#also i hate thinking this way but he had a huge estate when he died like $500k or something like that with heaps of community donations

[nest-being]

there is not enough caffeine in the world to address how tired i am 🥴

[mygnolia]

to weave my love ⭒ n. riki

⭒ SYNOPSIS -› Riki is good at many things- dancing, making fun of his friends, playing it cool (debatable.), Hell- he’s even good at saving people from falling buildings without getting whiplash. But the things he’s bad at? Well, it’s asking you out to prom, and trying to balance the shared assignment he has with you…while being Spider-man.

⭒ PAIR -› spiderman!nishimura riki x fem-pres!reader

⭒ GENRE -› fluff, banter, action ⭒ TROPES -› classmates to lovers, idiots to lovers ⭒ WC -› 17k (i’m sorry idk why either.)

⭒ INCLUDES -› SPOILERS FOR GREAT GATSBY, cursing, non-graphic injuries (reader discretion advised), yes i made the patching up with first aid kit trope SUE ME!! takes place in a busy city similar to new york never specified, reader is rich, jake and heeseung are seniors and riki’s a junior, is riki stupid? yes… jake reveals stuff because he is also a little silly, reader wears a red dress!

⭒ GREAT GATSBY -› basically jay gatsby has this weird amt of money but no one rlly knows how he got it (nefarious reasons) and hes been in love with this girl daisy for five years but then she got married to tom buchanan but he gets rich so he can get the house across from her and wistfully watch her and he pines after her like CRAZY but he dies at the end

⭒ REN SAYS...special huge fat kiss to thena @sensitively-taken you will be in the will when im a millionaire THANK YOU for helping me with so much of this I WUV U AND I WLL BE WAITING FOR UR HUENING FIC!!! | LIBRARY

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM PRE-ADULTHOOD STRESS, IF THAT’S EVEN A THING.

What exactly does Riki have to worry about as a seventeen-year-old junior in high school? Right now, his most daunting responsibility is catching up on the chapters of The Great Gatsby because the only thing Riki’s actually read from the novel is that the main character shares a name with his best friend and senior, Park Jay. His second most daunting responsibility is handling the fact that with the new seating chart in his Literature class, it means he’s sitting next to the object of his very subtle affections, you. 

See, the problem with having a crush on you is that Nishimura Riki’s committed to thinking that you’re way out of his league, and unfortunately, the boy believes that almost too well. Not only are you minted beyond his wildest dreams (having seen your posts on social media), but you’re hardworking, helpful, and dedicated to your role as student body treasurer. He’s already understood that you’d never go for a guy like him. Maybe someone more like Park Sunghoon, whose parents’ salary matches yours. If Riki lived in a rural estate with generational wealth, handling the whole ‘Spider-Man’ thing might be a bit easier for him, considering he wouldn’t have to try so hard in school. It might even change the fact that Riki dealt with some alleyway criminals last night and is currently catching up on lost sleep, as your English Literature teacher goes on and on about a project on the book you’re reading. 

In class, and even sometimes outside of the classroom, your small tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings has landed you in some awkward situations—like now. 

“I don’t really tell anyone this, but I hate Daisy.” And instead of getting a response, you glance over to see Nishimura Riki slumped on the desk. Without trying to make preconceptions about what could land him in a situation like this, you poke his arm, stifling a smile at how his eyes widen when you’ve caught him rubbing the very obvious sleep from his eye. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, still fighting the post-nap grogginess, “Did I miss anything?” 

(Nope.)

Shaking your head, you return your attention to your teacher as he continues to answer questions. The second Mr. Yoo assigned a report, you wanted to die even more considering the work you had to do on top of the impending due dates. But for it to be partnered? And for you to get seated and paired with the one boy who's known for not caring about school? Maybe things are a little stacked against you, but there has to be a reason why Riki’s somehow still passing all his classes…right?

Considering it’s the last assignment about the book, you’re glad that you already read it so many times to know what you want to put into words. And in retrospect, answering a few open-ended questions about it can’t be that hard—the hardest part would be getting your partner to stay awake in class. 

A small tap at your side makes you turn to face Riki, who you see has frantically written a page full of notes about the project in the past three minutes and how he can succeed. “Can you go over the first part? Sorry…I was…y’know.” 

“It’s a partner project. And we’re partners.” You wince at the awkward wording. 

Great! Riki was caught sleeping and that was your first impression of him for your paired assignment? Riki feels so stupid in front of you right now—in front of your meticulous notes with annotations and proper highlighting. He wants to curl up into a ball when he sees you glance over at his haphazard attempt to look like he was paying attention when, in truth, he was trying to remember the dream he had just ten minutes prior. When you offer him a small smile and nod, leaning over with your notebook in hand, he sighs in relief, thanking whoever it was that let him get away with his naps without the consequence of irritating you afterwards. 

The bell rings when Mr. Yoo stops talking, and you pause, startled by the sound. Instead of leaving, however, you pack your bag and shuffle to his side of his desk, continuing to parrot details about your report in hopes that it all makes sense. You need to make sure he knows what he’s doing. 

“I think one of the questions he mentioned was like ‘Is Gatsby a good person?’ and do you remember how in Chapter Eight…” The rest gets zoned out and forgotten in the boy’s head, because he in fact does not know what happened in Chapter Eight. He doesn’t know what happened…in any part of the book. But he agrees anyway, pretending like he understands what scene you’re trying to explain. What he notices is how thorough and dedicated you are towards ensuring he comprehends what you’re explaining, and although it could be because you don’t want him to fail you both, he chooses to believe you’re doing it because you tolerate him. 

You’re so engrossed in covering all the little details and telling him random tidbits regarding the book that you don’t realize your feet have made it all the way to the cafeteria. “But here, let me get your number. I’ll totally explain more over text.” 

Riki is definitely not freaking out when he silently grabs his phone and hands it to you with the contact page, staring a little longer than necessary at the cute smiley face you added to your name. “Thanks,” he mumbles, forcibly tearing his eyes away from the ten digits of your number, “For helping me with this, too.”

“Of course! The Great Gatsby is a fun read for me. A little hard to read sometimes because of some of the characters, but still easy to understand.” And Nishimura RIki realizes that he has to do well. He’ll read the book five times over if it means gaining your approval. 

Jake notices something a little different about the tuft of black and blonde hair when his friend walks in. The first thing is that he’s actually here, and that you’re next to him, smiling. The boy rubs his eye to make sure he’s not dreaming somehow, but when he looks up again, you’re waving goodbye and joining your friends across the room. 

“Did you get hit with something while fighting a villain that makes you more bold? I feel like I just saw you and ____ talking,” Jake starts when Riki finally joins him with his lunch. 

Riki laughs, shoving Jake’s head out of embarrassment and opening his chips. “It’s just school. Got some project in English and she says we’re partnered.” He looks over at his friend chuckling, rolling his eyes at how Jake pokes at his side and wiggles his eyebrows. 

“I better hear you two are dating by next week.” 

“Who’s dating by next week?” Heeseung places his bag of food in front of them and takes a seat, opening the fast food he got last period and stuffing a fry in his mouth. 

“Riki and ____. Let me have one,” Jake answers, reaching inside the bag. 

Heeseung looks over at his junior curiously. “You asked her out?” And the two older students hear a groan from the boy in question. 

“Me and ____ aren’t anything, for your information.” He prods at the vegetables on his tray and takes a bite before a look of displeasure washes over his face. “You’re both way too excited for two guys who do not have girlfriends.” 

“Hey! You know the girl I’m always fighting with is the reason why I’m single. I have to focus on studying to do well in school to do better than her.” Heeseung’s whining falls on deaf ears as Riki smiles victoriously, seeing how defensive the former got. 

Jake offers him a shrug of defeat. “I got nothing.”

The three of them fall into normal conversation and Riki finally explains everything that happened during English.  “So you’re telling me your plan to ask ____ out went down from 18 months to 6?” And with a nod from the younger, they both groan once more. Heeseung exclaims, “We’re both going to graduate, dumbass. Make the plan go down to like…two months? Please?” 

Jake cuts in before Riki has a chance to respond. “Make it one and a half, so we can see you with a prom date before leaving forever.” 

“You act as if you’re going to die after graduation. It’s like you’re begging to be a super senior.” 

And they’re silenced immediately. 

“Do you think the guy I was with earlier hates me?” you ask on the other side of the room. Minjeong stares at you blankly, waiting for your explanation. “I don’t know if you saw when I walked in but I was talking to this really tall guy with blonde hair and black tips. He seemed really out of it, like he kept staring at me and nodding. I think I scared him off by talking about the book too much.” 

Sunghoon, who is also listening in, opens his neatly packed lunchbox and begins mixing his noodles. “I think you did scare him off, ____.”

“Not helping,” Minjeong interjects, “Just talk to him more and maybe he’ll warm up to you. You two sit together in class anyways, so hopefully he’ll talk more?” 

“I know him,” Sunghoon comments, “Well, sort of. I’m friends with Jake who’s friends with Riki, and it seems like all that boy does is sleep.” 

“Maybe he’s really good at subconscious in-class comprehension?” you try, taking a bite of your sandwich. “I just hope it doesn’t interfere too much with treasurer stuff.” 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE IF HE SWINGS INTO ANOTHER WALL AT 100MPH LIKE HOW HE ALMOST DID TONIGHT.

All he’s had on his mind since school ended till now is how he should probably text you, if he really discarded the slimy acid monster from last week properly, and when the prom theme is going to be released, but there’s something amiss that confuses his spidey-senses and makes Riki much more alert. 

He snaps out of whatever train of thought he had before, focusing on the situation at hand and looking around to follow his instinct. Riki cautiously plants himself on the side of a random apartment building to get a sense of what's going on. A tingle of some sort of in the air permeates the material of his suit and leaves him shivering from the cold. 

He doesn't like it one bit. 

Moving to the side of the building to the top, the boy finally catches a glimpse of something when he gets a decent view of the city and highway systems. Riki knows something’s wrong with the bridge the closer he gets. He zips from one side of the tall, metal tower to the other, crawling down on all fours making sure he isn’t caught. He feels the electric feeling once more, only amplified. It runs up his spine and he wants to slap it, almost like a frantic, summertime bug. The air around him is charged with something he has never recognized before. With a puzzled expression under his mask, Riki continues to investigate the surrounding area. 

Riki finds a lone figure with some sort of attachment to his left arm, like a long glove made out of metal. The bulkiness of it seems to have no impact on his body as the man fiddles with the contraption, and the boy watches with bated breath as the machine fizzes and spurts with electricity. It begins to glow as power concentrates on his plated palm and the superhero sees it for the first time. It’s like a fizz, like a match striking at fire only to produce a quick burst of friction, but it almost feels liquid when he watches the person play with the flickering blue ball of electricity. It dances in the dark in a hauntingly beautiful way, with bolts jutting out from the metal as it spurts and buzzes with a life-like manner. 

A spark. 

“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sound of Riki’s voice from the end of the bridge causes the stranger to look up with wide eyes. Although Riki fully expects it to simply enhance strength or block damage, the immediate strike of blue that flies straight towards him is anything but defensive. With a yelp, he jumps away, this time refusing to show himself. 

What the hell was that?

He knows he should go back down there to change things and get the person and the metal pieces away before it escalates, but when he goes back down to watch, it's ten times worse. The bright blue illuminates the scarred face of the villain as he’s picked up the metal arm–but this time, it’s no longer clunky and sparking, but fused into his arm. 

Riki’s face pales at the sudden change before his body acts on its own and he shoots out a web to stop the man. 

The villain is shocked by the intrusion, but quickly yanks free from the webbing and flicks another bolt of electricity, one that flies much faster now that the metal flows into the arm instead of simply resting on the skin. It’s unlike something Riki has ever seen, something that is so controlled in motion and yet so erratic in nature, and it instills a deathly fear when it grazes his arm he hisses in pain. The sharp feeling springs Riki into action as he jumps away. He’s lucky another bolt isn’t sent his way, seeing how the villain’s too busy marveling at the power of his new gadget.

“You know that fucking hurts, right?” He yells out, cupping his wound. “Maybe leave the gadgets to the kids!”

The man scoffs. “It better have hurt. I sacrificed half my body for this to work.”

“But why?” All Riki wants is answers. Some sort of explanation.

The man charges up yet another bolt, almost like a laser gun is built into the machine. “Less talking, more running, Spiderman.” 

That scared the shit out of him. 

The boy doesn’t have time to think as he jumps out from the dark tunnel to the bridge and up the metal towers—he hates having to fight with people right below. The villain follows in pursuit, almost crumbling the metal with his engineered arm as he hoists himself quickly. Riki continues to jump between the structure to avoid the flashes, trying to get out and apprehend the man as quickly as possible. When he reaches the top, however, he feels death is near as he glances down at the villain below who’s quickly gaining on him. He shoots out webs to slow him temporarily, letting himself fall and swing from the side of the tower to escape. 

What he doesn’t see on the way across the bridge is the flash that misses his cheek and hits his thigh instead. It burns, and mid-air, Riki gives the wound a quick assessment before he lands on the metal, immediately forcing his body to climb. While dealing with his wound, he fails to notice the villain swinging from the bridge support lines to meet him. 

He needs to end this fast before he becomes burnt toast.

Riki doesn’t often rely on instinct to carry him, but he can tell that the villain he’s facing isn’t just a criminal. 

“Land another hit, would you?” he tries to say, his voice strained from the pain in his arm and leg. It doesn’t do much to deter the man in front of him as the arm continues to destroy and bend the metal on the way up. “What are you going to do now, Sparky?”

The man says nothing, charging energy into his metal glove again before aiming and focusing on the target: him. 

Riki jumps off, not able to properly land his web in the right spot as he goes from one section of the bridge to the other. The man behind him looks enraged at the boy’s attempt to escape—so much so that he reaches out with his normal hand to try to grasp the suit when Spider-Man swings past him. Instead of the feeling of fabric, the villain feels sticky spider fluid on his fingers. Riki shoots out a web, one that curls around the villain’s wrist and drags him off the tower. Instead of being able to launch him into the surrounding waters, the man slips from the poorly shot-out webs and falls from mid air into the sea of frantic cars, including one semi truck that collides directly with his arm. In the air, the boy winces when he hears honks and shouts from the impact, hoping it’s the last time he’ll have to witness it.

With his gaze trained on the falling figure, the weakly attached web breaks, and Riki all of a sudden starts falling down as well. He curls up defensively before bracing for impact, curling into himself when he feels the metal dent and the truck driver scream from outside of the parked vehicle, the body of the villain right in front of it. 

Riki staggers, holding onto his arm and thigh the best he can before getting up. With wobbly steps and a small jump, he lands near the unconscious man, whose metal arm is cracked and fizzling—something that Riki knows is bound to leave more scars. 

“Call the police. I’ll get rid of the pieces.” Although Riki wants to figure out who the criminal is and make sure he’s properly apprehended, the gashes in the boy's limbs leave him winded and exhausted. With hot metal scraps bound together by webbing in his hands, Riki swings out and dumps it somewhere rural, trying his best to cover the pieces with the pounding headache that 

Riki revisits the secluded spot under the bridge, looking for clues to the man’s identity, and his expression falls when he notices a lanyard dangling near a trash can. 

His name, his position, and the company. FLiGHT Corp. The company name caught the boy’s eye, and he pockets the item before leaving. 

It seemed like he was a normal research scientist, but Riki’s recollection of the scars and tattered skin leaves him retracting his last thought. He heard something about the failure of a time travel machine at FLiGHT, and if the mass of the incident was anything to go by, he was in the center of it. 

No matter how many times Riki tries to get it out of his head, on the way home, all he can think about is the inexperience he displayed and the lack of response he gave Riki during the whole time. But Riki can’t bring himself to really take away someone’s life—and maybe for that, he’s a horrible superhero. 

He knows he should stop the man before it's too late, and especially with how many self-proclaimed villains there have been, it's not easy to see so many innocent people ruin their lives chasing a power that inevitably consumes them. He knows it’ll only get worse if he lets them run free.

And while the superhero has never been fully honest with himself, there are many times where Riki hates his role as Spider-Man, and wishes that he was just some teenage boy who didn't have the lives of others in his palm. He wishes he didn't have to sacrifice so much to stay behind a mask—and he wonders deep down if there’s anyone else who felt the same. 

His swings lead him across the city above hundreds of lives he has to protect, and he tries to find some semblance of peace. He thinks about how he has his homework due despite having just risked his life, he thinks about how your project is going—and about you. 

In the night under the stars, Nishimura Riki wishes for something just a bit normal. He wishes a good night for himself, but also for you, wherever you could be.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM TRYING TO READ THIS BOOK IN ONE NIGHT.

The Great Gatsby is exactly like how you described it; a little hard to get through but fun with the plot’s eccentric characters. He’s pretty sure he could’ve just used a detailed SparkNotes explanation for the book, but having a crush can make someone do weird things. And in Nishimura Riki’s case, his infatuation has got him reading a novel about morally-skewed characters and rich society to impress you. 

When you come into class barely on time, Riki gives you a confused look when you sit down, but doesn’t comment on it any further. Instead, he takes out his book and tries to act like his eyes weren’t closing shut from exhaustion by the time Daisy was finally confessing how she loved Gatsby. 

The moment Mr. Yoo stops talking, however, Riki isn’t asleep—much to your surprise. He has his book out, pages filled with sticky notes and a whole section of his notebook dedicated to characters (written in bright red to keep him awake) and their traits. 

“I got it.” It’s the first thing he says when you two are left to do in-class work. It’s ominous, and maybe a little too enthusiastic in a high school literature class for a boy who doesn’t even care that much for school, but you’ll accept it with open arms if it means you get a helping hand on your project. 

“Continue,” you tell him slowly, leaning back in your chair to listen to him. And you don’t know why, but a small part of you thinks that the boy who sleeps every period the book was discussed wouldn’t have much to say or contribute to such an open-ended prompt, but life is full of surprises. 

What you fail to notice is how Riki is nervous and his stomach does at least twenty flips before he swallows dryly and starts rambling in hopes to impress you and redeem himself from his embarrassing slumber a few days ago. 

“So you know how our prompt is based on one character and basically all their actions?” he asks, and you nod, absentmindedly thumbing a sheet in your journal. “I’m thinking we should talk about Jay Gatsby because so much is revealed to us about him that we might as well use it to our advantage. Y’know, talking about how the theme of exploitation and secrets is veiled under Gatsby’s desire for Daisy.”

“You don’t think Gatsby’s a good character?” Riki wants to tell you that Gatsby is more relatable than good or bad, but he shakes his head. 

“I mean, not really.” He feels like with those four words, he’s completely changed the trajectory of his relationship with you from a positive slope to completely downhill—and a wave of panic washes over him. “Should I? I mean, I could see him as more redeemable if you gave me examp-“

You wave your hand to quell his worries. “To be honest, I don’t like him either. But he’s an interesting main character to write about, so I think we should go with your idea.” 

To win your approval feels like he’s won at least three fights against a villain in a row without getting any bad injuries—it feels good. And for the rest of the period, you are able to finish a detailed outline of your work for the next few weeks, mapping out sections for each other, and he even gets to see a part of prom planning on a word document you had open. He considers your shared productivity a win when he packs up and bids you goodbye before leaving for lunch. 

One wave doesn’t catch Riki’s attention from across the room. Not even two, or three calls of his name could get Nishimura Riki out of his thoughts, and Jake frowns before moving up in the lunch line. 

“Something’s caught your eye again.” Jake feigns innocence and sighs dramatically as he places the food down next to Riki’s plate. “Could it possibly be our school treasurer?” Jake laughs, leaning over to catch a glimpse of what’s got his friend so entranced and non-responsive.

Riki scrunches his nose, annoyed, but never breaking his gaze from where you’re sitting. “We talked in class–like, a lot,” is all he says, paying his friend no mind. “She’s genuinely so understanding.”

“God, I don’t think you can be any more down bad for her than you are right now.” Jake picks at his food, and despite his concentration directed towards the olives on his pizza, he’s able to dodge the flying loaded nacho that goes his way, even if he wasn’t the one with superpowers.

“Can you shut up?” Riki grumbles, laying his head on his arms as he notices you smile and point to something. “I just got pummeled into a semi truck last week. Let me have this before I die tomorrow.” 

“Very grim,” his friend notes, ruffling the younger’s hair, “I think this is exactly what all of those mental health assemblies that we get are for.” And Riki basically tunes him out, too tired to fight and too used to the teasing remarks to come up with anything useful in response. 

Riki sits up a bit, letting his head rest on his propped elbow as he looks at the school food and touches another nacho gingerly. “Y’know, I read the book for English so she wouldn’t think I’m an idiot.” 

His friend snickers, successfully pulling out yet another sliced olive from the cheese, much to the disgust of Riki. “She probably already thinks you’re an idiot.” 

The superhero debates throwing another cheesy nacho in Jake's face, before deciding to eat it instead. “Don’t say that asshole! You make it seem like I have no chance with her.” 

Jake shoots him an exasperated look that makes Riki break eye contact. “That’s because you don’t.” 

“I’ll prove to her that I’m worth her time.” Riki says somewhat wistfully, still stealing glances from a few tables away. “Maybe I’ll ask her out to prom, show up in my suit. Do that cheesy upside down kiss shit people say Spiderman does.” When his friend raises an eyebrow at him, Riki shrugs. “I will! Well-maybe not the Spider-Man thing, but prom definitely.” 

Jake continues to look at him unconvinced as he takes a bite out of a slice of pizza with mangled cheese. “You barely talk to her in class and you think you can ask her out to prom as Nishimura Riki?” And the younger grins, eyes still stuck on how your eyes crinkle and how your shoulders shake with laughter. 

“Yup.” And his fate is sealed, just like that.

“What’s your project about, anyways? Didn’t you tell me last night that she gave you her number? Must be pretty serious if she wants to text you.” Riki furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head. 

“It’s just tying the theme of the book to one character and writing about how they show it. So we did the theme of money and Gatsby, because it’s easy and mentioned so many times.” 

Jake gawks. “You must really like her,”

“I was planning to read it regardless of who I was partnered with.” 

“Okay- that’s debatable.” There goes another one of Riki’s nachos.

“Gross.” 

He thinks things are going pretty well for you two. The report is being written and your quotes are basically finding themselves, so Riki should give himself a pat on the back for pitching the initial idea for how to go about your assignment. Maybe reading the whole book offered him a few useful pointers, and he goes to sleep that night satisfied with your progress. Maybe Heeseung and Jake were right—maybe he could finally ask you out by prom. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO SAVE THE CITY FROM YET ANOTHER MONSTER TERRORIZING THE STREETS.

He wakes up the next morning, not expecting his alarm to alert his senses to danger. It rings in his head and makes him feel delirious, trying to shake sleep off as he looks out the window for any visible sign of what's wrong. If he could hear the danger in his head then that meant someone could be hurt, and he could go to school without a few hours of sleep if he worked fast enough, right? 

Riki slips into his suit without much thought and goes to crack his window open, only to look back at his clock and read the horrific time of 6:23AM. 

Who the hell picks a fight with a teenager at this ungodly time? 

Then, he shoots from his wrists, once, twice, and suddenly, he's off, covering more ground through the air in just three seconds than he ever could while walking or running for minutes on end.

The source of his tingling spidey-sense is some large metal centipede creature that was setting off car alarms in a neighborhood near the market. Thankfully, no one was really awake to be caught in the crossfire, but he has to figure out how the hell he's going to catch that thing in...he checks his watch…twenty minutes? 

Hopefully, his instinct will help him win this time—again. 

The web he shoots out does nothing to stop the monster, and considering how it connected them both, the threads only drag the superhero to the edge of the building he was initially watching from. With some yelling and pulling, he finally detaches, and realizes that the odd sizzling feeling in his bonds must be from the same source as a few days ago; Spark. 

He had this gut feeling that a villain as strong as him wouldn’t have been destroyed so easily, but his wounds were so deep and the blood loss so bad from a few nights ago that he couldn’t have truly dumped him in the ocean without fainting or suffering something permanent, and although Riki hoped things in the universe would work itself out, the presence of the giant fifty foot insect alone is proof that things were not in his favor. 

He jumps off the building onto another, working quickly as he strings up a few webs between the houses as a wall for the monster, watching it slide and knock over cars in its wild pursuit. The monster spends a few seconds breaking down the wall of webbing and climbing over it, the many legs easily breaking through. As the superhero jumps across buildings and keeps track of the centipede’s movement, he has no idea why it isn’t going for him, and that makes his job much harder without the attention of the monster. One glance at the direction the centipede is headed in sets off another ding in Riki’s head—but this time, it finally clicks why the centipede is headed away from the boy. 

It’s attracted to the power plant. 

Riki immediately jumps and swings off of a lamp post, using the momentum of gravity and the force of his swing to propel him faster than the slithering creature. Squinting, he holds out his fist and points his pointer and pinky out, following the movement of the centipede as he aims. 

Bam. 

He sends clusters of silky white threads down precisely at the first pair of legs to pin it down. The webs stop the creature momentarily, and Riki doesn’t have time to watch how the body shrinks up and fizzes out with blue shocks as it tries to wiggle loose and malfunctions. This fight would be over soon, and the boy smiles when he jumps down to shoot more webs to apprehend the centipede. It wiggles and sends electricity out through parts of its body, trying to pry itself out. He expects it to simply be a robot of sorts following a mission considering its avoidant behavior, but as he approaches the tail, the monster suddenly swings at Riki, and its mass and speed is incomparable to the boy’s reaction speed. 

Riki lands into a tree and someone’s garage, feeling the crumbling wall falling all over him and the sudden pain blooming in his lower back. 

This fight will, in fact, not be over soon. 

With his superhuman abilities, Riki grabs onto the metal of the car beside him to hoist himself up, coughing from the dust, and jumping over the rubble to see how quickly the centipede creature can get out, without regard for his current state. The sound and rumble of the giant monster is all he needs to know that the traps are effective, but not at the previous capacity. 

The plan is simple: apprehend the legs and crush the head, where Riki assumes the decision-making and programming is taking place. But the monster’s angry and erratic actions throw a wrench in his plan. Its legs move faster, digging into the cement and leaving ruin in its wake as it continues down the road. While both the villain and superhero are fast, the distance between the power plant is finite—and only grows smaller and smaller.  

Although Riki can feel the bruises coming, he runs and swings, hearing the wind in his ears as he catches up to the centipede in no time. He tries the same tactics again–aim, shoot, stick, all the while keeping his distance. Although the monster’s body spans incredibly long, and should carry an immense amount of weight, the way it snaps at Riki’s flying body and sends shockwaves through his core leaves him shivering as his body slams into the ground, coughing. It hurts all over, and it feels like there’s weight on his eyes when he tries to open them and get up. His head is spinning as he staggers onto his knees, clutching his chest as he watches the centipede shrivel and crackle. 

It seems like the voltage produced is a double-ended sword, one that burns up the centipede body as much as it deals damage, and with the way the mutant creeps towards the electricity of the plant, Riki gets the feeling there’s a magnetic pull that forces the mutant to continue to crawl even against its instinct to stop. 

Despite his waning strength, however, Riki knows better than to half finish the job like last time. He creates a net from experience, weaving together the thickest and most durable threads to trap the entirety of the slowly approaching creature. It seems to crawl slowly up the makeshift barrier, knocking its head against the white and spreading the bright blue waves of its energy throughout. The boy watches as the thin white mass absorbs all of it and clings to the creature. It works, finally, after his attempts to nullify its movements, and he knows that despite the ache in his every step, the almost mummified centipede that hangs between several roofs for all the neighbors to gawk at is his sure sign of victory. 

All he remembers is hearing a familiar call of his hero name before his legs give out and his head hits Jake’s chest. 

Holy fucking shit is the first thing Riki thinks when he wakes up. 

He’s not out of his tattered suit and he feels grimy all over, but his body has done wonders in reducing the otherwise fatal injuries he got. No human body should be able to withstand two energy-filled blasts, but his suit and superhuman healing are of greater help than ever in alleviating the damage from his wounds. 

He knows why he’s in his bed with bandages thrown over his open wounds. He knows that every time something like this happens, it’s Jake who shoos away the concerned civilians, telling them he’s a medic. Jake is not a medic—rather, he’s a seventeen year-old boy who knows about his friend’s double life and with all the times he’s saved Riki, someone might as well dub him the greatest medic of all time. 

The clock on his bedside table has only served as a bearer of bad news. He looks over to see how it’s practically midday, and he’s missed yet another day of school from fighting crime. He’s in no condition to get up or get his bag, seeing how his hair is frizzy and his cheek has a cut that would warrant questioning. It seems only fair that he stays absent, and before he falls back asleep, he only prays you aren’t too mad at him for leaving the seat next to you empty.

