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heliads · 3 years

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Deserve You

Based on this request: “Bucky imagine where you're dating but you're not an avenger, so you sometimes feel not good at all for him even though he loves you more than anything. one time he comes from a mission to you waiting in his room, doubting again but he immediately tries getting this thought out of you and gives you his dog tags to prove he's yours forever and it's all cute then? :)”

masterlist

You open your eyes gradually, the last remnants of sleep being dragged away by the brightness of dawn. You allow yourself one final moment of lingering silence before sitting up with a yawn. A brief spurt of panic flashes across you when you realize that you’re alone in your bed, but then you hear a quiet noise from the kitchen and your pulse begins to settle once more. Bucky must have already gotten up, there’s no need to worry.

You keep having moments like this, where you turn to find yourself alone and keep thinking that this is it, that he’s finally left you. Then you mentally chide yourself for thinking that way- every single one of the Avengers that you’ve met on your trips to the old Stark Tower keeps talking about how Bucky’s head over heels for you, so why would he ghost you out of nowhere? You always smile for a second, thinking about your boyfriend, and then the doubt creeps back in and you glance around to find him. Every single time, without fail, those lurking remnants of doubt always worm back into your mind, and sometimes it feels like there’s nothing you can do to get rid of them.

The only available option is to find Bucky and put your mind at ease by knowing that he’s still here. So, you slide your legs out of the still-warm blankets, grimacing at the shock of the cold air, and pad over to the kitchen. Sure enough, Bucky is holding a mug of some hot beverage, maybe coffee or tea, and staring out the window at the city below him. He does this, sometimes, just watches the city like he could do it for hours. You have a feeling that he’s studying the city for any last lingering resemblance to the New York he’d grown up in, when the most pressing news was World War II and he didn’t see himself in Siberia for anything more than a ski trip, if he could put together enough pennies to afford it. However, life has a way of throwing you for a loop, and all of Bucky’s plans for the future evaporated as soon as he plummeted from the train all those years ago.

Bucky turns when he hears you approach. “Good morning.” You smile, joining him by the window. “Good morning yourself. Are you up early for an assignment or because of a nightmare?” Bucky frowns. “The latter. Did I wake you? I thought I was quiet.” You shake your head. “No, I was asleep the whole time. I just knew because you have that same look on your face after you have your nightmares.” Bucky laughs quietly. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the spy who knew everything. Sure you don’t want a job at S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not sure that paying attention to my boyfriend really qualifies me for FBI: Avengers Edition, but I’ll keep it in mind.” You head over to the fridge, starting to pull out some items for breakfast. Bucky leaves within a few minutes, mumbling something about an early morning meeting, and you head to work yourself soon after. Your own workplace is no Avengers Tower, just a typical office building, and you slide into your seat just in time to start the day.

The morning itself is fairly uneventful, and you’re just starting to think that it’s going to be another boring day as usual when you head off to your lunch break. As you’re waiting in line to use the microwave, you hear a pair of women talking at a table near you. You had no intention of eavesdropping, but although their voices are fairly loud your attention was hooked from the beginning when you realize they’re talking about Bucky. More specifically, they’re talking about Bucky’s girlfriend, or lack thereof.

Ever since you started dating Bucky, he had been careful to keep you out of the public eye. When you work as an Avenger for long enough, you learn to keep everyone important to you out of focus, out of danger. If a HYDRA agent got word of the former Winter Soldier’s girlfriend, you’d be on a train to Siberia with handcuffs and a blindfold within the hour, a ransom request already placed on your head. That’s if they were patient- if not, they would just shoot you to send a message. By making sure nobody heard about you, Bucky could keep you safe.

The downside of this is times like now, when you have to listen to two of your coworkers discussing how strange it is that a man as attractive as James Barnes would still be single. Obviously, you can’t say anything, and you’re not sure that they’d believe you if you tried, but it’s still slightly uncomfortable to hear the conversation swirling around you even as you have to stay silent.

One of the women clicks her tongue in confusion. “I mean, isn’t it weird, though? He’s a friend of Tony Stark, there’s no doubt he’d have a shortage of girls who’d be willing to go out to a bar or something on a weekend.” The other woman laughs. “I bet that surplus of girls includes you, right?” The first woman grins cheekily. “I wouldn’t say no if he asked, but even I don’t have a chance. I mean, he’s an Avenger, and one of the hottest ones there. No one here could hold a candle to him. He saves lives on a daily basis and what do we do, sit around all the time? The only woman I could see him with is an agent or maybe Black Widow. At least then he’d be dating someone who’s his equal.”

The words feel like shards of ice threading through your heart, and you turn to go back to your desk, hunger suddenly forgotten. As you stare at your work, though, you find you can’t concentrate. You keep hearing what the women had said, that no one in this miserable office could be worthy of dating the famous Avenger Bucky Barnes. They’re right, aren’t they? Bucky was saving lives all the time while you complained and acted so needy. You sigh to yourself, feeling your spirits dampen by the second. Why did Bucky see in you anyway?

Bucky’s shoulders feel like they’ve been carved from stone. He’s been tense for so long that he’s certain he’ll never be able to move again. Today is the day that he has to begin reviewing case files from his time as a Winter Soldier. He’ll have to come face to face with photo and video evidence of all the wrongs he’s done, of all the killings and blood shed by his own damaged hands. He’s been trying to avoid it for a while, but S.H.I.E.L.D. needs his input on all of the past Winter Soldier missions in order to proceed with the ongoing investigations into the last HYDRA strongholds. Bucky has no choice but to confront his past, he knows that, but it doesn’t make his job any easier.

It’s not like he’s alone, though. Natasha is here, because her experience with the Red Room could prove useful with putting together some pieces of the HYDRA-Siberia-Soviet puzzle that’s been plaguing them for some time now. Steve is also here, one door down, looking at his old medical files that detail exactly how some brilliant scientists turned a scrawny kid with a death wish when it came to standing up to bullies into the strongest man of the century.

Bucky clenches his jaw, and turns back to the manila file folder in his hand. He flips it open, taking out the diagrams and security camera stills and laying them out onto the table before him as he reads. He’s flipping through the rest of the contents of the folder when he pauses, staring at the images awaiting his acknowledgement. Natasha sees him freeze slightly and glances over to see what’s troubling him. Her brow dips in understanding.

Lying before him are photo after photo of death and destruction. Bucky remembers this day now, after it was buried so long under HYDRA mind wipes and his own crippling want to forget. The bodies of the dead line a small street, buildings reduced to rubble. He can see the dead, so many of them. There aren’t just the few military commanders he was sent to exterminate- no, HYDRA wants no witnesses and so Bucky had killed everyone in sight. There are children in pools of blood, their mothers reaching over them as if to shield them from the inevitable bullets coming their way. He tells himself that their deaths were quick, efficient, maybe even painless, but it is not enough. There is no way to justify this amount of bloodshed.

Natasha puts her hand on his shoulder. The gesture, meant to bring comfort, startles him and it takes all of Bucky’s self-control to not flinch. Bucky swallows hard. “I did all of this. I killed every one of them.” Natasha’s voice is low and quiet. “It wasn’t you. You had no choice in any of this.” Bucky laughs, thought it is heavy with horror and breaks in upon itself. “It’s easier to say that, but it was still my hand pulling the trigger.” He leans back against the wall, trying to steady himself.

“How were you and Steve able to convince anyone to trust me? Why did you even want to save me in the first place?” Natasha stares at the photos, taking in the broken bodies of the dead. “Steve knew the real you, the one who’s standing here right now and would never attempt this sort of carnage. I knew what it was like to lose all control and feel like your hands would always be stained with blood. Second chances are more powerful than you might think.”

Bucky shakes his head slowly. “I don’t deserve that chance. I don’t deserve any of this.” He closes his eyes for just a second as if by blocking out the world he can block out the memory of the methodical shudder of the rifle in his hands, the recoil as he fired again and again. “I don’t deserve Y/N. She-” Natasha cuts him off smoothly. “Y/N knows what you’ve been through, and she knows that you are not that same man. I’ve spoken with her before, and she knows the full extent of what you did.”

Bucky’s eyes cut back to the photographs. “Then why does she stay?” Natasha’s gaze feels like a leaden weight, unflinching and unyielding. “She stays because she loves you. She stays because she knows that the real Bucky Barnes is a hero, someone who is willing and able to move on from their past. Y/N is one of the most important parts of your life, not because she’s a good kisser but because she’s one of the only people who can see straight through you and know that you’re a good man.”

Bucky nods. “I don’t need you to tell me twice.” Natasha’s right, though, and even the barest mention of Y/N brings back a wave of good memories to fight against the bad. She’s like an anchor, someone holding him in place even when all of the darkness he’s had to endure threatens to pull him under. It astonishes him sometimes that he still wakes up beside her every morning. She’s so perfect, so wonderful. What does Y/N see in him anyway that would make him so lucky to have her with him?

You’re in a despondent mood for the rest of the day. You slump home, not even bothering to turn on the lights but discarding your coat and bag in the dark of the room. The faint light still shining through the windows is all you’ll need. You stare unthinkingly at the apartment for a while, then head to your bedroom. As you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, you stop with a sigh, leaning your hands against the dresser underneath.

You stare at yourself, at the dark circles under your eyes. Who are you, anyway? Who are you to think that you would ever be good enough for an Avenger? At this point, it’s only a matter of days before he breaks up with you. No wonder he keeps waking up before you- he’s trying to leave without seeing you that often, as a way to lessen the blow of the eventual goodbye.

The problem about gloomy thoughts is that they tend to wrap around you, pulling you away from everything else. You’re so distracted that you don’t hear the front door open, and you don’t notice Bucky enter the apartment until he knocks softly on the wall of your bedroom as he stands in the open door. You turn around with a flash, plastering on a smile, but your reaction is too late and his brow furrows. “Are you alright?”

You try for a smile, reaching out to kiss him in greeting. “Of course I am. How was your day?” Bucky is not to be deterred. “I saw your face, Y/N. You looked really upset. Is everything okay?” Maybe it’s that velvet tone of his, or the concern laced in his eyes, but your few fragile defenses break down. You turn to him, fighting back tears. “Why are you still with me?” Bucky frowns. “What?” You hold your hands up uselessly. “You’re an Avenger and you’re out there saving lives all the time. Why would you ever be interested in some girl from the city? I’m not half the person you are.”

Bucky stares at you for a second, then wraps his arms around you, drawing you close. “Y/N, love, why would you ever think that?” You look away. “Because it’s true. You should be dating some other superhero of a woman who could be your equal.” Bucky’s frown tinges slightly with anger. “Did you hear about this on some news show? I told that one news outlet that if they said a single thing about me I’d shut them down, and I’ll do it-” You cut him off. “It’s not like that. It’s just- You’re an Avenger, Bucky, and you deserve someone equally as brave as you are.”

Bucky guides you gently over to the bed, and the two of you sit down on the edge. He pulls you into his arms. “I don’t want some superhero. I want you. Y/N, I love you because you’re the only one here who sees me for who I really am, not just some soulless Avenger but a faulty person. Honestly, if anything I’m surprised that you’d still stay with me.” Your tears dry up as you stare at him. “What?” A quiet smile spreads across Bucky’s lips. “Every single day, I come home and you make a difficult day a thousand times better. You know me better than I know myself, and even despite everything I’ve done and the monster I’ve been, you still make me feel like a good man again. You’re one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met, Y/N, and you deserve someone equally as good as you are.”

You shake your head slowly. “That’s not the same. Anyone can be nice.” Bucky cups your cheek in his hand. “Nobody else knows that I always get up in the mornings and pace around because of the nightmares. Nobody else knows that I always stare down the alleyways on the walk home because I keep thinking I’ll see Steve in there getting beat up, or help me pick out jackets based on how easy it will be to remove the left sleeve. You’re the only one for me, doll, and I wouldn’t trade you for a heartbeat.”

He reaches into a pocket. “Here, I’ll prove it.” He takes out something silvery, like stamped metal. With a jolt, you realize they’re his dog tags, the ones he had from fighting in World War II all those years ago. He gestures for you to turn around and you do, feeling the weight of the metal around your throat as he fastens them. When you look back at him, he’s smiling. “See? You can’t get rid of me, love. Not in a million years.”

You smile, running your fingers over the faded lettering. “Won’t you want them? You know, as a memory of your old life?” Bucky shakes his head, a content expression lingering in his eyes. “I don’t need them to remember. I’ve got you, and you’re the only home I’ll ever need.” When he kisses you again, you can feel the dog tags right over your heart, like a promise that he’ll always be with you, no matter what.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier imagines #winter soldier x reader #avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader #tfatws #tfatws imagines #tfatws x reader #catws #catws imagines

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dreamkidddream · 3 years

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So far of reading your writing, I really love it! :)) May I request Kunikida, Dazai and Ranpo having an younger member of the agency being a sort of subordinate of them but acts a lot like a younger sibling to them? She's just really pure hearted and soft and really looks up to them so she likes helping them out a lot. Just some fluff because my boys deserve all love and affection

Awww thank you so much for the compliment!! This request is so cute, and yes, all the boys deserve all the love and affection that is possible cause they go through too much 😭 Anon requested this as platonic, and reader is gender neutral. Also, I wasn’t too sure what the age should be, so I went with Kyoka’s age, which is 14. Hope you enjoy!

TW: Mentions of suicide in Dazai’s part, but nothing too heavy or specific is mentioned. It does get kinda sad though, but it has a happy ending. Also, slight spoiler for season 2/Dark Era Arc, but nothing too major

Young ADA Member Acting like a Younger Sibling to: Kunikida, Dazai, and Ranpo

Kunikida

Okay, so when you first started at the office, people (specifically Naomi and Junichiro) were nervous when you got paired up with Kunikida. And Kunikida isn’t a bad man by any means, but he can be very, very, very strict

And how well do rules stick with kids/younger people? Exactly. It just sounded like a bomb waiting to explode

And you look so soft and so sweet! What if he made you cry?!

Which Naomi threatened to draw blood if he did

Even Kunikida himself was nervous. This was not written in his notebook to be a glorified babysitter!

But the President insisted, putting faith into you that you’ll be a great addition to the team and that he can lead you on the right path and not into trouble like some people he won’t mention (Dazai)

That was all that he needed to hear, and he took those words very serious. He won’t let the President down, and he wasn’t going to let you down either. You guys were gonna give it your all, whether you were ready to or not

But, to everyone’s surprise (really his) you both adapted well. You treated him with respect, said yes sir, no sir, tidied up both of your desks (which were right next to each other), you even tried to abide by his stern schedule without any complaints

You were a great help on missions too, you didn’t recklessly throw yourself into danger, and you made sure to look out for citizens to keep them safe and out of danger

And that wasn’t it, oh no

You made sure to bring him snacks (atleast the ones that he said were ideal), made sure that he was keeping hydrated and not tensed up all the time (working in this office will do that to you), and to make his workload as light as possible

After seeing him go off on Dazai for the 1000th time and getting wound up over a case that wasn’t getting any leads, you saw how stressed and frustrated he was getting. Mumbling to himself about how could he “replace the President if he couldn’t do this right”So you tapped on your shoulder, with one goal in mind: To comfort him

When you tapped his shoulder, he turned and yelled, “WHAT NOW?!”, right into your face

Time stood still as everyone froze, shocked. Even Kunikida himself after he saw it was you.

He felt immediately guilty, about to apologize for losing his cool when you began speaking

“Mr. Kunikida, please don’t stress too much. It’s not good for your heart! And don’t let this one thing stop you! You’re a great leader, and someone that I look up to. I wouldn’t be where I was at now without you! So please don’t doubt yourself, because we don’t, especially me! You’re my role model, Mr. Kunikida. Please, don’t ever forget that.”

After that, it was like a flip switched in him

“(Y/N), come here and walk very slowly.”

You did so with no hesitation, but you were curious

“Your shoe is untied. Here, let me tie it for you. It wouldn’t be ideal if you get injured because of a lousy shoelace. It wouldn’t be ideal if you got injured at all.”

“(Y/N), we have lunch scheduled at exactly 12:15. They’re also serving your favorite today, so we can’t be late, understand?”

“Yes sir!”, you said with a smile

“(Y/N), let’s go. It’s getting dark and if you still want to see that dreaded light show, we have to leave in 20 seconds to make it! I don’t want to see you sad or hear you complain if we miss it.”

“Coming sir! Just finishing up some work for tomorrow-“

“I already have it written in my notebook on when it will be done, so we can go.”

