept closer on clawed paws. Its limbs long, gaunt, yet riled up to deal a blow that would undoubtedly gut him. And its face, wolfish, jagged teeth visible through its long muzzle. The fur twisted and sticky with the rabid spit forming along its lips as it bared its teeth.  A creature he’d never forget. Burned deep into his memories, his nightmares. There was a pause, predator and prey eyeing each other down, before the inevitable lunge. Mark cried out, violently shoving himself backwards, the claws of the monster missing his vital organs, instead raking slightly down his hip and ending on his thigh with short, deep gashes, blood quick to pool and stain his pants that unending red. In an act of a blessing and a curse, the ground gave way into a gully behind him, and he toppled down into a ditch, his shoulder taking the blow with significant force. But nothing was broken. Adrenaline growing to mask the throbbing pain, he stumbled away again in a desperate haze. The creature should’ve been upon him. He couldn’t hide, he was shambling, loud gasping breaths, blood leaving a perfect scented trail to his location. But as the beast clawed its way down the gully to pursue him, it froze up, its head snapping to the side. A long pause of sniffing and whines, it howled out again, disappearing up out of the ditch once more. Mark left alone as he stumbled home in a frenzy, pained gasps through gritted teeth, heart palpitating in his ribcage, adding to the pains of his bruising. Unsure of the fucking miracle that had blessed him with his life, although looking back now, perhaps it wasn’t such an outstanding turn of events.

Mark hadn’t told his family, or his friends. He snuck back to the house as soon as he’d figured out where he was. In through the back window. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence for him to do this after an argument. A shower, with the towel shoved in his mouth to keep himself from screaming as the water met his bruised and bloodied skin, filling the gash with water, blood clearing to reveal a horrific sight. The wound felt as if it was burning, every fibre of his being screaming out in unison as he bit down harder, tears making sticky paths down his face. It wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, he told himself. Could’ve been bitten, torn apart and devoured. He doused the wounds in a tube of antibiotic cream he’d found in the first aid kit, wasting bandages in his pathetic wrapping of his wounds. A weekend to hide in long shirts and pants, wasting the family’s already limited medical supplies. All because he was selfish, angry and stupid. Why hadn’t he told them, you might ask. Because in his dumb fucking teenage mind, he feared the reaction. He might not be allowed in the woods ever again. He might be given a big fat ‘told you so’ as they wrapped up his wounds, or forced him to the hospital, wasting already limited money on something so unforgivably stupid. It wasn’t as if going to the hospital would’ve changed anything in the long run. Who was going to believe what he saw? A monster, a beast in the moonlight. All he’d hear was that he was in shock, that it was some dog. The wound certainly didn’t do it justice. But in his limited, generally unbelieving mind, he knew what that thing had been. The one definition his description fitted as he replayed the events over and over. That had been a werewolf. Except that was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. They were mythical. He wasn’t going to turn into some monster after getting a cut on his leg. He’d go about his weekend in silence, noting that the wound was in fact healing. Despite how his veins seemed to burn, there was no sign of infection. It healed up almost too quickly over a week, left with scabs and scarring. But he was irritable, quick to lash out, quick to break, quick to rant and rave and growl. He was scared at the change, and any dumb talk about puberty wasn’t going to cut it. It was stupid, Mark had thought, the idea that he was changing because he’d been scratched by a fucking werewolf. Mythology, not real. Even as he grew more and more hypersensitive as the month progressed. Even as the sight of the moon sent him into jitters, nights slowly growing more restless, filled with insomnia. Even as the wound despite everything seemingly being fine continued to pain him more, his veins alight with fire. It was just an unfortunate injury.

Something he could no longer believe that first night his body irrupted with spasming, unending agony, unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Hands clamped within his mouth, mauled and bitten and bloodied to silence his cries. Body shifting and growing and rewiring. Face pushing outwards, his clawed hands clamped into a fanged muzzle, covered steadily in dark brown fur. Joints snapping back and forth, as his arms and legs elongated. In a way that made him vomit to look back on, once the pain had died down, it had been glorious. The anger morphing into something new. Of course, the moon hadn’t forced anything, didn’t mean anything. When he was out in the woods, everything scampering to escape him, only to feel creature snap and flop lifeless in his jaws, metallic blood enlightening his sense. It truly was beautiful, the world under the moon. He wanted to be like this, he chose to transform every month, and in his moments of anger. He chose to be like this, in a hazy, glorious state. It was a blessing, not a curse. A choice. When weak little Mark made his way home for the first time, filled with constant guilt and shame and fear. Hands bloodied, mouth filled with the taste of his latest kill. Clothes ruined, dirtied, bloodied. It didn’t matter. It was a choice, not a curse. He’d chosen this, in his anger. Nothing was wrong, he was alive like he’d desperately wanted when he’d fled his attacker. He was more alive than ever. Teary-eyed, locked in his room, hands ripping his hair. Heart racing, pained, and never more alone. It was a choice, not a curse. When his life kept moving forward, when he started to control his transformations just a little bit more. A choice, not a curse. When he was still successful, even with his dirty little secret clutching over his life. In his anger, in his desperate need to justify murder.

It was a choice. Not a curse.