But you aren’t mad, just worried. The soreness in his muscles doesn’t go away though, and he groans when he sits up in his bed, with bandages around his arms and an ice pack discarded next to him. 

He’s most definitely not coming to school like this. 

While you bore holes into the clock hanging off the wall, that doesn’t speed up the time. Two minutes pass, then another minute. As your classmates find their partners and begin discussing, you notice how the room gets louder with the due date looming near. It’s the first time you’re alone without the familiar boy beside you, and something hangs low in your chest when you put in a pair of earphones and open your laptop. 

Riki’s absence should have no effect on you. After all, you’re both just high school students who’ve talked once or twice, and yet you still look over at the empty chair. Staring doesn’t make Riki appear, though, and you return to your edits. It feels empty without his insight, or without him asking you to help him with a passage. Riki was your solution to all things boring. If he wasn’t doing his work, then you two were laughing at something on his phone. And if you agreed to both do something other than the report, then you could ask for an extra opinion when deciding prom details. There was something freeing about working with him that attracted you. Riki knew how to lighten the mood on days that weren’t so good for you, but he also worked hard and let loose at the same time. There was a perfect balance in Riki’s life that you aspired to have; it was a good mix of playful, dedicated, and fun all in the same vein. 

The words blend together on your screen. Jay Gatsby this, Tom Buchanan that, it all looks monotonous the more you keep trying to read and comprehend what exactly you’re talking about. 

Before class is dismissed, Mr. Yoo steps to the front of the classroom to gather everyone’s attention. He introduces your new novel for the next month, explaining yet another large assignment associated with the text. 

Truth be told, you don’t pay attention to any of it. 

The only thing you remember to do is to grab extra copies of the printed graphic organizers, as you get out of your seat and rush out when class ends in pursuit of one specific boy. 

“Sim Jaeyun!” The call of his name diverts Jake’s attention from his phone to your waving arm as you weave through the students and finally reach him. 

“You can just call me Jake,” he explains, “what’s up?” 

You begin to reach into your backpack, trying to feel for your folder, and pull out a few sheets. “These are for Riki.” 

Jake cheers internally for his friend who’s busy recovering at home. “What, you got a crush on him or something?” 

He tries to play it cool by teasing you, but the smile you bite back leaves the boy questioning if there really is anything going on. Jake knows better than to tell you anything about Riki’s feelings, and opts to instead grab the papers and to thank you for looking out for his friend. 

“Is Riki okay?” You have to know, just to make sure he’ll be here tomorrow to cure your boredom. 

What Jake says is much different than the nonchalant wave and half grin he gives you. “He’s just bedridden.” 

“That’s pretty serious! Did he come down with anything?” He seemed fine yesterday, so what’s the catch?

He blurts, “He just got badly hurt.” 

Immediately, Jake knows he’s fucked up. 

Your confusion and silence answers him far more than words ever could–he basically hears the gears turning slowly in your head.

Jake weakly defends, “His parents had a fight with him because he hit his head or something. He’ll be fine by tomorrow. Just bedridden from sadness, y’know?” 

The look you give him is unconvinced, but when Heeseung pats him on the shoulder and waves to you, the boy realizes that maybe staying quiet would’ve been the better decision. 

“I’ll see you later, ____.” And he’s off, waving half-heartedly and dragging a very confused Heeseung out of the cafeteria. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO WAKE YOU UP AS GENTLY AS HE CAN.

Ever since March started and flowers began to bloom, your energy seemed to do the opposite, dwindling until Riki catches you mirroring his frequent in-class action: sleeping. And it worries him beyond belief, because you’re not the type to fall asleep like… ever. However, Riki does not have the heart to wake you up, even if it’s with a little nudge that you probably barely feel with how light he taps. It breaks his heart to have to ask you to review what he has done, because the bell is about to ring and the teacher might just send you to detention if he catches you off-task. 

The allergies always make Mr. Yoo irritable, and Riki knows not to get on his nerves. 

Your eyes flutter open to the pokes and prodding from none other than Nishimura Riki, who gazes at you softly when you adjust to the bright classroom setting once more. 

Panic settles in. “Wait- how long was I sleeping for?” 

He shrugs and scrunches his nose, not giving you an answer as he finishes scribbling something in his notebook. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Your hand squeezes into a fist at the frustration that you’ve let your partner down. 

And yet, Riki seems to be unfazed, frowning when he sees you stressing out. “Don’t ever sweat the little things, yeah? If there’s anything you ever need to talk about–trust me, I know what it’s like to have a lot of pressure on your shoulders.”

Smiling at him, you respond with, “Thank you, really.” 

Being treasurer is daunting in the spring. It’s full of requests, forms, and small tasks that leave you spent by the end of the day. “But,” you glance at the clock to see just how much time is left, “how’d you know?” 

He motions to your open computer with a now dark screen. “I saw your document pulled up. ____’s tasks or else she will be kicked out of student government,” he taunts, snickering when your eyes grow wide with embarrassment and you lightly nudge his shin with your foot in warning. 

“It’s not polite to snoop,” and although you say that, you catch something in your peripheral vision. It’s a few drawings of a figure and gadget drawn, shaded from rigid shapes with small descriptions pointing to different places. You weren’t sure what was more surprising; how good the drawings were, or the subject of his imagination. 

Weird. Inherently, there was nothing wrong with Riki drawing a villain, and you chalked it up to him being creative. Nothing more, nothing less. 

He puts his hands up in surrender at your last comment, his grin showing anything but. Just one look at the boy makes you realize that everything you’ve just thought about is foolish. 

There’s no way he’d have time to be a villain and a student. With one final thought, you let your raging thoughts rest and focus on the present; him. You’ve seen his hair messy, especially after his naps, but when Riki tries to style it like how he did today, you pay more attention to the streaks of blonde and how he often hides behind his bangs and scrunches his nose. It’s cute. He’s cute.

The truth is, you enjoy being around him like this, joking around and never worrying too much about your responsibilities and expectations. It’s refreshing. Being around Riki gives you the feeling that things will be okay in the end. 

You snap out of your thoughts to see that his desk is empty, while your’s hasn’t changed one bit.

“You’re going to sell prom tickets now, right?” He makes small talk before leaving for lunch, closing the notebook you were suspiciously eying before slipping it into his bag. 

“Yup,” you answer, popping the ‘p,’ “I’ll see you later,” and you two part ways.

All the long lines and constant distribution of change doesn’t allow much wiggle room for you to daydream. As time goes on, the ticket-selling line grows smaller and smaller, but the only thing you truly care about is eating the lunch your parents packed you. Your sandwich is probably sad and soggy now that there are only a few minutes of lunch left. When you finally sign off one last time after triple checking the forms are all correct, you let out a sigh, leaning back and finally getting a break. 

Then, it hits you that you’re not even sure if the boy you’re fawning over is attending the biggest event of the year, and you feel stupid for forgetting to ask. 

-

Yesterday was a rookie’s mistake–today, you’d make sure you get an answer from him.

“Are you going to prom, Riki?” is the first thing you ask when he sits down, grabbing his book and laptop with a little too much enthusiasm. 

“I’m thinking about it.” Yeah, whatever confidence he had when convincing himself he’d ask you out isn’t serving him well at this moment. Quite frankly, Riki feels lame as ever trying to be nonchalant around you. “You?” 

“I’d have to set up, so I would be there, yes. But whether or not I have a date is another story.” You smile to lighten the mood, but Riki watches you and nods, focusing back on signing into his laptop and getting his notes for the new book you’re reading. 

“Well, you’re not the only single one here.” And he wants to reprimand himself for saying something without thinking. “If someone asked, would you say yes?”

You think about it carefully, really because you don’t have anyone in mind when it comes to prom if Riki’s not planning on going. “It’d have to be someone I know—someone I talk to somewhat regularly. I’d be nice to be with someone who doesn’t make it awkward.”

Nishimura Riki might die from over-thinking if he keeps on wondering whether or not he fits that description to a tee.

RIKI'S TO-DO LIST BEFORE PROM

☐  talk to ____ regularly 

☐  don't make it awkward 

☐  be..cute? 

The boy decides that his superhuman responsibilities might be easier to complete than any of those three things. 

He switches the subject to stop his head from hurting too much. “Did you finish the report?” 

You still, and Riki’s question reminds you of the report looming over your head. In your defense, you two hadn’t brought it up much in the past week, and he didn’t seem to worry over how much of your time was spent emailing teachers or making spreadsheets. Although caught off guard, you’re quick to respond with, “What did we have to finish? I thought we were done since last week, but if there’s anything else-” 

“Sorry,” he rushes out, biting his lip, “I meant, if you finished reading it.” And the answer is no, you haven’t read it since your last edit on it three days ago. 

Within a few clicks, you find the document and scroll to the bottom, seeing the small note that Riki left that said ‘let me know how it looks.’ It’s sweet to know he thought about your input as much as you did his. 

“While some can agree that Gatsby’s rise into high society was sketchy, Gatsby still retains the same reserved character from years ago, and doesn’t manipulate others into success or use his money for nefarious purposes. It’s not like he changed after his wealth, and it could be argued Gatsby loved Daisy until his last breath and was willing to die as long as she was happy, emphasizing the theme of sacrifice. 

So, is Jay Gatsby a good person? The question targets the morality of a character who many can empathize with. Those who are charmed by his overwhelming love for Daisy would say that he’s committed textbook crimes, but focus more on the intent behind it. To pine after someone from a distance isn’t easy, but to pursue her after years of separation is even harder. It’s universally agreed, however, that love as a driving force doesn’t nullify what he’s done to others and the dirty schemes he’s enacted to gain the power he has. Therefore, Gatsby makes for an interesting main character, and highlights just how twisted a system around money can be.” 

The last page is–for the most part–his writing, and your admiration for him grows when you finish reading and scroll to hit your Works Cited page.

“It’s good,” you tell him wholeheartedly, “Didn’t think you had it in you.” 

Riki cracks a smile at your light teasing, soaking up your praise. 

“Now you know.” He shrugs. And he can only hope that you like him as much as you like his literary skills. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE COMES TO THE REALIZATION THAT HE IS EXACTLY LIKE JAY GATSBY,JUST WITHOUT THE MONEY—DESPERATE FOR THE GIRL OF HIS DREAMS, DYING YOUNG, AND A FRAUD HIDING BEHIND SECRETS.

Nevermind the last one, he has to hide when he has an identity to protect as the city’s only superhero, but Riki feels his heart sink to his heels when he read a few weeks ago how much Gatsby simply adores Daisy. When Gatsby died, he scoffed, closing the book with a sudden disinterest. If he were the male lead, he wouldn’t have been laying in a pool for target practice. Maybe being a superhero teaches you how to avoid being easy bait for all your enemies, or maybe Gatsby was too carried away with love to think straight. 

Fighting crime gives you insurmountable experience with sneaking around, but it wasn’t something he could just teach to anyone. When he gets this horrible gut feeling that something’s happened to you, he just knew something was wrong. He might not be easy to catch, but for anyone else? Definitely.  

For everyone else, prom was a month away, but for you, it was three weeks of talking to your advisor and president, arguing with your other board members, and sitting behind that damn money box for another five days to sell tickets. For you, it was realizing that you were supposed to buy streamers and balloons yesterday on your way home from school. It was the thinly veiled disappointment in your board member’s texts when they told you they were at a loss for words. ‘I’m sorry, and I know you’re busy, but how could you forget? Prom is so important for all of us. What if they don’t have what you need anymore?’ It all repeated in your head as you bit your lip in frustration and slipped on the first pair of shoes you could find. Although it was dark and dangerous, you could care less if it meant avoiding the passive aggressive comments you’d get tomorrow during your meeting.

There it is again: that little tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings. 

You yelp when you feel someone grabbing your wrist and pulling you in, muffling your screams as he pulls you along. To see him on the news was worrying, but to see Spark in person with your life on the line is even worse. 

Tears spring to your eyes as you struggle against the metal to no avail, and you curse every previous moment you spent worrying about balloons rather than your safety.

Spark suddenly stops, shoving you against the wall before his hand grabs a brick with his metal arm, beginning to climb. “Don’t let go.” And you don’t think twice before holding on.

The city view would be beautiful if you weren’t hearing your heartbeat in your ears or if you weren’t dangling from the railing of some company building, trying to wiggle yourself free of the rope around your wrists. 

Spark speaks up, drumming his fingers on the railing next to you. “You wouldn’t happen to know where your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is, would you?” And you furrow your eyebrows, genuinely questioning for a moment if he really knew how the superhero operated. 

A voice from across the street puts a temporary hold on your thoughts, and you glance up to see a flash of blue and red soaring through the air, followed by a groan and a beam of light next to you. Seeing Spark’s powers right in front of you spurs you into action, yanking at the rope and trying to take tiny steps away from where they were fighting.

“From what I’m seeing, you wanted to hold someone hostage because you’re not feeling too good, huh?” Spider-Man shouts as he shoots out webs and blocks hits. You shake your head in partial disbelief of how unserious he is, but also how unbelievable all of this seems. “You tried to take a potion or something? I’m going to tell you this now, but these usually don’t work.” 

Riki’s assumption is right, and considering how Spark now has a leg and arm from metal instead of just the arm, the procedure for the additional limb couldn’t have been easy. The superhero still proceeds with caution, making sure to pay attention to anything new as he dodges and fights back. 

The villain immediately gets back up, stumbling for a moment before he regains his stance and runs towards the boy. You hear the clanging of fist hitting metal from their fight, and considering the difference in height and build, you’d expect Spider-Man to be easily flung to the side, but he holds his weight in battle. 

Riki aims for around the left shoulder, where an abundance of stitches cover the skin and fuse the metal into muscle. He lands a hit, and almost another one, before a punch to the side knocks him from his momentum. The boy wheezes when his back makes instant contact with the ground, rolling and getting up before Spark has time to shoot. 

He notices how quickly the gadget generates electricity now. Before, the beams took longer, and were easily predictable, but now, it glows bright for a moment before it fires directly in Riki’s path. The boy dodges the first, but the second one almost hits the top of his head before he ducks and creates distance. 

From the roof-top, Riki scans his surroundings before making the split-second decision to jump. 

He swings to the other side of the building, keeping you in his peripheral vision as he works on apprehending the villain in front of him. They spring into yet another fist fight, with Riki’s agility easily letting him avoid punches and land precise hits to make the previous injuries even worse. 

You think Spider-Man has the upper hand in this, seeing as how none of Spark’s punches seem to slow down the superhero, but you hear something loud before you can register it. 

You figure out what happened after Riki stumbles and suffers a blow to the stomach, sending him tumbling to the edge of the building. Spark knew that Spider-Man was avoiding his left arm—he knew that one wrong move paired with the tungsten material would have a lasting effect on the superhero’s fist. 

Riki coughs from the impact before his spidey-sense rings, pulling him back into battle as he runs as fast as his body can take him. 

You. He still needs to save you. 

With renewed vigor, he continues to avoid the flying sparks as he ducks between structures and uses the terrain to his advantage. He can tell, though, that the villain is slowing down. The shots are less accurate–a telltale sign that the enhancer Spark tried is working against him. 

Between all of the chaos, Riki finally lands a proper web, yanking as hard as he can to pull Spark to the ground. He stumbles, grasping at thin silk before Riki lets go on his side. The villain’s balance is off, giving the boy an advantage as he closes the distance, hopping over a thrown slab of metal and landing a solid kick into Spark’s ribcage. As he stays down, Riki continues to aim for muscle and flesh, his head spinning as he packs punch after punch to keep the villain apprehended. 

Spark’s body–curled into itself to absorb the hits the best that he can– hides the growing blue flash that he’s slowly charging up with his remaining power. The moment it escapes from under his abdomen, Riki directs his efforts towards avoiding the electric glimmer. The villain rolls over, his body tattered from the consistent injuries, and he fires what seems like an intense bullet of energy. It zips by the boy’s cheek, cutting the mask and leaving blood to run down in its wake. Time slows down as the superhero tries to process the unlocked speed of the burst, and Spark loses focus marveling at his new abilities. Never before had either of them seen power so concentrated, and it inflicts both fear and excitement. 

He lifts his arm, the other holding it up for support, and Spider-Man notices the fizzle of bright blue. Riki’s about to jump out of the way, preparing for yet another high-speed bullet, but before Spark fires, something clicks. The arm doesn’t directly point to Riki–but it skews off to the right.

Except, he’s no longer aiming for Riki in the split second that the boy blinks. He’s suddenly aiming at you, where your hands are tied to the railing and your feet are dangling from the bent metal that holds you precariously over the edge, leaving a fifty foot drop in its wake. When you see the blue energy in the villain’s palm growing slowly bigger, you pull at the rope desperately with zero regard to the tender rawness of your wrists. 

In your attempt to somehow break the rope, your cry of fear snaps Spider-Man into action. 

Riki pushes his sore body to jump as quick as he can, leaping across the rooftop to the building over. He easily avoids the metal railing, grabbing onto your arm as he yanks hard on the rope, the force of it separating a piece of metal from the railing. He immediately jumps, sending out a web to swing him back up. It all happens in a flash–first, you were bound to the edge about to fall to your death, and all of a sudden, you’re tightly pressed against Spider-Man’s chest with your bound wrists still attached to the metal. Shutting your eyes, you trust Spider-Man entirely, closing your eyes to avoid seeing just how far up you were. Wind rushes in your ears and leaves your stomach fluttering with butterflies until the superhero sets you down on a secluded rooftop. 

“Please,” he begs, “don’t leave. I’ll be right back.” 

You’d be a fool to do anything but wait. 

Riki checks on you one last time before diving down, springing himself back up with another web. The damage from the blasts is recognizable even from far away, and yet, he notices the reflective shine of a metal arm on the edge of the building before Spark lets go. 

To Riki, Spark is dead after dropping from a fall having taken that much damage, but he hears no impact. Making haste, the boy fails to find any figure no matter how hard he looks, but Spark’s laboratory has to be here somewhere. The badge from a week ago was stuck on Riki’s mind, and he could only imagine the reasons why he pursued this life. Was he recreating something? If he needs to power some sort of machine, then the heart of the city is a perfect place to harness the electricity for any large scale project. As much as he wants to dedicate the rest of the night to searching the city for some sort of clue, the fact that you’re still stranded on that rooftop after having just experienced a life-changing event blares like an alarm in his mind. 

He quickly leaves, returning to where you’re seated.

Without the fear of falling to your death from earlier, you were able to focus on undoing the knots from the rope. Red scratch marks and irritation bloom on your wrist, and the reality of it all happening still hasn’t settled in. Despite not being harmed once, the fear and incessant pounding of your heart overwhelms your senses, and it leaves you heaving with confusion. 

A pair of footsteps only become apparent as Riki walks closer, taking a seat beside you and letting out a large sigh. He stares at the stars silently as if he doesn’t have a cut on his cheek and bruises waiting to paint his skin purple–as if he isn’t hiding his true self under a facade. 

“You’re not hurt, are you?” You shake your head, grateful that Spider-Man was the reason you got away without a real injury.

“Thank you, really, for saving me. I don’t know how you manage to do it.” 

Riki chuckles under the mask. “Eh, you get used to it,” you hear Spider-Man say. “You fight a couple bad guys, get over a fear of heights and eventually you get the hang of things.” 

Scoffing, you gently rub at your wrists to ease the redness. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t been taught a crash course on how to avoid being supervillain bait just yet.” 

“Maybe you should learn it sometime,” Riki responds absentmindedly, “someone like you shouldn’t have been out so late doing whatever it could’ve been.” 

Sighing, your mind drifts off to think about the balloons and streamers that are not in your hand. “I had stuff for my upcoming events.” 

He knew about all of it when you’d explain your cryptic reminders and notes on your computer, but he still feigns curiosity. “What upcoming events?” 

“Just prom,” and he hears just how strained it makes you. 

Riki tilts his head in faux confusion. “What do you have to do for prom?” 

He notices how you immediately slump, as if the mere mention of prom deflates your happiness. “It’s only a few weeks away, and I was supposed to get decorations for our venue yesterday. I just wanted to slip out before my parents noticed.” 

Despite the fabric over his eyes, Riki’s expression shifts from surprise to pity when he understands your stakes. “You still need to be careful. Is your student council strict?” 

“Not strict necessarily, but judgemental–I ran for the position because I thought I could help my school raise funds and find more opportunities, but it just feels like no one truly wants to try anything new.” You wave it off as if it’s not that important, as if it isn’t the reason why you find yourself stressed so often. “I just don’t want to disappoint or give people something to talk about.” 

Despite not being involved with school the same way you are, the boy next to you resonates with the fear you currently face. The fear of letting people down was a large part of why Riki continued to put on that mask and step into the most dangerous situation of his life; he never wanted to sit down to hear the news that Spider-Man quit. 

So he keeps doing his job, even if some days are harder and some fights aren’t worth winning–just like what you do. 

“Yeah, I get that,” he tries to console, “You must be doing a lot for everyone around you, and I’m sure a lot of people appreciate what you’ve done. Don’t beat yourself up too much, yeah? You’ll always have me.” He smiles, but he knows you don’t see it. You’re looking at the stars, trying to calm your mind and return to your life before everything happened. 

You glance over at Spider-Man, wondering if he’ll truly be around for you when you need it. “If I need to talk to you, should I step out of my house past 8PM again?” 

Riki chuckles, watching clouds slowly dim the moon’s glow in their path. “If I’m not fighting crime, I’ll show up at a moment’s notice.” 

There’s no way he means it, but you grin, feeling a lot of the pressure and stress of earlier slowly wash away. After all, nothing happened to you–Spider-Man made sure of it. Maybe things really were going to be okay. 

“Let’s get you home, yeah? Don’t you have stuff to do anyways?” 

You shrug, nothing really coming to mind. As you get up, you remember having to run a plagiarism check on your work, and how Riki told you to text him when you got home after your student government meeting. 

Riki. Spark. Spider-Man. 

“Wait,” you tell Spider-Man, sitting back down on the cement, “I need to talk to you about something else, too.” 

“It’s not like my dinner’s getting cold,” the superhero mumbles quiet enough that you can’t hear. 

“There’s this guy,” you start, paying no mind to how dirty your clothes are getting when you cross your legs. 

Spider-Man scoffs, looking off into the distance, and it makes you believe he has to be your age or older. “You have a crush on him, or something?” And a whole tidal wave of deja vu hits you in the chest. 

‘He must be badly hurt’ isn’t just something people say. People don’t just draw insanely detailed drawings of Spark’s arm and machines without notes to follow unless they knew. People wouldn't just randomly miss school without any impending signs. You’re sure of it–the tired naps in class, the random drawings of superheroes and superhumans alike, or how awkward he could act–it all makes sense.

Your classmate, aka Nishimura Riki, aka the guy who you’ve questioned if you had a crush on for the past few days, might be a villain. 

The swirling feeling of trepidation in your stomach leaves three words running around your head. 

What. The. Fuck. 

Although you tried so hard to stop thinking about it, Jake’s comment from before rubbed you the wrong way. It was sometime last week where you couldn't get your mind off of the implications of his words, but that feeling was brushed underneath your responsibilities. 

Until now. 

“Yeah, there’s this guy,” you breathe, feeling your chest constrict, “Nishimura Riki. I think he’s Spark.” 

His blood runs cold. 

“You think this…why?” 

You take a deep breath, trying to organize all your thoughts. “Well, first, it was his friend, Jake. He said that Riki was badly hurt, and I was really confused at first, but tried to let it go.” 

Riki was going to strangle his best friend. 

“And then, I was looking at him in class, right? And keep in mind, he’s pretty cute, and we sit next to each other, so I just noticed how good his hair looked that day, but his notebook was out, and I saw all these drawings of Spark. Like, the arms, the metal things, even the projectiles! Who would know the ins and outs of that thing if it wasn’t Spark himself?”

He didn’t know what to think about first; the fact that you gushed about him for the first time, or if he should even tell you that Spider-Man would know those things, too. 

“And sometimes, I notice he’s a little awkward around me. I can’t explain it. It’s like he’s paying attention to me. That must’ve been why he captured me.” He wants to laugh at how damn close you are to figuring it out, but in reality, nothing is funny about the situation. 

Nishimura Riki is actually listening to this, right now, as Spider-Man–not Spark. The awkwardness, though? It was his crush on you, and was not superhuman related in the slightest.  

“I don’t know,” he attempts to divert, pretending to focus, “I saw a badge for FLiGHT. You know the company that’s been making time traveling machines? I saw a glimpse of his name and face. It’s not that guy you mentioned.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “And you haven’t gotten him caught?” 

“Villains aren’t easy to find, y’know. It’s not like playground hide and seek,” Riki defends, crossing his arms. 

You shrink in your spot, feeling sheepish for questioning a superhero so bluntly. 

“Plus,” he continues, “Spark has never had a hostage. Wouldn’t it be pretty mean of that friend of yours to kidnap a girl from his class?” 

“Yeah—that makes sense. Thank god,” you breathe, closing your eyes momentarily. “Then what do you suspect all that evidence leads to? Maybe he’s a secret agent?” 

“I think,” Riki continues to keep up his clueless facade, “Your friend might just be clumsy. Or creative. I mean, maybe he went through a break-up?” Nice one, Riki. 

You shake your head. “No, there’s no way he has a girlfriend. You’d think I like guys who are taken?” Scoffing lightly, you then remembered that Spider-Man really would have no idea who any of you are. 

He shrugs and stands up stretching before motioning for you to follow him. “I have no idea what you high school kids do. Come on, let’s get you home.” 

As you hug him tight, the cold air whips around your body and leaves goosebumps in their wake. You barely open your eyes from the fear of seeing yourself inches from hitting a building or up in the air. Spider-Man only yells his confirmation after asking how to get you home, finally placing you on the ground outside of your large gate. 

“Thank you for saving me tonight.”

“Anytime. Figure things out with that friend of yours, and don’t go out late, okay?” You nod and take his words to heart. 

“Goodnight, Spiderman.” 

—-

Nishimura might die. One, because he has this horrible guilty feeling in his stomach, and two, because of a villain. 

Yesterday, he ignored the salmon and rice bowl that waited for him back at home, choosing to follow the coordinates he saved on his phone after he took you home. It led him to a seemingly harmless auto-shop, with an arrow on his GPS pointing to a garage that was shut down completely with nails and blocked with boxes. The exterior pointed to it being abandoned, but Riki suddenly saw some light coming from a makeshift above.

The boy scaled the wall as quietly as possible, glancing into the source of the whirring. He caught small glimpses of something–metal, glowing, blue. 

Or at least, for a few seconds it was on until the power went out. 

The voice that complained from inside the room sounded identical to the man Riki fought. Spark grumbled, turning on a flashlight and quickly waving it around. Riki ducked from the window and held his breath, waiting for the man to suspect something. 

Nothing. 

One lightbulb slowly flickered back on, and then the other dingy light followed. The space was cramped with the metal equipment in the middle, resembling what Riki had seen in the news. 

He was right–it was the same time travel portal that was ruined from a few months ago. 

Spider-Man continued to observe the man as he worked and drilled, plugging certain wires or pausing momentarily to read from a journal. To anyone, it’d seem peaceful, like some sort of renovation project. But in reality, it was so much more than that. 

Riki searched for any sort of information about the machine, trying to see what exactly was left to do until his gaze landed on something. 

There was some sort of date on a bright pink sticky-note, and Riki’s eyes widened when he finally comprehends it. 

The machine was scheduled to be completed tomorrow. 

-

A street lamp next to Riki dies out—which was a clear sign that something was powering up. From the dark, he hears the metal from the same place as last night moving again, and he knows that Spark has left. His presence sends anyone down the street and immediately running, leaving the area for only them two. 

Riki finally sees the completed metal build. Half of his body is wrapped in or replaced with metal parts as he sets down the metal portal, beginning to push it in the direction of the power plant. 

A truck or car would make things much easier, but whatever.

Riki wants to cry from fear and run away. He wants to leave and pretend he never saw anything from last night. 

He’s going to die fighting Spark and he will quite literally a) never finish highschool and get that stupid diploma, b) finish explaining how Gatsby is not a good person and is naturally selfish, and c) he’s never going to tell you how he’s had a small crush on you ever since he saw your cute campaign video as to why you should vote y/n l/n for student body treasurer last spring. 

“You sure that thing works?” Riki asks, jumping into action as he sends webs to immobilize the machine. 

“You’re annoying, you know that?” Spark sends a projectile in the superhero’s direction, hitting the wall behind him instead as Riki jumps out of the way.

With another duck mid-air and the roof of a flying car dangerously close to his nose, Riki thanks the dance practice he does for his flexibility as he shoots another web and swings away. 