“Here you go Mr. Kunikida, I already typed up and printed out the reports for later on!”

“Thanks kid. And you don’t have to keep calling me Mister okay? Kunikida is fine.”

Dead silent in the office

KUNIKIDA is letting someone way younger than him just call him KUNIKIDA? Not MR.KUNIKIDA???

Everyone is, realistically, shook

But as time went on, they understood why

He came to look after you as his own

The entire ADA would have never thought the day would come (it wasn’t even in the notebook!) where he would care for a kid like his little sibling but here it was, right in front of their faces

But they weren’t complaining at all. You seemed to make his day a little brighter, and he wasn’t as uptight as much (but don’t be mistaken he was still Kunikida, just at an 8 instead of a whole 10)

After that mini pep talk that fateful day, he made it his duty to be a good role model for you. To always set a good example, both in and out the office.

He wouldn’t fail you, and he would be damned if he let anything happen to you

You’re a good kid, and you only deserve the best. And he was gonna be the best role model (and brother) for you

Dazai

Aw man, he was..conflicted to say the least

Listen, it’s not like he hates kids or teens, but it’s just extra responsibilities to watch over them. And he already slacks off enough to begin with, so is this really a good idea sticking a 14 year-old with him?

And lowkey, the way that he treated Akutagawa is still heavy on his mind, and he doesn’t want a repeat

But the President made it so, and Kunikida was ready to attack if he even thought about denying the order. Plus, it could be like another Atsushi around (another person to pass work off too) so that was a win!

And another person to annoy Kunikida too

You looked so pure and innocent. Are you sure that you’re in the right place?

He genuinely thought you were a lost kid when you came up to him the first time lmao

Geez, you even sound sweet too! How has this world not damage or corrupt you yet?

“Hi Mr. Dazai! It’s nice to meet you. I hope that we can make a great team, and that I’m here to help if you need anything!”

“Nice to meet you too. And now that you mention it, these reports have been giving me a hard time...”

Not gonna lie, he did take advantage of your help. You offered, so why not? He thought you were gonna get sick of it soon and start complaining, but nope

You took his reports and did it with no hesitation every time. And you always handed it to him with a bright smile. On top of that, you always cleaned up his area and behind him, you did any leftover work that he ignored forgot to do so that he wouldn’t get yelled at, and tried to bring him small snacks and even packed a whole lunch for him when you noticed that he didn’t eat a lot

He even started to feel pretty bad and he was getting disapproving looks from his fellow detectives (even Kenji, and he never frowns)

So he started to take back and *GASP* actually do his work?!

But you stopped him, and told him that he should, “Take it easy! You work hard enough as it is saving the city. It’s no problem doing these reports, and I want to help you in any way I can, Mr. Dazai.”

“(Y/N), don’t worry, I can do them. And remember it’s just Dazai, calling me Mister makes me feel old like Kunikida-”

“I HEARD THAT!”

And it seemed like you really cared for his wellbeing, especially when you had to accompany him on missions

Well, it just so happen that while you were going with Atsushi to find Dazai to start a mission, you both found him

Hanging upside down, sinking to the bottom of the lake

You rushed into the water immediately, pulling him out and onto the ground while Atsushi was just standing there in disbelief

Atsushi is so done with his shit

“Dazai, can you hear me?! Dazai?! Atsushi, I gotta give him CPR I don’t think he’s-”

“(Y/N) don’t worry he’s okay! This isn’t his first time he’s done this, and probably not the last.”

“W-what do you mean?”

You didn’t know about Dazai’s suicide methods? Did he not tell you or talk about it in front of you? Atsushi would have been somewhat proud of him if this whole situation didn’t happen, but here we are

“Geez, guess this method isn’t for me. It seems like someone is bound to always inter- hm, (Y/N)? What are doing out of the office? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You hugged his chest tightly, not caring that he was practically soaked down to the bone

“Please stop, Dazai! Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to leave everyone?! Why are you trying to leave ME?!”

That got his attention

“Your life is important, Dazai, too important to try and end it on your own terms! You’re special to me, I look up to you. You’re smart, funny, and you help everyone out in your own special way. If you weren’t here anymore, everyone would be so lost...I would be so lost..,I-I-I wouldn’t know what to do-”

“(Y/N)-”

You looked up, eyes red and puffy with tears rolling down your cheeks, but filled with determination

“I promise you that I will make sure you know how much you matter to everyone. I swear on my life that I will.”

Okay, so you know how you were helpful/adorable before? On a scale of 1-10, you were definitely at an 11. But Dazai felt like you were at a 20

At first, he thought that you weren’t being genuine. You were just a young kid who didn’t know any better and was just trying to do your job, in sickeningly, oversweet way. I mean, who would really care about him with his horrid past? He was convinced that you were just naïve, and that the world would swallow you whole when it gets the chance. And it made him feel pity for you

But you proved him wrong

You weren’t just some ignorant child. You were in this agency working alongside him for a reason. And you reminded him of that everyday when he saw you working, handling the cases, taking actions on missions, all the while being kindhearted through and through

You especially went out of way for him, and it was both a warm and scary feeling. People that he ended up caring for shared an undeserving fate, and he blamed himself for it constantly. So he tried to keep his distance, for your safety. You still had a life to live, and he didn’t want to ruin that for you.

But it was kinda hard to when you work together, and with you constantly being under his wing trying to show him the good in life and the difference that he made, he couldn’t help but admit it

You proved him wrong, and not a lot of people can say that.

You went out of your way to make sure that everyone was okay, mentally and physically. He didn’t want to admit it, but you made the office (and his life) a little bit more bearable when you were around. You’re a good kid. And it was so fun to rope you and sometimes Atsushi into his schemes lmao y’all can be so gullible sometimes

Unfortunately, he still planned to leave this world, but he tried not to talk about it in front of or around you, and his number of attempts did dwindle, so that was a good thing

“Hey (Y/N), let’s grab something to eat, I would be a terrible person if I let my dear little baby assistant go hungry.”

“Dazai, if you’re hungry, you can just say that. I don’t mind finishing this later. It’s good to eat when you need to, and your health is #1 priority!”

He couldn’t take back his past and the way he abused Akutagawa, but he could certainly make sure that he doesn’t make the same mistakes

And that would start with being a decent role model for you. He won’t exactly be a “model citizen”, but he will always do the right thing. He’s turned over a new leaf by turning to the light, and while his methods aren’t always legal, he won’t stray from it again

And he won’t let you stray either

Ranpo

He was not a happy camper at all, let me tell you

Hello, do you know who he is?? He’s the greatest detective in the world! Why would the President think he need a sidekick?! He saw you working under him as an insult. Were they trying to say that he wasn’t good enough on his own?!

You weren’t exactly welcome with open arms, but that was okay! You were a complete stranger to him, but you were hoping that would change overtime

And Fukuzawa offered to praise him if he took you in so he stopped pouting momentarily

“Hi Mr. Ranpo! I’ve heard great things about you, and I hope that we can get along!”

“Well, of course you’ve heard great things about me, I’m the greatest detective in the world! It would be a crime if you didn’t hear about me.”

It was a rocky start between you guys to say the least. Not only was he lazy with the work he already had (I mean, it was too easy for him), but you were always willing to complete it (which you did, when you realized that maybe he was too tired or had other important things to worry about)

Who are you trying to fool, this man was just being lazy

But you either didn’t realize it or you just purposely ignored it to get it done for the sake of the agency. Bless your pure heart for putting up with that poutyface

Despite that, you handled everything with positivity and pride. When discussing cases (even though he would solve it in under a minute), you already had the reports ready to go, took notes for him, and you even tidied up his desk (which really consisted of his snack pile)

And you were starting to grow on him. You were like his mini cheerleader/#1 fan. His ego was going through the roof

On missions, it was a piece of cake for him, duh! With his ability, Super Deduction, it was always easy. And you were in the background, in awe with everything going on. He wanted to say he was surprised, but he would be lying. It would be a downright lie if you said you weren’t impressed with his ability and with him in general.

You repeatedly praised him, and he always gave you the same response:

“World’s greatest detective, remember?”

The one thing that would cause him to see you in a new light, was when he got lost. You remembered Kunikida mentioning that he wasn’t the best at navigating the train system

He really said that Ranpo didn’t even know how to read the schedule, and that someone had to always walk with him to make sure he was going to the right places.

He just wanted to go back to the office to his beloved snacks, when this happened. He wasn’t stupid by any means, but it was a waste to use his ability on something trivial as this-

“Mr. Ranpo! Wait for me!”

Just as he knew, you were running late meeting him

“Hey (Y/N) what took you so long?! My beloved snacks are calling for me back at the agency, and I need to answer-”

“Don’t worry, I packed you some!”

“Yeah, I already knew that since that’s the reason you’re late. And before you ask, you look out of breath, the receipt is still crumpled in your hand, and I see some crumbs from something you already ate on your clothes.”

Huh. Was it that obvious? You guess so...

Or maybe Ranpo really is the world’s greatest detective!

“I know, I know. I’m the best, no need to tell-”‘

“Mr. Ranpo, you deserve all the praise that you get. You’re someone I want to be like when I get older.”

“Hm?”, there you go praising him again, but you were crying

“I feel like people don’t take you seriously like they should, Just because you don't fight like the others doesn’t mean that you’re not a valuable asset to the group! And I wish people saw you like how I do! You’re my inspiration to do my best everyday. And I know that I can’t be the best detective, but I want to be as strong and intelligent and brave just like you so I can save people and be a motivating hero like you!”

He’s silent, and your words are sinking in. You’re wiping away your tears, the start of an apology on the tip of your tongue, when he suddenly put his hand on top of your head

He’s staring right at you, glasses on and green eyes open for you to see

“You’re already on your way there (Y/N). That I know. And I’m never wrong with my deductions, let alone when using my ability.”

The flood gates have OPENED

You know that he doesn’t technically have an ability, but that doesn’t stop you from accepting his words and finding them as the truth. If Ranpo said it, he meant it. He was the world’s greatest detective, and you didn’t have any doubt in him

“Now let’s go, it’s going to start raining and I don’t want us to be hungry and drenched. Plus, Kunikida is totally freaking out and thinking that we’re both lost and in some criminal’s hideout right now.”

After that fateful day, the dynamic shifted between you two. Instead of you just doing the work, he pushed it off on someone else so he could explain to you about the different cases he had to solve, and other detective matters

Really he was just bragging and having you both slack off, but it didn’t matter you guys were still having fun

It even got to a point where he shared some snacks with you from his sacred snack pile

BOY WAS THAT THE TALK OF THE OFFICE

All in all, while he knew that you couldn’t be the greatest detective (that was his title after all), he would help you get to your goal regardless. Not that you would need a lot of extra help, he was watching over you after all, and you already have a good head on your shoulders along with the heart of a hero

Every Sherlock needs a Watson, and he deducted that it wasn’t too bad having you by his side

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs reader insert #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd imagines #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs headcannons #bungou stray dogs #dazai x reader #ranpo x reader #kunikida x reader #dazai headcanons #ranpo headcanons #kunikida headcanons #bungou stray dogs imagines #platonic #platonic headcanons

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starsinmylatte · 3 years

Text

Tease (1/2)

Reader is fed up with the lack of attention from a certain Grand Admiral. To force his hand, she decides to send some pictures to tempt him while he's away, but things don't quite go as they were planned.

Pairing: Grand Admiral Thrawn x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Tags/warnings (for part 1): lingerie, m@sturbation, slight dom/sub undertones

AO3 link here

Author’s note: Here’s the smut I promised! I’ll either post the second chapter tonight, or a different smut prompt partially inspired by @pala-din-djarin ;)

Let me know if you enjoyed it <3

Ch’eo ch’itiseb- my sweet

In the beginning, the plan was to tease your lover ever-so-slightly. Grand Admiral Thrawn had been away from the Chimaera for a week, and you were in no mood to be the last person in line for attention upon his return. Sady, Thrawn had been so busy the week before his departure that he had very little time to spend with you.

As a Commander, you, of course, had your own duties to attend to in his absence, but there was no denying you missed his touch a little more than usual during the unrelentingly long week. It was more than understandable for Thrawn to be busy; he was a Grand Admiral, after all, but it couldn’t hurt for you to remind him exactly what he was missing……

You would never do anything to jeopardize his ongoing mission. Still, he was just on Coruscant visiting the Imperial Palace, and you weren’t exactly above sending some choice pictures to him through an encrypted communication line. Did you know exactly what you were doing by putting on the fine, lacy lingerie he had gifted you but never got the chance to see? Absolutely, but then again… that was the whole point. You wanted him to feel exactly as desperate for you as you did for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you slipped the final stocking into place, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection in the mirror.

Ah, this should do nicely.

Red, lacy lingerie, which perfectly matched the shade of your lover’s eyes, trailed across your skin like flames. The bralette was mostly sheer, but it offered the perfect amount of support and framed your décolletage in a way you knew Thrawn would find delectable. The matching panties hugged your hips and were partially hidden below a thin belt made from the same lace, which circled your waist and connected to the stockings in the front and back.

You laughed mischievously as you turned to see how the outfit looked from the side reflection in the large mirror, “Oh, this should definitely work well.”

The stockings themselves rested perfectly on the soft swell of your upper thighs, a place you knew Thrawn loved to kiss and mark as his, and they framed your ass beautifully. You were beyond resplendent, a piece of art that he couldn’t have, and you were going to use it to tease him as much as possible. However, if you were actually going to do some real damage, the pictures needed to be convincing.

“What better way to make this authentic than to do it in his bed,” you mused out loud. Fortunately, the datapad could both take and encrypt the pictures, so all you had to do was prop it up on the bedside table and set the photo timer.

The setup was fairly easy for the first few pictures, but all your ideas for poses were running out before long. Then, another exciting thought crossed your mind.

I’ll just set it to video! I can freeze and save sections of it as the pictures; that’ll be absolutely perfect.

You reached up and set the datapad to the necessary specifications before returning to the edge of Thrawn’s bed. Taking the pictures had been building sensual anticipation under your skin, and it went straight to your core as you imagined your lover’s reaction to them. Just the thought of Thrawn, breathless with want and worlds away from having his hands on you…. Well, it was more than enough encouragement for you to hit the record button on the datapad.

The silken black sheets on his bed caressed your soft skin and added another layer of sensation to your already stimulated mind as you lay back down among them. You took a deep, tentative breath in; Thrawn’s intensely masculine scent seemed to be everywhere. It completely surrounded you, drawing you further into the seductive depths of your mind and triggered vivid memories of all the ways he’d taken you on top of them.

One such memory was his powerful form pressing your back deep into the sheets, fucking you at a relentless pace, and worrying the tender skin of your neck with his teeth. Another was of Thrawn bending you over the edge of the bed, pinning you in place with his strong arms as he ravished you from behind, all while whispering filthy sentiments in Cheunh into your ear. Finally, your memory turned to his head dipping between your thighs to drink you in as he drew his true name from your lips like a prayer to some forgotten god….

You glanced to the side, and the mirror on the opposite wall showed a glimpse of just how beautiful you looked, displayed like a prized possession in the middle of his bed. No extra persuasion was needed for you to begin trailing your hands slowly and sensually over your curves. You lightly traced down the bothersome seams of the lingerie, following the path Thrawn’s own hands would’ve taken, before resting one hand at the apex of your thighs and placing the other on the ample swell of your breast.

By this point, the self-sufficient, capable Commander of the Chimaera was all but gone. Your breathing was ragged with desire and coming in short bursts; you would’ve willingly torn the world apart if it meant Thrawn could be in the room. It was all too much. Thought of him, his scent, his imaginary voice in your ear commanding your every move … Your cunt absolutely throbbed with desire. Arousal pooled between your legs, soaking through the lacy fabric and drawing a needy groan from your lips. With a gaze half-lidded and hazy from lust, your head lolled to stare directly into the camera, and you pleaded like it would bring him to bed, “ Thrawn….. please….”

You were so far gone that you hadn’t even noticed your hands were moving of their own volition. At the utterance of his name, two fingers pushed aside the interfering fabric and slipped deep inside your cunt; the other hand pinched down hard on a peaked nipple. Your back bowed off the bed, and stars danced behind your eyes as a broken moan fell from your mouth.

At this point, heady lust had completely taken over. Gasps and cries of pleasure rang out in the silent room as your fingers moved to circle your clit, driving you closer and closer to a shattering climax. You screamed Thrawn’s name when you came, digging your fingers deep into the sheets and searching desperately for stability as the intense orgasm rocked your body.

You stopped the recording on the datapad and laid still for what felt like an eternity as you tried to regain your senses. Finally, you were recovered enough to actually retrieve the datapad from the bedside table. The screen had gone dark, but when you brought the device back to life, something wasn’t quite right; the video was nowhere to be found.

As you checked through all of the possible places it could be, your stomach did a flip as you finally realized what had happened. The video was set to send automatically after it was filmed, so when you hit stop……

One quick glance at the message history confirmed your theory. However, you were so much more preoccupied with the flashing notification button. With a trembling finger, you clicked on it, and an audio file popped up. Thrawn’s voice, usually so soft and collected, was now heavily accented and barely concealing a feral tone, “Ch’eo ch’itiseb, you know you really shouldn’t tease me like this.” He sounded ready to eat you alive.

Sith hells, you were in trouble.

Tagging some friends: @handbaskethell @mittheresabosen @pala-din-djarin @pretty-with-andorian-shingles @bluecynadi

#grand admiral thrawn #thrawn #mitt'raw'nuruodo #chiss #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x reader #star wars rebels #star wars: rebels #star wars smut #star wars rebels fanfiction

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stuckybarton · 3 years

Text

Red Velvet Cake

Summary: Behind the sweet smile and angelic personality was a spitfire when someone dared destroy her little bakery in the heart of New York. Steve finds that out the hard way when his girlfriend's bakery becomes collateral damage in a small fight in New York. Warning: Profanities. Mild Violence. (Two Loud Slaps to be specific). Grammar Errors. Not Beta’d. Characters: Unnamed Female Character x Steve Rogers Words: 1,775 A/N: I don’t know, I just thought of this idea and thought why not. Masterlist

You had never thought your life would become this wild, but you've gone with the flow. Who would have ever thought that finally starting this bakery in the heart of New York. It was tough, with just a handful of employees, would bring you into so much chaos in your once peaceful life.

Meeting the Avengers had been a wild ride with a smooth beginning for you. First meeting Sam, a man that was looking for a quick snack post-work out. A man with a soft smile and quick quips that brought a smile on everyone's faces every single time he would come to visit. Then eventually, he came not alone, but with two of his best friend and your life changed ever since.

Bucky Barnes was the mellow of the trio, preferring to stay in the background while Sam would try his hardest to flirt with you and push his other friend with you. But he always had this charm on him that had a few of your female employees swooning just by the simply nickname of Doll he would throw at them.

But Sam's other friend had all his attention on you just as much as you had your entire attention on him. The dame that always spoiled him with sweets and made him enjoy morning runs more now that your bakery become their daily stop after.

It started out with the flirtation, at least that was what Steve believed it to be. Having been used to Sam's daily flirtation, you got so immune to it that it had become easier to hide the warmth in your cheeks or the heart eyes that Sam and Bucky were once quick to point out when Steve wasn't looking. Eventually it ended with him finally asking you out for lunch and the rest, as they say was history between the two of you.

Eventually, it had brought you into the circle of what was his team. The Avengers. Starting with one Tony Stark that had visited your bakery one fair morning and brought everything in your bakery long before the trio would come for their visit. It was an eventful day for you, that much you could admit. Everyone had the rest of the day to themselves and gave you time to spend with Steve, as annoyed as he was to not be able to have his usual treats. You made him your special apple pie as compensation, much to his enjoyment.

Then it was the rest of the team, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, and Vision. Visiting after getting a taste of your pastries that Tony Stark had generously provided for the team. Now like the trio, you now have another trio you can call as your regulars. Then there was Clint Barton, Thor, and Dr. Bruce Banner that eventually came to visit after everyone had egged them on and they would come for a few pastries and coffee, but not as much as the rest of the bunch. You were alright with that, being able to meet Steve's team and knowing each and every single one of them were good people in their own little way was enough for you.

Weeks turned into months, and months now turned to almost two years. Your life at the bakery was filled with ups and downs just as much as your relationship with one Steve Rogers. The constant fear you had when he was on a mission, uncertain whether he would come back alive or not. Then there was the more often than not times that you were too consumed with the bustling number of customers than you only had time to give him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before helping out on the cashier. It had once been a fight between the two of you because of your line of work, but you would constantly compromise. He was out saving the world while you were living the dream you had always wanted for yourself with baking. Instead of his apartment in Brooklyn, Steve was now living with you, in the humble little apartment you had above the bakery. Your little piece of heaven.

This life you had created with Steve was something you had never thought you'd have for yourself but you were enjoying it immensely. You would want nothing more in your life. Until things had gone horribly bad and you want nothing more than to kill Steven Grant Rogers and the rest of the Avengers.

Y/N was going to kill him. That much Steve had known while they continued on with the debriefing. A quarter of New York City was wiped clean by the attack of the alien overlord attempting their luck on the planet. As much as Tony had assured that they could stay in the tower while repairs were being made, He was still uncertain with what you would be feeling because of it.

Nothing hurts him more than seeing you sad or disappointed.

"What's the ETA on the repair?" he inquired as soon as the meeting was done.

"More or less two weeks. We've had our team assure Y/N that her employees would be paid full for the two weeks while we are doing repairs." Tony explained. "Last time I heard she barely spoke a word while she helped her employees with cleaning up."

Steve could only sigh, annoyance peaking through his mind. It was worst than he thought.

"Mister Stark, Ms. Y/L/N is on her way to the meeting room." F.R.I.D.A.Y announced.

Before the A.I could finish with the announcement, the sudden slam of the door had everyone's head turn, every single one ready for another fight. But the sight of the innocent Y/N looking displeased brought everyone to a slight calm. There was still a problem, but this was better than another alien attack.

"Babe-"

The resounding slap had everyone else wincing. So much for the Super Serum. Everyone could see the red imprint on Steve's face and your shaky hand responsible for the said mark on the Captain's face.

"Your fucking shield destroyed the ramekins." you snapped, Steve could practically see you shaking from where you stood in front of him.

You were nothing, compared to him, a Super Soldier. But just the sight of you, fuming to the nose made everyone believe that you can easily take him on. This was a genuine surprise for Steve. He had seen so much side of his girlfriend of nearly two years. Through many stages of emotional turmoil, happiness, sadness, annoyance, dysphoria, and that godforsaken puppy dog eyes that he could never say no to. But this, the sight of you angry, genuinely furious was the last thing he would have ever thought to see from you.

"Everyone has a long day, Y/N." Tony approached and the glare than now focused on her made it very well known that his presence and his response was the biggest mistake he has ever made in the moment. "Why don--"

Tony wasn't able to finish his sentence as he gets to experience the same slap handed to him by you. Without the Super Soldier Serum, the sound of the slap resounded even louder than the former. Everyone was left in a mix of shock and the need to hold in their laughter at the shock look than now lingered on Tony's face as he rubbed his red cheek.

"As for you," you snapped pointing your finger right into Tony. "You're going to pay for both the fuckin bakery and my apartment upstairs. Of all the places Stark, you just had to throw the alien on my newly renovated bathroom."

Tony could only nod.

"Your people also need to talk to my employees, some of them are injured because a big fucking green dickhead thought it would be nice to throw alien matters into the basement like basketballs through the hoops." you snapped side-glancing towards the guilty Bruce Banner that refused to make any eye contact with you. "You're covered for their hospital bills, therapy, and two weeks of their supposed shift."

Tony gaped nodding.

"Jesus, why the fuck does it always have to be New York, better yet, why the hell does it have to be in the US? There are so many fucking countries in this world." You ranted turning your attention back to Steve that now broke into a small smile at your outburst. "You're not off the hook. We're staying here, but you're sleeping on the coach until further notice."

What smile he had now comes falling from his face. Blinking, this was a dangerous situation. Far more dangerous than his earlier encounter with the aliens only hours ago. But all he could do was nod, not knowing if any protest from him would result in a worst punishment.

"Sam," you turned to the man that now looked scared to be your focus. "Can you show me to the kitchen? I'll try making everyone someone to eat. God knows you're all starving." you request, all signs of anger now slowly dissolving from your features.

Steve didn't know what scared him more at this point, your anger or how quick you were able to recover from said anger. As Sam escorted you out of the meeting room, the rest of the team also made their way out to help you in whatever you may need in the kitchen. It now left Steve and Tony alone, practically still feeling the aftermath of your slap.

"Having second thought about proposing, Lover Boy?" Tony finally broke the awkward silence.

Taking a deep breath, the first chuckle all day finally escaped his lips.

No, he was far from having second thoughts. The engagement ring hidden in his locker room made it evident to him what he was about to do on their 2nd anniversary. It would take some convincing on your part after what happened. But you loved him enough to forgive him for what happened, since technically it wasn't really his fault why the bakery was ruined.

"The proposal is still a go, Tony." he responds finally leaving the meeting room to making his way to the kitchen, already hard at work with cooking what he assumed was spaghetti and meatballs and his favourite red velvet cake.

"Steve's not having any cake right?" Nat asked as soon as she caught sight of him.

"You know what, Romanoff--"

"Not even a fucking crumb." Your response even with you facing away from him had everyone roaring in laughter and Steve rolling his eyes even with the smile on his lips growing bigger at the situations.

The things he has to endure for love.

#steve rogers one-shot #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x unnamed female character

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silence-burns · 3 years

Text

Please Hate Me //part 52

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter, smut

"We fucked up."

"No, we didn't."

"We had Peter. Now we don't have Peter."

Loki's eyes were completely dark from a spell letting him see through Barbara's, but still he waved toward the completely-not-suspicious building complex in front of you. "But we found him again. That surely counts toward something, right?"

"We lost the alien pin too."

"Which we also found, if memory serves," Loki shrugged, as if the search hadn't taken the two of you the better part of an evening. Who knew searching through half of New York and visiting places it might've been dropped could be so time-consuming?

The weather was pleasant, the air growing warmer as the seasons continued to change. It was one of those days where everything felt brighter, despite how disappointing the reality might be.

"I'm still voting for arson," Loki said, assessing the tall fence surrounding the area. An area which crawled with people trying their hardest not to look like agents of some super-secret government facility, and failing rather miserably.

"You might not have noticed, but buildings nowadays have systems preventing fire from spreading."

"Do these systems work against magic fire too?"

"How am I supposed to know? Do I look like I spit magic fire on a whim?"

"You did last week," Loki muttered. The memory was still fresh.

"Wow, so now I'm the bad guy, and not the sneaky little bastard that ate all the cupcakes I left for-"

Barbara came back, flying on quiet, if a little filthy and decomposed, wings. Loki blinked twice, shedding the spell connecting him to the bird. As much as he didn't mind the heights, Loki had to admit he wasn't a fan of the sharp turns and rather random drops Barbara's flying pattern involved.

Loki pointed to one of the buildings further inside the complex. The red, evening sun hit the countless windows with blinding intensity. "The bird thinks the boy might be there."

You looked at the long stretch of road leading to the complex, like a carpet laid out specifically for you, but the crowds of agents working in the area leading to it made you cringe.

"I still vote arson."

"Why don't we just walk in, though? I mean, it was SHIELD themselves that contacted us, right? It should be okay to just… pay them a visit without sneaking around like… well, like villains. No offense."

Loki frowned. He didn't look convinced. "I like sneaking around, though. It keeps me away from trouble."

"If that’s true, how did you get banned from the Moon twice?"

"Touché. Lead the way then, love."

The way took you down the asphalt road, busy with cars rushing both ways. Despite their past issues, Loki couldn't help feeling a little bad for the agents. For all the grandeur and importance they always described their life to hold, Loki's imagination kept on showing him pictures of ants in their little nests, crawling in their endless, pointless patterns.

The ants seemed to fall into a state of shock rather abruptly after laying their eyes on the two visitors to their nest. Some of them just stood there, looking after the figures marching right to the gates, while others ran in a seemingly random direction.

"That worked out better than I thought," Loki admitted when all the space around you cleared.

Barbara perched on top of the gates, screaming on top of her rotten lungs. The security guards looked at one another and then at the approaching god. Their hands went to their guns. Loki took that as a compliment.

"I know this might surprise you," Loki said, "but we are here to talk. Fetch us your Agent Cauldron, and be quick about it."

"Coulson," you whispered.

"Whatever."

"No matter how many times you ask me, the answer will stay the same - I don't know," Peter groaned.

His back hurt from sitting on the same, incredibly uncomfortable metal chair for hours, and the lights of the small and a little outdated office were starting to make his head throb with an upcoming headache. Or maybe the reason behind it were the endless questions to which he wished he know the answer.

Agent Coulson looked at the photos on the desk between him and the boy. These were nice pictures. If he were more sentimental, he might've put them on a fridge or maybe to the clipboard on the wall to his left. They were definitely worth taking a look at least once a day - it wasn't often one had a chance to look at a god and an ex-assassin, completely drunk, being led by a teenage boy on a spider-thread.

Peter glanced down at them too, and scowled.

"Yeah, well, we've met and hung out together, but I don't know where they are now. Sir, if I knew, do you really think I'd willingly stay behind?"

The agent didn't answer. He moved very little, in fact. Peter was unsure whether it was a part of some special, super-secret interrogation technique, but it was working. To make things even worse, the metal chair he had been given was making sitting still a nightmare.

"That's a fair point, Peter," Coulson nodded, "but do you think I would be pressing you so much if two of the most dangerous people on this planet weren't currently on the run with an alien artifact of unknown origin that might've been recently used to damage our Moon?"

That was a fair point too, Peter had to admit. He might've even grown a little worried after hearing such news, if only it all didn't sound so exciting.

"So you DO know what happened to it, right?" the boy leaned forward, with eyes shining with excitement.

Agent Coulson sighed.

It was a small, almost invisible display of all the emotions boiling inside of him that he'd never show. He knew better, and had far too many years of experience to allow that. Still, the situation was beginning to wear on him, especially if he spared a thought or two to consider what the two people that should absolutely never go off radar, could be up to at this very moment.

Last time Loki visited Earth, he led an alien invasion. Last time Coulson met you before you hesitantly joined forces with the Avengers, you'd already put two bullets in Tony Stark and were on the way to making it three.

Coulson allowed himself a moment to thank his hair for already thinning out or he'd be losing it in a handfuls.

And the worst part was, he actually believed the boy.

He had clearly helped with sneaking you through half the city and into his apartment, but there was no evidence of him helping you out too. Wherever Loki and you were, Coulson was sure he'd hear about it soon enough. He might even let the boy go, and monitor him long enough to see if you'd show up.

The decision wasn't an easy one, but the agent was left with very limited choices. After all, how likely was it that the two of you would just show up?

The phone vibrated on the desk in front of agent Coulson. He picked it up.

He blinked. And simply said, "Yes."

Peter did not like the absent look on the agent's face. He'd seen far too many movies not to recognize the moment the power shifted in the room. Just in time for something bad to happen. It wouldn't be a problem if it stayed on the screen - Ned and him would freeze with the popcorn halfway to their mouths in anticipation of what was to come. But here, in reality, far from the safe spot on a couch, Peter was painfully aware of how much he didn't want to know what was about to happen next.

Unfortunately, whatever powers weaved through the lives of people, deciding their fate and luck, rarely listened to young boys in their judgement. In fact, they listened to old agents even less, but that was something Peter was unlikely to ever find out.

Peter twisted on the chair biting into his backside, and looked back to the thick, metal door. He hadn't realized it when he had been brought inside, but the door looked like it could take a few shots from a gun and remain unscathed.

Peter was not sure what to do with that information.

The door in question decided to finally open and reveal the reason for the sudden tension. It didn't even creak, so the god walked in in complete silence. You followed him, not as quiet, but just as unexpected.

Your face lit up when you noticed the boy. "There you are!"

Peter looked at the agent. The agent looked at Peter.

"I know you're probably not going to believe me, sir, but I swear I had nothing to do with this."

The agent had no doubt that the boy was the least likely person to ever manipulate the god of trickery and lies, or the almost-ex-assasin into anything, but he didn't say a word. He only raised an eyebrow and asked, "To what do we owe the pleasure?", as if there was anything pleasant to be found in the room. But lying was not solely a domain of gods, as all the agents in the world would probably agree.

And Coulson was a very good agent.

"We recently lost a boy, but it looks like he's just been found. Thank you for taking care of him."

"It was a pleasure," the agent smiled. "Although I can't help but worry if you have lost the pin too?"

"We wouldn't dare," Loki lied smoothly with an even more charming smile.