Spark is uncontrollable by now, sucking the light from street lamps and fizzing wires in his wake. He has no idea how he’s supposed to get in contact with the villain like before. The body of his suit fizzes with bright electricity that sizzles and pops. It illuminates Spark’s figure, making him easy to spot, but not so easy to defeat. It’s an overload of power, causing the voltage to escape between the joints and gaps of the metal pieces in his suit. And Riki can feel it; the air is heightened and so are the stakes of this fight—and with how the man that stands in front of him looks upgraded and menacing, he knows only one person can make it out of this fight alive. 

“You injected the city’s ‘Gas and Electric’ into your system or what?” Riki calls out, making light of the situation. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s scared out of his wits seeing the six foot figure with blue and white shooting from every crack, looking like a nightmare to touch.

Riki avoids a few more angrily thrown objects, using the momentum of his jump from the side of the building to zip from the top of a yellow fire hydrant to go from one side of the street to the other. “You’re slow!” He taunts, tucking in his legs to avoid a shot of electricity directed at him. 

The screech of metal from the nearby hydrant can be heard as the top flings off, making Riki lose his anchor/ Before he can process it, instead of smoothly landing on the building, he crashes into it faster than expected, groaning when his back makes contact with the glass and he tumbles into the living room of someone’s apartment. 

“Fuck,” he curses, fighting his aching limbs to get up once more. 

And the solution hits him. Literally. 

When he steps out and quickly attaches a web to the top of the building, he’s met on the way up with a splash of water from the hydrant to his face, and Riki splutters as he wipes his mask, regaining focus as he lands on the concrete and hides behind the ledge. 

Water. If he can get it in contact with Spark and pour enough water on the right spot, the excess of electricity blazing from his mechanical body should work against him. 

“Too scared? You should know better than to run away.” The superhero rolls his eyes, crawling away silently to avoid being seen by Spark. Riki does his best to look around for something, and finds a black flower pot in the corner, using a web to grab it before he scales the side of the building and runs away while Spark is distracted as the villain also climbs the wall to face him there. But when Spark climbs the ledge and scans the premise, Riki is nowhere to be seen. 

Instead, Riki swings across the street and fills the pot with water, heaving the extra weight as he shouts out from the sudden pain in his side. He stumbles on the pavement, crying out from the injury as the pot falls with his whole plan. 

Maybe this is where Spider-Man dies. 

He sucks in a deep breath before rolling from his back onto his knees, ignoring the wound to pick up the flower pot. The hydrant still shoots out water, and the superhero rushes towards it, causing Spark to follow. He narrowly avoids another shot from behind him, reaching the yellow hydrant before dropping the pot on the ground. Spark is th 

While Spark has always been intelligent, Riki could tell that the man didn’t fear the water, believing he’d be invincible to the elements now that his suit was perfected. There was something off, Riki could tell, and he would make sure to use it to his advantage. Spark was uncontrolled, and his powers drastically decreased the more he used them. There’s no way his body isn’t in overdrive with how recklessly he’s been letting himself get hurt. 

Riki uses a web to get himself on higher ground instead of fighting, waiting for the supervillain to follow. If he could get Spark off the edge and fall into the growing puddle of water, it should slow him down. 

Spark scoffs. “Run away, then. Like you always have.” Riki hears the wall crumbling under the villain as he climbs within seconds, immediately preparing to fight when he makes it onto the rooftop. But Spider-Man was also prepared, jumping from his crouched hiding position and attempting to catch Spark off guard. 

All he can focus on now is pushing him off. There’s no way it’d be easy, considering he had to focus on his touching any of the electricity off of his suit. Riki delivers a kick to Spark in the ribcage near his heart, where he’s fused metal into flesh. The villain coughs before taking a step back, his metal arm reaching for Riki’s outstretched leg. He grabs it, twisting with anger before the boy meets the ground in a violent throw. Not only is the slam greater because of the enhanced strength, but the power seeps into Riki’s skin, leaving it hot from the energy radiating off of his palm. 

The boy groans, flipping to his side to avoid a fatal hit to the chest. He reaches for Spark’s normal arm, swinging the villain’s body away with as force as he could to create distance between them. 

Riki has been in enough fights to simply know when to run, even if he doesn’t know what’s coming. He could feel the tingle of the charge as it powered up, and with its energy so unrestrained and its user so unstable, the large attempt to hit Riki sends the villain stumbling back from the force. The more Spark uses his powers, the more likely he’s going to end up dead. 

“Your skin can handle that anymore!” he shouts, getting ready to swing himself closer as a plan manifests itself in his head. “You’ll die like this!” 

Spark seems to know that too as he wipes his mouth and recovers from Riki’s attacks. 

“You think I care?” He shouts, desperately pressing his wounds to stop the bleeding. “You think I have anything else for myself?” The vulnerability of his character shines through as he clutches his bleeding wound without regenerative powers to help. “You think I didn’t know that when I did it to myself--what they did to me?” 

Riki doesn’t respond, grimacing as he continues hand-to-hand combat. Although he takes a solid punch to his jaw that’s forming a deep purple bruise, he manages to trip Spark onto the ground.

The man stumbles back from the head injury, the pounding from earlier not letting him to think straight. Riki doesn’t try to injure him anymore, but he instead blocks an incoming punch and tries to force Spark towards the edge. 

The villain barely notices how much space there is left, and the boy lunges with full force. They tackle each other into the ground, and Riki gets off after apprehending him once more. 

The city's a mess, and Spider-Man’s eyes want to shut down so badly, but he takes a few steps in Spark’s direction, pushing him off the side of the building as quickly as he can. Riki hears the thud before he peeks over the edge, seeing the water erode all of the engineering from the machinery. He slowly descends from the rooftop. 

“You were in the accident, huh?” Riki shouts on top of the plethora of sounds. Pain, buzzing electricity, splashes of water as he lands next to Spark; it all echoes in his ears as he pours the water from the pot on Spark’s body. “Why did you try it? Why did you want to go back so bad?”

“If I could go back,” Spark coughs, trying to get away from the large pool of water, “I could’ve prevented the accident from taking the lives of the people around me. I could’ve saved them.” 

Spider-Man understands loss, and he understands the regret that comes with failure. He understands how the man in front of him feels after having everything taken away from him, but his emotions could never justify his actions. 

“You know you can’t change things,” Riki responds, “You tried your best, Spark.” It’s the last thing Riki tells the villain before his body slumps and police sirens grow louder and louder. It’s the last thing that he continues to think about, even if the medic quickly assesses the severity of his wounds. 

“I’m fine- really,” he pushes away the hands of a concerned woman as she holds a roll of bandages. “There’s something else I need to do.” 

Riki knew he had to tell you about this–he couldn’t just let you confide in him about..well, him, without your knowledge. And Riki wasn’t morally perfect, but he knew an explanation would be the only way to fix things.

Your house looks different when jumping over the fence instead of standing in front of it. When he realizes he has no idea what room belongs to you, he racks his brain, suddenly remembering how yours was the only one with a gray balcony over the pool. And so he climbs, slipping from the exhaustion creeping into his body. 

You’ll understand after he explains everything, right? 

“____, a little help?” And what the fuck is Nishmura Riki doing outside of your door? You go to investigate the muffled sound, inching towards the curtains and pulling them back to expect him there. When you hear a half yelp and a hissing sound that follows right after, without a person anywhere in sight, your heart drops to its stomach. 

Do not say it’s true. 

“Riki, where the fuck are you?” you ask, traversing out when you don’t see him anywhere across the glass. 

“Down here.” You run in the direction of the voice, and your eyes grow comically large and you gasp, staring down at the sight before you. 

“Holy shit.” 

There Nishimura Riki is, with his mask half burned off his face and his blonde and black hair messy and matted to his forehead with sweat. The suit is ripped in multiple locations with gashes and purple replacing the healthy skin underneath. His face is in more of a grimace, as he holds onto the web with both hands and one foot planted on the stone of your balcony—read; the bottom of your balcony. 

“A little help?” And you see his sheepish emotion through the tattered fabric, embarrassed after you had to find him in such a compromising situation. “I’m a little worn out and I think my webs are getting weaker.”

You’re a little frustrated with him for being out so publicly, but more scared and worried for his condition. Your gaze narrows on the mask, tattered and covered with scratches, but clearly visible. It was Spider-Man’s mask. The material gives way to a familiar face, and your mind almost blocks you from putting the pieces together. It’s impossible, almost horrifying to think of the implications of what it means to wear the blue and red suit. 

Instead of being the villain, Riki is, in fact, the savior.

The harsh truth is that your classmate, who you spent the last month working on a project with and suspected was a villain, is the same superhero that went out and risked his life every night fighting crime. It’s jarring to see him like this, breathing heavy and straining against the stone of the balcony, and his cough snaps you out of it. “What the fuck do I do?” 

Riki tries to put his hand up in surrender and shuts his eyes at your harsh tone. “Okay, okay, I get-“ and he cuts himself off with a yelp as his footing slips. 

He holds out his hand, and you immediately bend over the smooth railing to grab it, leaning back on the heels of your feet to help him up the most that you can. You’re filled with confusion when the boy hobbles over the cool surface of the balcony and lets his head rest on the stone, not saying much as he catches his breath. You watch the rise and fall of his chest and how his right arm goes to nurse the left side of his ribcage, wincing and sucking in a pained breath as he assesses the smear of red on his fingers. 

Sitting there with your mouth agape, you’re not really sure what to think about first; to check if RIki’s alright, to think about how your city’s greatest superhero is your English project partner, to yell at him for going to your house instead of his house to fix himself up, or to think about how good his side profile looks in the moonlight. Maybe you should’ve just been relieved that the boy you started to like wasn’t a fear-inducing villain.

“Okay, first of all, we need to have a huge talk. But I’m not a medic Riki- I’m going into accounting for fuck’s sake.” He hears the amount of curses flying from your lips as you ramble, and sees how stressed you look watching him sit against your railing. 

“I don’t know how to help you. And also,” you lower your voice and scoot closer, looking around at the large property to really make sure no one’s listening. “you’re Spider-Man?” 

The information all hitting you at once is worse than when your history teacher told you your essay was horrible. At least then, in her office, you could process everything. But here? You’re about to faint. 

“I’m pretty cool, huh?” And of course Nishimura Riki says such a thing, taking deep breaths as he shallowly presses on the blossoming bruises on his skin and wipes the sweat from his brow. 

“Pretty fucking stupid is what it is, Riki.” You cross your arms and try to take a look at where he’s been hurt, hoping that at least he has some sort of regeneration ability that helps him heal much quicker—because there’s no way he could deal with all of this on top of school. 

“I have my reasons,” he says, his voice quiet. 

You pause. “For being Spider-Man?” 

“No,” he shakes his head. “For coming here.”

“What could possibly make you want to come over to my house instead of the nearest hospital? What’s that important to you?”

“I really want to ask you to prom.” 

You simply stare at him, surprised. 

“You came to my house, even though you’re like, a punch away from passing out, to ask me out? And you couldn’t have, I don’t know, asked me anytime during the classes we have together?”

Riki somehow finds it in himself to frown and shrink from your angry piercing gaze. “I can’t because talking to you makes me nervous–so yeah, I’m sorry I’m half conscious on your balcony in my suit instead of at your door with a poster.” 

You’re conflicted, your mind still reeling from the recent discovery and your flood of emotions. Ever since you questioned his identity on top of your feelings for him, you had a hard time really knowing if you could like Riki if he turned out to be a villain, so to know that he proved both of your theories wrong leaves you quiet as you think. If possible, the color in the boy’s face drains even more when you go back inside, but the door stays open, and he thinks he hasn’t ruined things after all. You emerge with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, a bowl of warm water, and a pristine white towel. 

“I’m not mad about that, you idiot,” you reprimand him, setting everything down as you examine the cuts on his face. You squeeze the towel and start to dab at his skin, avoiding the cuts as you clean it. “Who does this for you if not me?” 

“Jake.” 

“Seems like a pretty good friend.” Riki nods in response. 

 “I’m sorry,” he sighs, sitting up to properly address you, even if you weren’t able to meet his gaze. 

“For what?”

“For putting this on you–all of it. Not just the whole Spider-Man thing.” He knew he’d have to tell you at some point, or else it’d eat him up inside to know he kept all of it from you. 

“Look at you, saving me mid-air and talking to me as if you didn’t know who I was.”

You notice a flash of regret through his wince as you clean up a cut with antiseptic. “I meant it when I told you I knew what it was like to have a lot of pressure.”

“Guess I wasn’t so far off, then. If we never talked, would you have told me?” Riki shakes his head, and the simple motion leaves you somehow disappointed. 

“How do you ever tell anyone you’re…y’know, Spider-Man?” Even if it’s a hypothetical, you shrug, not being able to answer.

“How’d Jake find out?” 

Riki chuckles and hisses at the same time before trying to remember. “I think I just kicked his window in after a nasty poison got hold of me. He was a little too excited to have Spider-Man on his bedroom floor, and less excited to know it was me. I’m not really supposed to tell anyone, though.”

“Then why’d you tell me? You could’ve just gone back to your friends.” 

“I felt guilty–I know, I know, it sounds stupid. I’d definitely get my identity revealed at this rate.” You shake your head. 

“Not stupid. Keep going.” 

“I didn’t care that you suspected me, or if anyone else did, because I knew it was never true. But I felt so bad knowing you were sharing to me how you felt without even knowing it was me who was listening–like I was holding something from you.” 

You admire his honesty, and when you look at his furrowed brows and his lip that he’s been gnawing from worry, you can’t even imagine what he’s had to hide and do for this. In a way, you look up to him more, for trying his best even if he’s gotten all odds stacked against him. Riki’s commendable in your eyes–he always had been, ever since you woke him up in class. 

“I like those things about you, Riki. That you’re honest with yourself and the people around you as much as you can be, and you try to help others when you can. I’m glad we got to know each other more this past month.” Talking to him feels different than talking to Spider-Man from a few days ago; it feels raw, like you’re not just confessing something to a brick wall anymore. If none of this ever happened, you doubt you’d get the chance to tell Riki any of this properly. 

The boy stays silent, taking deep breaths while processing what you’ve told him. “I’m glad I could help you out.” 

You furrow your eyebrows. “I hope you know I don’t like you because you help me out. I like you because you’re attractive, and because you’re genuine,” you blurt. 

Riki laughs despite his ribcage hurting everytime he does so. Riki nods and mumbles a ‘thank you,’ also glad to truly get to know you. While his crush was more of an infatuation with your hard work and amiability, the past few weeks really opened his eyes to who you were. You never wanted to disappoint, and even if your recklessness left you in some dire situations, Riki could see how much effort you really put into things. 

There wasn’t anything else he needed to tell you–you were smart enough to see how much he cared about you.    

You’re so close, your lips glossy with lip balm as you watch him carefully. You hear and see it all; the heavy, labored breathing from his body healing itself rapidly, and the way his hand is full of rough cuts and calluses as his fingers intertwine with yours. But your eyes catch a glimpse of his mask tossed to the side, the blue shining in the corner of your eyes as you’re reminded of who he is right now, and what role you play. You are still ____ ____, but he’s a superhero.

It makes you momentarily forget whose suit you're peeling away, whose skin you're cleaning. It reminds you that he’s just the boy in your English class that you fell for. “What does that make us?”

“Prom-goers,” he answers with a slight nod. 

You smile, wiping a cut before placing the towel back into the bowl for the last time and getting up. “We can be prom-goers, yeah.” 

You’re not sure if you’re ready for anything, and you’re thankful that he understands that, too. As much as it warmed your heart to see him again and hear his confessions, the blaring truth still hangs over your head. You grab his mask, finally looking at him before handing it back and grabbing your things. His secret identity wasn’t something you could just ignore. 

“Go home, Spider-Man,” you turn your back on him, and time slows when you falter before sparing him one more look. “I want you as Riki, not like this.” 

MAYBE NISHIMURA RIKI DOESN'T NEED TO DIE–OR ALMOST DIE–ANYMORE. 

He went home that night with his scars somewhat cleaned and his bruises miraculous healing on their own, and even if slipping through the window left him clutching his side in pain, Riki silently jumped up to celebrate his multiple victories before slipping out of his suit and finally getting some rest. 

Riki’s scared of how he’s affected your relationship. He’s worried you’ll avoid him in the halls, and he’s worried you’d never want to see him again after putting you through all of it. As much as he'd understand how upset you'd be towards him, he hopes he did the right thing by telling you.

But you see him on your way to English, and you call his name. His eyes search for yours in the crowds, and you two see each other before you crush him in a hug. 

Riki isn’t sure how to feel at first, but eventually wraps his arms around you as relief settles in his stomach. 

“Thank you for saving me, Spider-Man,” you whisper, loud enough for only him to hear. 

He smiles at you, ruffling your hair as you go to English together. “Anytime, ____.” 

NEVERMIND, NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE SEES YOU IN YOUR RED PROM DRESS.

But first, he has to try something out. 

He curses to himself when silently zipping from a tree outside your family property to the top of your house, staring past the ledge two and luxurious stories to your well decorated porch light and door. He just prays that Google Maps is  right about how secluded the area is, so no one can see him pacing around your rooftop, with flowers elegantly wrapped in his hand (courtesy of your mother’s sleek envelope from a few days ago). 

“Fuck it,” he says to himself, shooting a web and dangling himself down. Riki’s upside down figure watches swirled window frames and meticulously designed accents as he descends, and he wonders what kind of shady business your parents could’ve done to afford something so grand. 

He faces your door—hanging down instead of rightside up, but he’s still here on time like he promised. 

The door opens at 6:00PM like he instructed you to, but what he didn’t tell you what to do was shriek and slam the door. On his nose. With a loud yelp, Riki clutches his nose, rubbing the spot you hit and trying to apply pressure to alleviate the pain. 

When the door slowly creaks open again, you face with the image of Nishimura Riki, aka your boyfriend, aka your English partner, aka Spider-Man, curled upside down in the fetal position as he cradles the sore spot on his face and swings slightly from the breeze. 

“You scared me, dumbass! How was I supposed to know it was you? It was so hard to see!” 

Although muffled, Riki’s able to mumble, “You have a porch light for this reason, _____,” and a jab at his stomach from you follows his sarcastic remark. Finally, his nose feels better, and he straightens out to finally look at you. 

Pretty, pretty, pretty, and the boy wonders how you look even more stunning with a glittering red dress and perfectly done make-up. “I like the red,” he says, trying not to freak out over your beauty. “Reminds me of a certain neighborhood superhero.” 

“I have some blue spider earrings to match.” With a beautiful smile, you turn to show him the little accent, and it melts his heart. “Are you okay, though?”

“I’m fine. I should’ve probably put more thought into that.” 

You snicker, sliding into your heels and closing the door behind you. 

“One of us is better at romantic gestures, it seems.” It warrants a scoff, and Riki brings a gloved hand to poke at your forehead teasingly.

“Let me have a do-over, then?” And the way your lips curl up into a bright smile leaves him quiet and in awe. 

“What, were you going to kiss me? Very original, Spider-Man.” With the way the fabric shifts over his features, you can tell he’s pouting. 

“I thought girls liked this.” 

You shrug, pretending you aren’t swept off his feet by the effort he’s put in. Taking a step in his direction, your hands reach up to gently pull the mask over his chin, ears, and then his nose. 

Whispering quietly, you ask, “You’ve kissed other girls upside down?” 

Riki’s quick to shake his head. “You’re the only girl I’d withstand a head rush for.” And god, you just can’t stop yourself from grinning at his sweet, genuine words.

You lean in, placing a small kiss on his nose as a silent apology. Then, you close your eyes and lean into him once more, feeling his hands carefully holding the side of your head and his lips on yours. Your kiss with Riki is saccharine and slow, making you pull away when the urge to beam at him is too much. Your cheeks definitely hurt by how romantic he’s being, and you can’t resist kissing him once more.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he starts, finally letting himself down, “It feels weird.” 

“You ruined the moment.” And he really didn’t, but you enjoy his subtle reactions to your light digs at him. 

“Whatever.” Riki laughs. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” 

You nod, sitting down on the porch and dragging a manicured nail over your lips with the ghost of his affections, thinking about how you literally just kissed Spider-Man. 

Riki comes back, dusting off his suit and smoothing out the wrinkles, with a large bouquet of red roses and one blue one snuck in there. Your lips stretch into a grin and you accept the bouquet, keeping a mental note to read the card in there.

“You never cease to amaze me, Riki.” It’s the last thing you mutter to the air before you loop your arms around his neck, urging him to lean down as you kiss him once more—this time rightside up, but still as sickly saccharine as the one before it. Your heart is fuzzy with fondness and your eyes glitter with adoration. 

“So, which kiss was better?” he asks when you pull away, a little breathless and dizzy.

You swat his arm and walk past the gates, seeing the sleek limo waiting by the curb. “I don’t know, Spider-Man. Maybe show up in your suit and we’ll try it again.” 

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND ALWAYS READ!

RIKI FIC DONE!!!! ngl y/n u were right there how did u not know riki was spiderman but whatever idc she's a hard worker not smart LMFOAOAO. my first ever action fic so i hope you enjoy! also i hate the ‘oh he pined after her for 4 years she liked him for 2 months’ bs because I WAS IN IT. and it sucks so i tried to deviate from it :)

꣑ৎ permanent fic taglist (TAGGED IN TEASERS, FICS, HEADCANNONS, DRABBLES, ETC.): @dimplewonie @minleeeknow @heeheesang @mintpjzroll @llvrhee @firstclassjaylee @in-somnias-world @rairaiblog @suneng @mavlogist @sensitively-taken @sumzysworld @simpjay @moons-v @riksaes @txtari @jungwonscatcus @tya0 @sasfransisco @woorcve @shypen @pinkriki @rikisluv @saranghaohoshi @lilifiedeans @wonmyheart @k1ttyluvr @nikisgfff @ramenoil @laurradoesloveu @lvcky-g1rl-syndr0me @ikeulims @missychiefs1404 @qwonyoung23 @yangjungwonnie @onementally-unstabel-kid @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @blooqz @anormieee hi permies hope u enjoy! kith

[bergeronprocess]

9/24/24

Today I just want to write my impressions after finishing the anime Narenare -Cheer for You-.

I started watching the summer 2024 new anime season with 4 shows. Then the Olympics happened and it took up literally all of my Watchin’ TV Time. The state of my Youtube watch later playlist at the end of the Games was a mess lol. That Olympics watching also caused me to decide to drop 2 of the shows I was following - Shy season 2 (it just didn’t really seem to grab me; I bounced off it right as they were starting to assemble their team for rescuing Tokyo) and Twilight Out of Focus (apparently I bounced right as they concluded their focus on the first couple and it was actually an anthology show focusing on different people throughout; it was fine but I just wasn’t loving it).

I kept on with the long-ass-named magical girl and evil lieutenant show (I haven’t watched its finale yet) as well as Narenare. I’ve just finished watching the finale of Narenare and overall I enjoyed it! The guy assigned to review it at Anime News Network hated it, to the point that he literally named it the worst anime of the summer season, which I think is a bit harsh. To be clear, he’s welcome to his opinion, and I’m welcome to disagree. Also, the reviewer of this series was not Nicholas Dupree, who died suddenly and tragically at the way-too-damn-young age of 31. The reviewer was Jairus Taylor.

I do think Narenare had a LOT of ideas and not a lot of real estate to put them into, but that’s basically an endemic issue in new seasonal anime these days, unfortunately. Only having 12 or MAYBE 13 twenty-three-minute episodes to work with is just not ideal for any story. I think Narenare would have been better served by having 24 or 25 episodes. This standard yet shortened episode run leads to compression. For example, the plot of Mari-senpai developing her own bout of the twisties, driving a wedge into Pompoms out of spite and then overcoming the twisties it felt a little rushed, but was still nice to see. She took responsibility for her mean comment (I truly thought it was Megumi who posted the comment at first, upset with being physically unable to do cheerleading stunts. I was wrong!) and worked to make amends for it.

It was good to see characters not only mention the yips but to see Kanata going to a therapist about it. Destigmatization of mental health issues and seeking help for them is huge and Japan is lagging behind the US when it comes to that, so any efforts made towards it are welcomed by me. The story emphasizes the importance of trust and care among cheerleading team members, which is crucial when you have someone else’s life in your hands as you do when you’re about to toss them in the air! 

I also liked noticing the small touches that were made to facilitate accessibility for Megumi, like how a wheelchair ramp and a handrail was built on an exterior staircase of the beautiful old temple house she lives in. The fact that she came to every single Pompoms event, in full cheer attire and in her chair, was something I liked to see too. I at first thought that she was going to be permanently using a chair based on the promo images, but she was just temporarily needing it while recovering from the effects of a surgery, and she’s using crutches in the very last scene. At some point, she’ll probably be able to fully participate in cheer with Kanata again!

Jairus took issue with an earlier episode showing Kanata suddenly being able to fly again at the end of a montage, as if somehow her yips magically got cured by the power of friendship or whatnot, but then later episodes showed her continuing to struggle and he didn’t seem to take note of that. (To be fair…I never read his reviews of episodes 11 or 12 lol. I just know they’re probably overly negative.) I think that’s more realistic, especially with mental health struggles. Sometimes you get better, sometimes you backslide. I’ve found that to be the case in my own life with my anxiety. I backslid a little bit a few months ago and it was not fun. 

He also took issue with the Anna and Stout Records plot line, saying oh wow how convenient is it that this record store guy happens to know a Grammy winner who can just come help. Well! Maybe he was so stuck in his “this shop is going to close and I am giving away my records��� way of thinking that he couldn’t see any other way out, but Anna and the gang provided a fresh perspective. Sometimes in our lives, we need that. We just need someone else to help us think differently, try something new, and achieve our dreams. That’s another running theme of Narenare.

I do think Nodoka and Suzuha’s development suffered a little bit, which can be an issue with ensemble casts. I like Nodoka, I see some of myself in her with her desire to just be chill lol, and I LOVE that Suzuha decided to go be an idol in Tokyo. (I just hope she doesn’t end up like Ai in Kageki Shoujo, excommunicated from the idol world for having a flat affect and telling a weird fan that he was being weird. Although she’s found a second life in the world of Kouka. Anyway please go watch Kageki Shoujo, I hope they make a season 2 of the anime eventually, and read the manga too…which I am still waiting for volume 10 of - it’s been delayed since, like, April and now has an October ETA.)

Narenare also kind of wanted to be an idol anime too, I think. The music is good, and I especially enjoyed the song from when they performed at the neighborhood festival to help save Stout Records. It also made sense in-universe because of Shion and Anna both being into the art of making music. I feel like the music/idol aspect was executed better here than in Pride of Orange, where they just really wanted to make a straight-up idol anime but decided to also put in ice hockey elements too. I never got past episode 1 of that show - being asked to believe the Japan national team could beat Canada in any international competition (and then immediately change out from sweaty hockey jerseys and pads into sparkly idol outfits and sing a song at center ice) is just stretching the suspension of disbelief a liiiiittle too far for me as a hockey fan.

I also like Love Live, so I’m primed to enjoy idol elements when they come lol.

The Day-Glo funky color palette of Narenare was an interesting visual choice, but I actually enjoyed it. There were some great examples of photorealistic animation as well, like a closeup of Suzuha’s pompoms as she finishes her idol application form or the countryside when Mari runs back home. It was fun to watch such candy-colored joy during a hot hot summer.

In short, I enjoyed watching Narenare and I found it to be harshly criticized by its Anime News Network reviewer. Is it my anime of the year? Probably not, though at this point I don’t know if I necessarily have a single standout anime of the year. We’ve still got another 2024 season yet to go, after all. But I had fun!

[polinator]

I have come here for one reason. To shout into the void of the internet.

Y'all. Y'all. Y'ALL. Bless your hearts. I love the Bridgerton canon. Since I read TVWLM over 20 years ago... well, liked it since then. Loved it more when I read AOFAG (and yeah, I know some people hate it, but I do not). And I say this as a person who has written fan fiction in this fandom and made physical things celebrating this universe.... It isn't that serious.

These are historical romance novels that lean into comedy a lot of the time. Historical rom coms, if you will. I wish people would stop interpreting them in the most tragic way possible without taking into consideration the intention Julia Quinn had when writing them.

Are there issues with scenes in some of the books? Yes. Do I adore every tiny thing in them? No.

But, what do you think JQ intended? Do you think she intended for her romantic heroes to come off as abusive sometimes? No. (Well, unless you are talking about Turner. For Turner the answer is most definitely yes.) The office scene in TVWLM, the lake scene in AOFAG, the engagement ball scene in RMB, and so on... they were written to be read like physical comedy. Like a screwball comedy. Like I Love Lucy where Ricky spanks Lucy. Is that problematic when we look back at it in 20fucking24? Yes, of course. But was Lucille Ball trying to imply Ricky Ricardo was an abuser? No. It was meant to be funny.