The god of trickery waved his hand and produced a pin seemingly out of thin air. Whether it was only a clever trick or an actual spell was something agent Coulson would never know, but for once he didn't mind. The pin felt heavy and looked just as the files described, but whether it was the real thing would only be revealed once a detailed analysis was completed.

Still, it somehow looked like the deal was fulfilled. Coulson would be lying if he said he'd placed a bet on that outcome.

Peter sprung out of the chair the moment you waved at him to go. The agents and armed officers waiting behind Loki and you on the corridor shifted with unease, their fingers laying on triggers. A small crowd eyed every move made in Coulson's office, which was to be expected - it was not every day a facility such as this one was visited by a god.

Especially one with a rather problematic history of attempted world domination.

"If we may, we'll take our leave now." Loki bowed stiffly.

"And what about the 'favor' you insisted on as payment?"

Something cold and ancient flashed in the god's eyes. "All in due time."

#please hate me #loki x reader #loki x you #loki imagine #loki #loki series #loki marvel #loki laufeyson #loki mcu #marvel loki #loki fanfiction #I Love Loki #loki fanfic #loki (marvel)

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darker-soft-starker · 4 years

Photo

Starker High School AU, Pt.1 (Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5)

tw: enemies-to-lovers, swearing, mentions of fighting

----

Peter’s day started like most others.

The nearby screech of his alarm startles him into the waking world. Without opening his eyes, he fumbles against his bedside table to grab his phone, smacking himself in the face in his haste to silence it.

It’s always a Herculean effort to get up before the sun does, and today is no different. Squinting against the grey morning light, Peter contemplates simply closing his eyes and going back to sleep. The thought is tempting, the pull of sleep still in his limbs.

Instead, he resigns himself to the day and slips out of bed, reaching for his glasses and propping them on his face.

Through finger-smudged lenses his phone say’s five-thirty-four, which in itself is an affront, but he’s comforted that it’s a Friday and respite isn’t far off. This weekend will be spent sleeping, playing video games and eating cinnamon poptarts until he succumbs to a blissful food coma.

He can’t freakin’ wait.

Hearing his aunt rouse the room over, Peter gathers his clothes and hurries to the shower. The November chill bites as his bare feet touch the floor and he shivers, cursing the lack of heating in his apartment. It’s positively freezing.

The hot water is nice while he showers, but it’s much worse when he gets out, still wet as he tiptoes back to his bedroom. Fruitlessly, he bangs the old iron radiator in the hall with his fist as he passes it, because it does little more than encourage a groan from the ancient equipment.

Back in his bedroom, Peter hums as slips on his sweats and sneakers and readies himself for the day against the tune of an awakening neighborhood, spraying himself with probably too much deodorant in the process.

Finished, Peter puts his glasses back on and in the window he inspects his reflection. He smiles.

It’s Friday.

It’s gonna be a great day.

----

To no-ones shock but his own, his affirmation was proving true.

So far, Peter actually was having a great day.

Because it was late November but the sun was shining so splendidly that it quickly froze the frost from the windows. A small miracle occurred when he found a scrunched twenty dollar note stashed in the pocket of his jacket - and with it he treated himself up a packet of Lays, a red bull and a sandwich from Delmars

And for once, he wasn’t late to training.

For the early hour that he arrives, the school is near empty, save for the male locker room which is slowly teeming with a slow drip of weary-eyed boys. Yawning, Peter dumps his backpack and retrieves his mouthguard, sharing commiserative glances with his zombie-eyed teammates. It’s truly an ungodly hour to be at school.

But, despite his drowsiness, Peter doesn’t mind the early mornings so much, probably more accustomed to it than the rest. It sucks, but he’s happy to get the training out of the way -- it makes time for after school priorities like Robotics and chess club.

He slaps Barnes’ on the back when they file out, jogging to get ahead. Like his heater, his friend groans in response.

Coach Danvers is already there when they arrive, her arms crossed over her chest. Peter approaches the field with a growing sense of weariness, augmented by the flat line her mouth forms as they near.

Once the team is assembled, Coach clears her throat loudly for their attention.

“Look alive, boys,” she raises her voice. “Good morning. I’d like you to welcome back Wilson and Rogers, who, as you may recall, were suspended from training for three weeks.”

Suspended completely from school grounds was more accurate, Peter thinks, clapping along as cheers erupt around him, the remarks are met with fervent enthusiasm for their return. Someone whistles and he looks to the source, spotting the two boys in question in receipt of fist-bumps and back-slaps from the team.

Rogers and Wilson rarely did anything in isolation of one another. They were attached at the hip. It was probably the reason that they were both involved in a fist-fight with a couple of other juniors a few weeks prior.

Peter’s happy to see them back. They’re great guys, have always been good to him. And whilst he steadfastly abhors needless violence, Peter finds himself in a grey area to judge the circumstances. He wasn’t there, doesn’t know what the fight was about. What he does know is that they were both damn lucky they weren’t kicked off the team.

It’s probably because the board knows they wouldn’t win another game without them.

Lucky for the team.

“Enough,” Coach snaps. “We play Kingston next week, six days! You look like you want to play hopscotch instead of football. Do you want to play hopscotch?”

“No, coach,” the team settles, echoing in unison. Danvers slowly circles the group, eyeing each of them down as they fall into line. Peter keeps his gaze fixed to the goal posts on the near horizon to avoid her furious gaze.

“Doesn’t look like it. Are you sure?”

“Yes, coach!”

“Well, color me shocked. Maybe you want to hold hands and paint each others fingernails? Well, guess what, boys - I do not care what you want. What I want -- and what you should want -- is to not give Principal Fury a reason why we’ve lost another match. So you,” she points at Rogers, “and all of you juvenile delinquents,” she gestures to the crowd, “keep the violence to the field. Am I clear?”

“Yes, coach!”

“Great,” she brings her whistle to her mouth. “Gassers until I say stop or until you pass out, starting now. Move!”

Her whistle sounds sharply and, at faced with the fury of her stare, the team scatters across the field.

No one more so than Peter, who flees to the hard edge of the field at her command and commences running, feeling every chomp of the frigid, late fall air in his chest.

Coach Danvers was a hardass. But if anyone could convince Fury to not kick two of their best players off the team, it was her.

Peter had well well and truly worked up a sweat by the time the whistle was blown again and the team was split into three to run drills.

He was wishing he hadn’t eaten the whole sandwich from earlier when Quill rams his shoulder into his stomach for the third time, bile rising in his throat. He powers through it but by the time coach blows her whistle again to switch to the next drill, he’s feeling green, sunburnt and sweaty.

Which wouldn’t be so bad, if a small crowd of students hadn’t rocked up early, relaxing on the bleachers to watch the training.

Amongst them were a group of juniors who were smoking and laughing to themselves. They gave Peter the finger when he ran past, but he ignored them.

“You suck, Parker!”

The colour commentary from this particular group wasn’t uncommon, but Peter didn’t care. He’d heard worse from Flash in middle school -- and they were good friends now.

Not that Peter wasn’t paying attention. Because also perched upon the steps was a group of seniors, specifically, a fair-haired boy that made Peter’s heart do funny things in his chest.

As Peter ran his laps, the aforementioned boy descended the stairs. He leans across the fencing separating the seats and the field and smiles at Peter when he looks over.

Peter would blush, were his face not already pink with exertion.

The boy’s name is Thor.

Well, that’s what his friends call him. Peter isn’t actually sure of his full name but he does know that Thor is a senior and an exchange student from somewhere in Europe.

Thor started at their school in September, qualified immediately for their varsity team and is a super sweet guy.

His locker gets stuck sometimes. It just takes elbow grease, but once, Thor noticed him struggling to open it and didn’t hesitate to hurry over to help. He had it opened in a matter of seconds and had smiled just like he did now. Peter has been smitten ever since.

Any lingering doubts he’d had over the summer regarding his bisexuality were swiftly and resolutely confirmed as soon as he saw the older boy striding down the halls, a head taller than anyone else, smile a mile wide, accent like liquid gold.

He’s just so pretty. And nice.

Feeling Thor’s eyes on him, self-consciousness creeps over Peter as he continues his laps. But he channels it, using the opportunity to prove himself, maybe impress the other boy, running faster despite the burn in his lungs and thighs.

Come on, Parker, keep going.

He looks over again. Every time he does Thor is looking at him - at Peter - and maybe it really is his lucky day. He keeps pushing himself to go faster, harder until his heart is throbbing in his ears. The next time he looks over though, Thor is lifting his sweater over his head.

The action makes his undershirt ride up, revealing a tantalising strip of bare, hard skin.

Peter trips, hitting the ground hard.

Motherfuck.

There is immediate, raucous laughter by the bleachers as he groans and picks himself up, body protesting. He spits out grass on the ground, dazedly noticing the smoking kids, Stark and Rhodes, clapping at Peter’s performance.

Setting back into a jog as his face flames, Peter refuses to look over again to see if Thor noticed.

That would be just his luck.

----

By first period a deep, purple bruise is blooming on his chin and knees. There’s a graze on his cheek from the fall and his jaw feels like it did when he first got braces in fifth grade, stiff as hell and sensitive to the touch.

Shuri laughs at him when he sits beside her.

“That bad?” Peter asks, flinching when she takes his jaw in hand to inspect the damage.

“It’s not like you can get any uglier,” she remarks, turning his head from side to side. “It’s fine, just maybe don’t smile at small children. What happened -- did you try to rescue another old woman?”

“No,” he sighs, pulling back, embarrassed. “I fell at training this morning and ate dirt. I got distracted.”

“That’s a first.”

His cheeks heat.

“Yeah, well.” He leans in closer to whisper, eyes darting around the room. “Thor was there. He said hi to me.”

“That’s it? He said hi?”

“Well, kinda. He smiled at me. Like, he looked directly at me and bam, blinded by the light. And then he did this thing with his shirt --”

Shuri’s eyes go wide but whatever she has to say is curbed by the arrival of their teacher. She pulls out her notebook and points at him with her pen. “New low,” she whispers. “What the fuck, PP.”

Peter shrugs.

Her disdain is evident and Peter can’t help but smile, even as it pulls his injuries.

His fortune again turns, receiving top marks for the last assignment and his teacher wasn’t even that mad when he was caught texting during class. Maybe it was the split lip or the sorry state of his nose that inspired pity from the faculty, but he wasn’t about to test his luck.

He clearly wasn’t going to get through to college through his prowess at football, so he pockets his phone, apologises sheepishly and sticks his head into his books.

Maybe he replays the moment in his head as he takes notes, filled with equal measures of shame and giddiness.

At least May would be satisfied that his glasses were preserved from damage and wouldn’t have to buy a new pair.

By the time class ends, his face is well and truly throbbing. He winces when he yawns, prompting Shuri to roll her eyes at him as they head into the halls.

“You’re so embarrassing,” she says, knocking their hips together as they weave through students on their way to the bio labs.

“Pity me. I’m wounded.”

“Oh I pity you alright,” she says distractedly, nodding to the far end of the hall. “Hey, look. Stark and Rhodes are back from suspension.”

Peter looks over.

Stark is talking to some girl, leaning against the lockers while Rhodes tries to pull him away, presumably towards their next class.

Peter shakes his head, recalling their antics that morning. “Yeah, I noticed. Stark should have been expelled. He started that fight.”

“Uhh, don’t even. Rogers threw the first punch,” Shuri reasons, waving to both boys as they pass.

“Semantics.”

“That’s a big boy word.”

“I’m a big boy.”

Shuri pokes his grazed cheek.

“Sure you are.”

----

The next few periods passed without a hitch.

But the best part of all came during lunch.

It was Mac’n’Cheese day. The best day of the week -- well, the only day of the week that Peter can afford cafeteria food, if he was honest, but he sure made it count.

Fortuitously, MJ had gotten there early enough to secure their group a table together and the lunchlady that was sweet on Peter had given him an extra scoop of the gooey pasta, to his delight. Maybe it really was his lucky day, he thinks, taking a spot at the table.

That would be a first.

He’d been riding on the high of his morning, gracelessly shovelling the cheesy goodness into his gullet when it happened.

“Don’t look now,” Natasha says to his left. “Wonderboy is coming through.”

Peter looks up at the exact moment Thor strides past their table, catching his eye.

The other boy grins roguishly at him. His teeth are so white.

“Hey there, Pete,” he waves, nodding to the rest of the table and moving on

“H-Hey, Thor,” he swallow roughly, waving back. “H-Hows it going?”

Thor already having moved on, doesn’t respond, and for the butterflies beating against his stomach, Peter doesn’t even care. He smiles down at his pasta, heart racing a mile a minute. Wow.

“Hey, Thor,” Shuri imitates him.

Peter swallows, ignoring her, cheeks going pink. “He knows my name. Oh my god. He knows my name.”

“Who cares, the whole school knows your name,” MJ says, without looking up from her textbook.

Shuri points her fork at her in agreement. “Yes. Thor’s a meathead. You can do better.”

“No he can’t,” Ned disagrees. "Have you seen that guy? His biceps are like bowling balls.”

Bucky parks himself between Steve and Natasha, throwing an arm around them both. He puts on a high voice, fluttering his eyelashes. “Who, Thor? I heard he’s a model for Burberry.”

“I heard he does Adidas commercials in Norway,” Natasha adds.

“And he’s quarterback of the varsity team,” Flash finishes.

MJ blinks.

“And?”

“He’s got a four-point-oh,” Peter says dreamily.

He stops paying attention, eyes going unfocused as he imagines their next interaction. Maybe Thor will ask him out, god willing. He imagines Thor and himself graduating as Valedictorians in their respective years, throwing their caps high into the sky and embracing. Their classmates will clap as they kiss. Maybe they’ll then spend the summer in Thor’s hometown, wherever that is. Peter doesn’t know, but maybe it has rolling green hills, cute cobblestone roads and snow-capped mountains, maybe they’ll go on horse rides and picnics where Thor will surprise Peter and propose and --

Someone snorts behind Peter, shattering the illusion.

Peter turns in his chair to find one Tony Stark grinning wickedly, apparently eavesdropping.

“What,” he prompts, frowning when that elicits a wider smile from the other boy, his dark and unkempt hair falling across his forehead in front of his eyes.

“Nothin’,” Tony tucks his wayward strands behind his ear. “I mean, well. Just that you said he’s got a four-point-oh.”

“And?”

Tony shrugs. He holds his pinkie up to his face and wriggles it.

“And I dunno, Parker. Gotta say; You seen him in the showers? Four is a little generous, don’t you think? More like three.”

Peter stares.

Tony tilts his head, conceding.

“O-kay, three and a half.”

Peter rolls his eyes. This guy is freaking bent.

“Well, that’s three and a half more that he’s got on you, Stark. Mind your own business.” he turns back around to the table. MJ, across from him, has her lips pursed in an attempt to hide her smile.

“S’gotta be the steroids,” is what he hears Tony say to his friends before they start to snicker. “Seriously -- you seen that guys’ balls? No? Neither have I. Not for a lack of trying.”

Peter ignores him.

Tony Stark is prickly. A smartass, although he’s rarely antagonistic -- unless it’s towards Peter and his team mates, of course.

Peter doesn’t really get why. It doesn’t serve him to spend longer moments of musings on someone who clearly hates him, but thinks Steve and Tony used to be friends before falling out at some point, way before Peter came to the high school and joined the JV team.

Like he does with everyone, Peter had tried to befriend Tony at first, but it quickly became clear that the other boy had no interest in making nice, sneering at every pleasantry and effort. Before long, Peter’s extended hand of friendship became a clenched fist.

Rhodes and Potts, his friends, seem to be reasonable. Cordial that borders on unfriendly, sure, but reasonable.

Tony, however, seems to get a kick out of the perpetual disharmony.

Whatever, Peter scoops up the last of his pasta, chewing it with a pleased sigh. It doesn’t matter. Propping his chin on his hand, he replays the exchange with Thor over again in his mind, heart racing all over again.

This is the best day ever.

Not even Tony Stark can bring him down today.

-----

Peter Parker wouldn’t consider himself a religious person or a believer in a higher power. He was scientific, clinical. Rarely did he attribute his fortunes -- or misfortunes as it were -- to anything other than deterministic chaos.

But there was something called Parker Luck, as his Aunt called it. Whilst evidence of it was purely anecdotal, it was a theory Peter believed in whole heartedly.

He might not have hard proof, but all the trends in his life end in the same answer.

Parker Luck. It’s a thing.

----

Fortune, momentarily swings his way again during History.

Mr Jacobs, their regular teacher with a stiff upper-lip, is off sick and the sub lets them have an independent study period, which is code for doing fuck all.

He doesn’t have any friends in this class so he utilises the time finishing his math homework and doodling in his notebook. If he draws a few hearts with his own initials and those of a certain exchange student, then, well, that’s his business.

By the time he’s in Economics, his final class of the day, Peter is feeling pretty damn good.

He takes his usual seat in the back row next to Natasha, dropping his books on the table with a thud. The noise awakens Jake, the stoner guy, who sits on his other side. Peter offers him a smile as he takes his seat.

This should be good.

While Economics holds no special place in his heart, Miss Ahn is by far his favorite teacher. She’s young, late twenties, Peter thinks, and is one of the more approachable teachers in the faculty. She worked for some big deal accounting firm before she found her calling in teaching and has always been good to Peter.

She watches the kids as they file in and smiles at them as they take their seats. In her hand she’s holding a Met’s cap (another reason for Peter to adore her) which, upon inspection, to be full of folded pieces of paper.

When she has the attention of the room she greets the class and takes attendance. Curiously, nothing is said about the hat afterwards as she walks around the room, offering the hat to each student and allowing them to withdraw a single piece of paper.

Bewildered, Peter watches his peers and their increasing confusion as they open their pieces until it’s his turn.

He takes one out of her hat and opens it with uncertainly.

He unfolds it. It reads: middle-school art teacher.

Peter frowns.

He peers over to Natasha, whose expression mirrors his own.

“Great, that’s everyone!” Miss Ahn nods and returns to the front of the room to lean back on her desk. A slow smile spreads on her face and Peter, for the first time in her classroom, feels dread creep up his spine.

“So,” she claps, “building on our discussion last week we were talking microeconomics versus macroeconomics, I mentioned an assignment. Who remembers?”

The class collectively groans.

“I know, I know, it’s a hard knock life. But, it’s not going to be that bad, i promise. You might find it fun. Mr Barnes, what does yours say?”

In front of Peter’s desk, he watches Bucky unfold his paper, pausing.

“...Personal trainer?”

“Great. And yours, Mr Wilson?”

In the second row, Sam frowns at his paper. “Therapist.”

Miss Ahn seems pleased, pointing at the two.

“Congrats, you two are partners for the next week. You’re married, you have no children. But you holiday twice a year and have a mortgage.”

“I’m sorry,” Barnes glances between Wilson and their teacher. “We what?”

She addresses the class as a whole.

“You two, as you all are once you are partnered, are to prepare an annual budget for your fictional household. This is the microeconomics portion of the assignment.”

“Are you saying I’m fake-married to this clown?” Sam gestures with his thumb, displeasure written all over his face.

Peter snorts as their teacher nods.

“Right! Just for two weeks. I expect your budgets to be detailed, okay? I strongly recommend extensive research into the respective fields you are assigned. Average salary, student loan forecast, the works. Figure out how much you owe and how much you earn. Rent! Bills! This is worth 40% of your semester grade. Do you love it?”

Peter looks back down at his paper, reading it again. The trepidation from earlier comes back as a pit in his stomach.

"Miss Potts, how about your paper?”

The girl grimaces.

“Divorce lawyer.”

“Great. And Mr Rhodes?”

“Colonel,” he reads, tilting his head as he considers his paper. “Cool.”

“Awesome. You two are estranged sweethearts, supporting three kids. You share equal alimony, rent separately, and are set to remarry. Natasha?”

Natasha blinks at her paper. “Executive Producer.”

His teacher hums, tapping her lips with her finger as she circles her desk. “Single. No kids.”

Natasha grins, all teeth.

“Mr Parker?”

Peter reads his paper aloud, smiling as his fingers shake, feeling each pair of eyes of his fellow students as they await his fate.

“And you, Mr Stark?

In the second row, closest to the door, Tony crumples his paper in his hand. The room is pervasively silent. Tony clears his throat, tossing the paper onto his desk with evident disdain.

“Stay-at-home-parent,” his voice so quiet that Peter nearly misses it.

“Excellent. Okay then, you and Mr Parker are married ---”

Peter’s stomach drops.

Oh no.

“-- you’ve just adopted a four year old. You two met at work, Mr Stark is taking time off to care for the child -- figure out your savings, salary, budget for a new family --”

Tony’s hand shoots up swiftly, his fingers waving in the air.

Peter follows suit, arm stretching high. No. This is -- no.

“Miss Anh?” Tony interrupts, bouncing in his seat. “Yes, hi. Tony Stark, that’s me, the guy you just condemned. Just wondering, is it possible to switch partners?”

The teacher pauses,

“No, it's not.”

Peter raises his hand higher.

“Can you make an exception?” he asks, lowering his hand and looking between Tony and Miss Ahn uneasily. “I think that would be best.”

She places her hands on her hips.

“What’s the issue, boys?”

Before Peter can even open his mouth, the other boy cuts in.

“You see Miss A,” Tony interjects, hands pressed together in a fervent plea, eyes closing, as if in prayer. “Here’s the thing: I just can’t work with neanderthals. They bring down my grade average.”

“Anthony.”

Miss Ahn frowns. The entire class turns in their seats to watch the exchange and Peter feels his face heat.

“Well lucky for him, I can’t work with underachieving eighties rejects whose parents pay for their grades.”

“Wow,” Stark gestures to their teacher, “you hear that Miss? You driving that ‘94 Volvo on my parents money? Gosh, I am so sorry. Let me get you an upgrade.”

He turns to Peter, face heating at the attention of the class.

“Shit, Parker,” he continues, gesturing to him. “You really are as dumb as rocks. I mean, don’t you ever get tired of perpetuating your own stereotype?”

Peter shakes his head.

“Do you ever get tired of being an insufferable asshole?”

Tony puts a hand on his chest. “Absolutely. It keeps me up at night.”

Peter huffs. “You’re exhausting.”

“You’re loathsome.”

“Prick.”

“Princess.”

“Boys!” Miss Ahn cuts in, snapping her fingers, her expression positively thunderous. “I don’t know what has got into either of you, but that is enough.” She points to them both. “Unless you have a real, valid complaint, quit it. Right now. You’re going to work together on this assignment or you both of you will fail.”

Peter and Tony share a look.

“Your choice,” she says, pointing at each of them. “Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Tony huffs, turning back to face the front of the room.

Peter crosses his arms over his chest and nods.

“Great. Now, not a word from either of you for the remainder of this class. Scott, your turn.”

Peter fumes silently as Scott unfolds his paper and reads it aloud to the room.

“An entomologist!” He shifts excitedly in his seat, beaming widely. “Wow! Wow. Man, that’s so cool. I love Lord of The Rings.”

Miss Ahn sighs.

---

“Stop laughing,” Peter hisses, leaning in closer to Natasha. “Shut up. It’s not funny.”

The redhead leans against Peter’s locker, hand clamped over her mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You are not,” Peter grumbles, brushing her aside to get into his locker. It sticks when he pulls iy, like it always does, and Peter has to tug to get it open. “This is the worst day of my life. I’m cursed.”

“You’re not cursed.”

“Who’s cursed?”

Peter turns in time to see Bucky swoop in and embrace Natasha from behind.

“Me. I’m cursed. I gotta be, right? I mean, what reason would there be for me to be paired with Tony Stark? Am I not a good person? Have I not suffered enough?”

Natasha opens her mouth but Peter barrels on.

“And what does Tony Stark know about managing money?” he continues, shoving notebooks haphazardly into his bag, despair increasing. “His dad owns a fleet of Ferraris and a private jet. He probably has a diamond encrusted butthole. The guy hates me -- I’m cursed.”

“Wow. You’re so dramatic.” She looks to Bucky. “Are you hearing this?”

Peter poins a finger at her.

“You’re just saying that because you’re going to be a successful single multi-billionaire or something. I have to be married to the stay-at-home dickwad.”

“Maybe you could teach him a thing or two.”

Peter scoffs, shoving textbooks into his backpack, weekend plans obliterated by the volume of homework he’s received.

“What, like how to not be an asshole?”

“Why are you so obsessed with his asshole?”

“Speaking of the devil,” Bucky cuts in quietly. “Your three o’clock.”

The devil indeed, Peter thinks, zipping his bag and closing his locker. He turns just in time for a stony-faced Tony stride towards him.

“Stark,” he greets darkly.

“Parker. Do you prefer Parker or Princess?” Tony waves his hands dismissively. “Nevermind, I don’t care. So, this assignment? Here’s the thing --”

“Let me guess,” Peter interrupts, slinging the straps of his backpack onto his shoulder. “You’re too busy to complete your half? That’s fine, it’d be best if you let me write it. That way you might actually pass. Win, win.”

Tony looks at him, lips pursed.

“Uh, no. No, and then also, no. That’s an awful idea. What are you, like, a C average?”

“Actually, I’m --”

“I don’t actually care. Listen, as much as I would love to be as far away from you as possible --”

“-- Likewise --”

“ -- Miss A will know if we bullshit her. I know you’re intimately familiar with the experience, but she isn’t an idiot. She can spot your mediocre work a mile away.”

Peter folds his arms over his chest, glasses slipping down his nose.

“You’re not actually proposing we do this together, right,” he queries, pushing them back up. The ire from earlier continues to burn in his chest. “Can you even read?”

“Haha, oh my god, you’re like so funny,” Tony runs a hand through his hair, voice going glib and high pitched. His expression goes serious. “Write your address in my phone. I’ll see you there at six.”

“Why at six?” Peter frowns, taking the phone when Tony waves it in his face. He begins typing in his address, pausing briefly to peer at the other boy. “And why my apartment? Am I going to dirty up your mansion?”

“Penthouse, actually,” Tony crosses his arms over his chest. “And because I have better things to do this afternoon that isn’t aspirating on your sweat fumes.”

“You can aspirate on my ass,” he mumbles through his teeth as he resumes typing, chest going hot.

“Tempting, but no thanks. Are you done yet? You type slow. Do you know you type slow?”

“Shut up,” Peter rolls his eyes, locking the phone and returning it to its owner. “Don’t be late. I’m not joking, I’m not waiting around for you.”

“Sure thing, princess,” Tony pockets his phone, retrieving a cigarette from behind his ear and slipping it between his lips. “Don’t shoot on arrival.”

“No promises.”

It goes unheard, however. Tony has already turned and left, headphones secure over his ears.

Annoyed, he turns back to his friends.

“That guy is the worst.”

If he was expecting sympathy or commiseration, which he was, he comes up short on both. Instead, met with Natasha whispering into her boyfriends ear as she casts him a suspicious side eye.

“What?” He pokes her in the arm. “What are you whispering about.”

Natasha shakes her head, poking him back. It hurts.

“Nothing.”

Before he can retaliate, Bucky slings an arm each around Peter and his girlfriends shoulders, smiling easily at them. As a trio, they walk towards the exit, the hallway near empty, save for a few stragglers idling by the doors.

“Don’t worry, Pete. She was just sayin’ one of you will be dead by morning,” Bucky offers, squeezing his shoulder.

“Um, not me, right?” Peter asks, adjusting his glasses on his nose again. “I’m alive in this scenario?”

"No.”

“Hey!”

Bucky jostles his shoulder. “You saw the shiner he gave Rogers the other week. You already look like you fell into a blender.”

His jaw throbs at the mention.

Natasha snorts. “Ha. You’re a goner.”

“No, I’m not. I could fight if I had to,” Peter argues, as they part the double doors at the exit. Descending the stairs, the couple head towards the carpark and wave him off. “I could!” He yells, walking backwards, accidentally bumping into a harried-looking freshman.

It goes without response. The two share an amused look before disappearing, but Peter isn’t even mad. He’s wily. He could totally take Stark in a fight.

Heading out of the grounds and towards the nearest subway entrance, Peter winces as his injuries are jostled during the descent and massages his cheek gingerly. An old woman ascending the stairs gives him an odd look that turns horrified when he smiles to ease her.

By the time he’s swiped his Metrocard and made his way to his track, his hood is covering his face.

Yep, he’s doomed.

#starker #ironspider #high school au #enemies to lovers

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jensenswinchester · 4 years

Text

The Thought of Losing You

Summary: This is my spin on 14.02 (Gods and Monsters) and 14.11 (Damaged Goods).

Prompt: “The thought of losing you scares the shit out of me.”

Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader

Warnings: Season 14 spoilers. Lots of profanity, lots of angst, dollop of fluff.

Word Count: 5,315

A/N: This is my entry for Sabrina @winchesterxfamilybusiness‘s 250 Followers Writing Challenge! This was my first time writing for Supernatural and ever posting anything I’ve ever written. I hope you like it!

Y/N knew she wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Dean Winchester, but her brain and her heart weren’t exactly on the same page.

There were only so many times she could watch the man she loved and idolized sacrifice himself as if his own life was meaningless. Every time she lost Dean, the pain became more and more unbearable. She grew up alongside the Winchesters, her grandfather being one of the men John Winchester learned his tricks and skills from when he was younger. His dying wish was for John to protect her, and when he passed years later, that duty was passed down to Sam and Dean. The pair didn’t mind, she was family to them. Sam liked being a big brother to someone for a change, and Dean welcomed the days when she would spend time with them so he had someone other than Sam to hang out with.

It was safe to say Y/N had been there through everything. She was there when Sam died and when Dean made the crossroads deal. She was there when the hellhounds dragged him to hell and when he made his miraculous return months later. She watched the Mark of Cain change him in ways she never imagined, and then hid from his demon alter-ego when he tried to kill her and Sam in the bunker.

The point is, she was there for every high and low, and she wasn’t sure she had the capacity to handle another low.

In the most cliche turn of events, Y/N developed feelings for the older brother over time. How could she not? He looked after her more than her own father the majority of the time. She idolized him from a young age, thought he was so cool, felt the most at ease around him. Dean was always there and Y/N had no choice but to fall for him, and hard. Of course, in another cliche fashion, she couldn’t dare tell him. He was her best friend and he certainly could do better than what she had to offer.

The most recent predicament was Michael, the Archangel from another universe who wormed his way into their world with Lucifer. Selfishly, Y/N was relieved when their world’s Michael stopped trying to convince Dean to be his vessel and the angels stopped pursuing him, though she felt bad for Adam. She never imagined she’d find herself in this situation: Dean, saying yes to this new Michael, in order to save his brother and Jack from Lucifer.

Dean dismissed her when he sent Bobby and Mary to the garage. She begged him to let her stay, to let her help, and of course not to do anything stupid, but Bobby pulled her away as soon as Dean’s jaw clenched and that look crossed his handsome face. Usually she could win, that look would fade and he’d be putty in her hands. In that moment, she was scared of him, because the look resembled the murderous glare his demon self threw her way seconds before narrowly missing her with that forsaken hammer.

When Sam and Jack returned to the bunker without Dean, Y/N’s heart stopped and her breath hitched in her chest, a clockwork reaction any time something terrible happened to him.

“N-no,” she whimpered, looking at Sam through blurry eyes as the tears threatened to fall.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, finding it hard to watch her break over his brother yet again. “Michael…he tricked him and…”

“He disappeared,” Jack sighed. The room began to spin as the dizziness washed over Y/N. She fumbled in place, clutching the back of the chair in front of her at the war table, Sam rushing to her side and gathering her into his arms.

“We’re gonna find him honey,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure himself or her. He squeezed her tighter as she sobbed into his flannel, wishing he could do more. He wasn’t Dean, he didn’t have the same connection with her as his brother did, and he hated that there was nothing more he could do for her.

That was almost two months ago.

Over the last nearly eight weeks, Y/N battled between wanting to go out and look for Dean and succumbing to the intense sadness and anxiety over the loss of the older Winchester. She knew she should be out there looking for him, helping Sam, Mary and Bobby. She wasn’t sleeping, and when she did she was plagued with dreams of Michael torturing Dean, because that was all she could think about during the day. She snapped at Jack when she overhead him talking to Castiel in the kitchen during one of the few times she left her room for food. As soon as she heard the words “Dean doesn’t matter” leave the nephilim’s lips, she was at his throat.

“How dare you,” she began, her voice low and shaking as the anger pulsated through her veins. “How dare you say that, considering you wouldn’t fucking be here if not for Dean. He’s done nothing but protect you and give you a home, and you go and say he doesn’t matter? That is his body. He is a prisoner in his own body. He’s trapped in there-“

“Y/N-“ Castiel started. Y/N whipped her head around, glowering at the vessel before her.