People take Colin to task for thinking about hitting Eloise. Y'all must be fucking saints if you've never thought about hitting your sibling. The fact he only hit her once I find amazing. My sister and I fought all the damn time. The love in the Bridgerton household must have been like a huge bubble. My parents were/are the most amazing parents God had ever put on this earth.... and my sister and I still fought. Also, I've def thought about strangling a boyfriend or two. And a child or two. Did I do it? No. But I thought about it. And you've definitely thought about doing bodily harm to someone. Because it's a human thing. It doesn't mean you are actually going to do it. And it certainly doesn't mean you're an abuser. Good god girl get a grip.

Julia just didn't think about these things as deeply as some in the fandom think she did. Like 20+ years ago when the books were first released they were popular but not that popular. People were not all over it analyzing everything like they are now. (I mean, we were to try to figure out who LW was at the time, but not everything else.)

On the same lines, Edmund was not an abusive father at all. Again, what do you imagine JQ's intentions were when she said Colin was horsewhipped? Do you think she actually meant beaten? No, of course fucking not. Over and over in her canon she shows and tells you what a great father Edmund was. She has absolutely no problem telling you if someone's dad or guardian are trash. Let us count the ways (spoilers below and trigger warnings for real):

Simon's father- pretended he didn't exist because he stuttered, fuck him up so badly he was going to not have an heir just to spite the hateful son of a bitch.

Sophie's dad- didn't give her any attention, left her to be raised by servants, only called her his ward, left her fate in Araminta's hands

Phillip's dad- horrible shit who actually beat Phillip with a whip, his scars are detailed, how he is beaten is detailed, his father's anger is detailed, is a huge part of the book, Phillip is afraid to touch his kids because he doesn't want to be like his father.

Gareth's dad- shit of a human being who treats his youngest son like trash because he is not his biological son, cut him off completely, tried to ruin the estate so he would have a shit ton of debt when he actually died, betrothed him to a girl with intellectual disabilities without his consent and said if he didn't marry her he couldn't go to school

Lucy's uncle- the third to worst person in a JQ book, stole money from their estate, betrothed her to (a very lovely) gay man because he was being blackmailed for treason, said he didn't give a fuck about her, made her believe her father was the treasonous bastard so he could guilt her into marrying the man, threatened Lucy at knifepoint, said he was going to watch while Lucy's marriage was consummated and implied that if her new husband didn't do it he would let the man's father rape her to ensure it happened

And who could forget... Hugh's father- a psychopathic piece of filth so wretched it's hard to list all the horrible things he's done from memory, but just here's just a taste: beats his sons when they do anything he considers to be wrong including misremember some part of their family tree and he enjoys it, repeatedly hired sex workers to rape his gay son and then would encourage them to beat him and helped beat him with his cane when the son wouldn't have sex with them, raped his wife repeatedly (and their sons could hear it), is so obsessed with his lineage that when Hugh, one son, was accidentally crippled he paid men to follow poor Daniel (the guy who slipped and accidentally shot him) to the continent to murder him and didn't stop until his son told him he would kill himself if Daniel died, he bribed servants so he could keep tabs on Hugh because that title is super important, he then kicked Hugh on his painful, injured leg and drugged him so he could tie him to the bed so that he could lock a lady in the room and force their marriage for the sake of that damn title, and more I'm sure I can't remember. AND he did all this without a trace of remorse.

And probably other fathers I can't remember. What does Julia Quinn say about Edmund? He was the best of men and of fathers. Now, thinking about JQ and how she's written alllll these other fathers, do you think she really meant that Colin was actually horsewhipped? No. She probably thought spanking but make it Regency.

I love her books, but do you think she's deep diving into research? Probably not. I mean, she forgot that she wrote Colin's birthday was in January. At the beginning of 'Just Like Heaven' Colin and Penelope are married and in the middle of the story they aren't even engaged yet. She is not thinking about things that deeply.

They are supposed to be fun and romantic and sometimes humorous and the drama... they are not meant to be analyzed and dissected like you would 'Invisible Man.' They aren't supposed to be all moody and intense-- it's not Dickens. Emotional, yeah of course, they are romances, but not taken so seriously.

But you know, don't come for my Bridgerverse canon babies, or I will cut you because I do take my love for them seriously. (Well, not Turner, you can have Turner.)

@your3fundamentaltruths I am not coming at you about Turner... well maybe a little bit. But you and I and maybe like five other people know the Bridgerverse well enough to get the reference.

[chaoticpuff17]

When the Chips are Down

Part 6

masterlist

hello, my darlings. I am on a posting streak apparently. Please enjoy the the reunion and confrontation we have all been waiting for--- chaotic puff

Y/N held her tongue for the rest of the day, choosing instead to remain cold and detached as Namjoon tried to establish himself in her good graces again, as if he had ever been there to begin with. He didn’t seem to understand that though. He was immensely pleased with himself under the false impression that she was jealous because of his dalliances while she was gone. If anything, he was the jealous one. You couldn’t be jealous if you didn’t care, and unlike her feelings for him, Namjoon cared immensely for her, however twisted and demented those feelings were. 

The day passed in relative peace after their midday confrontation, and slowly her first day back at the estate blended into her second. Miss In and Namjoon still tried to get her to eat breakfast, and she relented, eating a few pieces of melon along with a cup of green tea. Though she did have to sit through a lecture from Namjoon on how she should be careful with her caffeine intake. Eventually she snapped, reminding him that green tea had far less caffeine than a cup of coffee, and he left her alone after that. 

She was able to enjoy her morning in peace after that, retreating to the piano room to avoid Namjoon’s hovering. The room hadn’t changed at all in her absence. It was clean, evidence that it had been cared for while she was gone, though she doubted that Miss In would have left any corner of the house in disarray, but it was otherwise untouched.

 Thankfully it still seemed that the promise that this room was to be her sanctuary remained in place, and Namjoon left her alone. That didn’t mean that she was left completely undisturbed though. Miss In would pop in at regular intervals to see how she was doing, to bring her water or tea, to ask if she needed anything. It was far less annoying than Namjoon’s hovering, but it wasn’t quite the peace that she wanted. It was the best she was going to get though.

Eventually Namjoon himself came knocking on her door, pulling her attention from the book she’d distracted herself with. 

“I have a surprise for you, jagi.” he informed her, smiling sweetly, an expression she didn’t trust at all, but she got up and followed him regardless.  

He led her to the living room, a room that neither of them used very often which only heightened her confusion. 

Hoseok was there, and with him was a woman, a woman who was achingly familiar. 

“Iyla” Y/N’s voice was soft, shaking as she stared at the woman before her. How was she here? Why was she here?

“Y/N.” There was a pause before both women rushed to each other colliding and falling to the floor in a tangle of limbs as they clung to each other. 

“Oh god no.” Y/N whispered tearfully gently stroking her baby sister’s hair. “What are you doing here, Iya? You shouldn’t be here, baby.” 

“You never came home, and Jackosn stopped calling. Oh god, Y/N. Jackson is… he’s dead!”

“I know, baby. I know. I’m so sorry.” 

Hoseok and Namjoon stood back watching the two carefully. Both were ready to intervene if needed. Iyla was a wild child, and Namjoon didn’t want any unnecessary stress on Y/N or the baby. But both women seemed to be content to stay wrapped in each other’s arms shaking and crying on the ground.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to…” 

“Shhhh,” The older of the sisters hushed holding the other more tightly. “It’s okay. We’re going to be okay.” She promised even though she didn’t quite believe it herself. She pulled back carefully examining her sister’s face looking for any sin of stress or injury. “You’re okay? You’re not hurt?”

“I’m okay.” Iyla promised burying her face in her sister’s neck again. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, Iya.” 

Y/N rested her cheek on Iyla’s head gently rocking them side to side as they held onto each other. This was the last place she ever wanted to see her little sister, but she at least looked healthy and unharmed. 

Namjoon was vigilant as he watched the two women. Y/N was still newly home. She was tired and overly stressed already, as much as he hated to admit it. Being home was stressful for her. He was stressful for her. She’d settle with time. He was sure of that, but or now she was stressed, and as soon as she figured out that Iyla was now Hoseok’s woman, all hell would break loose which wouldn’t be good for the baby. Stress wasn’t good for the baby.

“Oh.” 

Both men tensed at the pained sound ready to jump in. 

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Iyla pulled back eyes darting over her sister’s form.

“I’m fine.” Y/N hissed settling a hand on her belly. “They just like to kick.” 

“Oh.” Iyla’s gaze zeroed in on her belly. “You’re huge.” 

“I’m pregnant.” 

“You look like a whale.” 

“That’s what happens when you’re pregnant.” A soft sweet smile spread across her face as she watched her sister fuss over her. 

As worried as Namjoon was it was interesting to  see his wife interact with her sister, and seeing them side by side he could see just how much they looked alike. They had the same eyes, the same hair, the same nose. Iyla was taller, not by much probably only an inch or two at most, but taller. To the untrained eye they could have been mistaken for twins, but the difference in hairstyles provided an easy out for distinguishing between the two. Iyla’s hair was long trailing down her back while Y/N had cut off most of her hair while she was gone. It hung in a shaggy pixie cut that had clearly been grown out from an even shorter cut. 

Namjoon still wasn’t sure what to think about the change in her hair. It was cute in its own way, but it wasn’t whatNamjoon preferred on her. It would grow out in time. Just like everything else in their lives, it would go back to normal. Everything had to go back to normal. He needed it to be normal, and so did she even if she didn’t quite realise it yet. Everything would be better when they were back to normal.

Things wouldn’t be back to normal for a while though. Namjoon wasn’t blind to the amount of work that needed to be done between them. Their relationship had always been tenuous at best, but it had deteriorated spectacularly before her escape. They needed to work on it. He wanted his wife. He wanted a stable family for their baby. Right now, he had neither. 

Namjoon was pulled from his thoughts as another pained groan filled the air. In a flash he was by her side, pulling her up from her position on the floor much to both women’s protests. 

“Y/N!” Iyla cried lunging for her sister only to be caught around the waist by Hoseok. 

“I think it’s time to go. Y/N needs to rest.” Namjoon declared keeping a firm hold around her. 

“I’ll take Iyla home.” 

“Home? What do you mean home? Where are you taking her?” Y/N was growing more distressed by the minute, and Hoseok was quick to drag Iyla to the door as Namjoon dragged Y/N deeper into the house. “Where are you taking her?” 

“They’re just going home, jagi. It’s okay.” Namjoon cooed trying to sooth her and failing. 

“No! She’s supposed to be with me! Where are they going?” 

“She’s exactly where she needs to be, jagi.” 

“How can you let him take her away?” She cried pulling against Namjoon’s hold forcing him to swing her up into his arms to get her up the stairs. 

“They’re engaged. Of course He’d take her home. She’s perfectly safe, jagi. I promise.” 

Y/N froze in his arms as they reached the top of the stairs, and he carefully set her down. “What do you mean engaged?” 

“Jagi…” 

“Kim Namjoon!” She barked whirling around to face him. “What do you mean engaged?” 

“Jagiya, you need to calm down. Stress isn’t good for the baby or for you.” 

“How could my baby sister be engaged to Hoseok?” 

Namjoon was no stranger to her fury, but even he was concerned by the venom in her tone.

“Jagiya, why don’t you sit down. I’ll have Miss In bring some tea…” 

“Why is my sister engaged to Hoseok?” She stood firm glaring up at him with a hand resting protectively on her belly. 

“Jagi…” 

“Answer the damn question, Namjoon.” She paused waiting for a response only to find Namjoon’s tired and worried gaze. There wasn’t even a hint of remorse in his eyes. “Oh god…” She breathed out as the horrifying realisation set in. “You gave my baby sister to Hoseok didn’t you?” Still no response, there was only a horrible damning silence that filled the space between them. “You gave my baby sister to Hoseok!”

“Jagiya, I really think you should sit down.” 

“How could you? How could you do that to my sister?” 

Namjoon was firm but gentle as he pulled her into his office forcing her to sit down. “I need you to calm down, jagi. Think of the baby.” 

“I always think of the baby!” She snarled even though she remained seated. “But I also have to think of my sister who you just gave away like chattel!” 

Namjoon scoffed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I didn’t even know you had a sister until Hoseok brought her here from GOT7’s headquarters. Any other secrets I should know about, jagiya?” 

“I was trying to protect her.” 

Namjoon paused in his pacing to level her with a stern look. “I don’t take kindly to lies, jagi.” 

“I don’t take kindly to kidnapping.” She shot back. “Figlio di puttana.” She spat under her breath cursing the day that Namjoon was born. 

“What was that?” Namjoon asked sharply.

A sweet smile spread across her lips. “Vaffanculo!”

“I may not speak Italian, but I still know when you’re swearing, jagi.” 

“Vaffanculo.” She repeated slowly drawing out every syllable of the word still with that seemingly innocent smile fixed across her features. 

“Jagi!”

“You kidnapped my sister and killed my brother, and you’re yelling at me for swearing?” She quirked a brow. “Is that really the issue right now?” 

“You’re sister came to Korea on her own, and Jackson ignored the terms of the agreement.” 

Y/ scoffed rolling her eyes. “Did Iyla come knocking on your door? And it wasn’t Jackson’s plan. It was Mark’s.” She watched Namjoon freeze in his pacing, shoulders tensed. “I called him. Jackson was only trying to help fix the mess you made.” 

“The mess I made? You ran away with our baby!” 

“You forced yourself on me!” She snapped back eyes flashing dangerously. “You tattooed your name on my shoulder! And this was all after you kidnapped me and blackmailed me into marriage! So yes, I would call this your mess.” 

She wasn’t blind to the hurt that flashed across his face, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. After every terrible thing he’d put her through, she just couldn't bring herself to care about his feelings. She shouldn’t be the only one suffering in this sham of a relationship. 

“Jagiya…” He took a step towards her, soft and pleading, but she was in no mood to placate him.

“Have you ever once stopped to consider the consequences of your actions? Or do you simply not care? You have ruined my life, and now you’ve ruined Iyla’s life too.” 

“We have a beautiful life…” 

“You have a beautiful life!” she snarled. “You got everything you wanted, but I’m trapped here, with you, and now you’ve sentenced my sister to the same fate.” 

“Jagi… Y/N.”

“I didn’t choose this. I didn’t choose you, but now I’m stuck with you just like Iyla is going to be stuck with Hoseok.” she huffed struggling to stand up, and Namjoon was instantly at her side ready to help her up only to be harshly pushed away by the irate woman. “Don’t touch me!”

“Let me help you, jagiya.”

“I don’t want your help!”

“Sit down!” he thundered, sending her a withering glare. “You’re stressing yourself out, and I won’t have any harm come to you and the baby!” 

“Then you should have left us in Italy.” 

Namjoon surged forward burying his fingers in her short locks and forcing her to meet his eye as he loomed over her. “I will never let you go. You are mine, my wife. This baby is mine.” 

“Get off me!” she harshly pushed him away pushing herself up with some difficulty. “Get the fuck away from me.” she spat moving to the other end of the room where his desk sat. 

“Y/N…”

“What did you expect?” she laughed eyes wild as she stared at him from across the room. “Did you think we were going to be a happy family?” she asked throwing a paper weight at him. “After everything you’ve done?” Next came a picture frame that had been situated on his desk, a photo from their wedding.

“Jagiya.” He held up his hands defensively. “You need to calm down.” 

“No.” she snapped, throwing another picture frame. “No.” she repeated more softly, looking away her chest heaving. “You have ruined me, and I will never forgive you for that.” Namjoon wanted nothing more than to go to her, to hold her, but even he knew that it would be a bad idea in this instance. She was worked up enough without him trying to touch her. “I tried. I tried to accept this and be a good wife, and look where it got me. You have taken everything.” 

“Things will be different this time. We’ll be different. We have the baby…” 

“My baby deserves more than this hellhole. I deserve more than this.” 

“We had a deal, Y/N.” He reminded her softly voice deep and calm even though he wanted nothing more than to shake her by the shoulders and yell. “I’m not the one who broke our deal.” 

“Well it looks like we’re both shitty people then.” She scoffed arms crossed over her belly. 

“I can’t undo the past, Y/N.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm himself down. “And I won’t let you go.” She scoffed again shaking with the rage and deep set hurt that had been festering since he’d first taken her. “Why don’t we make a new deal?”

“What?” 

“A new deal.” he proposed taking a tentative step towards her, scared to upset her anymore than she already was and cautious of any more flying objects. “We make a new deal, one to suit us both.” 

“And why should I believe that this one would be any better than the last?” 

“We’ve both made mistakes, jagi. Let me try to make up for them.” He pleaded slowly getting closer to her. “For both our sakes. For the baby.” 

“You’re despicable.” 

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But I love you, and I love our child.” 

“What we have isn’t love.” She laughed running a hand through her hair. “I hate you. I hate you more than any other being on the entire planet. And I don’t know what you feel, but it isn’t love.” 

“I love you.” He repeated earnestly taking a few more steps towards her. “And you’re my wife whether you like it or not. We’ll have to make this work, because I have no intention of ever letting you go again.” 

She grimaced in pain, a hand flying down to her belly. Namjoon was instantly by her side supporting her and leading her to his desk chair to help her sit down.

“What’s wrong? Is it the baby?” 

“I… I don’t know.” She whimpered as another flash of pain seared through her abdomen. 

“I’m calling the doctor. Just stay here, okay?” She nodded far too focused on the pain in her belly to care what he was doing. 

“Miss In!” he bellowed down the hallway, and quick as a whip the older lady appeared with a worried frown on her normally composed face. “Call the doctor. Tell her Mrs. Kim is experiencing pains in her belly. Call Seokjin as well.” 

“Yes, sajangnim.” She bowed. “I’ll bring some tea for her as well.” She bowed again hurrying out of the room. 

“Tell the doctor to hurry!” Namjoon ordered kneeling beside Y/N worriedly looking over her. 

“Yes, sajangnim.” 

“What is it?” Namjoon asked again one hand cradling her belly and the other gently pressed against her back as she hunched over in pain. “What can I do?” 

“I… I don’t….” She hissed curling in on herself more as another pain ripped through her.

Namjoon nodded to himself before scooping her up in his arms and swiftly carrying her to the bedroom. The doctor was on the way, but for now the best he could do was to make her more comfortable. Hopefully lying down would help, and hopefully she wasn’t in labor. The baby wasn’t due for another few weeks or so.

“It’s alright, jagi. It’s going to be alright.” he promised gently setting her down on their bed. “The doctor is on the way.” 

“Is the baby okay?” She whimpered clutching her belly. 

“The baby is fine.” he assured her, climbing onto the bed with her and cradling her in his arms. “You’re both going to be fine.” 

part 7

[fairydollsteps]

Hey

Can I request Zenitsu with a female demon reader who lost her husband because of demons and was turned into a demon too and Zenitsu reminds her of her husband when they first meet so she just starts to cry and hug, cling to him? c:

Hello! I find your request interesting and I would love to write it down! :D I do hope you don’t mind if I describe the reader's relationship with Zenitsu is platonic instead just see Zenitsu like a family member as the reader would be a lot older than him, like an adult and also there will be some changes here and there but is related to your request. I do hope what I wrote is what you wanted! There will be a short scenarios about the reader past and some headcanon along with it too. Enjoy reading! 💖

Zenitsu with a Sisterlike Demon Friend

The happiness that you thought would last forever with your dear husband was shattered into countless pieces

It all happens during the night where you and your husband were eating dinner together. The food served was delectable that you enjoy it so much. Just like how the demon enjoying itself devouring your husband after it has crashed into your home.

Just right before you were attacked by the vicious demon, your husband covers you and fights back. Even so, the demon has left you a severe wound that has its blood in it which you will suffer later on.

You were watching your husband fighting the demon back, watches his neck get bitten in the process while you try to stop your bleeding. He screamed at you to run and never come back, you can hear the anguish and pain in his voice.

You did what you were told by your husband out of fear and distress as you can’t handle another second to see the sight of your beloved getting killed. You head out of your house and run away, never looking back. You run as fast as you can, not noticing your blood dripping down from your wound, leaving a trail of blood behind you as you run.

You are turning into a demon as you kept running. It hurts physically but you ignored it and keep running but it worse as you can feel a sharp piercing pain from you wound. You collapsed down and started vomiting blood on the ground violently. Blood is also shedding from your eyes and you can feel your whole entire body tormented from this excruciating pain.

You are turning into a demon.

Now that all conclude the reader’s past, let dive into the headcanons part(cause I am lazy to put in so much effort in continuing this.)

You thought you are going to die at this point, what you didn’t know that the blood trail behind that you bled before has kill some demons with its lethal scent that was about to prey on you.

Little did you know, a young lady with butterfly hairpin both side, wearing a black uniform was watching the whole thing unfold. Watching you vomiting blood on the ground violently then collapsed unconscious.

The next thing you saw after you regain your conscious is where you in a cell. You also saw a bunch of people in different height and build. You also saw the young lady earlier right before you collapsed.

You expect yourself to be petrified because the people are glaring deep in to your soul but you felt nothing. Numb will be the right word for how you are feeling now when suddenly the lady you saw before walk up to you.

“Hello, I am Kanae Kocho. Please stay calm, we are not going to do anything with you. We just wanted to have a talk with you,” she said as she smile sweetly.

That’s when a man with a black shoulder length comes in. Kagaya Ubuyashiki.It’s his name you heard as he was introduced by his children.

He talks to you gently while you are in a cage with a soft smile. He asks you what had happened to you and you explains everything, the tragic events that you have to go through to him.

Of course, the people you saw earlier who were introduced as the Hashira, were suspicious about what you said but also shocked that you have saved many slayers from their corps.

Apparently, what they meant is that your Blood Demon Art has saved countless of lives from the corps where they were investigating the area you were in to hunt down demons.

None has died, only some suffer minor injuries. 

Of course, there is some arguments here and there whether they should keep you as their most powerful weapon to hunt demons down or to just slay your head off for good.

It was then decided that the Demon Slayer Corps should keep you after Kanae express her opinion and concern that many casualties would happen if it wasn’t for your power and that you have no intention of killing humans.

Once all has been concluded, you were left to be alive instead getting your head cut off but you would many restrictions. You were later send to Tamayo and Yushiro to stay with them.

You started your lives with them. Tamayo welcomed you in warmly while Yushiro is just glaring at you which he soon get scolded by Tamayo.

Your Life as a demon

Let’s just say that, your husband’s death has put a huge impact on you deeply. You become cold and emotionless. The only person who you can trust for now is Tamayo as she also go through the same thing and also has similar demon technique.

You help her with creating medicine and stuff and soon become a doctor just like her.

Yushiro would later on have respect with you for how you work hard for Tamayo. 

You don’t show it, you are disgusted of yourself for become a same species with the monster that has murdered your dear husband. You would left yourself a scar or cut on your face every time you see yourself in the mirror, just watching the blood drip down and hating yourself.

 You don’t care about the injuries you had put on yourself cause it will regenerate itself anyway because you are a demon. You bottle and repress your feelings because you are demon and nobody care if you cry cause you are hated for what you have become. Even you never choose to become what you have become.

You are afraid of the thought of how your husband would think about because you have become a demon.

Because you are a demon.

You keep thinking about this often, degrading yourself while keeping a stern and empty face. Showing absolutely no emotions and weakness.

The only reason why you are still alive is because Tamayo was there to comfort you when you are feeling down although you never show it.

One day, you were the strolling around the street during the night. You just want to relax a bit from your mind. The street was dark and quiet. After all, you were out late in the night.

Until the silence was interrupted by a scream from a far distance. You follow it as it sounds like someone is in trouble and hopeless.

You saw a demon on your way, hobbling towards to you. You don’t care about it an annihilate it immediately using your blood demon technique.

That’s when the scream stops, you turn around and saw a blonde boy on top a tree, clinging tightly on one of its branches.

“IS IT DEAD ALREADY!?!?!??! IS IT!??! IS IT!!!! THAT THING WAS HELLA SCARY THAT I JUST RUN!!!!!! the boy screamed.

You walk to towards to the tree and reach out your hand to him.

“No worries, is gone now. Please come down. You might fall,” you said in a reserved turn.

“A-a-are you sure!!??!?!? Y-y-you s-should you k-k-killed it??? he said obviously not believing a word you say until he realized something. You are a demon.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! YOU JUST KILL IT WITH WHAT SEEMS LIKE A BLOOD DEMON ART!!! YOU ARE A DEMON!!!!?!?!? WHY THE HELL DID YOU SAVE ME!??!?! he yelled again after realisation hits him like a boulder.

That’s when you saw a clear image of the boy. He looks just like him. Your husband . You froze for a while and the way the boy knowing you are a demon reminds you all the past. The past that you wished to cover forever comes back.

Your knee drop and then you starts sobbing. All your hate and disgust on yourself is coming back at the same time and its too much for you to handle them anymore. You continue think how your late husband thinks of you. A monster? A strange creature? Not the person that he used to love?

You started to cry when the boy talks to you. “U-um...hey, I am s-sorry for w-what I mentioned earlier,” There is some fear in his voice but there is also some gratitude and sincerity in it. “E-even if you are a d-demon, you did s-save my life after all,”.

He still though keep his distance with you. You noticed a wound on his hand and some on the side of his forehead. You offer the boy to treat your wounds as it do looks pretty severe.

He was reluctant for a while until give in. You still keep your distance with him while tending him, as you do not wanted to scared him like before. Mainly because it makes you think that’s how your husband feel to you because the boy looks so much like your husband except the boy is blonde.

“What’s your name?” you ask. “U-um is Zenitsu A-agatsuma. You can call me Z-Zenitsu,” he answered. “I’m (Y/n) (L/N),”.

Once you finished tending him, you explain yourself a bit that you are working for Demon Slayer Corps along with Tamayo and Yushiro. Zenitsu soon trusted you a little after knowing that you are a no threat.

Just as he was about, you quickly propose to walk back with him as you are worry for his safety to go back.

You both begin to talk and knowing about each other as you both walk. You and Zenitsu enjoy together chatting and Zenitsu is smiling because he can finally talk to a women without making himself a complete fool and making himself look weird. You begin to smile and feel happy for the first time and forever after what you have gone through.

Your Relationship with Him

Once Zenitsu is comfortable with you, your relationship with him is quite similar with Tanjiro, Nezuko and Tamayo. Like Zenitsu helps you finally feel happy and makes you smile just like how Tanjiro and Nezuko makes Tamayo feel the loving feelings of a family.

You are pretty older than Zenitsu so Zenitsu calls you (L/N)-san as a sign of respect for you and you really appreciate it.

You begin visiting the Butterfly Estate during after for a long time just to see how Zenitsu is doing. Shinobu, of course was aware and distrustful with you but warm up a little after knowing that you just wanted to know how Zenitsu is doing after coming back from a mission. Shinobu started to welcome you when you come to visit and started to respect you after you are willingly to share some of your knowledge with poison and medicine with her. she stills don’t trust you but still has some respect and kindness for you.

Zenitsu would introduce you to his friends,Tanjiro and Inosuke. You heard a lot about them from Zenitsu during your conversation with him. Tanjiro would a little bit flustered because of how gorgeous you are and a little scared because you look so stern and cold but soon warm up to you after you treat him with kindness and respect. Inosuke would also like you after you give him some rice balls and shrimp that he becomes so touched that he was stucked for a while because of how generous you are and thinks you are some goddes or something.

Zenitsu would of course be pissed if these two were to hog your attention too much that he feels left out. You would of course meet Nezuko as both you and Nezuko suffered from the same tragedies.

Zenitsu won’t feel any romantic feelings for you because you are a lot older than him so instead, he sees you as like and elder sister and a role model.

You would act like a role model to Zenitsu. Always teaching him how to behave and collect himself when he lost his composure. Also giving him advice  and so on. Zenitsu respect you deeply ever since then.

You would also act like a protective elder sister to Zenitsu. and zenitsu loves it. You would always check on him when he come back from a mission, making sure he is eating well, always making medicine for him when he is hurt and so on. You would sometimes offer to tag along a mission with Zenitsu so you can protect him and make sure he is alive. You did all of this for him because you do not want Zenitsu to suffer the same fate as your husband.

Speaking of your husband death, you have once mentioned your tragic past to Zenitsu and explained that he looks so much like your husband which explained why you are so protective and caring towards him. You also mention your hate and disgust on yourself for what you have become.

Then Zenitsu immediately freaks out after recalling your first meeting with hima and he apologies to you profusely. After feeling absolutely guilt for making you cry because of his overexaggerating reaction.