“NO, Cas. What he said was un-fucking-called for.” She turned back to the nephilim, disappointment and anger evident on her face. “Look, kid. The world would not be the way it is right now if not for Dean fucking Winchester. He may not matter to you, but he sure as hell matters to me.”

Since then, Jack kept his distance. He never saw Y/N as upset as she was in that moment, and he still didn’t understand why she was so mad at him, because in his mind, he was right. Michael was the enemy, Michael needed to go, Dean be damned.

Sam was growing more and more concerned for Y/N as time went on without any sign of Dean. He knew she wasn’t sleeping, having been the one to wake her from her nightmares and stay with her until she drifted back into a restless sleep, if her mind even allowed it.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” she mumbled one morning when Sam brought her a mug of tea. “I know you want to be out looking for him.”

“I’m leaving in a little bit, do you want to try and come with me?” She shook her head, her eyes again welling up with tears. How she had any left was beyond her. “Its okay, honey. You should try and rest anyway. You’ve had a rough few weeks-“

“But I’m a hunter, Sam. I know better than to act like this. I should be out there looking for him, he’d do the same if it was me-“

“You may be a hunter, but that doesn’t mean you’re not human, Y/N/N. You still have feelings, emotions, and we both know you have very…specific feelings towards Dean. This wasn’t a hunt gone wrong, Dean is missing and you’re hurting because you love him. What you’re feeling, what you’ve been feeling, that’s heartbreak. It’s crippling and it’s brutal and until he’s back, it’s not gonna go away.”

“What if he doesn’t come back Sam?” She hated how small her voice sounded, she couldn’t even deny her feelings to his face. At this rate, every additional body in the bunker had to know she was in love with Dean.

“He’s Dean. He’s died, been dragged to hell…he’s not gonna let some dick angel keep him away from us.” Y/N nodded weakly. “Are you going to tell him?”

“Sam-“

“You have to tell him, Y/N. He has a right to know, he needs to know, maybe then he’d stop sacrificing himself-“

“Your brother wouldn’t know what to do with himself-“

“True, but he’d be happy, with you. He adores you. He deserves to be happy.” Y/N tilted her head to the side, eyebrows cocked. “You know I’m right.”

“We’ll see.”

Sam sighed, pecking her forehead before getting off the bed. “I’m gonna head out, you need anything, you call, yes?” She nodded. “Be good, no yelling at any nephilims today.”

“He deserved it-“

“I know.”

One of the things Y/N wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to was the amount of people now residing in the bunker since coming from the other world. She missed the peace and quiet, but she was extra thankful that her bedroom, like Dean’s, was tucked away from the action. Sure, the bunker was large enough to accommodate the newcomers, and they were all quickly catching on as new hunters, but she longed for the days when the bunker was more of a secret hideaway, not a community center.

In the time Dean was gone, Y/N treated his room like the West Wing. She made sure no one besides herself or Sam ever went in, on the days she got out of bed anyway. Her room was down the hall from his, and since the hallway was generally empty, she could immediately hear when someone was entering his room. The door had a slight creak when it pushed open slowly enough, but Dean insisted he liked it. It sounded “homey.” So when she heard that familiar creak and knew Sam wasn’t home yet, her body was out of her bed and moving down the hall before her mind could register she was even upright. Her feet carried her to the door with the pretty golden eleven, finding it open. She felt her blood run cold as she stepped over the threshold of the room, ready to deliver a verbal beating to whoever dared enter this room of all rooms, before her breath hitched in her chest and she found herself staring at the back of the man she was waiting for.

“D-Dean?”

His shoulders visibly relaxed at the sound of her voice and he turned around, his olive eyes welling up with tears as he took in the sight of her. She was clutching the doorway, her body swimming in his red flannel, dark circles under her pretty eyes as she choked out a sob upon seeing him before her.

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered, opening his arms as she flung herself forward, crashing against his chest. Her body again shook with sobs as she clutched at the white dress shirt adorning his shoulders, her face buried into the middle of his chest. His arms wrapped around her as he struggled between squeezing her against him and holding her fragile body against his own. Her sobs were muffled screams and he cringed, hating that once again he was the reason she was breaking this badly. He finally allowed his tears to flow and soon he was crying into her hair while trying to calm her down.

“You miss me?” He asked some moments later once her breathing returned to normal and her body stopped shaking.

“No,” she weakly deadpanned, still morphed into his chest. His fingers danced up and down her spine in gentle patterns as he chuckled, placing a kiss to the top of her head. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know, he just…left.”

“He better fucking stay gone,” she growled, “or at least find a new vessel. Got a few ideas.” Dean laughed softly and she pulled back to look up at him, raising her eyebrows. “You think I’m joking?”

“No ma’am.”

She glared at the term, her eyes growing wide. “Why didn’t Sam call me to tell me he found you?”

“Surprise?” He grinned sheepishly. “He said you were probably resting and didn’t want to wake you. He…he told me how you’ve been the last few weeks and sweetheart, I’m not upset. I’m upset at how much of a toll this took on you but I’m not upset that you weren’t looking for me.”

“I’m sorry Dean, I wanted to-“

“I know, Y/N. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I understand. You were struggling, I couldn’t expect you to push yourself.”

She looked down, still feeling embarrassed over the situation. “I’m sorry for barging in, too. I thought someone was in here that wasn’t you and I got so upset-“

“It’s okay,” he smiled, “I half expected you to be in here waiting for me.”

She blushed and Dean grinned, hugging her to him again. “You probably want some alone time, I should let you get settled in but I really don’t feel like leaving your side at the moment.”

“I’m gonna take a quick shower and I’ll be right back, okay? Promise.” His green eyes were boring into her own, his words serious as the rolled off his tongue. She nodded and he smiled gently, kissing her head again before grabbing his clothes and heading down the hall towards the large communal bathroom.

While Y/N waited, Dean let the hot water run down his tired body, scrubbing his skin raw as he tried to get any trace of the Archangel off of him. He didn’t understand why Michael suddenly left the way he did, but he wasn’t about to get his hopes up that he had seen the last of the celestial being. He stood under the water as his own tears of frustration fell from his eyes. He was angry that he was taken advantage of, tricked into being the vessel for more than he bargained for. He hated feeling like a prisoner in his own body, own mind, not knowing exactly what was going on around him as Michael took control. He missed his brother, his girl, even if she wasn’t officially his. Y/N was everything to him, and after some convincing on his part, Sam revealed that he was everything to her as well. It happened on the drive home when he realized she wasn’t with Sam, and he immediately panicked thinking something had happened to her.

“She’s at the bunker, Dean. She…she hasn’t been doing well.”

“What’s wrong with her?” He breathed, his body going rigged on the passenger’s side of the bench seat.

“She’s just been taking your…disappearance the hardest out of everyone. She doesn’t sleep, she barely eats, she bit Jack’s head off.”

“What did he do?” Sam didn’t want to repeat the words Jack had uttered, because in truth, they pissed him off as well. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words and cause Dean more hurt, he carried enough pain already.

“He said something she didn’t like, honestly he deserved it. She was defending you.” Dean blushed softly, picturing Y/N turning into the spitfire she could be, all because of him. “You know Dean…”

Dean looked at his brother, confused, “Sammy?”

“I shouldn’t,” Sam stopped himself, knowing he was about to break Y/N’s trust.

“You already started.”

“It wouldn’t be fair to Y/N.”

“I won’t say anything, just tell me.”

“She…the reason she was so bad the last few weeks, is because she loves you. Has feelings for you. And you being gone, not knowing where you were, it visibly was destroying her.”

Dean’s eyes widened and his heartbeat sped up in his chest. “She can’t-“

“Why not? Haven’t you seen the way she looks at you, man? She looks at you like you hung the damn moon for her.”

Dean shook his head. “Loving me comes with a price, one she shouldn’t have to pay. It puts a target on her back and she doesn’t deserve that.”

“Dean, it’s pretty obvious you feel the same way she does, you’re being ridiculous. She makes you happy, man. You deserve something good, and Y/N is good.”

Dean wasn’t going to act on this new information, not until he knew Michael was done with him, for good. He couldn’t stomach Y/N hurting over him anymore. Once he knew Michael didn’t have a use for him any longer, he could approach her about the mutual feelings between them. Of course Dean reciprocated them. How could he not? Y/N was beautiful, funny, intelligent. She was everything he could hope for, plopped into his life all those years ago. He raised her to be the third best hunter in the world. She was perfect for him, but he couldn’t put her in danger by simply loving her back.

For a little while, things seemed to be looking up, which was consequently never a good sign when it came to the Winchesters. Just when they thought Michael was possibly out of their lives, he snuck back in and invaded Dean’s personal space all over again. With help from Sam, Y/N and Cas, he was able to take control and lock Michael away in his mind. The problem was, Dean felt like there was a toddler banging on a drum set living in his head. Michael was constantly making a racket, leaving Dean with a perpetual headache while he tried to block out Michael’s incessant demands to be let out of the “cage” Dean locked him away in. It was during this time that Dean made the painful decision to never act on his feelings for Y/N. He wasn’t sure how long he’d survive with Michael taking up residency in his mind, nor did he have any way of knowing that Michael wouldn’t hurt her.

Sam and Y/N became suspicious when Dean decided he wanted to visit Mary, alone. Since being back, Dean rarely had alone time, though if he was being honest, he didn’t mind at all. In fact, he welcomed the company. Company kept his mind off the tenant upstairs. He spent most of his time resting before Sam decided he could go back out on hunts, and resting usually meant cuddling with Y/N and watching copious amount of Netflix. He was struggling, but he wanted to make sure she was okay as well.

Y/N was reluctant to let Dean go visit Mary alone. When she expressed her concerns for the older Winchester to Sam, Sam agreed that something wasn’t right and the pair decided to make their own drive to Donna’s cabin.

Which is how Sam and Y/N found themselves standing across from Dean in Donna’s shed, an ominous metal coffin of sorts on the workbench before them.

“What the hell is this?” Y/N asked, her eyes fixed on Dean.

“This is how I’m going to get rid of Michael,” Dean explained, failing to make eye contact in return.

“This isn’t what I think it is,” Sam glowered, beginning to understand what his brother was getting at.

“Someone better explain what the hell this is,” Y/N urged, agitated.

“This is a Ma’lak Box,” Dean began, Sam sighing in anger. “It’s warded to keep an angel inside…including an Archangel.”

“Okay…so how are you gonna get Michael into the box?” Y/N asked, oblivious to the elephant that was in the shed.

“Michael is…inside me. In order to get Michael into the box, I have to get in,” Dean muttered.

“NO!”

“Its the only way-“

“BULLSHIT. There is ALWAYS another way!”

“NO THERE ISN’T,” Dean yelled back, “I can feel him breaking free. I can’t hold him much longer, this is the only way, Billie showed me-“

“Dean, we can figure this out. There has to be something else,” Sam tried to reason with his brother. “What happens when you’re in?”

“The plan is to be dropped into the Pacific and buried-“

“The fuck you will,” Y/N seethed. “NO. You’re not doing this.”

“This is why I didn’t tell either of you, you’re the only ones who could try and talk me out of it.”

“So you were just going to disappear again? Be buried alive without a goodbye? Expect us to be okay with this?” Sam was amazed at how dense Dean could be sometimes.

“I said my goodbyes back at the bunker,” Dean sighed. Y/N was staring at him in horror, still trying to process that once again, she’d be losing Dean, but this time for good. Dean looked at her and cringed. “Please say something.”

“You stupid son of a bitch,” she fumed. “You’re so hellbent on sacrificing your own life for the greater fucking good because you’re convinced your life doesn’t mean anything. Well guess what! Your life may not mean something to you but it means everything to me. You don’t have to do this, we can find another way. Fuck what Billie has to say, there is no way this ends with you buried at the bottom of the fucking ocean.”

“I have to do this-“

“No, you don’t,” Sam argued. “We can find something else Dean, anything else, something that keeps you alive, with us.”

“Do you think I want to do this? To either of you? I HAVE to do this. I don’t have a choice-“

“YOU ALWAYS HAVE A CHOICE. YOU TAUGHT ME THAT,” Y/N screamed, the anger simmering under her skin.

“Look, I’m not exactly looking forward to this, okay? I’ve made up my mind, you both need to accept it.”

“We…we have to accept it? Accept that you’re going to be buried in this…this box…with a murderous archangel hitching a ride in your head? Are you out of your mind?” Y/N was amazed at how Dean was so calm about this. “You expect Sam to just let you go? I clearly don’t mean enough to you for you NOT to do this but at least think of your brother.”

“You know that’s not true,” Dean groaned.

“Could’ve fooled me,” she spat, rolling her eyes.

“This won’t solve anything,” Sam barked, shooting a glare to both of them. “You’re not getting in the box, we’ll figure something else out but right now, this discussion is over.”

“You think this is up for debate, Sammy? It’s not-“

“I said, this discussion is over. We will have this conversation when we get home, when we can get Jack and Cas’ input-“

“Oh yeah, let’s clue the nephilim in to the plan,” Y/N snarled, “after all, Dean matters oh so much to him anyway.”

“Excuse me?” Dean glared.

“Forget it,” she mumbled, “I need some air.” She turned on her heel and left the shed, the sight of the box now making her stomach turn. She made her way back to the cabin, hiding around the back out of sight before she allowed herself to slide down the wall into a fit of angry tears. Dean was going to leave her, again, and this time he couldn’t come back. How was she ever going to live with that? Knowing he was at the bottom of the ocean, alone in a box with an Archangel to torment him for the rest of his days? How could she possibly move on from that?

Back in the shed, Sam was pacing. “You’re not doing this,” he decided, pausing his movements to look at his brother. “You can’t do this. Not to me, not to her, not to Mom-“

“I’m doing it to protect you, all of you,” Dean argued. “If I lock Michael away, he can’t hurt any of you or cause more damage to anyone else.”

“This will kill her,” Sam warned, his voice quieter now. “Dean, you can’t-“

“This is what’s best. This is my decision and I’m sticking to it.”

Y/N decided against the wall of Donna’s cabin that she was done. She reached the end of her rope, her patience run bone dry. If Dean wasn’t going to listen to any voices of reason, she was going to make damn sure she would be okay. She could ask Rowena for a spell, something to make her forget she ever loved Dean Winchester. She refused to be a broken shell all over again because he left her, this time willingly. She would take care of herself the way he taught her to.

She emerged from behind the cabin to find the brothers walking out of the shed, Sam looking visibly distraught as he watched Dean head towards the cabin. Dean’s gaze fell on her but she refused to meet his eyes. If she was going to take care of herself, step one was creating distance, putting an end to the bond between them. Dean moved to walk towards her and she stepped back, eyes still on anything but him. He stopped in his tracks, shoulders falling before he straightened up again, refusing to show any weakness over his decision.

The ride back to the bunker was silent. Y/N wasn’t speaking to either brother, but if she had to, she spoke to Sam. Dean was trying to ignore how hurt he was, but he had to remind himself that this was for the best. He thought she could understand that.

A few days went by and Y/N was avoiding Dean as much as humanly possible. When Sam received word of Donatello, she decided to hang back and make sure the new hunters had a leader while the brothers were out taking care of business. Sam didn’t argue with her, knowing she needed her space from his brother.

When they arrived back in the safety of the bunker, days later, Y/N retreated to her room, going through her things and removing anything of Dean’s from her drawers. She wanted to do it when they first got back from the cabin retreat, but her body physically wouldn’t let her, not yet. Any flannels, shirts, anything she ever wore of his was going back to his room. She didn’t want anything of his around to remind her of him later. She carried the few shirts to his room, barging in and dumping them on his bed.

“What are you doing?” he asked, staring at the pile before him.

“Don’t want them anymore. They’ll just remind me of you when you’re gone, you know, buried and all.”

Dean winced at her words. Reality was starting to sink in, that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t such a good idea, not if it meant a rift between him and his best girl. “Y/N please, we need to talk about this-“

“I think you’ve said enough.”

“I can’t have you hating me, sweetheart. I can’t lose you, not yet. The thought of losing you scares the shit out of me-“

“Don’t you dare fucking say that to me,” she whispered, sounding much less menacing than she wanted to. “Not when I’m the one constantly losing you.” Dean felt his heart break in his chest as he looked at her, seeing all the pain he’d caused her evident on her pretty face. “And I should be used to it by now, but I’m not.” She looked down at the floor, staring at the marbled tile beneath her feet. “Maybe this is my fault-“

“Y/N no, how-“

“Maybe if I told you the truth you’d change your mind. Told you I loved you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone, maybe then you’d want to stay and find another way.”