You reassure him that’s alright and is just that he didn’t know. He do still feels guilt though but you would give your sincere reassurance to him.

After you have talk about your past, he wanted to become stronger and more braver so you do not have to worry about him.

Zenitsu would come in a speed of lightning when he knows that you are upset on yourself and would try to comfort you. You really appreciate his effort in cheering you up.

You would also try to help Zenitsu in his training like explaining parts that he can improve and motivate him to continue fighting and training.

Because you are a demon and can’t walk under the sun, you and Zenitsu would hang out at the street markets or go shopping during the night. These memories you created with him are memorable and precious.

You were glad that you save Zenitsu from before as he has helps you heal the scar that was caused from your husband’s death.

All you wished for Zenitsu is for him alive and living happily.

Words: 2,340.....AAHAVIYQWVCKQW!!!! I am sorry that I got carried away for writing so much! I just have so many idea for this and would hate it so much to throw it away!!! This tooks me so long so likes and reblog would be deeply appreciated .Anyway, thank you for reading and have a good day!

[headinthe-fridge]

My Grandfather’s Lawyer (pt. 1)

⁂ – Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader –  ⁂

warning: nsfw, swearing

Summary: Your grandfather, Washijo Tanji, disowned your mother when she was pregnant with you and her hatred towards him was passed on to you. Now, your estranged grandfather wants you to leave your life in Tokyo and come live with him in his estate in the Miyagi Prefecture.

You took a day off and a 6-hour trip, intending to give him a piece of your mind before disappearing from their lives forever. You didn’t expect to see an ailing and fragile old man. Your day trip stretched into weeks and soon, you patched things up with your estranged family and warmed up to everyone -except to one: Ushijima Wakatoshi -your grandfather’s lawyer.

He thinks you have ulterior motives in reuniting with your grandfather.

You weren’t suppose to care what he thinks of you. His opinion didn’t matter.

But it did.

MASTERLIST

AN:  So, here’s part 1 and it’s going to be a little fast-paced, with like 5 parts. tops.  Lemme know if you wanna get tagged.

⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ – ⁂ –

"If you need anything, I'm only a call away."

You recalled Kiyoko's words earlier this morning. She was the one who dropped you off at the bus station for your six-hour trip from Tokyo to Miyagi prefecture. You and Kiyoko were childhood friends and since the death of your parents, she had been living with you in the house that your parents left you. You knew each other's life stories so it wasn't news to her the hatred and animosity that you harbored for your estranged grandfather.

She was worried at first and voiced out her concern, thinking that maybe your emotions were getting the best of you. But you reassured her, saying that you can handle yourself. And so, you two parted ways with her advice at the forefront of your mind.

You regretted your rash decision, not because you're worried about how your grandfather would react to finally seeing you but because of the long, exhausting, and dusty road that you have been trudging for the past hour.

The nearest train station is one hour away from the Washijo estate -which is located in the Katta District (which has a population density of 77 people per square kilometer). It was a ghost town compared to Tokyo, you thought. The train conductor informed you that from here on, the road is Washijo's property and that you would be very very lucky if a stray cab passed by.

You would've appreciated the scenic view before you, lush green forest by the roadside, mountain ranges stretched in the far distance, clear blue skies plus the unnaturally mild summer wind, if it weren't for the pile of dust and dirt clinging to your skin as you trudge along the damned road.

The hatred within you flared. This is all your grandfather's fault, you seethed. He disowned your mother when she was pregnant with you, he refused your family when your father begged him to help with your mother treatments, and he didn't even come to her own daughter's funeral when she died.

A lone tear escaped your eye at the bitter memory. You have one goal today; and that is to say to your grandfather's face that he's a worthless piece of shit. And that if it weren't for him, your parents would still be alive. After this, you will go back to your life in Tokyo and forget the Washijo name until your dying day. You will remember it only to curse it once more.

A loud honk made you jump, pulling you from your dark thoughts. You turned around with a scowl on your face, because who the hell does that in a deserted road?

A sleek black car pulled over behind you and seconds later, a man boarded off the driver's side. He had spiky black hair swept to the side, his cat-like eyes looked at you curiously.

"Are you y/n?"

You nodded, apprehensive.

The man breathed out a sigh of relief. His whole body relaxed. "Ah, thank god, I was just in time."

"Excuse me, but who are you?" You raised a brow.

"Oh, my bad. I'm Kuroo, your cousin. The one who kept calling you on the phone?"

"Ah..." You tipped your head in acknowledgment. "How did you know I was here."

"I tried calling your phone but I can't reach you, so I called your home phone and your friend, Shimizu, said you were on your way here. I must've missed you at the station."

"I see."

"Come, I'll give you a ride." he gestured towards the passenger seat.

You narrowed your eyes at him, unsure if you should believe his words. For all you know, this might be a human trafficking scheme.

He must've have sensed your hesitation. "I know it's weird, we haven't met each other before but here," he pulled out his wallet, took out an id card and showed it to you.

Washijo Kuroo

"You can hold onto my phone if you want, and have 110 on speed dial if you think you're in danger." He offered you his phone.

You took it after a few seconds of hesitation but in the end, you let yourself be guided towards the car. You also wouldn't want to triple the amount of dust and dirt that already clung to your skin so you welcomed the airconditioned vehicle and the comfortable seat that it offered.

"Ji-ji would be thrilled to see you. I thought you would keep on rejecting his request to come live with us, what made you change your mind?"

"Sorry to burst your bubble but I don't intend to live with any of you." You spat.

"Ooh, is that hatred I sense in your voice?" He teased, despite your hostility. "It seems our cousins are wrong about your reasons for coming here."

"Wrong about what?"

"Nothing, don't mind it, my little cousin. Can I call you that?"

"No, you may not." Your cousin chuckled and that annoyed you. "What's so funny?"

"Did you know that your mother, was closest to my father, out of all her brothers? Oto-san was really heartbroken when Oba-san cut off her ties with everyone. Oto-san would say you have her spirit if he was still alive."

His words confused you. All this time, you thought everyone in the family hated your mother. But what did he say? Your uncle was heartbroken?

"I don't understand, if what you say is true then why didn't, uhm.. uncle reached out? Why did no one come to mama's funeral?"

"We didn't know. Your father kept it from us. Ji-ji almost swept the whole of Tokyo to be able to see her daughter one last time but he wasn’t ableto find her."

"Then how were you able to contact me? How did you get my number?"

"That was an accident. You know Lev Haiba, right?"

Your ears perked up at the familiar name. He was a regular at the cafe where you worked. "Yes. He's a customer."

"Yeah, well he wouldn't shut up about his huge crush on you, we were classmates in high school by the way. One day, he sent a picture of you two in our group chat, and then I recognized you."

You raised a brow. "We haven't met before, how would you recognize me?"

"Oh that, I'll let Ji-ji explain. But yeah, that's how we found you, after that, Ji-ji wouldn't stop gushing about your coming here. I really thought you wouldn't give in."

"Well, I wouldn't be staying long so there's no need to make this a big deal. And whatever your cousins think about me, I really don't care, I mean if that's the kind of people that I'll be living with then no thanks, I'm good with my small apartment back in Tokyo."

"Man, the hatred runs deep, huh? Don't worry, they wouldn't dare do anything against you while Ji-ji's around. Plus, I'll be right behind you. I feel like we would get along well."

You decided not to respond to that and opted to watch the road before you throughout the whole ride.

You knew that your grandfather is a wealthy man. But the moment you stepped foot inside the Washijo Minka, it only dawned on you what wealthy really meant. The house was ornately decorated. The ranma panels that let the daylight in are carved with intricate details of dragons, the tatami floors are spotless, the zabutons are wrapped in silken cloth (what glorious ass wouldn't seat on silken pillows?), and the fusuma slides' designs are hand-painted.

Every object in this house screamed at whoever was in it that the owner is wealthy. So why? Your family only asked for a small amount for your mother's treatment compared to the luxuries that surround you now. Your jaw clenched as your hatred towards your grandfather resurfaced.

"Look who's here y/n, it seems your cousin couldn't wait to finally meet you," Kuroo remarked.

You heard someone scoff and you turned to the person with a piercing look.

"Can't I welcome the new member of the Washijo family? I wanted to meet Noriko's child, too."

The way your mother's name rolled off on the woman's tongue didn't sit well with you. Your eyes swept her form from head to toe, she was tall and beautiful. Gorgeous, in fact, if it weren't for her attitude. You decided she wasn't worth your time. You didn't waste this day to bandy crooked words with her. You're here for your grandfather.

"What, cat got your tongue?" She goaded.

"Stop it, Hoshina-chan. If Ji-ji catches you starting a fight, you wouldn't like it." Kuroo warned.

The one called Hoshina just harrumphed in response. She threw you one last look before stomping off to god knows where. You don't care, actually, you don't have time to deal with brats.

"By the way, here comes Atsumu and Osamu. They're also our cousins." Kuroo informed.

The newcomers made a beeline towards you and Kuroo and you barely had time to compose yourself when they were already shaking your -both- hands and welcoming you in unison.

"N-nice to meet you too, Atsumu-san and Osamu-san."

"Please don't forget that the better Washijo twin is me," the blonde pointed towards himself while the other just scoffed.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips and you were about to reply when someone behind you cleared his throat.

Part 2

Tagging all you lovelies: @thegrumpyhag​ @sushij1ma​ @valoryess​ @yakus-yakult​

@ly-nia​

[arysthaeniru]

aAAA the joy of seeing an update on your current favorite fanfic is just aAAA

I always felt that kiwami 1s Nishiki was just a bit too,, I dont know how to describe it; but essentially he just felt off, granted yakuza 1 is a product of its time and therefore the plot is a bit dated and whack as all hell

The way you write Nishiki just feels so much better and realistic; in the original he just seems so uncaring towards Kiryu? which just feels kinda OOC? You'd think he still cares about Kiryu despite it all, especially when you take Yakuza 0 into consideration; and i feel like you portray Nishiki much more accurately

I never thought much about Yumi, because honestly, in the original she was kinda just, there? You actually made her a very interesting person! like I'm actually invested in her in your story! (side note you ever think about her clone who got tortued and died? yeah who WAS that???? thats never brought up is it??)

Theres so much more to talk about but in short; This is the best fix it/rewrite of a game plot I have read to date and it brings me joy in my current stressful school life. and no I will not stop praising it or the author, because this work has made me very happy. ;)

I just have a gift for picking favorites that end up dying,,aand another favorite of mine is Mine

imo theres a lack of soft, reassuring Minedai, i just feel like he'd need a reminder that people love him as a person and not just for the money he can provide, even if its obvious

I'd love to see how you'd write them, but I understand if theres more interesting/appealing drabble requests!

- Carp

CARP, thank you for this <3 this is so sweet!!!!! I’m so happy you enjoy my Nishiki! I had fun playing with what Yakuza 0/the Kiwami additions gave us about Nishiki’s personality and outlook on the world, and trying to reconcile that with the plot that Yakuza 1 initially had. Ultimately, I fell on the side that you did: even if Nishiki’s ambition took him down a monstrous path, I don’t think he’s the sort of person who neglects to pay back his debts. And he’s aware of the huge debt he owes Kiryu. Not to mention, their bonds of trust and love vanishing completely because of jealousy felt unreal to me. Their relationship becoming twisted or strange? Yes, but vanishing entirely felt unsatsifying to me. 

And Yumi!! I had so much fun excavating her character from the clues we get of her in canon. I worry sometimes, that she’s unrecognizable, because you know, I’ve given her a college education, and a whole bunch of interests beyond hostessing alone, but people seem to like it and like her, which is great!! I hate fridging women characters, so keeping her and Reina alive was important to me, hahaha. (RE: fake!Mizuki, there’s this substory in Kiwami that actually addresses who she was, BUT IT’S EVEN MORE HORRIFYING. So that’s why Yumi in my fic is the one captured and tortured by Nishiki’s men, because the thought of this poor innocent woman getting dragged into the mess was just untenable to me.)  

Anyway, thank you for your support and kind words, and I hope you’ll continue to read and that my fic can continue to relieve stress. I--tried to write this about Mine, but Daigo kind of stole the spotlight a little??? I hope you still like it--if not, I will try a ficlet from Mine’s perspective too. I enjoy minedai a lot, but I haven’t had room to think out their dynamic yet, so this took me a while. 

Daigo’s no stranger to being desired. He’s attractive, he knows this—his mother’s beauty lives in his veins, and he’s always had the money to look after himself. Fancy soaps to wash his face, the invisible retainers to keep his teeth straight, fancy suits and skin-tight shirts to show off his frame. For all that Kiryu insists his charisma is something that comes from the soul, Daigo knows it wouldn’t be able to draw the sort of attention he does without being attractive.

Which is to say that Daigo’s not especially thrown off by the intensity of Mine’s gaze. It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again. The thing that surprises him is how much he relishes in being seen by Mine.

Maybe it’s because Mine’s an island in a stormy sea, one of the only yakuza his age who’s sensible and level-headed enough to make it big. Maybe it’s because Mine’s gaze is always so reserved, polite, never overly lusty or overstaying its welcome, and Daigo has so rarely been desired so quietly. Or maybe it’s because Majima and Kashiwagi so clearly disapprove of him—Daigo’s always been something of a rebel, and he hasn’t shaken that off, even now he’s in his thirties and is the arbiter of rules for the Tojo Clan.

Daigo can’t quite put a pin on why he’s so comfortable with Mine’s yearning looks, but he’s never been one to hold back when he wants to indulge in something good. Not exactly a hedonist, not by yakuza standards, but Daigo has never kept himself from enjoying life, in the name of some dubious ‘honour.’

Which is why, in an after-hours meeting with Mine, as they eat cheap takeout sushi together, Daigo takes his chance. A momentary slip, the slightest hint of wasabi left at the corners of Mine’s lips and Daigo swoops in, rubs a thumb over the corner of Mine’s lips. Mine stutters to a stop, mid-sentence through a rundown of the real-estate that the Hakuho Clan’s been purchasing up, and stares at Daigo, eyes bewildered.

“Sixth Chairman?” he asks, his voice still remarkably composed.

“Wasabi.” Daigo says, nonchalantly, as if it’s nothing, and sticks his thumb into his mouth, slowly licking it off with a lingering lave of his tongue. He feels a sharp stab of satisfaction as Mine’s eyes turn darker, and his gaze follows Daigo’s hand down.  

Daigo straightens up, languidly, and cracks his neck, casually. At this point in the day, he’s untucked his shirt, and he knows that a slight strip of his stomach will be visible when he stretches out his arms towards the ceiling. And as predictably as clockwork, Mine’s gaze darts downwards, to that pale expanse, to catch that brief second of skin. Daigo can’t help but feel warm. Something about being watched by Mine is exhilarating.

“Smoke?” offers Daigo, but as usual, Mine refuses, with a polite shake of his head.

Daigo knows from hearsay that Mine’s something a health-freak, so he’s not entirely surprised. It’s already too late for Daigo to preserve his health—he knows that his liver’s already been pretty ruined from long nights of binge-drinking as a youth, and this job’s too stressful to withhold from vices like smoking and drinking, without an optimal end-goal. So he walks over to the window, cracks it open a little, and lights up.

The breath of nicotine curls over his body, a tender caress, and Daigo feels his shoulders drop, as the relaxation hits. He pulls off his cufflinks, tosses them into his pockets and rolls up his sleeves. He takes it slow, runs his fingers over his skin a little more than strictly necessary. Surreptitiously checking the reflection in the window, Daigo watches Mine watch him, and smirks at how intense that gaze is, how Mine’s mouth has opened, and Daigo can just see the soft pink of his tongue.

“Dojima’s just fine, you know. When it’s just us two.” Daigo says, turning over his shoulder. He smiles, one of those charming smiles that had always gotten him whatever he wanted as a child, “We’re same-aged friends, after all.”

“Dojima-san.” Mine acknowledges, after a brief pause.

Daigo turns around, to properly look at Mine and lifts an eyebrow. “Dojima. Or Daigo, preferably. Dojima-san’s always my father in my head.”

Mine nods, face impassive. Daigo can’t read him like this. Maybe that’s why he likes when Mine stares at him, filled with longing. At least then, Daigo feels like he knows him. In moments like these, his implacable gazes might as well be a brick wall. “Right. Your Father was also in the Tojo Clan.”

Daigo smiles, wryly, and blows out a puff of smoke. “One of the most horrible men I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting—and I had to call him Father. But damn if he wasn’t good at the job.” He sighs and stubs the cigarette out against the ashtray. “...sometimes feel like I’m competing with his dead spirit. Everybody’s looking at me and wondering if this is what my Father would do. Or what Kiryu-san would do.”

“You’re doing better than any of them.” Mine says, immediately, with a vicious ferocity that Daigo wasn’t expecting. He can’t quite stop his eyebrows rising in surprise, and Mine straightens upwards, looking self-conscious immediately. Daigo regrets his instinctual reaction, immediately. “That is to say, Dojima, that I think that you’ve pulled this Clan into somewhere far more respectable. From what I’ve heard of your Father, he didn’t have the temperament to do proper business on this level—too insistent on formal obeisance and unable to be flexible as the times require. And Kiryu-san might be very honourable, but we are yakuza. There are certain things you have to do as a Chairman, that he couldn’t bring himself to do. But you are practical and do what is necessary, while also not overstepping into excessive violence. You are uniquely suited for this job, Dojima.”

...he’s taken aback a little, he can’t deny it. Daigo wonders if his cheeks are colouring, wonders if his obvious shock is offputting, wonders if this is how Mine feels every time Daigo teases him lightly about his obvious attraction. A startling warmth spreads through his chest, and Daigo can’t stop the slight smile that touches his face. Has anybody ever said something so unreservedly kind and measured about Daigo before?

Maybe this is the difference between everybody else’s gazes on him, and Mine’s gaze. It’s based on something more than desire alone. Respect.

Daigo runs a hand over his slicked-back hair and ruffles it free, with a rueful smile, a smile that he couldn’t take away from his face, even if he tried. “I appreciate that. You know I couldn’t do it without you, right?”

He’d never really believed himself capable of attraction to a man like Mine. All of his previous childhood crushes had been on bright, cheerful conversational, pure-hearted people. Daigo had always figured they would balance out his sardonic cynicism. He’d never thought someone as reserved and principled as Mine would ever make his heart flutter. But then, there was something about that deep hunger and passion that Daigo craved. Perhaps it was because he was no longer the gloomy punk of his youth. Maybe his tastes have changed towards tall, dark and handsome. Maybe Mine’s just that special.

“Dojima—” Mine says, clearly trying to refute it, but Daigo cuts him off.

“I mean it. Everybody in this fucking Clan wants me to do something or be somebody else. Kashiwagi-san wants me to be my mother. Majima-san wants me to be Kiryu-san. Everybody else expects my Father. But not you. You deal with me honestly, and with candour, and never hold any expectations against me except success. I appreciate your faith in me.” Daigo takes a couple of steps forward, until his shoes almost brush up against Mine’s own. He leans down over Mine’s chair. “I could not do this without your backing and help. Truly. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone like you in my life. A true friend.”

Mine tilts his chin up to meet Daigo’s gaze, a hungry devotion in his eyes, and Daigo, for a moment, wonders if this is wrong. If he should hold back, like Kiryu would. But Daigo is Daigo, and Mine clearly wants him anyway, so he leans down and kisses him.

Mine’s mouth is velvety smooth and wet and hot and it is oh-so satisfying a feeling to put his hand against Mine’s broad neck and feel his warmth up against Daigo. He pulls back, with a satisfied sigh, and feels the burn of wasabi across his lips, a final parting kick.

[minsimagines]

what’s in a name | demon!j.k

next part

A/N: part two coming soon! also, images are not mine, i’ve just put together the collage. credit to owners! and also, can we talk about his hair? specifically in the header under here? help. feel free to talk to me about his hair.

   warnings: none, i think??

   summary: On the day she’s about to turn 18 years old, Y/N finds out she belongs to a demon.

★ ⋆ ✰ ✦ ☾ ✮ ⁎ ★ ⋆ ✰ ☾ ⁎ ✦ ✮ ⁎ ☾ ★ ⋆ ✰

  You stood in the middle of the living room of your parents’ gigantic house, staring at their faces. Their expression held sadness, though your rage didn’t leave room for pity. Your eyes flickered over their bodies, wondering if they really even were your parents. You didn’t want to believe it.

  “When did you do it?”

  “Sweetheart, we’re sorry,” your mother tried to console you, but you took a furious step back.

  “When!?”

  You mothers brows pushed together in a sad, despaired frown. “We contacted him on your first birthday.”

  “So, you sold me, signed my whole life off before I’d even lived any of it?” You asked, your voice a mere whisper.

  “You’ll be safe, that was the deal! He’s not going to hurt you,” your father said urgently.

  “The deal,” you scoffed, a humorless smile on your face. “And what happens if it doesn’t get me?”

  Your father’s face dropped. “I… I don’t know.”

  “I guess we’ll find out,” you muttered, watching their faces twist into expressions of fear.

  “Sweetie, running won’t help, he’ll find you!” Your mother yelled, desperately. You slowly shook your head and ran out of the living room, one of many in the huge mansion. You ran past old paintings and staircases, your shoes tapping against ancient floors. You didn’t take anything but yourself and your phone with you, you didn’t stop to find out if they were following. You ran through the huge kitchen, slipping past chefs in the middle of preparing supper. Through the windows you could see the sun was setting.

 Throwing the backdoor open, you bolted through the massive garden, and the bushes shaped as bunnies. It had been for you, they’d said. All they did, was for you. What a load of crap. You would never let yourself be sold like some kettle. You were a human being with a mind of your own. You were turning 18 as soon as the clock rang midnight, and your parents would never see you again after this.

  Passing through intricate gardenwork, you ran into the dense forest behind your parents’ estate. You’d always played out there when you were young, and you’d always swore you’d had a guardian angel watching over you in those woods. You’d fallen out of tall trees, you’d scraped every inch of your body on branches, stumbled over stones. There had been incidents where you should have died, yet you never came out of the trees with anything more than a pale red patch wherever you’d hurt yourself. Perhaps the guardian angel was still in there.

  You didn’t waste a second. You heard your parents and a few servants call after you, but you blocked them out. You ran and ran and ran until you couldn’t breathe.

  Falling to your back in the middle of a meadow, you gasped for air. You didn’t care how much sound it made, or how loud you were crying. You had to get it out. Your chest hurt; your soul hurt. Weren’t parents supposed to love their children? Weren’t they supposed to protect their children?

  You didn’t know how long you laid in the small, damp meadow. Your jeans were soaked and probably green on the backside. Your body was numb from crying. From realizing your life was a lie. Your life had been a means to and end for them. You couldn’t fathom how anyone could do such a thing, and to their own child!?

  As you stared up at the sky, you knew he’d be coming for you. If it was really true, then he would come for you no matter where you were. Unless you were dead. No, didn’t demons rule the dead as well? The air felt thick.

  “I take it you’re not happy with your current… predicament.”

  You jumped up at the deep voice. A hand flew to your chest, your wide eyes staring at the man leaning against the trunk of a tall tree. He was… well he was breathtaking. Hair, black as night, framed his face. His eyes were dark, intense and amused as he watched you, blinking lazily. His hands were in the pockets of his dress pants. He wore a black suit, which one would usually find weird deep in a forest, yet he seemed to just… fit.

  You didn’t say anything. What were you to say? That you didn’t like it? You thought that part was pretty obvious. Your eyes flickered over his appearance. Had you not known his true nature; you might have freely spoken to him, told him you weren’t going with him and how you were going to be free. You might have been interested in what he had to say. But you knew, and you didn’t want to know any more.

  “Come here,” he said, his voice didn’t leave room for discussion, but you were frozen. Both in shock and fear. He watched you, seemingly patient, his eyes not leaving yours for even a split second. Did he even blink? You didn’t think he did.

  “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he muttered, his voice turning darker along with the look in his eyes. You felt your vision blur as you shakily took steps towards the man. The edge of his full lips twitched up in a smirk at your compliance.

  He stood up straight, towering over you as you stopped in front of him, a hot tear rolling down your cheek. You hated him. Or, maybe you hated your parents. You didn’t know, you just knew you didn’t want to be a slave.

  “Please,” you whispered, whishing for nothing else than to be left alone. You wanted to be away from him, from your parents, from their stupid massive estate. You didn’t care about any of it, you wanted to be free.

   He decided to take your plea as a wish for him to take you right away.

  “As you wish,” he whispered, his eyes turning as dark as night as he reached out for your waist, pulling you against him. You yelped and pushed your hands against a chiseled chest. The world around you turned loopy and dark smoke enveloped you both. You instinctively gripped his jacket, your wide eyes staring around yourself in terror. He watched in amusement, finding himself already loving the look of fear in your eyes. Your big orbs glowed with horror, and he could stare at the wonderful sight for hours.

  The world shook and trembled around you as you were both swallowed by the darkness. A grunt left your lips out of fear, your eyes squeezing shut. What was he doing? Was he going to hurt you?

–

  You startled upright, your arms grabbing at your body, your lungs gasping for air. You looked around yourself, but it was so dark, you could barely make out anything. You could, however, tell it wasn’t your room. It looked modern, stylish, dark. Black furniture against dark walls. Everything was so dark. The bed sheets, black silk, slick around your bare legs.

  You threw the covers off, your jaw dropping. You were wearing a big t-shirt, down to the top of your thighs. Your eyes carefully wandered around the room once more, your mind completely blank. You couldn’t remember how you got to this room, or where your clothes had gone. Or… if it was you who removed them.

  Quietly slipping out of bed, you slowly stepped towards the window. The curtains were closed, and you hoped the view could give you a clue to where you were. Gently taking a hold of the fabric, you pulled them apart.

  The view… though broad, was unhelpful. You looked down, and your breath caught in your throat at the height. You were so far above ground. You could see so far, yet you had no idea what city it was. The lights from the streets and the buildings were beautiful, but the sinking feeling in your stomach was not.

  Hands wrapped around your waist from behind, and you squealed in surprise, your body jerking forwards. The hands held you back from bumping your head into the glass. You spun around and found a pair of dark eyes staring down at you, looking very amused. You, were not. You glared up at him, your cheeks warming. Had he been in there the whole time? How did he sneak up on you like that?

  “Are you insane?” You asked, your voice low, feeling agitated. You’d never asked to be put in this situation, and you definitely couldn’t remember asking him to change your clothes for you.

  “Whatever do you mean?” He asked sarcastically, his lips curling up in a way too sweet smile, hands pulling you closer. You pulled a face and pushed against his chest, but his grip was locked behind your back. You shot him a look, which he mirrored, mocking you.

  “Where are my clothes?”

  “Trash.”

  “Excuse me!?” You yelled, your brows furring. Who the hell did he think he was?

  “You went all crazy and ripped them,” he shrugged, as if that was something that could just happen to anyone. As if it happened to him a lot. You narrowed your eyes, not believing him.

  “You think I’m going to believe some story about me just suddenly going ham and tearing off my clothes? I’m no Hulk.”

  “I didn’t say I was totally out of blame,” he smirked, taking a step back from you. You frowned.

  “What did you do?”

  “I just took you here,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “You inhaled something you shouldn’t have, and you went nuts,” he smirked, turning and walking towards the door. You ran after him as he walked down the dark hallways.

  “Inhaled what?” You asked, your voice raised with anger. Why couldn’t he just explain it in a proper way? Why be so god damned mysterious?

  He abruptly stopped and spun around, giving you no time to slow down. You bumped right into his chest, though his body didn’t move an inch. It was like hitting a brick wall. A… soft, brick wall. He looked down at you and you had no chance of reading his eyes, they were just looking at you.

  “This,” he said, his voice deep as he held his hand out. His fingers slowly began turning black, as a soft mist formed in his palm. He held his hand a good distance away from you, yet you could smell it as if it was right in your face. It smelled caramel, and the forest after it rains. And leather. Your eyebrow twitched as you turned you head towards his hand. Your eyes peered into the mist, and the deeper you looked, the more delicious the smell got. The mist flickered like a flame, and you wondered if the mist was a result of his skin burning.

  His other hand grabbed a wrist you hadn’t realized you’d stretched out towards the mist, and he pulled you towards the other side of his body as he closed his palm and forced the mist away, his hand turning back to normal.

  His eyes shifted as he looked at you, his expression one of confusion. You could only stand there and gape at him. You couldn’t wrap your mind around what had happened. It was as if you had been in a trance, and as he put the mist away, you felt almost sad. Maybe you really had gone crazy, like he said you had.

  He turned his body to face you, his hands on your upper arms as he leaned down towards your face. You looked up at him with wide eyes, your heartbeat picking up. Was he going to eat you?