“I know,” he breathed. “I know you do.”

Her eyes widened and she looked up at him, her cheeks flushing. “You what?”

“I know how you feel about me,” he murmured. “Sam…I forced it out of him when we drove home after he found me. He was so worried about you and he started to let it slip but I forced him to tell me.”

“So…so you know…that…and you still want to…” her voice trailed off, her words failing her as she stared helplessly at him.

“I was doing it because of that.” He watched her cringe before he realized his mistake. “Oh God, not like that! I mean, I was doing it because I love you, just as much, but I need to protect you from Michael. I told myself I wouldn’t do anything about this…us…until he was gone, but I don’t know when that will be or if it ever will be. I can’t let you get hurt because of me, not like this. I can’t put that target on you.”

“Dean…I know you think it’s your life’s mission to protect everyone, because John gave you that order to protect Sam, but sacrificing yourself? He’d also want you to live, Dean. You deserve everything good this fucked up world has to offer, Dean Winchester. You think your life means so much less than anyone else’s but that’s not true. You’re so important, Dean. Sam and I wouldn’t be here without you. You’ve saved so many lives, changed so many lives. You think you’re this monster of a man who doesn’t deserve happiness when that’s all you’ve ever deserved. You’ve spent your entire life caring for everyone else and making sure everyone else was okay, but right now, you’re not okay, and you need to let me and Sam take care of you. Let us help you find another way, please Dean.” By now tears were rolling down her cheeks the same way they were rolling down Dean’s. “I have watched you overcome and survive incredible feats. I’ve admired your courage and your strength for as long as I can remember. Please don’t stop fighting now, not yet. You have so much more left to do in this world, Dean. Some dick angel from another world is not going to be how I lose you. The world is better with you in it, MY world is better with you in it.”

Dean’s silent tears turned to choked out sobs as he took in her words. This wasn’t the first time she had to remind him of the good in him, and he hoped it wouldn’t be the last. Sam had already gotten to him before they drove home and made him see that there could be another way, that he couldn’t give up, that wasn’t what the Winchesters did.

“Oh Dean,” she whispered, enveloping him in her arms as he cried, his face buried against her shoulder. She rubbed his back softly as she cried with him, his arms wrapping around her tightly, scared of letting her go.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, “I’m sorry you’re constantly getting hurt by me-“

“No. It is not your fault. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m not doing it,” he whispered, his breath hot against her neck. “Sammy…he helped me see how wrong I was…and you…I can’t leave you. Not like that. I love you so much, sweetheart, I’m so sorry for putting you through that-“

“Dean Winchester, if you ever try to pull something like that again…”

“I know,” he nodded. “I’m so sorry baby. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“How?” She asked, Dean lifting his head from her shoulder.

“I don’t know, but I’ll spend the rest of my life figuring it out.”

Y/N blushed, fighting the grin that was spreading across her lips. “You could start with a kiss.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” he chuckled, cupping her cheeks in his hand and wiping the remaining tear drops away with his thumbs. He looked into her eyes, watching the way they sparkled as they stared back into his own. He smiled, leaning down to softly connect his lips with hers. She all but cried as she moved her lips with his, her arms wrapping back around his middle.

“Sammy was right,” he chuckled once he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

“About what?”

Dean smirked, “You really do look at me like I hung the moon.”

“Oh bite me, Winchester.”

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crqstalite · 3 years

Text

Letters Home.

I made a mistake because this was originally meant to answer a prompt fill and then I forgot about it until now. So I tweaked it, but it still works I think.

I would rather not think about the fact the current majority of writing I've done for Lali and Joker is very angsty. That'll change, eventually, but it was begging to be written so here we are. It's a little shaky since I've written Joker himself maybe a grand total of three times but I'm happy enough with it.

Post-Thessia, minor (major?) character death mentioned. Lali/Joker.

"There's a new Blasto movie coming out, it doesn't look a lot better than the last one, but it'd be great to see with you when you're home again."

Her green eyes are still bright, her grin wide while she falls back on the collection of pillows decorating her bed. Her concerns then must've extended about as far as what was for dinner that evening, or tomorrow's assignment. Blasto wasn't one of her favorites, he knew that every time they'd watched one together, but she'd sat through every single one because it made him happy. Not that she didn't complain the entire time though.

It'd been a while since he'd been fifteen himself, but those concerns shouldn't have included Reapers in them.

"You must know about all the inaccuracies in the movies, huh? With the Council and stuff this has to be hilarious to you."

Joker isn't sure what feeling to name the one that's threatening to consume him while Hilary continues talking, rattling off that week's events. Teachers, classmates, her chores around the house.

The vidmail just seemed so normal. Everything had seemed perfectly fine when he'd checked in on them after they'd left Earth. Maybe that was an overstatement, nothing would've been fine but it was still manageable then. His father and his younger sister had intended to bunker down for as long as they had to, as long as they could while he'd promised them to try and get them off Tiptree. Nothing had seemed off. Nothing had seemed wrong. He thought they'd have time.

Six months later and he'd proved himself wrong. Time was in shorter and shorter supply. By the time he could turn his attention fully back to finding them nearly a week ago to do anything more about their situation, it'd been too late. He'd heard it over the extranet, part the long list of colony worlds flashing red every other hour. His blood had run cold while he'd hoped, prayed he wouldn't find his homeworld among the lost.

The galaxy felt like it stopped spinning when he did. In big, bright red letters, it'd said Tiptree, and he...it'd all felt like a bad dream then. That he'd look back and see it was some other colony out in the Traverse. Not his. It couldn't. It shouldn't have. It was so far outside of normal trade routes that it didn't make sense for the Reapers to seize it.

Yet they'd done so anyway. The last communications had gone out the day prior, and had stretched into silence since then. Where he'd be expecting a call today, instead his missed messages have remained dark. His 'tool won't connect to his father's, or Hilary's.

He almost misses when the door behind him opens, his hand missing the pause button on the video while he scrambles for it. He doesn't get a great glance over his shoulder, but it's enough for him to try and get his emotions back in check long enough to hold a conversation, "Shepard? Look, I'm sorry for what I said earlier."

"You've got the wrong Shepard, actually. I think." If the voice isn't enough to convince him, then the absence of anger in it does when he turns his chair to look at her. Smaller, softer, more concerned when Citlali pauses in the doorway compared to her elder sister. His girlfriend a sight for sore eyes, at least compared to her counterpart, "Sorry for scaring you, if I did.

"You didn't. Just, thought she was making the rounds again. And holding a grudge against your commander doesn't really bode well for you, as I've found." He can't find the energy to add a genuine laugh with the quip, and while Citlali smiles, it's one of the ones that's strained, "What? I feel like Alenko's walking proof of that."

"I guess, depending on how you look at it." She furrows her brow, maybe in thought, maybe in disbelief. He still can't read her very well, though it's not as if she makes it easy. Shaking off the expression, "Do you mind if I come in? You seemed...busy."

While Hilary's vid has gone quiet, he doesn't meet her eyes. The distraction might be better than nothing, even though he'd rather spend his time alone, most likely watching the last handful of mails from the month prior, "If you want to, sure. Did you need anything?"

"No. It's just...quiet around here. Thessia's on everyone's mind and it honestly feels too constricting." The door closes behind her, "If you're worried, Kodelyn's with Liara right now. I don't think she's going to come back up here for a while."

"Oh good. That'll probably give her time to cool off." Refocus her frustration with Thessia back towards comforting, always seemed like it fixed something in her. He might've been out of line, but he hadn't been expecting for her to explode at him like that. It seemed too out of character, and he hadn't been able to accurately predict it. The longer she spent doing anything else was probably extending his lifespan. Shepard wasn't predictable, but she rarely played the stereotype of the short-fuse Commander.

"Cool off?" Citlali quirks an eyebrow, "Was she mad at...you?"

"Surprising, I know."

"Weird. What'd you do?"

"Nothing." He says habitually, then sighs, "I don't know. Rough day for obvious reasons, she wasn't doing so well and I probably didn't make it any better."

"Oh." Citlali cringes, "She wasn't too upset with you, was she?"

"Probably not with me specifically. I just ended up as collateral damage."

"Collateral -- Never mind. She'll probably apologize when she's feeling more like herself. If she ever does." Her tone wavers at that, uncertainty on the other end of it, "Are you okay, though?"

His silence answers it for her. What does he say to that? Fine, only that I found out my home might be ashes and the only family I have left might be gone?

Well, he probably could.

"Sure. Fine."

Her smile's shaky, "Are you really fine, or are you just trying to get rid of me?"

"Never, I love spending time with you. You know that."

"Uh-huh. I'll suspend my disbelief, but only because you're sweet," She frowns at that, padding over to sit in the empty co-pilot's chair, turning it to face him, "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. You don't have to lie to me though."

"I'm not. Just dealing with...everything. All of us have our off days." The screen blinks when he turns back to it, Hilary's expression still frozen in one of amusement. His chest grows heavy again, this one was dated a day before the Reapers came through. This vidmail, the one like so many others that'd come before it, was one of the last ones he'd ever have of her.

And when he received it, he hadn't thought anything of it. He wouldn't go as far as to say he'd taken the ritual for granted, but he'd thought he'd receive another one. And another after that. He was careful to watch every one, and send back another as soon as he was able. His had gone unread.

"Fair enough." Citlali leans back, blissfully oblivious, "Long day. Maybe way too many things happened all at once."

"You could probably say that again."

"I'll refrain from repeating myself." She chuckles, "Can't wait to get back to the Citadel. The rest this crew needs is probably ticking up towards absurd."

"That bad in your professional opinion?" He asks, "I'd thought we were doing just peachy. Y'know, with the Council trying to absolve themselves of guilt and the galaxy crumbling around us."

"Thank God for night clubs." She responds, leaning back, "It just feels tenser than ever. Can't shake the feeling we're getting towards the end of whatever this is, and it's making everyone jumpy."

"Probably, yeah. Hopefully it'll be longer than a day or two when Shepard's done with Horizon. It'd be nice not running from Reaper forces day in and day out."

"Too exciting for you?"

"Everyone has their limits. just seems like there are more of them than ever lately, and they all want a piece of us." That much is true. The other half is that he wants a chance to search. Search the Citadel, search the surrounding systems. Maybe Hilary would be with the refugees, and he just hadn't found her yet. Maybe she'd lost her 'tool. They'd never been great at remembering each other's codes.

One hell of a time to forget, if she was out there, all alone and surrounded by the unknown.

Citlali turns her gaze towards the front window, then to one of the screens in front of him from what she can see, "Thessia-related matters aside, if you're willing to share, who's that?"

He hesitates, trying to find an answer while his throat tightens around his words. All he can do is send a picture of Hilary over to her screen. She halfway smiles when she receives it, one of her out in the yard during his last leave. Yellow sundress, celebrating the first day of summer, "Friend? Family? She looks just like you. Same grin and everything."

"Family. Younger sister, actually."

"Aw. Looks just like you." Citlali smiles, "What's she like?"

"Like any little sister, I guess." What was there to say? Why is he looking for adjectives to encapsulate the sister he loved, and why is it so difficult, "Smart, kind, practical joker sometimes. Occasionally gets on your nerves, but you love her too much to stay mad."

"As all siblings do. Feel like she'd be fun to have around. Guess you missed out on the curly hair gene, huh?"

"Had it when I was younger."

"Is she looking to follow in your footsteps? A pilot just like her brother?"

The lump in his throat almost doesn't let him answer her, and he plays with the bill of his hat, "Maybe. I don't think she ever really said anything about it."

"Big shoes to fill, I get it." The smile fades slightly when he doesn't follow up on it, "Where is she now?"

His voice is raspy when he tries to talk again, "I don't...really know. I don't know if she even still is."

Her face falls, furrowing her brows once she realizes, "I- Jeff..."

"Evac orders were sent out to Tiptree a couple of days ago. No news since, only that a handful made it...somewhere. Liara didn't say where." The orange lights in front of him start to swim in the water collecting in the corners of his eyes, "I don't even know if she made it offworld."

There's a flood threatening to burst behind his eyes, delicately held back for the last few days just by sheer will. Just the thought of the planet being turned into Earth, Palaven, Tuchanka...hell even what he saw of Thessia turns his stomach.

They didn't live that close to any major city, but they still would've been at risk if they sent any husks out that way. Any of the other grotesque monsters they'd seen lately.

Had she been looking for him? When it'd all happened, had he missed her call while they were in FTL? Just by a split second.

The thought of one them getting their hands on her, one of the sweetest girls in the galaxy who'd done nothing but act as a ray of sunshine in his life, it kills him to think about.

His hands are wet, he doesn't even realize until he hears Citlali's boots against the ground behind him. Her eyes are searching his face when she kneels down next to his chair, holding out her arms halfway in a silent question.

He accepts a moment later, wrapping his arms around her. She hugs him back, a quiet whisper on her lips when she returns the gesture, "I'm so sorry."

The dam breaks.

Big jade eyes that match his, a grin she lamented about every other day. The figurine he'd brought back for her, the Normandy, on her nightstand just in view.

What he'd give to see her again. Hear her voice again.

The galaxy crumbles away, tears streaming down his face.

"I love you, Jeff. I miss you."

#joker #lali/joker #oc #original character #veloker #jeff moreau

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viviae · 4 years

Text

Dissecting the Newspapers

What are those newspaper articles?

Well, I’m here to give MY interpretation of what is going on. Simply put, I think Anastasia is planning a coup to overthrow Vesuvia.

1) We have Anastasia fixing the canals

First off, Anastasia has no reason to fix the canals, she does not live in Vesuvia and her niece and nephew aren’t exactly permanent residence either. So why? These canal’s have been a long standing problem in Vesuvia’s history, no one knows who built them or why and half of them are unfinished so it’s safe to say they’ve probably been around since the city was founded. And then to have this mysterious benefactor who is putting in some very expensive resources to solve this issue? It’s to gain public approval for her and leave a positive impression on the masses (she did not actually speak publicly at the trial).

Her fixing the canals lead to her digging underground as well which seems to have resulted in the flooded district collapsing.

And speaking of public approval...

2) Nadia had to delay the masquerade

This threat of flooding is so serious Nadia delayed the masquerade. This should be a huge red flag as in all the other routes Nadia cannot cancel the masquerade. It’s obvious Nadia has a lot riding on the masquerade politically speaking. The people of Vesuvia love a good ole fashion masquerade and it’s pretty much the only reason anyone liked Lucio and did not start a revolution.

So we have a public figure who has been absent from the public eye for years who tries to offer two different events to improve her public standing. The hanging, which does not happen, and now the masquerade which is delayed. Even in the parts of the city where Lucio was always disliked and may have had their hopes riding on Nadia it just shows to them they are failing. Not to mention that now a foreigner is now fixing one of Vesuvia’s longest standing problems which obviously looks like it was always an easy fix but the Vesuvian royal family has been to incompetent to fix it. As well as now we have the flooded district being completely destroyed which is only going to hurt Nadia’s image more with the people.

In one fell swoop Tasya just ruined Nadia’s public image. Which if you want to plan a coup, it would be incredibly beneficial to have the current ruling figure fail.

3) Tasya has already won over the court

In the last book we got to see Tasya at work. Giving Valerius an incredibly expensive vineyard and Vastomil some rare worms isn’t exactly cheap. And while yes at face value this was just to convince them to rule Julian innocent I doubt it was just to rule Julian innocent on an even vote. They are indebted to her and have a great respect for her now as well.

And although she only has 2/5 members of the court it won’t be hard to win over the others.

4) a renowned expert in poison has been found mysteriously dead

Acontius Dogwood has been found dead, why would they include this seemingly irrelevant individual’s death for a teaser image? Well I’ll give you the biggest hint and it’s in the pudding.

If you don’t remember Nightshade allow me to remind you of this lovely quote from Julian

This poison is incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands but it’s only safe to be touched because it needs to be distilled. The distilling process for a poison can be pretty complicated and would need an expert to do so successfully. And an expert was just mysteriously killed (probably by his own creation). If he’s used to crafting this poison specifically for overthrowing kings he’s probably smart enough not to live in a city where its being used.

Until what I believe is Anastasia asking for a poison to be crafted for her. I think she killed him to keep him quiet and no one to be the wiser. And where do I think this poison is? Well let’s take a look at the flower itself.

A pale blue with darker veins inside of it.... Now lets take a look at that necklace that Anastasia gifted Portia real quick.