  “What did it smell like?” He asked, almost carefully, which didn’t fit his image at all. You frowned at the question. Why did it matter what it smelled like?

  “Uhm… like a few things,” you said, uncertain. “A few things that have absolutely nothing to do with each other.”

  “What things?” He asked, more urgent.

  “Caramel,” you whispered. “And the forest. And leather.”

  He leaned back, and you watched as his eyes flickered all over your form. You swallowed, instinctively taking a step away from him. His eyes narrowed, and the intense look in his eyes returned. He was quiet for a while, and you didn’t dare move. You felt like a prey under his dangerous gaze. His dark t-shirt was tight around his firm muscles, and you swallowed, thinking about all the awful things he could do to you.

  “Y/N,” he whispers your name carefully, as if it was a prayer, and it knocked the wind out of you. Your mind began spinning, and all you could hear was his deep voice calling your name. You desperately looked up at him through your dazed vision. It felt like you were flying on clouds and being held down to the ground by bolts, bth at the same time.

  You tried speaking, but your lips just parted, no sound leaving them.

  “I know,” he whispered, as he took a few steps closer to you. You were frozen in your place, your skin tingling. His hands reached out, slowly, as if to not scare you, and rested on your upper arms. Your whole body practically vibrated at his touch, a shudder running down your spine and some of the tingling under your skin disappeared. You frowned, staring up at him, hoping he could give you an explanation. You mind was blank.

  He hummed, slowly letting his hands run down your arms. You stood there in wonder, amazed at how his touch seemed to make the heavy feeling lift. Though, if it was him who initially made you feel weird, then maybe it wasn’t so strange.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered, pulling you into his chest in an embrace and your hands automatically rested on his waist. You wondered what he was sorry about, but the softness you felt inside was occupying your mind. It was strange – you’d met this man, this demon; he’d spoken a few words to you and taken you to what you presumed was his home. He… he owned you. He looked every bit a demon, all but the sharp teeth and claws. His deep voice, his heavy presence, his intense stare, his magic. Yet you didn’t really mind being in that apartment with him.

–

 The next few days were strange, to put it mildly. He would often scare the bejesus out of you by appearing right in front of you or engulfing the whole living room in shadow as he entered, his eyes glowing bright red. The sight scared you so bad you had to run straight to the bathroom to not pee yourself. He used every predatorial bone in his body, sneaking up on your from behind and pinching your waist. You’d scream. Each and every time.

  He took you out to fancy restaurants for dinner. You’d wake up and find expensive gift bags waiting for you in the kitchen, though he claimed it was all to make you look the part. He constantly asked what you wanted of certain things, and what you liked, though never straight out. It was always like a guessing game. He was mysterious, and nothing could ever be simple. You felt like he was somewhat doing the most to make you feel like living with him wasn’t a prison sentence. You didn’t feel like that, however, you had quite a lot of questions on your mind. There were quite a few you didn’t dare ask, for example: why did your chest feel so heavy and your skin so cold, until he touched you? What had he done to you? Had he done it on purpose? He had apologized for something; you just didn’t know what.

  He’d sneakily began sleeping in your bed, slipping in behind you when you were deeply asleep, draping a heavy arm over your waist. You’d groggily mumble incoherent protests, feeling his presence, but too tired to try to move him away. He was warm, and he fit very nicely against your back. You let him stay.

  “Are you going to tell me your name?” You pried, following him around the big apartment as he typed away on his phone. He didn’t answer you, so you asked again. This had become a sort of daily ritual. You’d asked him the first day, but all he’d said was: “Did your parents tell you nothing of my kind?” It had you so curious you could burst.

  “Can you tell me something?” You asked, growing bored of not knowing anything about him. He leant against the kitchen counter, his eyes glancing up at you. The stare was a warning to leave it be. You didn’t care, you wanted to know. It wasn’t fair.

  You narrowed your eyes and moved to sit on the counter opposite of him, on the other side of the kitchen, as he went back to texting. Maybe you could use something as leverage? He seemed to like sleeping in your bed. A smile crept over your lips, but you tried your best to conceal it.

  “If you don’t tell me something, I won’t let you sleep in my bed anymore,” you said, trying to keep your voice even. His eyes locked on yours, his stare was dark. Intense. Had you broken through? In the blink of an eye, he was in front of you, his chest pressed against yours. A surprised yelp left your lips.

  His eyes slowly roamed over your face, his lips tipping up in the slightest smirk. You felt your stomach flip at the sight of it. Your breath hitched in your throat as he leaned in even further, his nose nudging against yours. Your mind was going haywire, wondering what his next move was. You waited for him to scare you in some way, fully aware of how much he liked seeing you scared. You thought, though hoped against, that he might use his magic on you.

  What you had not expected, was for his lips to brush against yours. The touch sent shivers down your spine, and you had an urge to lean in a press your lips to his, fully. You didn’t.

  It seemed like he had trouble restraining himself, but he did. He backed off and disappeared right in front of your eyes. You sighed, your hand reaching up to cover your hard beating heart. You couldn’t deny his beauty, and you couldn’t say you didn’t like his sense of humor, and his way of speaking to you – even if he was mysterious. Did you have feelings for him? You had feelings for his looks, that you could agree with yourself on, but for him? You didn’t know him.

  You knew he worked a lot. Exactly what he did, you didn’t know, but he worked a lot. And when he wasn’t working, he was around you, but always had his phone within reach. He’d often be busy working, even when home. He was fancy when it came to, well, everything. He would stare at you until you cleaned up your cereal bowl, even if you weren’t even finished yet. He was very touchy, very ‘hands on’. It was unsettling at first, not being used to it, but when you live with someone, no matter the conditions, you sort of get used to their ways.

  When he was annoyed, which was quite often, though rarely towards you, his eyes glowed red and he unbuttoned a few buttons on his shirt. The day prior, he had actually ripped it apart on “accident”, and you had been caught staring at his chest. He teased you the whole day, though you could never be sure if he was really teasing or serious – his eyes were always intense, and his body language didn’t change between the two.

  He was ripped. Like, really ripped. You’d seen him shirtless several times over the last few days; you’d even seen him naked. He seemed to prefer walking around naked, and though it made you feel profusely uncomfortable, you couldn’t deny it was a pleasure to look at the muscles in his back move as his arms lifted, and the biceps curled and tightened as he held the phone to his ear. The main question on your mind was: why?

  Why had he been interested in ‘buying’ you?

  Why was he being so nice and taking care of you?

  Why did he not want to reveal who he was to you? Other than his nature.

  You weren’t ungrateful for his caregiving, though you had to wonder why he was caring towards you. You had seen how easily irritated he got; how driven he was by his primal instincts. How easy it was to push his buttons, though you tried your hardest to avoid doing that.

  A part of you hoped he was interested beyond the deal he had with your parents. That a man like him, a demon; dark and cruel, more beautiful than any angel you could imagine, was interested in you. Plain old Y/N. You didn’t have a low self esteem per say, though you knew you weren’t the best at most things. Looks wise as well, though you didn’t think you were ugly. You just… reality was that compared to a lot of people on this man’s level, you weren’t even considered pretty.

  You laid awake in your bed that evening, still thinking about the kiss. It was a kiss; you had decided it was. It was your first kiss with him. After your rapidly beating heart had calmed, your senses were overflowed by that same sensation as whenever he left you alone. The air was so cold on your skin, there was an uneasy feeling in your stomach, and you just didn’t feel right.

  The mattress dipped, with no warning, and your body jolted slightly in surprise, though you didn’t move. His hand slid over your waist, and under your hip, taking a hold of you and spinning you around. A gasp left your throat at the sudden movement, and your hands gripped onto his chest for support. You stared up at him in shock.

  He was laying on his side, head propped up on his hand, looking at you with those dark eyes and you were about to say something clever when you noticed his eyes weren’t the same. They were telling you something different.

  His hand slid across your torso, slowly and gently, easing off the pressure in your chest; the horrible cold feeling. How did he have this sort of effect on you? You couldn’t get a grasp of it.

  “What’s happening to me?” You whispered, your voice laced with fear, though your tried to hold it even. He didn’t answer. He leant down and nudged his nose against yours. You felt his breath fan over you face, and you bit your lip. You wanted to be closer. You had such an urge to hold onto him and push your body against his, it almost hurt to hold yourself back. You had to close your eyes, your body tingling with longing.

  “Look at me,” he whispered, and you couldn’t even control your own movements as your eyes snapped open, looking up at him as if he might be the answer you were looking for.

  “Do you trust me?” he mumbled; his voice low. The question caught you of guard. You hadn’t thought about that. Did you trust him? He had kept you safe, for now, at least. He hadn’t acted like the monster he probably could be around you - or, not that much at least. When you pondered over his question, you came to realize that yes, you did trust him.

  “Yes, I think I do,” you whispered, feeling incredibly stupid but also hopeful.

  His eyes shimmered red at your words, though not the angry, fearsome red. They held primal instinct, sure, but not for killing. His fingers tightened their hold on your waist.

  “My name… is Jungkook.”

[eveningcatcher]

Courtiers when MC goes on a long trip

Volta

 “So, I’m off to travel,” MC stated once again as they took their bags off the floor, walking to the carriage.

“Did you pack enough food?” Volta asked as they tried to put in a sandwich in Mc’s bag.

“I did Volta,” MC reassured them, “We’ve packed it together, remember?”

“But, but,” Volta looked at them in disbelief, “That can’t be all you’re taking, right, right?”

“Trust me, it’s enough,” they reassured her as they gave her a quick peck on the lips, “Will you be fine without me around?”

“Oh, of course!” Volta smiled as she hugged MC one last time, “Volta has been alone for so long, she’ll be fine!”

“Alright,” MC returned the hug as they let their hand pet Volta’s hair one last time,” I’ll send you letters.”

“Oh, please do,” she said with a smile, “Take care!”

Once MC was out of sight Volta let out a sigh and went back to her estate. Happily, she started eating her food as if nothing happened. It was only the next week when she didn’t find MC that she started to panic. Oh, they’re gone, right. When did they say they’ll return? Two months, right. That’s no big deal to her. She is 100 years old! She can survive a few months…

“Um, sir,” one of the servants said as they carried an envelope, “You have a letter.”

“From whom?” she asked, curious. Does Nadia want to hold another meeting?

“MC, si-” as soon as he said MC’s name Volta jumped at him, snatching the envelope. With her tiny hands, she tried her best to open it but to no avail. Frustrated, she tore the envelope, taking out a parchment of paper.

My dearest Volta,

 After a whole week of being bored to death, I finally got to Nevivon. Unfortunately, I haven’t visited any interesting place, so I have nothing to write about.

             I truly wish that you could write me a letter telling me about how you’ve been, but I have no clue where I might end up by the time you receive this letter.

 Take care,

MC

 Volta reread the letter a couple of times, wishing she was with MC, but oh well, it can’t be helped. The most important thing is that they are safe and sound now. Feeling the warmth from MC’s kind words fill her heart, she put the letter on her desk and went to have dinner, thinking about MC the whole time. As she finished her 4th dinner she started to worry. MC never said if they had enough food. What if they’re hungry? Oh, poor little MC… she can’t do anything for them. The whole night was spent with zero sleep, Volta just couldn’t rest at the thought of MC being hungry.

Worry was eating her out, clouding her mind, not being able to do anything but think about the worst scenarios that could happen to MC. Frantically, she walked through her mansion, falling over many of her antiques that were collecting dust. As she stared at her scratched wrist, she started to panic more. If a demon like her could get hurt in the comfort of her home then who knows what could happen to MC! She bit her nails from stress until she felt the blood run down her fingers.

Just before she was about to ask for help, the servant came by and, with clear worry, helped poor Volta with the wounds. After he was done with bandaging the arm, he pulled out an envelope from his pocket, helping Volta open it. He put down the piece of paper on her lap and left the room.

She quickly took the paper, then immediately stopped from the pain on her fingertips. After taking a deep breath, she read the letter. There wasn’t anything that could interest Volta, MC talked about the beaches, different people they met as well as the food they tried. Food! So, they are eating well. Volta let out a loud sigh, happy that none of her worries was true.

Happy with the letter, she went downstairs, eating the food she didn’t eat this morning, knowing that everything is fine. MC is doing great and, by the looks of it, Volta will get their letters daily.

The next day passed and the sky has already started to darken. Volta didn’t receive any letters from MC that day. She bit on the bandages in worry. What happened? She would have pondered on the topic a bit more, had Vulgora not entered the room.

“Tiny one, what are you doing in here?!?” they asked, as they picked tiny Volta up, “You’re late and Nadia’s fucking pissed!” they mumbled as they left Volta’s mansion with her on their shoulder like some sort of bag.

Not much time has passed and the two of them were sitting in one of Nadia’s meetings with Volta barely visible behind the food. Much to everyone’s surprise, she didn’t take a bite.

After a while, Nadia asked, “Dear Volta, is something the matter?”

As soon as she heard Nadia’s gentle words, Volta didn’t know what to do other than crying. Through sobs and shaky breaths, she confessed about all of her worries for MC. Valdemar and Valerius rolled their eyes, not giving a damn about Volta’s feelings while Vlastomil listened carefully, knowing that this will be a great topic to gossip about. Vulgora, on the other hand, was just annoyed.

“Just grow some balls, Volta.”

“But, but,” she said through sobs, “What if MC died?” just the thought of it made her cry even more.

“I can assure you they’re alive,” Valdemar simply stated, hoping that Volta will calm down soon.

“How can I know if you’re lying?” she asked bitterly as she stared at the courtiers, “All you ever do is lie to me and throw me around. I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!” she shouted as she left the court meeting making everyone feel uncomfortable.

Vulgora stared at tiny Volta leave feeling only pity for her. Sure, they are a cold-blooded soldier, but Volta is like a child to them and out of all of the courtiers she is the most bearable one. They didn’t want to ruin their reputation by comforting tiny Volta, but they also didn’t want to see her cry. Then, it hit them. They won’t fix this, MC will!

 On the other side of the sea, MC was taking a walk in an abandoned street, feeling a bit uneasy. Once they felt someone throw them over their shoulder, they started screaming and punching for their dear life.

“Calm down pipsqueak!” Vulgora shouted, “I’m just bringing you back to Vesuvia.”

“What?”MC said as they calmed down a bit. They didn’t even hear Vulgora coming,” But… how? Why?” they kept on asking.

“Because tiny Volta is crying like a baby and I’m sick of it! So you’re coming with me to fix that!”

“But why did you come all the way here? Couldn’t you just comfort Volta on your own?” MC asked, still not understanding a thing going on.

“Stop asking unnecessary questions!” they shouted, “Just do your thing and make her stop crying!”

Mc nodded, going back to their dearest Volta.

In Vesuvia, Volta was lamenting in her misery, not even wanting to talk with Nadia. She still bit onto her bandages, making her fingertips bleed once more. She wished so badly that MC could be there with her, but she knew that won't happen anytime soon. She started crying once more, secretly being surprised at how much she was capable of crying. Just when she was about to stop her session, MC gave them a huge hug.

"Sh, Volta," MC said as they kissed her forehead, "Everything will be fine."

"MC," she said through her sobs, hugging them as tightly as she could, "Oh, you've finally returned! Volta was so, so worried. Please don't leave her like that ever again!"

MC smiled as they watched Vulgora happily leaving the two of them alone, "Alright, next time, I'm bringing you with me."

"Promise?" she asked, her eyes getting glossy from tears of joy.

"Promise."

  Vlastomil

 “Vlasty, don’t you think you’ve forgotten something?” MC asked as they stood in front of the doors of his living room.

He stared at MC for a moment, thinking about that statement, “No, why?”

“I’m travelling today.” They simply stated, a bit disappointed that he forgot about it.

“WHAT? Aren’t you supposed to go next week?” he stared at them. He was so busy taking care of the worms, especially the pregnant ones that he completely forgot.

“No, it’s today. I have to leave soon.”

“No, no,” he tried to quickly come up with an excuse to make them stay a bit longer,” But you didn’t say bye to the worms…”

“I know,” MC said, thinking about how they’d rather not do that, “But I have no time to say goodbye to all of them. Do you want to go with me to the docks?”

He quickly picked up Wriggler and left with MC to the docks. The two of them got there just in time before the ship sailed off. Vlastomil stayed on the docks far longer than he should, almost as if he was waiting for the ship to return. Who knows how much longer he would have stayed there had Wriggler not started to get nervous around so many unknown people.

Once he got back to his mansion he noticed that something was missing. Yes, his many children were there with him but the mansion still felt empty and cold. Vlastomil wished he could have properly said goodbye to MC. But nothing can be done now. He brushed off that miserable feeling and went back to taking care of the worms.

Days passed by and the feeling of needing something that was just out of his grasp didn’t go away. Not even the labour of one of his worms made him feel better. He hated this feeling. He is a demon and yet, he had to go through the feeling process. Of course, he did feel something for MC and he knew that it was love, but he hated all of these miserable feelings. It made him feel small and helpless and he hated that.

The next day he couldn’t run away from his job as a Praetor anymore so he had to drag himself to the Colosseum to attend the trial. Anything that both the prosecution and defence said seemed to go through one then the other ear. Valstomil just didn’t give a damn about that person. He didn’t like the way the person looked at him.

“I have made my decision,” he abruptly said, “You are… guilty! Oh yes, very guilty indeed.”

“But your honour,” the defence started talking, “It’s obvious that…”

“How dare you question my decision!” Vlastomil said, getting offended more and more.

It seemed that was enough to make everyone shut up with a few mutterings of apologies from the defence. Once the whole ordeal was done, Valerius approached him, “Praetor, what is the meaning of all of this?”

“What do you mean by that?” Praetor asked, playing dumb, “I’ve just said my verdict. That’s what judges do, right?”

Valerius stared at him in disbelief, wanting to say something, but deciding not to. He let Vlastomil get off the hook this time, but if something like this were to repeat, there would be consequences.

And so it repeated. Each time Vlastomil got tipsier and tipsier, declaring everyone guilty and demanding that the ‘guilty’ gets hanged. Valerius decided that enough was enough and, no matter how terrifying Vlastomil seemed at the moment, someone must stop him.

“Praetor, don’t you think there was enough hanged for this month?” Valerius asked after one of the trials where another person was, surprisingly proclaimed guilty.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Vlastomil simply stated, feeling his patience run thin.

“You know very well what I’m trying to say,” Valerius responded with bitterness, his patience slipping away from him, “Your witch would have made better verdicts for God’s sake!”

As soon as Vlastomil heard the mention of MC he couldn’t help but burst into tears. Valerius stared at him crying like a little child with no sympathy, realizing why Vlastomil was acting this way, “So, the two of you broke up.”

“WHAT? No!” Vlastomil said, mortified by just the thought of it. He returned to crying and said through tears, “MC is travelling.”

“Mhm,” Valerius nodded, not giving a damn about Vlastomil’s feelings, “And when will they return?”

“In five months.”

“Five months?” Valerius said, mortified. He can’t bear Vlastomil’s behaviour for five whole months. He’ll kill half of the Vesuvia by the time MC returns! “And where did they go?”

“They went to Prakra to finish some of their business,” Vlastomil still explained, not even thinking about stopping with the crying.

Valerius left Vlastomil in his misery, trying to think of what sort of important business a witch would have. They probably wanted a break from the Praetor and, for a moment, Valerius seemed to agree with that. But alas, he knew that he had to cut MC’s ‘vacation’ short, so he went to Prakra to look for them. As soon as he got to the Prakra’s docks, he tried to think where would witches be. Luckily, he didn’t need to think long as they saw MC walking nearby.

“Witch,” he simply called out to them, not even bothering to call them by the name.

MC recognized the voice immediately, “Consul,” they said, surprised, “What a coincidence!”

“No, it’s not,” he simply stated, “I’ve come to you because of the Praetor.”

“What happened?” they asked, worried.

“He’s getting insane!” he wanted to mention how he proclaims everyone guilty, but he decided not to. He doesn’t want MC and Vlastomil breaking up, who knows how much worse it could be then, “You have to return.”

“But-”

“Now!”

MC thought for a moment. Is Vlastomil in that terrible state? In the end, they decided that their love’swell being was much more important than their business. They quickly nodded, returning to the Vesuvia with the consul.

 Vlastomil was in his mansion, taking care of the newborn worms. Even though they were the most adorable little things (to a person with Vlastomil’s standards) Vlastomil didn’t feel any joy when he looked at them. He was even debating about rehoming those worms! He would have thought a bit more about it hadn’t MC opened the door and went inside the room.

“MC!” he said happily as he ran to them, nearly dropping worms off his lap, “Oh, you’ve returned! I’ve missed you so,” he kissed their left cheek, “So,” he kissed the other cheek, ”So,” finally, he kissed their forehead, “Very much!”

It was MC’s turn to shower Vlastomil in kisses. Once they were done, they said with a smile, “I’ve missed you too,” they took out of their bag a small box, “I wanted to buy you souvenirs, but didn’t have enough time to do so,” they started explaining as they opened the box, “But I knew that Squiggle was pregnant, so I bought these mini sweaters for the children!”

He stared at the small pieces of fabric, melting at the sight. He knew that his dear children would look dazzling in them. Once he was done kissing his love all over again, he picked the box and went on to put the clothes on the newborns, deciding that those babies will stay where they are.

 Vulgora

  "What do you mean by you don't need an axe?!?" they asked as they held their most prized possession, wanting to give it to MC as a parting gift.

"Exactly what you said," MC started as they raised their hands, refusing to take Vulgora's weapon, "Everything will be fine, besides, I'm not travelling alone," they gestured at another group of magicians who looked at least a bit experienced in battling off anyone dangerous.

"Fine," Vulgora huffed, feeling a bit frustrated, "But don't come crying to me if some bandits steal your stuff!"

"I won't," MC said as they gave Vulgora a small peck on the cheeks, "I promise."

"You'll be fine without me?" MC asked, knowing well how short-tempered Vulgora is when they're not around.

"Of course I will, now go on and don't die on me!" they exclaimed as they helped MC put their stuff in the carriage.

"Bye!" MC waved to them as they disappeared out of Vulgora's sight.

With a somewhat disappointed huff, Vulgora went back to their mansion, getting on with their usual business. It was only a few weeks later that everything went downhill. They were preparing for their usual hunt. Going to a forest with nothing but a sword as they rode their favourite horse they couldn’t help but think about MC.

They'll be away for quite some time, but that shouldn't bother them! They are a strong, mighty, independent demon. They can keep their shit somewhat cool until then, right? They nodded to themselves, being pretty confident with that reasoning. Their mind trailed off to those magicians, they seemed rather... annoying to say the least. No, they were dangerous! What could they possibly do to small MC! What if they, they didn't want to even think about it. And MC was so stubborn, they didn't even take Vulgora's weapons with themselves. Those pesky magicians could do just about anything to MC! Immediately at the thought, he started seeing red, wanting to beat the life out of those magicians. However, they weren't there, so they took their anger upon the poor animals living in the forest. But then, after they killed the second rabbit, they stopped. Didn't they talk about keeping their shit together? Why aren't they doing that? They should be doing that. They took a deep breath in and out, doing exactly as many as MC told them... fuck that! They're pissed and they're gonna show it. MC isn't here anyway, so who gives a fuck?

They kept on hunting and hunting and, once they've decided it was enough (at that point they killed around half a dozen of poor animals) they took the kill and went back home, demanding from servants to barbecue it for them.

The next weeks passed about the same, Vulgora would wake up, remember that MC left, groan in annoyance and went hunting. This time, they killed so many animals that they couldn’t carry them back to their estate. They thought and thought about what they should do with all of this, but then they felt the familiar presence of death. Valdemar most likely wanted to dissect the animals, but Vulgora didn’t give much of a damn. They can do whatever they want.

Over time, instead of calming down like they expected they would, Vulgora just became more and more aggressive. It happened both during and after the hunt. They showed violent behaviour to both animals and people. They started destroying shops, especially the ones with goods that are easy to break, they destroyed furniture in their estate, argued and got into the fights with just about anyone and so on. People were terrified, but nobody did anything about it. It was only when Vulgora destroyed the red market that a certain plague doctor decided to take action.

  “Wake up MC,” Valdemar said as they towered over MC’s bed.

MC screeched at the sight of Valdemar’s red eyes staring into their soul. Still a bit sleepy, they moved away from Valdemar until they didn’t bump into the wall.

“How did you get into my room?” MC asked as they looked for the candle, “Why did you come all the way here? What’s going on?”

“Vulgora turned into a maniac who started destroying anything and everything,” they started explaining nonchalantly, “At first, everything was fine. They just killed some animals in the forest, giving me more specimen to dissect. But then, they started destroying other people’s property. You see how that is a problem, no?”

MC rubbed their eyes, nodding.

“Great! Now return to Vesuvia and talk some sense into them,” after they’ve seen MC not responding to anything, they continued talking in a much darker tone, “It wasn’t a question.”

  Rowdy raven was another place that Vulgora was about to destroy. They could have destroyed this property like any other, had the barman not stood up to them. Vulgora stared at the man, their left eye visibly twitching. Who does this brat think he is?!?!

Just when they were about to cut open the man, they felt someone hug them from behind. Thinking it was a tactic to take them down, they quickly turned, ready to cut open whoever it was, but they stopped their blade as soon as they saw it was MC.

They stared at MC for a moment, not knowing what to say. Should they start with how much they’ve missed them, wished they would have gone with them to that trip? No, that’s something weaklings would say.

“It was about damn time you’ve returned,” despite the harsh words, MC could see that Vulgora was happy that they were finally beside them.

They gently kissed their cheek, nuzzling their head to Vulgora’s neck, “I’ve missed you too.”

  Valerius

 “Take care, my little witch,” Valerius said as he gently kissed MC’s forehead before they went inside the carriage, leaving for Karnassos.

“If I see some interdimensional monsters coming to Vesuvia, I’m blaming you,” Val said through a joke, even though he kinda meant what he said.

“But what if the monsters aren’t violent?” MC joked for a moment.

“I don’t care,” he said calmly, “I don’t want to see anything of the sort.”

“You’re no fun,” MC said just before the carriage went off, leaving Valerius alone.

He waved a bit and, once the carriage left, went to his mansion, enjoying the rest of the day with wine. When he went to bed, he pondered for a moment about what was wrong with it. Sheets were changed and everything seemed like it was in its place. Except for MC. He brushed the thought off. He’s not a toddler that needs to sleep beside someone, but then again, it would be nice if he could feel MC’s head on his chest as they are slowly breathing in and out.

The next morning came and Valerius didn’t sleep at all. He just couldn’t and that was pissing him off. The next night came and he hoped that, because he didn’t sleep even a bit last night, he could sleep now. And it went like that, making him rather happy. However, as soon as the third night came, he couldn’t sleep again, and so the cycle repeated. How is he supposed to go to the court meeting now? He is a mess!

But then yet again, all of his colleagues are a bunch of nobodies, so does it matter how he looks?

He just arrived at the meeting, feeling more irritated than usual. It just seemed like all of them did something just to piss him off. Valdemar’s posture was annoying, Vlastomil’s same talk about his worms made Valerius roll his eyes, Vulgora’s shouting was giving him a headache but, without a doubt, the worst of them all was Volta. She was munching on her food with an open mouth, not even thinking about stopping any time soon.

“Volta, could you please act like a civilized person for a moment?” Valerius asked with a frown, “It is rather impolite to act the way you do. Don’t you want to act a bit more like the rest of the civilized world?”

Volta was surprised and rather hurt by his words. She stopped eating for a moment, feeling shame when she had to swallow the food that was in her mouth. She stared for a moment at all of the empty plates in front of her.  Consul was right, she is terrible.

“I, I’m sorry,” she said as her eyes started to get glossy.

“Don’t just apologise,” Valerius said, rolling his eyes at Volta who was just about to burst into tears, “Do something about it!” he was running out of patience. Volta was acting like a little kid even though she could be Valerius’ grand grandma.

As the days passed by with Consul always visiting the palace, having the conversation with the rest of the courtiers about the measures that should be taken with the Flooded District. Every time Valerius was tired from spending the whole night without sleeping, he would take out his anger on poor Volta. His acts made her so confused. One day he’ll shout at her for accidentally dropping a parchment of paper, the other time he wouldn’t seem to care that she accidentally ate three golden plates. A whole month passed by and Volta decided that she had enough! She didn’t have the guts to confront Valerius herself, but she knew he had a soft spot for MC who was away at the moment.

She went to Karnassos, finding MC with ease. For a moment, she wanted to reasonably explain how Valerius was lashing out on her for no reason, but as soon as MC asked her what she was doing all the way here, she burst into tears, explaining in great detail how Valerius was treating her.

The two of them went back to Vesuvia, paying Consul a little visit. Volta decided to stay outside of his mansion, scared that Valerius might shout at her again.

MC went inside his bedroom, greeted by the sight of him finishing the second bottle of wine.

“Enjoying yourself, Consul?” MC asked as they leaned on the doors, enjoying the sight of Valerius in a loosened shirt with his hair let loose.

He nearly dropped his glass as he turned his head, seeing MC, “You, you’re back!” he walked up to them, hugging them as tight as he could.

“Say, Val,” MC said as they returned the hug, “What were you doing to Volta?”

It was that moment he knew, he fucked up.

 Valdemar

  Valdemar has been reading a centuries-old research paper, trying to correct their past self as their mind wandered, thinking about MC for a moment. It’s been 2 whole weeks that they haven’t heard a thing from them. For a moment they focused on finding MC’s soul, sensing that it was somewhere in the middle of the sea. That explains it. But still, couldn’t they at least try to send them a letter? Humans have progressed so much for the millennial of their existence that they were sure they have come up with some way MC could send them a letter. How rude of them, making them worry about their safety…

They would have been petty a bit longer had Vlastomil not went all the way to them.

“You haven’t gone out  of this place,” he gestured at the dungeon, “For weeks!”

“So? I don’t see a problem,” Valdemar simply stated, wanting to end this conversation as soon as possible.

“Nadia is pissed, you missed four of our meetings!”

“It’s not my first, nor my last time,” Valdemar said, trying to remember where they left their ink and quill.

“You should come outside for a bit to reassure Nadia that you’re alive.”

Valdemar thought about his words for a moment. There was some hypothesis in their old research that they needed to check once more.

“Very well then. I’ll grace all of you with my presence,” they said with a grin.

  Three people went missing that day.

  Valdemar found themselves in their dungeons once again, checking their hypothesis. They couldn’t enjoy it as much as they wished they could since the thought of MC plagued their mind. Did they leave just so that they could take a break off of them? Deep down, they knew that wasn’t true but just the thought of it enraged them.

Vlastomil came to the dungeons once again, which was disturbing Valdemar’s peace once again.

“Nadia wants to see you at the court meeting immediately,” he said as he remembered Countesses pissed off face.

“Oh, Countesses mailman is back,” they said bitterly, “Sharing Countesses demands which he cares so deeply about,” they turned to Vlastomil, ignoring his terrified expression as he saw blood on them, “Very well then, I’ll greet the Countess since she obviously doesn’t know what to do without me.”

And so they went along with Vlastomil, sitting right next to Volta as they completely ignored the stares of horror from their freshly bloodied clothes. They got even more irritated once they saw that there was no need for them to be here at all. Out of spite, they didn’t come to the next few meetings where their presence was necessary, so every time Vlastomil came down, they would be greeted by the sight of bloody Valdemar, having more malice in their eyes each time he visited them.

It was all because Valdemar got a bit irritated over time with MC. Sure, they finally received MC’s letter, but why did they have to make it so short? For the first time in a while, they genuinely cared about how MC spent their day, who they’ve seen, what food they ate, what they dreamed about two days ago. No matter how many letters MC could send them, it just never seemed to be enough.

They were frustrated by the thought, feeling like they might explode at any moment. As on cue, Vlastomil came downstair again.

“Valdemar-”

“Shut up,” Valdemar said, knowing they have no patience left, “Go back upstairs and don’t return or else I’ll put your baby Wiggler on this,” they slammed their hand on the dissection table, “Got it?”

Vlastomil ran upstairs, screaming like a little girl, deciding to find any way he could protect his beloved children. Through the gossips, Vlastomil finally concluded what was going on with Valdemar. With the help of his little children, he had no problem with finding MC’s whereabouts.

“MC,” he shouted as he tried his best to get to them, “MC you need to return to Vesuvia immediately!”

“Why?” they asked concerned, “Did something terrible happen?”

“Oh yes, it is terrible indeed!” Vlastomil said dramatically, “Valdemar has been spending days in their dungeons, cutting open whatever they could find!”

MC rolled their eyes, angry that Vlastomil made them worry over nothing, “Sounds to me like they were just acting like themselves.”

“You don’t understand! It’s far, far worse!”

“Right…” MC sighed, going away from Vlastomil but he grabbed their hand.

“They won’t be satisfied with dead bodies any longer! Think about my poor worms! Who knows what they could do to my poor children!” Vlastomil said, trying his best to explain to MC how the matter was serious.

“I don’t think about your worms. Ever,” MC sighed, hoping that Vlastomil would just shut up, “But I guess you won’t calm down unless I confront Valdemar…”

Valdemar heard someone go downstairs and, assuming that person was Vlastomil, they said, pissed, “Praetor, how many times do I have to tell you-” they stopped midsentence once they saw MC in front of them.

Even though MC couldn’t see it because of Valdemar’s surgical mask they were grinning from ear to ear. They’re finally back.

MC wanted to exult on Valdemar, to tell them how they were right. They can’t take care of themselves without MC, and they know it, but they decided not to say that. The last thing they need is for Valdemar to get petty. 

“Were you mean to others while I was away?” MC asked as they hugged Valdemar, tracing their spine with their fingertips, something they knew Valdemar loved.

“No,” they said as they ran their hands through MC’s hair, enjoying the scent of sea salt.

“Are you lying to me?” MC asked, looking at Valdemar straight in the eyes.

“Perhaps~,” they said with a mischievous grin.

[zirkkun]

What are your views on UT!Chara? Are they good, neutral, evil (in your opinion) (No need to answer this ask if you do not want to)

hoo boy let me just. you’ve activated a Secret Essay(tm) of mine anon fbdshabl sorry i’ll try to keep it short LMAO

(under a read more just for a) length b) ut spoilers.. even tho im p sure most of you have beaten the game but who knows lol c) uhh Chara’s story is pretty dark so this has mentions of abuse and whatnot so please be aware of that ^^;;)

Morality alignment wise is like. Idk. I’m bad with assigning that half the time because it’s all subjective in a way right oh no my true neutralness surfaces like for example I wouldn’t do something I think is bad right? But someone else might think it’s bad. (Like my 16 yr old self might consider me today a terrible person just bc I like Undertale lol 16 yr old me is rude don’t listen to them) If I were to put them on a kind of DnD like alignment scale though, I think I would probably put them in a lawful neutral kind of alignment, maybe leaning a bit towards lawful evil.

But here’s the thing. Without Chara having any sort of backstory as to why they hate humans? It’s very hard for me to gauge where their motivation lies for the things that they did. Based off of what Asriel tells you when you talk to him in the Ruins, the genocide route, and the bits of narration we have, we can pretty much assume:

- Chara was pretty abusive, this is undeniably a fact even from just watching the videos in the True Lab; and while Asriel recognizes this, he didn’t want to lose them because they were the only one he felt close to. Which is likely part of the abuse they dealt by making him feel alone without them. - Chara hated humanity for reasons they would not disclose to Asriel, but it’s pretty implied that they attempted to commit suicide by jumping into Mt. Ebott. This could mean that they were abused in their past, which could in turn provide reason for their abusive nature (because, with Chara being a child, it’s very likely that they took in the personalities of those around them to make their own person up. Even though they were hurting, they didn’t exactly know why, and even still, many people with an abusive history that end up abusive themselves might not even recognize that they’re being abusive, which might be the case for Chara as well.) - Chara probably cared for Asriel. There’s a lot of things to indicate that they may have faked it or maybe it seems like they didn’t by their abusive nature towards Asriel, but it’s unlikely that Chara would fake caring about someone. If they jumped off the side of a mountain because they hated the people they were around so much, there’s very little reason for them to pretend they liked someone at the potential expense of their own happiness. More likely than not, Chara desperately wanted to keep Asriel close, but ended up being really controlling in an attempt to keep him close. Additionally, when you hug Asriel at the end of the True Pacifist route, the line “Hah... I don’t want to let go...” is said by the narrator, indicating it may have been Chara who said it. But considering how Sans also has lines that are spoken silently and in the default font, this may not be entirely accurate.  - Imma go off for a second about genocide because i have a pet peeve about when people suddenly decide that Chara is the one that caused it. This doesn’t make any sense -- but at the same time, with little to no games considering the Player and Player-Insert character to be two seperate characters, it’s no surprise to me that people i guess “projected” onto Chara. However, if you seperate the player from Frisk (in the same manner that Kris and the Player are seperate in Deltarune), it becomes easier to understand. Chara had nothing against the monsters. They liked monsterkind. It’s extremely unlikely that they would have the motivation to kill all of the monsters on their own. This wasn’t created until far into the genocide route, where the player has done most of the work for them. Chara is now living on pure Determination, which as we know is void of care and purely puts a person on a path of achieving their last desire, and once they wake up like this, with most of monsterkind already dead... well, what else is there to live for? They already attempted to kill humanity, failed, and now the only people they treasured have fallen like flies. Nothing matters in this world. Might as well delete the whole thing to finish the job. (also Frisk doesn’t have any motivations of their own either... unlike Kris they are shown to have no specific motivations (that i’m aware of?) one way or another and don’t reject the player ever so the idea that a canon frisk would reject the genocide route doesn’t make sense to me either. obvs au’s are exempt because they’re free real estate lmao anyway this is unrelated) - Chara’s a very calculated and observent person as well -- just look at how they died? They weren’t even afraid of death. They poisoned themselves with full faith that Asriel would take their Soul and bring them back to life (which also goes back to my point about how much Chara cared for Asriel, since, if they didn’t trust him, they would not have left him with that huge responsibility) by absorbing their Soul into his own body so they could exist as one. Chara saw their death as a stepping stone in their plan. All this from just seeing Asgore accidentally eat buttercups once and getting sick. A whole plan to get revenge on the people who hurt them from that. They even made a statement about wanting to be placed back on the Surface just to cover Asriel’s ass when he eventually took Chara on his own to the Surface. - okay this is probably just more of a me thing, but I’ve never gotten the whole “Chara hates Sans” concept. But considering I also don’t really think of Chara as the one who attempted the genocide route, I guess it makes sense. Chara probably doesn’t care about Sans one way or another, really, and Sans probably has very little idea who Chara is. I’ve always seen Sans’s statements during his battle said directly towards the Player, more or less using Frisk as the messenger -- like, for example (yes I have this on hand don’t judge me):

“sounds strange, but before this i was secretly hoping we could be friends. i always thought the anomaly was doing this because they were unhappy. and when they got what they wanted, they would stop all this. and maybe all they needed was. i dunno. some good foods, some bad laughs, some nice friends. but that’s ridiculous, right? yeah. you’re the type of person who won’t EVER be happy.”

- (cont) At this point it sort of taps into something I was gonna write for that Sans essay but here we go. I bolded “the anomaly” because this is the point where he directly refers to the player as their own individual in the game. What’s the only thing that’s different between Undertale and any moments of his life previous? The player. Hence, anomaly. Even Chara would have existed before the player showed up, right? Chara fell sometime within the 2010′s according to the opening of the game, and in between that time and when Frisk showed up, 6 other humans fell into the Underground. Clearly none of them had the same powers Frisk did, because otherwise, they would have not died and left their Soul behind for Asgore to use. That leaves one thing different -- player interference. Chara even directly states that the player is the one who woke them up with Determination, meaning they were asleep (or dead) for every year previous to their arrival. Sans probably only knows them as “the first human” like every other monster in the Underground (aside from the Dreemurs, of course).

i could probably go on for a while. but i will save you the time you probably didn’t want to spend reading this already by shutting up fdbshafb

[cherishedkids]

luck || tokito muichiro x reader

anime: kimetsu no yaiba  warning/s: angst, sad, spoilers from the manga, mentions of death and bloodshed words: 3,973 pairing/s: tokito muichiro x reader request: “ (⚠️ manga spoilers you can just delete it if you havent read the manga) hi can i request angst with fluff ending? muichiro's pillar!childhood friend but he doesnt remember her tries to talk to him then he gets mad at her for being annoying and she runs away. then she encounters kokushibo (upper moon one) the same time the village got attacked and muichiro gets back his memories but when he tries to find her she is very injured in the butterfly estate then she wakes up then fluff~” from anon!

A/N: thank you so much to the anon who requested this!! i have to admit, it was a bit hard for me, but i like challenges! i do hope it lived up to your expectations!! enjoy reading!

Luck was what you normally relied on. All the achievements you have accomplished and all the obstacles you have conquered--you could attribute to luck. From what you could see, you relied too much on it, harboring no skill whatsoever. Your flame breath wasn’t anything special, and there was still a long way to go before you could see yourself mastering it.

This was especially true when you actually lived through the Final Selection. You heard from others that some people never got out of there alive. But you had to endure, as it was one of the hurdles to becoming a demon slayer. And if you did not become one, you would not be able to achieve your dream of being able to protect others from these evil creatures, nor would you be able to honor the memory of your childhood friends. So, for seven grueling days, you had to fight and survive the demons that inhabited the mountain.

As you stared out the rising sun, the smell of wisteria filled your nose. At the break of dawn, you became a low-ranked demon slayer. But that was enough to bring a smile to your face.

You could only get so far with luck, however. There were only a small number of people who could use the flame breath, as according to your old master, it was hard to master it. The flame breath was a dying one, with only a dwindling amount of families being able to use it. Even you had difficulties with the forms themselves, as your joints creaked painfully after every battle.

But even so, you did your duties as a member of the Demon Slayer Corps. What else was there to do? For two years and a half, you strived and little by little, you improved your own breath. It came to a point that a crow delivered a very important letter to you. You only knew it was important because it kept repeating and yelling the words, ‘urgent, urgent!’. It was from Ubuyashiki Kagaya, inviting you to his abode. The famed Ubuyashiki?

You set forth to journey to him, with guides carrying you there. It was a secret place, so you were blindfolded the whole time.

The moment you set eyes on his gentle eyes, you knew you could trust him. He sat alone on the tatami covered floor, the light of the moonlight serving as an indirect light. A lantern was light beside him and you could see the scar that spread across his face.

“___, it’s a pleasure to meet one of my children, face to face,” A smile was on his face. “I am not able to see you, of course, but you understand,”

“Of course, Oyakata-sama,”

“You might be wondering why you had to go through great lengths to visit me, and actually, I have a request to ask you,”

“What is it, sir?”

“I’m sure you have heard of the passing of the former Flame pillar, Rengoku Kyojuro,”

His death sent shock to the entire community. Of course you have heard of it. It was a pity that a fellow flame user had died, but along with his death, he was able to bring two other demons with him--one low-ranked and one high-ranked one.

“...I have, yes,”

He was not able to see you, yes, but the change in the atmosphere was enough to alert him. “I am asking you to take over his position as the Flame Pillar,”

“But I’m too young--”

“I have been keeping watch over you; your ability is on par with the other hashiras, and you have killed over fifty demons so far.” His tone was still gentle, careful not to rock the boat. “Please understand--your very presence may boost the morale of the other demon slayers,”

You close your eyes. How was this happening? Ubuyashiki might not know that you had just used your luck as a crutch. You did not want to disappoint him. 

“I’m sorry, Oyakata-sama, I believe that I won’t be able to meet your expectations. I have no real ability in swordsmanship and my breath is not powerful. I truly hope I did not waste your time,”

“Nonsense,” His face had turned into a worried one now. “You look down on yourself too much, ___. Meet with the other hashiras, and you might change your mind,”

Sighing, you agreed to this compromise. He had a spare room for you to sleep in. It wasn’t a surprise, as his house was huge. The next morning, you woke up to change into your uniform. Ubuyashiki told you that the hashiras would arrive before lunch, so you waited for them. Ubuyashiki Amane and her children kept you company as you nervously imagined how the meeting would go.

When you heard people muttering outside, you peeked and saw a group of people. You had never seen the other hashiras before, so it was eye opening. Quietly, you came out of the room excusing yourself from Amane and the children.

Their attention turned to you. The same way you had never seen them before, they also were not familiar with you. Ubuyashiki was still sitting on the floor, attending to them. “___, please come closer,”

He requested, and so you did. 

As your eyes skimmed over the handful of people powerful enough to be part of the Pillars, one boy caught your eye. A very familiar face. One that you thought had died so long ago.

“Muichiro?” You wondered out loud, and his eyes locked with yours. But he did not show any sign of recognition. His eyes remained cloudy and uninterested. Even so, he still had his beautiful blue eyes. Ones that used to shine brightly in the moonlight, ones that used to hold great concern for you.

Ubuyashiki did not seem to hear it or, even if he did, did not deem it important. “I have been thinking of recruiting ____ ___ as the next successor--in place of the fallen Flame Pillar,”

They seemed to have mixed reactions. There were those who nodded, and some who seemed disgruntled by this suggestion. But you kept your eyes on Muichiro. He had changed--his eyes had turned lifeless. Was it because of the hard work that was required in becoming a demon slayer? Had he killed enough demons that he had changed? You hoped not.

A white haired man with scary eyes stepped up. “As much as I respect you, Oyakata-sama, I have to wonder. Why a kid again?”

He was right, but you didn’t care. Tokito Muichiro was before you. One of your childhood friends that you thought had perished under a demon. Why was he here? 

“Her combat skills are worthy of becoming a hashira, Sanemi,” He briefly explained.

“I think it’s great that another girl will join us!” A woman with pink and green hair exclaimed. “It’s been so hard when all my peers are men,”

“Technically, she is not yet a hashira, as she tells me she is too young and inexperienced to become one,” Ubuyashiki explains, and you turn red. Did he really have to mention that part? 

A woman with a butterfly hairpin comes forward and places a hand on your shoulder. Her expression is unreadable, as she hides it behind an empty smile. “I think you should trust in Oyakata-sama. It’s an honor to directly serve under him, ___,”

“I still want to leave the decision to her, Shinobu,” He interjects, not wanting any conflict to arise. 

But the moment you saw Muichiro, you had already made up your mind. If anything, curiosity fueled you, and you just wanted to know what had happened to him. Just seeing his face was enough to convince you. They all wait for your decision. If you accepted, they would be leaving his house with a new colleague. Sure, luck was always present for you, but when it came to decisions, you had to rely on yourselves. This was a leap, and you’d hate yourself if you made the wrong choice.

You face Ubuyashiki and bow lowly, placing your head on the hard tatami floor.

“I accept your request, Oyakata-sama. I’ll do my best to live up to your standards.”

After your inaguaration and announcement that you were to be the next Flame Pillar, you rush to Muichiro. It had been years since you had last seen him, and he just disappeared without a trace! As he was about to leave, you tap him on his shoulder.

“Muichiro! Long time no see!” You say, a smile on your face. Even so, his expression did not change.

His response completely subverted your expectations. Honestly, what did you think would happen?

“Do I know you?”

The same cold eyes that his twin brother had, stared back at you. But you were sure you were still talking to Muichiro. You had seen Yuichiro’s body in their small house when you were visiting them, not his.

“Don’t you remember?” There was slight shame present in your tone, but you were determined for him to recognize you. Maybe it was just that the years changed you so much that he couldn’t remember you anymore. “I used to visit you and your brother! We even used to play in the flowers near your house!”

You explain, but the look in his eyes never changed and his lips stayed in a straight line. “I don’t remember meeting anyone like you.”

But you did not waver. Almost three years--and he’d just forget about you? “But we used to be so close--we’d even hide from Yuichiro--”

You could not finish your sentence as he cut you off.

“Just because you became a hashira does not mean you can pretend to know me,” There was a sound of distaste in his voice. “I, particularly, do not care about the others. But if you play with my memories again, I assure you, you will create an enemy out of me,”

There was only silence as he stared you down. Almost the same age, but you could tell he was much more powerful than you. He was even confident enough to doubt your abilities as a hashira.

“What happened to you?”

He looked at you in distaste. “What do you mean by that?”

“You used to be so sweet and gentle, you’d even try to braid my hair!” Recounting the memories brought back happiness and sadness for you. “But you changed. You’re no longer warm, you’re just… indifferent,”

If he was the same Muichiro, he would have cried at your comments and apologized. But it was clear that he was not the same. “What about it?”

Every word he said struck a blow to your already weakening heart. There was no way he’d forget the time you comforted him because of the death of his parents. There was no way he’d forget about the time you helped him get wood and taught him how to cook rice. There was no way he’d forget about the promise you made to each other--that you’d protect and be together always.

You grabbed the sleeves of his black uniform. Hands shaking at the thought that such a dear friend would just lose all memories of you so abruptly. 

“Come on, Muichiro, stop joking around--it’s not funny anymore!” That’s right, he had never been the funny type. This sick joke he was playing had already run long enough. It was time to give it up. “You’re the only one left from my past… I just… I can’t lose you again,”

Slight concern showed up in his expression, but he immediately changed it to one of anger and offense.

“If you really cared about me, you’d stop babbling about this nonsense and go do your job as a hashira,” He moved his arms away and turned away from you. “I have better things to do than deal with your lies,”

At this point, you had dealt with so much hardships, trying not to die everyday. This is what you get from the universe? A childhood friend that won’t even try to remember you? You gritted your teeth and curled your hands into fists. If that was what he wanted, then that was what he got.

“Fine, Tokito.” You said, warmth that you willingly gave him, lost now. “I’ll go and do my job as a hashira,”

With that, you left. 

Muichiro cursed himself as he watched your figure fade away into the distance.

Those desperate and pleading eyes were familiar to him. He had seen them in a dream once. It was only a dream, he tried to reason with himself. But he could not ignore the guilt that gnawed at him inside.

He could not dwell on it for long, as he still had his own worries. He headed in the opposite direction, quick to find a guide to take him to the swordsmith village.

-

You wandered in the woods for the longest time. It was the only way you could calm yourself down. You were not sure yourself just how long you had been walking. Had it been days? Or had it been mere hours? All you knew was the anger that built up inside you.

The crow that had been assigned to you sat on your shoulder, berating you to go do your mission. But you were too tired and unfeeling to do anything. Was this how Muichiro felt? Empty and hollow. Even if you did ask him, you doubt he’d ever face you again after that encounter.

Perhaps it was foolish of you. After all, you were only invited there because Ubuyashiki wanted you to become a hashira. You were not there to re-spark friendships that had faded over the years. After all, what was the reason you even became a demon slayer in the first place? 

Right. It all came back to him. To honor his brother and his memory. But even he did not seem to acknowledge it.

You sigh. Were you ever going to have a break?

It seemed not, as you heard rustling behind you. Maybe a normal Mizunoto-ranked slayer would not hear that, but after two years of fighting against demons, you had known their techniques.

You turned behind you and saw a man in a kimono. Was he a samurai? He held a sword in his hands and he was about to sheath it. You could not see his face, as the moon provided little light. Once you saw that he was not a demon, you relaxed.

“Don’t worry, sir, I am not a demon,” You show your sword to him. “You can let go of your own sword,”

“That’s too bad,” As he stepped forward, you could feel your stomach drop. “Because I am one.”

Three sets of eyes showed itself to you. The middle part, you could see that it spelled out ‘Upper Moon One’. There were red markings on his face and neck, and you almost felt your life flash before you.

You take out your own sword and hold it up against him. “What are you doing here?!”

You ask, desperate to stall him and to find a way out of this. It was clear that luck was not on your side today. Your own childhood friend dismissed you, and now? One of the most powerful demons had popped out of nowhere! Talk about misfortune!

“I could ask the same thing to you,” He said, as he slowly took his own sword out. “But let me humor you--I was simply practicing my breaths,”

Breaths? There was a demon who knew how to use them?

Before he could make a stance, you rushed to cut him up. You had to strike him and keep the element of surprise. A bright light came from your sword as you sliced the arm that held the hilt of his sword, flames following the cold metal. Then, you jump backwards, waiting to see what would happen. Your eyes widened as his arm was still intact. 

“A flame breath user?” He chuckled slowly, a feat that you could not enjoy. “I see his own technique worsened over the generations,”

Then, he took a stance, and in a flash, he was in front of you. “I guess I can give you a bit of credit, as you are still young,”

You try to dodge him, but his own breath disoriented you. Inconsistent crescent moons came from his sword and some had cut against the uniform you wore. You grunt as you feel wounds open up from his attack. But you had no time to rest, as you quickly used his closeness to attack. Flames came out of your sword again, and you target his hand again. It comes off clean, but you see that he regenerates again.

“My brother’s sun breath burned worse than that.” He remarks, and you knew that you were never going to defeat alone.

Turning away from him you hurry and run through the woods. You did not care if what you were doing was cowardly. The difference in strength was crystal clear.

“Running away? And you call yourself a swordsman?”

It was all you could do. Your luck had finally run out, and you knew that you’d die if even for a second, you faltered. Not when you still had a hundred more things to accomplish!

You breathe in and out, navigating the dark forest. You needed to live. If you could just see Muichiro one last time, you’d forgive him.

-

Muichiro wakes up in the Butterfly estate. He doesn’t really know why he’s here, nor how he got here, all he remembers is the masked faces of the swordsmiths he protected in the village. 

Right… the village! He gets up, but he feels pain everywhere in his body. That was a huge mistake, so he lies back down again, and slowly raises himself up, grunting at the pain. In the same room, he sees other beds that are occupied by familiar faces. Kanroji Misturi, Kamado Tanjiro, and a few injured swordsmiths caught in the action. 

But someone else that he hadn’t seen that day is also there. She’s covered in numerous bandages, and a worker is sitting near her, looking over her. He can tell that she’s in critical condition. The worker near her hears him groaning and he rushes over to him.

“Tokito-dono, it’d be wise to lay down--your wounds aren’t fully healed yet!”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s fine, I’ve gone through worse,”

Muichiro’s eyes can’t stop being drawn to the figure on the bed. “Say, can I ask who that person is?”

The worker follows where Muichiro is pointing, and sighs out of concern. “That’s the new Flame Pillar, _____-dono,”

You? He can’t hide his shock. Before he lost consciousness, he saw all the memories you claimed to have with him. Each and everyone of them he relived, and he could feel embarrassment and regret building up inside of him. He suddenly gets up from his bed and in the blink of an eye, he’s by your side.

The wounds that he had, he ignored. There was nothing else more important at the moment!

“What happened to her?” He asks in a frantic tone. The worker is a second too late, and Muichiro asks again, with more venom in his voice. “What happened?”

The worker stammers, but the words finally come out of his mouth. “She encountered the Upper Moon demon alone in the woods… and well, she’d been in recovery for almost a week now,”

A week… So while he was journeying to the swordsmith village, you were fighting for your life? He felt like an idiot. The last time you spoke, he talked down on you. He looked at your pained expression, and he could tell that you were in immense pain right now. 

“Tell me everything--how was she found?” 

He had to know.

“Her crow escaped as she was battling the demon and told near demon slayers near her. Thankfully, Himejima-dono was praying in a temple nearby and was able to save her,” The worker’s voice trembled. He was afraid that Muichiro’s anger would turn towards him. “When she got here, she had numerous slashes and her heart stopped for a minute...”

Muichiro looks at the worker in alarm. But he already had a response to this. “Don’t worry! Thanks to Kocho-dono, she survived that. Now, it’s all up to her if she’s able to wake up,”

“I see…”

Shakily, Muichiro reaches for your hand. There’s a slight hesitation in him, but he whispers, so only you can hear it.

“I’m sorry.”

He can’t believe that he could not remember who you were! The one who was always there to protect him from his brother, the one who was able to make him smile during hard times, and the one who he promised eternity with. 

He was not entirely sure if you were going to survive this. If you had encountered the demon that was second to Kibutsuji Muzan in terms of power, he could only pray to the gods that you’d be able to pull through.

The worker excuses himself. He sees the intimate moment happening in front of him, and he respects the both of you.

“I swear I’ll never let you go again. Just please…” Muichiro feels tears well up in his eyes. He is not able to stop them. His voice cracks multiple times and he grips your hand tightly. “Please wake up, ___…”

Your hand twitches in his, and he feels his heart skip a beat.

“You’ve always been a crybaby,” You croak out. Your head is throbbing, and your throat is dry. “I guess not everything about you has changed,”

He rushes to get a glass of water and hands it to you. Then, he makes sure that you are able to sit properly. Wiping his tears away, he looks at you. “I was so scared,”

“You clearly haven’t met the Upper Moon demon, then,” You muse, and Muichiro is not able to complain as he is just so happy that you are actually sitting and talking to him again!

“I regained my memories a few days ago…” He confesses, and he turns his gaze to the ground. “I apologize… for what I said to you. I didn’t mean it. In fact…”

He trails off, and his cheeks take on a light color of pink. “You’re the best thing I have in life right now,”

You also blush from his comment, but you had to ask him. “Why did you just suddenly disappear all those years ago? Why was Yuichiro dead?”

He tells you the story of how a demon had attacked the both of them, and how his memories disappeared from him after. “I forgot about everything after that… I’m sorry that I left without a word,”

“I… I understand,” Muichiro thinks that you’ll tell him to get out of your face. He expects that you’re disappointed in him for thinking that you’d forgive him so easily after he insulted you, until you speak up.  “Before I actually lost consciousness, my last thoughts were forgiving you. lt’s in the past, isn’t it?”

It might have been the crazy amount of medicine that you were on at the moment, but you turned bold. You gestured for him to come closer, and you kissed his cheek. “All that matters right now is the present, Muichiro,”

He smiles at this and kisses your hand multiple times. “Then I’m ready to fulfill my promise of staying with you forever,”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You felt warmth spread throughout your body. You both will be alright, as long as you have each other to depend on. All the obstacles and hardships you encountered at the start seemed worth it, if you found Muichiro in the end. 

Luck really did end up being on your side.

[cecilspeaks]

161 - The Space Race

Space, the final frontier. The womb, the first frontier. Somewhere between those two, the ocean. Welcome to Night Vale.

I’m excited today for the annual Night Vale Children’s Fun Fact Science Presentation. Yess, that’s right! As we’ve done every year on this day, we will be devoting our entire episode to a scientific narrative that is sure to delight both the young and the young at heart. And also those who have stolen young hearts and incorporated them into your flesh sacks. For this year’s Children’s Fun Fact Science Presentations, we will be looking into the history of – the Space Race. Mmm! My husband Carlos has been helping me research this. Thanks, honey! And so it should be airtight and without error.

Now, the Space Race truly began in 1792, at a garden party hosted by the first Duke of Luftnarp one lazy July weekend. A bored group of noble people were sitting out in the garden in all their ruffles and wigs, looking absolutely fashionable for the time, and absolutely ridiculous to modern eyes. And soon the conversation turned, as it often does in parties, to how much they all hated the moon. “Stupid moon!” said one. “Lousy orb!” added another. “Why, I loathe that sky rock!” said a third. Then they started to throw things at the moon to demonstrate how much they hated it. But none of the objects they threw, not the champagne glasses, nor the decorative party masks, nor the dangerous knives, came anywhere near the moon. Most of the hurled items followed the tedious arch of gravity back into the party with mixed results for the attendees, some of whom required immediate medical attention. “This won’t do,” said the first Duke of Luftnarp. “We must hit the moon square on with our objects of derision. “Let us endeavour,” said the Prince of  York, “to build an object that can make it all the way to the moon, and smack that awful rock right across its ugly surface. The first one to do so will show that they indeed hate the moon the most.” There was general cheering to that remark, along with some moaning from those who had been struck by the falling objects. And thus, the Space Race was born.

And now the news. As I’m sure we’ve all been following, there is a presidential race going on. Yes, Night Vale may be a small town, mostly preoccupied with the banal goings on of our day to day life, but we are not unaware of national stories. Just like any other town, we have our own opinions on the presidential race. And spirited debates are held weekly in the Compressed Spine amateur boxing gym. Winner is generally by knockout, although occasionally a winner has to be chosen by points. I myself am a strong supporter of Spotless Tony, who I think has the best positions including banning guns, legalizing writing utensils, and Medicare for Spotless Tony. A-a program that would provide comprehensive health care to himself. Others may support Heartbreak Maggie, and I do see the arguments for her. She has the most number of arms, the most number of eyes, and her singing voice literally kills. In any case, I think we can all get together on one thing: Old Towel Leonard has got to go. Get him out of here, ugh! Old Towel Leonard! This has been the news.

And now traffic. Lift your eyes, pilgrims. See above you, another world awaits. This world has grown so tired. This world has grown restless. This world has less color and more dust. Lift your eyes, pilgrims. See above you, another world awaits. Get to that other world by any means, pilgrims. For what are pilgrims without their pilgrimage? What is anyone without a destination? You must lift yourself up to that other place. Gather your supplies, pilgrims. Strip this world bare in order to raise yourself up. Take every scrap around you and put it toward that other world. This is all that matters. It’s all that matters to you, and so it is all that matters. Aloft, pilgrims. You have done it. from here, the sweep of the universe presents itself. Cast down your eyes, pilgrims. See below you the world you left behind, the world you stripped bare to make this journey. There was found all the conditions of life. Up here is only a cold, lonely hollow. Why did you ever feel you needed to leave? But oh well, ooooh well. For what are pilgrims without their pilgrimage? This has been traffic.

Let us know continue with our Children’s Fun Fact Science Presentation. The history of the Space Race. The Space Race went on through the 18th and 19th centuries, with the rich and poor alike trying to be the first to successfully throw something at that horrible moon. The most obvious methods were quickly tried and discarded. Catapults only managed to cause collateral damage to neighboring homes, gunpowder only backfired on the scientists involved, often quite literally. One woman, the Arch Dutchess of the Motley Meadows, believed that she could reach the moon through dreaming. Every night, she performed a series of meditations that allowed her to have lucid control of her dreams. In those dreams, she would fly upward, each time getting a little closer to the dumb old moon. It was her belief that when she reached the moon in her dream, she would attain the same goal in real life. But the moment she finally touched the moon in her dream, she awoke to find herself in the stifling darkness of a coffin. It seems she had died several decades before, but still she dreamed. Having ascertained that there was no way back from the grave, she performed the meditations and fell into one final endless lucid dream. And that basically sums up the Space Race until 1953.

Now a word from our sponsors. Today’s show is brought to you by Borders Books and Music. Remember the old days when your legs were shorter, but your life stretched longer? When the shadows were less dark and the lights less bleary. When the internet was a secret club and not a poisoned chalice. When energy was a bottomless thing, not a quickly siphoned tank. We are what once was. Look on our works, both books and music, ye mighty, and peruse. Borders Books and Music. What you are now, we used to be. What we are now, you will be. This has been a word from our sponsors.

The lawsuit in the case of the estate of Franklin Chen versus the city of Night Vale continues apace. The suit is currently in the discovery phase, which has been made difficult by the fact that the apparent murderer of Franklin Chen, Hiram McDaniels, has not been seen in Night Vale for years. Not since… the incident. And all records in Night Vale are top secret. So every time the lawyers for the Chen family try to see one, they have to dodge the laser grid and tank darts that surround every filing cabinet in City Hall. Those lawyers have filed an injunction against the city to try to force them to turn the laser grids off, but as the official Night Vale motto, written by the town founders hundreds of years ago clearly states: “Laser grids or death”. More news on this lawsuit as news is made by this lawsuit.

Back to the Space Race. Affairs continued with little success until 1953, when the United States, descendants of the Prince of York, decided that enough was enough and established the North American Slap the Moon Agency, or NASA, dedicated to developing the skills and technology needed to give that horrible orbiter what for. Meanwhile, the Russians, descendants of the Duke of Luftnarp, started their own agency designed to kick the moon in the you know what. And so a bet between two bored aristocrats became a global race, as they both tried to be the first to aim missiles at that sad little planetoid. To represent us, we chose Neil Armstrong. He was a test pilot, and he reportedly hated the moon more than anyone. Above his bed, he kept a National Geographic picture of the moon. The caption: “Can this celestial trash ever be put in its place?”, which he had drawn a huge red X through. Below that, he wrote: “Darn you, moon!” Which was the strongest language that existed in the 1950’s.

Finally, all was prepared. Neil Armstrong and his fellow astronauts boarded the rocket. All was quiet. Then, all was loud. More soon, but now for this week’s word jumble.

The following nonsense words will, when the letters are rearranged, produce a simple phrase we all know well. Here we go. Before I went into the cave, the prospect of the cave became so monstrous in my head that I dreamt about it for weeks. In my dreams I was just outside of the cave and I knew that the moment I stepped into the cave, my life would be over. But I also knew I could not delay my journey into the cave. I shook and shook with fear, and in my shaking awoke myself. This happened night after night. Then came the day of our expedition and to my horror, as I stood outside the cave, the same dread certainty came to me as soon as I stepped one foot into the crevice before me, my life would be over. I shook and shook, but I did not awaken, for I was not asleep but in the terrible dream we call life. So there it is. Just take those nonsense words apart and rearrange them into the phrase we’re looking for. If you think you have the answer, you probably do. Great job! Uh, before we go, the answer to last week’s jumble was: “Hop! The window shakes slyly, look here!” Which is, of course, the title to Dave Edgar’s new book of essays about block chains. This has been this week’s word jumble.

We near the end of our story on the Space Race. Neil Armstrong and his comrades hunched in this tiny capsule that absurdity of absurdities was about to be launched through void to lifeless rock. Sweat on his nose, sweat on his lips. Then sweat in his mouth. This was all unnecessary, the-the history of humanity did not require us to physically touch everything there is, but. Some drive made him willing to risk his life, the only life he would ever get, in order to go far away and then come back again. There was a sound. There was a fire! There was pressure! And then, there was an absence of pressure. And they were at the moon. The lander careened its way to the surface. Neil, sweat still on his face, placed one foot on the moon. “I have a small foot,” he said. “But humanity metaphorically has big feet. Biiiig huuuge metaphoric feet.” History would record and repeat these poetic words. Neil looked about him. He had done it. He had been the first one to smack into this disgusting space rock. All around was grey, and above that black. And within that, unnervingly distant blue and green. And then, Neil saw.

What Neil saw in a moment. But we really should, and we really must Go to the weather.

[“Have a Smoke” by Head Portals https://headportals.bandcamp.com]

Neil’s breath made shapes on the inside of his helmet. Some part of him felt that it was not even him on the moon, but that he was merely watching someone else’s body through a little window. That other him stepped forward and saw something truly odd. It was a house. Solidly built, two floors, a front door and gable windows. As he looked at it in disbelief, he realized that it was one of many. An entire town all cleverly camouflaged from above with grey and black mesh, so that it would appear through telescopes to be merely the awful boring surface of the awful boring moon. He was not the first one on the moon after all. Who had come before? He walked through the town, tho it appeared abandoned. He stood in the middle of the main square and he said, tho he would not be able to be heard through his helmet and the thin atmosphere: “Hello?” In every window appeared an animal. Dogs, cats, snakes, hamsters, and parrots. So many animals all watching him silently, regarding him from the windows of their little town. One cat, grey as the moon itself, hopped from her ledge and came over to him. “I am Barbara Emmeline Gwendolyn Sauss,” said the cat. “But you may call me Barb-E-Q –Sauss.” Neil said: “You can talk?” And then he said, “Well, apparently you can, I don’t know why I asked. The cat continued as though he had not spoken. “This is our city. We are the lost pets of your world. We are lost, because that is what we choose to be. We came here so we could be lost forever. Tell no one.” Neil didn’t know what to say. All of his training had been about zero-G maneuvering and the best way to hit the stupid moon when he got there. Nothing about how to interact with a cat that wanted him to keep a secret. “Please,” the cat repeated, and Neil nodded. Not knowing what else to do, he went back to the lander, climbed in, and looked at the other man who had made this journey with him. Lee Marvin looked back at him with gentle eyes. “Lee,” Neil said, “You’re not going to believe this!” “A secret lost pet city on the moon?” Lee said. “Well…” Neil said, “Uh… yes!” Lee nodded thoughtfully. “Better leave them to it then,” he said. “Probably better we keep this between us.” Lee did not look surprised. It seemed to Neil that maybe Lee was there precisely to ensure that this secret was kept. And so again Neil only nodded, and they made their preparations and left. As they launched, out of the tiny window, Neil could just barely see thousands of animal eyes looking up at him. “I’ll keep your secret,” he whispered, “I’ll keep your secret. And he did. He never told anyone. Neither did Lee. No one knows this story. No one has ever heard it.

This has been the Children’s Fun Fact Science Presentation.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Correct placement from right to left: salad fork, soup spoon, salad spoon, bread knife, bowie knife, meat thermometer, entrée fork, and finally, the dessert claws.

[bigfan-fanfic]

I Am Batman (AU Batdad x Batman Headcanons)

Requested by Anonymous for the reader being Batman from another universe and is caught in the main one. With reader being really tall. 

Shout out from me and this anon to all y’all tall readers! Hearts to all!

A flash of light, a rush of sound.

And suddenly, Gotham City has a visitor. 

The Batfamily goes as one to meet this visitor, having had poor previous experience with multiversal travelers.

And it seems like Batman is standing there. Or a version of him. This one has small glowing red lines along his armor, the same color as the eyes on the cowl, which encloses the entire head.

He’s impressively tall, more so than Bruce, even, and his sinister Bat armor gives him an intimidating presence.

“Who are you?” Bruce asks firmly.

The man turns, tilting his head. “I’m Batman.”

“Obviously, you’re Batman, too, huh?” you say, your voice altered by the cowl’s tech. You press a button and the face slides apart so that the five in front of you can see your face. “Y/N Wayne.”

Each of them has taken a step backwards in shock at your face.

Bruce removes his own cowl, and you are shocked.

There is a moment when lightning flashes, and the typical Gotham rain begins to pour, and the two of you are staring at each other.

But then it passes, and you are brought back to the Cave.

You explain that after a few years of being Batman, Bruce was murdered in the course of duty. The press had had a field day wondering if you knew or not. You lied and claimed complete innocence, which the police backed you up with.

Alfred, as executor of the Wayne Estate, made sure you inherited everything, including Wayne Enterprises.

But instead of grieving, you and Jim Gordon created a secret program called the Silver Star, recruiting Bat-people out of the GCPD so that there were multiple Batmen running around Gotham all at once. 

It effectively kept fear up in criminals and brought crime rates down, since everyone believed that it was the ghost of Batman unleashed. 

And at the head of this program was you, using the training Bruce had given you to become the new Batman. Your codename was Batman Prime, and together with Alfred and Jim’s daughter Barbara, you commanded all of the Silver Star’s operatives.

You’ve been Batman Prime ever since, and once Jim became Commissioner, Lucius Fox has had WayneTech working on new equipment for the Star, hence your super high-tech suit.

Bruce tells you all about the boys, and how you died a few years ago at the hands of Talia, while protecting Damian.

It’s hard for them to see you, especially as you have none of the familiarity with them. You’re a nice, bright person, but you don’t have the years of parenting experience nor the patience. 

It’s hard for Bruce because you show no interest in him, because you’ve never gotten over YOUR Bruce’s death, and even with a different version of him it would feel like a betrayal. Also this version of you is harsher and darker - too much like himself.

Dick is the only common link between the two of you, since he was adopted before Bruce died. But unlike Bruce, you never let him become Robin, and he had a relatively normal upbringing. However, once he became old enough to make his own decisions, he went into the police force in Gotham and joined the Silver Star all on his own, becoming a fellow Batman. 

It’s weird for Dick because while he craves the feeling that you’re back, he knows that somewhere out there is a different Dick who needs his Y/N back. 

Jason gets angry because it feels like the universe is taunting him. He often used to wish you weren’t so positive towards him when he wanted to feel down, and now he’s gotten his wish. Now you barely interact with him at all and he hates it. He spends time away from the manor and visits your grave almost every day.

Tim doesn’t trust you at all. Mostly because you gave him more coffee to keep him awake, which in his sleep-deprived mind means you don’t care about him and are just using them all to get home. Maybe you aren’t even Y/N in the first place. Did anybody think of that? Huh? No, you’re the paranoid one!

Damian can’t really reconcile the feelings. He feels guilty because you died protecting him, and part of him feels like he deserves the cold shoulder this you is giving him. And another part of him is angry because all he wants is his Papa back and this is not what he wanted!

They are all able to work with you, though. You’re an unusually upbeat Batman, laughing often as you take down criminals. In contrast to his efficient, trained style, yours is much more creative and environmentally interactive, due to your lack of formal training compared to him.

And due to your height, Bruce realizes that you’re more intimidating than he is. Bruce tends to try and talk to you over comms or from a higher vantage point in order to avoid having to look up at you.

Dick kind of likes it. You often serve as the perfect springboard for his more acrobatic moves.

You aren’t as disciplined as Bruce, mainly because you’ve organized the Star into shifts so that the members have time to recharge, so you get really tired after the first week. You forget that you’re in an alternate Wayne Manor, and you go to yours and Bruce’s bedroom and just slump on top of Bruce, hugging him close.

You’re bigger, and just for a moment Bruce enjoys the feeling of you resting your chin on his head before he decides that this one little time can be allowed. He turns and kisses you. The both of you hold each other close, pretending that you have your loved ones back.

In the morning, you decide that it wasn’t so bad after all, and from then on, you and Bruce sleep in the same bed every night (or, you know, whenever you end up sleeping). 

But it is only temporary. Eventually a way is found to send you back to your universe.

You have responsibilities to get back to. And so does Bruce.

“Bruce.”

“Y/N?”

“I know I’ll come off as a huge hypocrite, but... move on.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m gone, Bruce. You aren’t making me any happier by mourning. Show these kids some love. Help them. And if you find someone... let yourself be happy. You deserve it.”

You know he probably won’t take your advice. But at least you’ve put the thought into his head. You move to step through the portal.

“Y/N.”

“Bruce?”

“I’ll always love you.”

“Me too.”

“Then you do the same. We’ll both try.”

You smile. “I think we can do that.”

And as you land back in your Gotham, you feel lighter than you have in years. 

[autumnstwilight]

Dawn of the Future summary- Aranea

So, Aranea’s section is the shortest of the book, and you can kind of tell that it was a story intended to be presented in game format. I had to put the book down and sigh in frustration a few times from reading a description of a huge set piece boss battle that could have been really cool. IF THEY MADE IT.

-Our story begins with Aranea sleep-deprived and eating a bag of popcorn she found in a destroyed and partially flooded store, which tastes bad but she doesn’t want to throw out. She’s in the cockpit of her airship returning to Niflheim after a 35 hour no-breaks shift working on recovery and cleanup in Altissia, along with Biggs and Wedge, and the 86th Airborne Unit, which she commands. -Musing over her bag of gross popcorn, she thinks of how there are no facilities such as amusement parks or movie theaters in Niflheim, there were in her childhood, but as the Empire expanded its war effort and territory, the lives of the citizens became more and more bleak as funds and real estate were devoted to the military. -She’s also frustrated by the poor treatment of human troops as opposed to Magitek infantry or daemonic weapons, as half her unit was lost in Altissia. -They’re about to land in Gralea when her ship is fired upon by Diamond Weapon (the giant daemonic weapon used to attack Insomnia in Kingsglaive), which is loose in the city and being fought by the army. -A lot of Aranea’s story is essentially about pursuing and taking down Diamond Weapon (while also contending with flying daemons and rogue Magitek troopers), which probably would have been an awesome multi-part boss battle to actually play but is a little meh to just read. -She calls the Weapon デカブツくん (slang term for something large which I can’t think of an English equivalent for as my brain keeps providing “chonk” or “absolute unit”). She also tells it, “Now, it’s punishment time,” if anyone would like to imagine her saying that. -The Weapon heads for Zegnautus Keep, and Aranea enters and fights her way up toward the roof. Meanwhile, Biggs and Wedge help some kids evacuate. -Ardyn begins speaking over the city PA, “Ladies and gentlemen of Niflheim, thank you for your presence. The Empire ends today.” He then mentions that the Emperor has no successor. Aranea recalls that the Empress died soon after giving birth, the Emperor never remarried, and their son died in battle several years prior. The public believes that the Empress’ death is the reason for the Emperor’s personality change, but Aranea thinks it was due to Ardyn’s arrival. -Ardyn explains that the Emperor pursued “magic” as a path to immortality, intending to remain emperor forever, and look where that brought them to. He then allows a dying Iedolas to speak, “Sol… heim… The sun of Solheim… will rise again…” -Aranea finds Zegnautus empty of people and Iedolas dead of Starscourge on the throne. When she gets to the roof, she sees an airship carrying away Diamond Weapon. Ardyn is there eating an apple and watching the Empire burn, repeating his もったいない line (“Oh, what a shame…”) from when he was watching the destruction of Insomnia in Kingsglaive. She realizes he is the one who set the Weapon loose and made the Magitek troopers go out of control. -She tries to attack Ardyn, but her spear hits empty air and he counters, sending her flying and leaving her on the ground wracked with pain and coughing violently. She recovers enough to ask what he’s doing with the Weapon, and he says he plans to let it rampage in Tenebrae. -”You want to destroy it?” -”All of it. Everything.” -After this Aranea’s internal narration switches from calling Ardyn “the Chancellor” or “that man” to, essentially, “goddamn idiot lunatic” (イカレてる大バカ野郎) -Biggs radios Aranea to let her know he’s just put the refugees on a train to Tenebrae. Ardyn is amused. -”It’d be really nice if I could stop the daemons by kicking your ass.” -Ardyn offers her his half-eaten apple if she can beat him. -Instead, Aranea tells him that she’s quitting her job, giving “I hate you” as the reason when requested, then jumping off the roof with her spear. -At this point, she runs into “the most annoying man out of anyone she knew”- Loqi Tummelt, in his Magitek Cuirass. After a fight, he opens the cockpit to reveal he is transporting an eight-year-old girl on special request from the Emperor. The girl says that she wants to fight too- Aranea tells her she’s ten years too early, then reflects on her own childhood. -When Aranea was around the same age her village was attacked by daemons and she was ordered to take the younger children to the basement of the church and hide while the adults fought. She had the same “ten years too early to fight” exchange with her father before both her parents were killed. -Loqi entrusts the child to her and quietly says thank you as a swarm of daemons approach. As Aranea heads for the train and Tenebrae, she watches him fight in his Magitek armor, and hears him announce “Glory to the Niflheim Empire!” Aranea tells her Airborne Unit that their final mission is to protect Tenebrae. -They run out of bullets trying to shoot down the airship carrying Diamond Weapon, succeeding in damaging the airship enough that it crashes, but the Weapon is still active. Aranea takes her spear to fight the Weapon alone. -[insert boss battle sequence of her destroying Magitek cores on the giant daemon accompanied by Biggs and Wedge in Magitek armor that sounds like it might have been fun to play] -The Weapon is destroyed, the refugees get to Tenebrae safely, everyone is alive, etc, etc. -except then a bunch of flying daemons arrive and they have to take those out too. -Aranea finally talks to the girl, who turns out to be Sol Antiquum, the secret child of the Emperor’s deceased son. She comforts the girl and hugs her, again remembering herself as a child. -Ten years later, during the World of Ruin, Sol has grown up and learned to fight, raised by Aranea, and is now a rebellious teenager. Aranea tries to send Biggs and Wedge with her on missions, but Sol insists she doesn’t need to be treated like a child. Biggs and Wedge are apparently even more overprotective. Meanwhile, Aranea cooks a meal with canned food while waiting for her to return.

[elliemarchetti]

The zombie apocalypse AU is good! How's Cal and Mare doing? How is the Royal Family handling the zombies?

I hope this answers your questions! Enjoy!

Zombie Apocalypse AU (part 3)

Previous parts

Words: 1445

When the news came, the blood froze in Mare’s veins. The Stilts had been taken, the few guards who had still remained to defend them had fallen and now her old house had also been invaded by those things. They were all dead. She still couldn’t believe it, she still couldn’t shake of her head the imagine of her father in his wheelchair, totally unable to defend his family from the horde. Had Bree and Tramy tried to fight? Certainly, but none of her siblings would’ve run  away without dad and it wasn’t possible that they had managed to take away from that ruckus a man who couldn’t walk, let alone run. So they died, devoured by those horrible creatures. At first, as soon as she knew, Mare had also wanted to die. What reason did she have to go on if all the people she cared about, the few who were still alive, just died? Obviously, the survival instinct had prevailed, as it always happened with her, and although she still mourned now and then the fate of mom, Gisa, Kilorn and all the others, she had to go on: although she had no way of telling her parents what had happened during the Queenstrial, it still had happened and now she was a princess who had to train to help the rest of the royal family and the army to get rid of that plague. Even the king had gone to the forefront, and the queen, whom Mare believed she would never see sprawled, was using her skill to the utmost to drive those things away from the city.  The training wasn’t quite as she had expected it to be: around her the other noble of her age warmed up, most doing stretching or running around the gym, but others dedicated themselves to much more amazing things, such as Elane, who came in and out her field of vision, distorting the light around her to the point of disappearing, or Oliver Laris, who, by levitating the specks of dust, had created a small tornado in his hands. Someone might have thought that with such skills it wasn’t difficult to get rid of the zombies, but to be sure that they really died, and this time forever, the options were very few: to pierce one of their vital organs, it didn’t matter which one but brain and heart were preferable since it made the death more immediate, or burn them. She had learned these things, along with many others related to the virus that had started that tragedy, in her lessons with Julian, who believed that her bizarre ability could be a huge step forward the annihilation of what for all intents and purposes couldn’t be anything but a population control experiment that went wrong, but she needed to be honed in the right way and Elara considered it essential that she was also trained to go on the field, in a more physical way, as she said, that would allow her to hit them more precisely, even getting closer to danger. As much as the hated to admit it, she wasn’t wrong and she felt almost guilty about being locked in that golden cage, where she was safe but also represented a wasted resource. So there she was, watching Sonya battling listlessly against Andros Eagrie, a short but muscular eighteen year old who parried her blows one after the other, in what seemed like a violent dance that demonstrated her that she wasn’t ready yet to go on the field. She must’ve been a disappointment for her grandmother, who hadn’t stopped fighting one day since it all started, and even before, when they were still at war with the Lakelanders. When she was younger, the idea of war frightened her to such an extent that she wished there was a way to stop fighting, but she never thought it could be anything worse.

“In a row,” ordered a low, almost imperceptible voice, snatching her from her thoughts on how her older brothers used to console her. It wasn’t the right time to think about them, and she certainly didn’t want to be seen by all those nobles who still didn’t respected her a bit, cry. So she concentrated on her new instructor, who entered without making any noise with Cal at his side. His eyes were surrounded by thick dark circles, which, however, didn’t make him lose the appearance of the soldiers in the propaganda posters. To think that the similarities didn’t stop there, he too, just like those images, was full of secrets and lies, she almost laughed, but it hadn’t happened for weeks now, and probably just a vague grimace deformed her face, seeing as Maven approached her further with his protective behavior that she just couldn’t understand if she hated or liked. Although this was a desperate situation, she didn’t forget who he was son of, what Elara had done to her, what life of misery hidden between sparkling clothes and sharp fake smiles she had condemned her, and above all that the difference between Silvers and Reds would have them divided forever, even if they actually married. You’ll never get to that point, said a voice in her head, which she had learned to recognize as her reason, something she should’ve listened to more often, but always found herself ignoring in the most fundamental moments. Those trainings and the decision to send her on the field weren’t only intelligent on a practical level but also politically: the royal family needed to get rid of the burden that they had unexpectedly found themselves having to manage and what better way than to declare that she had died honorably serving Norta? They would’ve made a lengthy speech about her alleged father, Ethan Titanos, just as they did when they announced her engagement to Maven, and how he too had courageously died, even though he had actually been murdered in a fairly cowardly way, and Mare still had to decide whether to believe the theory that suddenly the Lakelanders soldiers got smart enough to pretend to be Nortan and got rid of him and his wife before they were caught exterminating the rest of the legion or if she preferred the version where the king had ordered the killing of one of his closest friends because he was becoming an uncomfortable character, and then they would’ve compared their deeds, wear their mourning clothes for a couple of days and finally start organizing some kind of Queenstrial for Maven, even if they would’ve to change its name, since the winner would never have been queen, as long as Cal didn’t abdicate or died. At the end of the day, no one would miss her, but the idea that Cal could die ahead of his time, maybe even before her, seeing how many hours he spent outside the city walls trying to free streets and villages, scared her to death, and not only because she didn’t believed that Maven could be a good king, given how much he was already being manipulated by his mother now that he didn’t have much decision-making power. No, she was really afraid of losing Cal. Every time she saw him go out, every time she was left behind with the less strong, less prepared ones, she feared he wouldn’t come back. Whenever the group approaching the palace was less assorted, she shivered until she recognized his armor. Probably Maven must’ve noticed, by now, but if so, he had never mentioned it. Yet she knew, she knew that she should’ve hated him with all her heart, with all the strength of her rebellious soul. If only she could get in touch with the Scarlet Guard… That rebel group wasn’t only surviving that tragedy with basically nothing, but was also taking possession of what had once belonged to the Silvers by claiming it as their own, and it was no small thing. At first she had believed that it was just a legend, but when she found out that they had occupied some of the Silvers’ country estates and she saw them being particularly tense and unhappy, she had no option but to believe in them. One chance, only one small chance to escape and she would’ve done it, even if she would’ve put her life even more at risk. If she could help them, it was worth it, even just to carry on her family’s memory and what they, in their small ways, had done to oppose to the Silver’s oppression. But to get to them, she had to survive that training, and she needed focus. And lightning.