A pale blue with darker veins inside of it...

I think this necklace is a Chekhov’s Gun, its an incredibly odd thing to be drawing attention to as much as it has been, with even Valerius making a comment on it. More specifically I think it’s a reference to the Game of Throne’s necklace that Sansa wears at the purple wedding. It’s a pale blue necklace that has one of it’s dangling gems removed during the events as the gems hold a poison to overthrow a king... and subsequently frames her for murder.

Another point is how in the paid scene with Portia at the pillow fight it’s noted that had taken the necklace off. Now you could make an argument that this is simply because Portia didn’t want any damage to fall to the necklace but I think this was a way to make sure we the readers don’t accidentally break this gem containing an incredibly dangerous poison.

5) What is going on with the crabmen?

Ok, they aren’t actually half crab hybrids.

But what people are seeing at men in carapaces running around under ground. So I believe that they aren’t crabs, but rather men in armor. We know Anastasia is in charge of repairing the canals which has lead to her having to go underground. I think the fixing the canals is also a cover to get her to sneak armed troops underground which people are seeing. And they seem to be quite territorial and aggressive as it’s scaring the citizens... almost like they don’t want to be seen.

6) The storms

Ok, this wasn’t part of my original theory because I thought the storms were the Devil getting mad at delaying the masquerade but I saw @thesanguinerose ‘s post talking about how Julian and Portia’s parents were killed in a storm that mysteriously on the Devorak children and Tasya survived.

And now that there are these violent storms brewing in Vesuvia... in the only route where Tasya is present raises some major concerns. Tasya explained to Portia that she had offered to buy their parent’s merchant ship to add to her fleet but they denied her. And then said parents happened to die out at see on a violent storm with Tasya present. It is definitely suspicious and I think these storms are connected to Tasya and are following her around. Perhaps in the same way that the plague followed Lucio around for having an uncompleted deal.

She does seem quite well traveled and despite being a baroness isn’t at her country ruling like she probably should. Probably to avoid destroying her city but there is no reason she can’t use this to an advantage. But I am making a lot of leaps with this one that I’m not even 100% about.

7) Foreshadowing in Portia’s Route

In Portia’s route there is a certain... theme to it. Portia is pretty bent on solving the mysteries of everything going on around her. Portia in general has a real penchant for snooping and keeping secrets. So we already know what one of the bigger mysteries of the overall story of The Arcana is “Why did Julian kill Lucio" but the problem is... Portia already solved it. She solved it before anyone else did back in book X (Yes Muriel’s route answers the question of if Julian did it at the start but not why) and yet we still have a massive story.

There seems to be a theme in the secondary routes that they take a different approach to the world and story than the main three. Portia has been following the story pretty much beat by beat so far but there is something incredibly special about Portia. She has no connection to the Devil at all.

If you follow (I believe it’s @apprenticeofcups ‘s meta) the idea that Lucio is only as big as a threat in the route based on that character of that route you have an odd situation where... Portia doesn’t know Lucio at all. Portia has never even made a deal with a major arcana like all the other members of the route. Currently, Portia’s biggest obstacle and threat to her personal morals IS Anastasia. It’s not crazy to think that she’d become Portia’s biggest villain and a major villain in general.

Here is also some fun screencaps to show some foreshadowing about Portia’s route maybe holding something a bit bigger. She used to pretend she was a lost princess and says these words exactly:

And well, she might not be betrayed for her own personal throne... the throne she serves is about to be betrayed...

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miss-choco-chips · 4 years

Text

The dangers of sugar coating

Dick tries to give his little brother nice things (and fucks up), Tim is paranoid (and too tired to think clearly), and Damian thinks they might actually be a good team (while they plot Santa Claus’ downfall).

(Beacuse @animemangasoul and I decided we’ve been too rough with Tim lately, so I tried to give him some batfamily fluff. Somewhere along the way I fucked up and ended with this. No edit, pure crack)

-----.------

-Before I tell you anything, you need to promise me you won’t get mad.

The Bruce of ten years ago, new to parenting and oblivious to its dangers, would have done his best to emulate any ‘How to be a good Dad- guide for new, utterly lost fathers’ book. Now, though, tired after raising Dick to semi-adulthood and still hurting over Jason’s… Jason, he knew better. Life had toughtened him up.

So he didn’t raise his eyes from his newspaper, and gave into the urge of sipping his coffee before humming under his breath. Not even the slightest show of acceptance over those terms.

If Dick was asking that, instead of hiding whatever this was or dealing with it himself, it meant the situation was either out of his control, bound to make its way to Bruce eventually, or both.

Probably both.

-Come on, B, just promise you won’t get all passive aggressive bitch on me. I did it for the greater good...

Another hum.

However, Dick has spent the same amount of time learning under his guide than he had raising him, so the younger was bound to develop some of his own tactics.

-...and I did it because Tim obviously needed it, so…

Warning bells ringing in his mind, Bruce gave up and shoot Dick a look. He didn’t seem overly guilty, so whatever this was, it probably wasn’t irreversible. But he was also shifting his weight from one leg to the other nervously, so… there was a catch here.

-What did you do?

-You didn’t promise.

-I won’t take your allowance away, but I may yell. It depends on how convincingly you make your case -compromise, he had learned after many, many mistakes, was as good a plan as any.

-Deal -then, quickly, like ripping off a bandaid:- I might have made Tim slightly more neurotic than he was. On accident.

The bells turned into firefighter’s sirens.

-What did you do?

They have had the fifteen year old living in the mannor for a few weeks at most. They couldn't possibly have already broken him, right?

Right?

Dick winced, but sat down by Bruce’s left (the side closest to the dining room’s window), which meant this was the only issue, but a hard to explain one.

-You see… We were talking, bonding over childhood memories and stuff, and… you know how christmas is just around the corner, and I asked him about Santa. I mean, obviously he doesn’t believe in that now, but the thing is, he never did.

-He’s too smart for that -growled Bruce, impatiente to get to the point and figure out just how much damage control would he be doing.

-No, his parents were too shitty. They were never there on Christmas, so no gifts under the tree unless he put them there himself, and whenever that happened, it was because his parents sent them and he wrapped them himself. Also no surprises, because he was the one asking for specific stuff. And I got a little sad, because how can a kid never believe in Santa? Like, come on. It’s part of the concept of childhood innocence. So...

Bruce waited a few beats, but Dick didn’t follow up. See, this was the moment where his parenting books would suggest waiting until the kid was good and ready for sharing his thoughts. But, since this was his younger child at stake here, he couldn't allow himself the luxury of letting a single second go.

-And? -he prompted, as gently as he could, trying not to spook Dick into abandoning ship.

-And I sort of… convinced him that Santa was real. Like, a full out super powered meta whose purpose in life was to bring joy to all of us. I texted Barbara and she planted some old looking reports on the batcomputer about it, to give credibility to the lie. I even drew parallels with Batman being thought of as a myth outside of Gotham to support the ‘Santa is real, people just don’t believe in him’ thing. And, after some hours of convincing and with Babs’ help, he bought it. So now, if Tim approaches you about it, you better back me up, because otherwise you would be ruining the last vestige of innocence Tim might still keep. Downside, though, Tim is now holed up in his bedroom searching the deep web for any Santa related info he can get his nerdy little paws on.

Silence in the room. Dick blurted out a goodbye and jumped out of the window. Bruce didn’t get up to check if he had landed safely on the other side. He probably had.

Tired, he looked down at his coffee. Black, just like he needed it now.

He should have stopped at zero children.

----.----

Cassie watched, with no small amount of unholy glee, as Tim thoroughly convinced both Kon and Bart of Santa’s existence. One a clone with little social understanding and the other from a very dark future, they were unsurprisingly easy to convince.

This was the kind of hilarious shit that made being in a superhero team worth it. All the life and death situations were balanced out by this kind of drama-like absurdity.

Even better was Tim’s completely fucked up perspective on the matter.

-So you’re saying Santa is not only real, but a deranged psychopath? Who’s probably both a pedofile and a mind controlling scumbag? -Kon tilted his head, both confused and esceptic.

Cassie did her utmost best to keep a straight face while nodding along, as if everything Tim had laid down in front of them made perfect sense.

-I thought it was stupid, too. But Dick showed me evidence, old reports, both handwritten and digital, and I found footage of Santa sneaking into the Manor when he was still young, deeply buried in the Batcomputer mainframe.

-Couldn’t that video be, you know… made up? -Bart asked, frown unusual on him firmly in place.

-If it was anywhere else? Sure. But this is The Batcomputer we’re talking about. Why would Batman have that kind of thing there? It was too heavily protected to be placed there as decoy for anyone hacking, not like they could ever get over Oracle’s firewalls. Besides, what reason would Batman have to invent this? I’m fifteen, I don’t need the ‘Santa fantasy’. The only believable answer is that Santa is real and very dangerous, and some people have taken his name for capitalism’s sake and made a holiday out of that and some religious backing, to get more people roped up into it. The true mastermind is obviously hiding somewhere out there, and the Christmas propaganda is merely a means to get funding for his devious plots.

Both metas hummed thoughtfully, Superboy even crossing his arms as he examined the pile of photos and papers Tim had laid out in front of them. Bart was nodding, hand cupping his jaw. The looked dead serious.

Cassie wanted to excuse herself to use the toilet (lead lidden because this was Gotham, specifically Tim’s secret place, so of course it was super-proof) so she could laugh her ass off, but the temptation of seeing this trainwreck to its fiery end was too strong.

It was taking up all of her amazonian training to keep her straight face, though. Diana would be so proud.

-I even searched the deep web for Santa related crimes, and looked up his name in disturbing forums. You wouldn't believe what some people, serial killers and rapists both, do using Christmas as a theme. I couldn't sort through it all, it was that sick.

Kon looked utterly disturbed- So what do we do now? Christmas is just around the corner!

Bart got up and started pacing back and forth- We need to hunt this dude down. Christmas is about goodness and family! We can’t let this, this… psychopath ruin it! Think about the children of the world!!

Oh god, this was getting even better.

-But how? The man sounds like a velocist of some kind, I mean, running and leaving gifts everywhere in the world in the span of a few hours? How are we even gonna catch him?

-Maybe if we dress up as Elves? -Cassie couldn't stop herself from suggesting, voice choked in her effort to be serious, but most likely interpreted by the boys as clogged up on rage- From what Tim wrote here -she raised a paper from the pile, hand shaking- it looks like they are his mind-controlled slaves. If he thinks we ran from his captivity, he might take us to the North Pole with him to brainwash us again… Oh, but I probably shouldn't dress up, so you know, I can be back up if he manages to catch you three…

-That’s a great idea! -Bart’s skinny arms wrapped themselves around her neck, and she took the chance to hide her face in his mane of hair, corners of her mouth twitching up.

-Should I also record it? -she asks, almost begging- In case people don’t believe us later, when we have to explain why we imprisoned Santa.

-Yes, I think that might be wise -Tim conceded, eyes scanning his papers again.

Thank the gods. That tape was going to be Cassie’s most precious treasure forever.

-I think he has a way of controlling people’s minds too. Like, parents and stuff. And then he makes them be the ones to give his children gifts in his name, as a way of gaining their trust. Sick fucker.

-So you think it’s a kinky thing for him?

-Kon, he literally categorizes kids as ‘good’ or ‘naughty’.

-You are right, we need to stop this bastard.

Cassie loved her boys so, so much. She also owed Dick Grayson the biggest high five.

----.----

Red Hood was just lighting up a cigarette when he saw Red Robin making his way to his rooftop. Cursing, he dropped the entire thing and kicked it away. The brat knew Jason smoked, but Dick had been on his ass lately about being a good brother, and he still felt kinda bad about trying to kill the kid twice, so he was actually trying to set a good example.

Besides, out of the two possible little brothers to take under his wing, he certainly drew the lucky ticket, because while Dickie had gotten stranded with the pompous brat, Jason had the all around good kid circling his radar more often than not. Like, Tim had broken him out of prison, a little after Jason had done his best to end his life; he couldn't get more forgiving and nice than that. It certainly beat making a murder League child let go of his katana on a nightly basis.

-I need your help.

He blinked. While they certainly had worked cases together in the past, they were always preluded by some kind of smalltalk, little banter, at least a ‘hello’. Not this straight to the point bullshit.

He had the urge to take out his guns, to protect them both of any threat following Red Robin here. He refrained.

-What’s the matter, babybird? What’s wrong?

Tim looked almost frazzled. The cowl was hanging around his neck, just a domino preserving his identity, and his hair was a knotted mess. Disveleshed was too little a word for his state.

-We need to make a plan to catch Santa Claus before Christmas this year. His reign of terror must end. It’s still not too late.

Yeah, okay, he might need that cigarette after all, to hell with Dick’s bitching. Besides, how bad of a influence could that be, when this kid was obviously already on some kind of drugs? Like, Santa? Really?

-What… do you mean?

What followed was an hour long rant on the dangers of a super powered, evil version of the myth that Tim had somehow cooked up on his mind.

Was this real? The kid looked far too distraught for a joke.

-… Does Nightwing know about this? -whatever ‘this’ was- Bats?

Tim shook his hands frantically. Jason was legit getting worried.

-N was the one who told me about Santa -there, he knew this smelled like a Golden Boy trademark fuck up-, but he seems to be under his spell. Bruce as well. They tried to convince me he is some kind of good-hearted samaritan. Jason -he stated, breaking the no names during patrol rule, a show of just how deep into the rabbit hole he was- you wouldn't believe what I found on the deepweb. Joker’s yearly special seems tame in comparison.

That, Jason could believe. But he was also fairly sure you could type about any word in the darkest side of the net, and find half a dozen kinky or deranged things that matched. Santa-temed crimes? More likely than anyone would believe. Real life Santa doing the deed? Not so much.

Tim had been too young when Dick lied to his face, most likely. And nowadays, the young vigilante was running on three hours of sleep on a good week. And it wasn’t even too far fetched to believe, on their line of business, specially when dealing with metas and supervillains day in and day out.

Still…

-Kid, I don’t know how to tell you this, but… Santa isn’t real -he told him, slowly, hands raised as if to touch his shoulders but not daring to actually make contact. Tim looked so manic he might actually nerve strike him.

The icy blue eyes were hidden under his mask, but Jason knew from the way he tensed that Tim was terrified.

-He got to you, too -he whispered, almost too softly for him to hear. Then, without giving Jason the chance to inquire further, he turned tail and disappeared into the night.

....

He really needed that cigarette.

----.----

When Drake told the family he was taking Damian under his wing for a case, everyone seemed so happy he couldn't just shoot the other man down. Besides, reluctant as he was to admit it, Red Robin was the superior detective in the entirety of the team, so there would be rewards for taking the blow to his pride and working with him.

He expected to be directed through some easy case, maybe a little puzzling but not too challenging. Or be sidelined while Drake worked through things, so he could learn by example.

This, though, this he hadn’t foresaw.

This case was way more serious.

-How come Father has allowed this depravancy to continue?! -exclaimed Damian, hands gripping the sheets of information tightly- This ‘Santa’s’ influence has been permitted to cement on too many people already! And it keeps growing!

-I know. Fuck, I know. But I can’t get anyone to help me. My team knows, but sadly we aren’t enough. Bruce and Dick don’t believe me, and neither does any other hero I contacted on the matter. It’s just like when B was missing in time; they either think I’m crazy, or try to sugarcoat things, like they would with a baby.

Damian snorted, disbelieving. Whatever his opinion might be on his predecessor, he at least knew to trust his insight in a case. Grandfather himself had recognized his genius on that field.

They were on Drake’s perch, his center of operations outside of Batman’s influence. He would never admit it out loud, but if Damian ever needed his own batcave, it would be just like this one.

Now, the long table in front of him was completely covered in information, case reports, photos taken from live footage, deepweb forums’ conversations, history books…

-And you say this… monster, targets children?

-I mean, he brainwashes the parents too, but that seems like a plot to both increase his economic funds and to gain the children’s trust.

-How are you so sure they are his objective?

-The parents tell their children Santa is ‘always observing them’, and ask if they ‘have been good’ that year. If they aren’t perceived as obedient, Santa leaves them coal, which incentives them to do their best to change that by next year’s christmas.

-Maybe the coal and gifts have mind control devices, or some magic?

-My thoughts exactly.

Damian frowns even deeper. He’s glad Drake is taking his detective training seriously, but if father himself is being deceived, he wonders what can the two of them (plus Drake’s team) do.

-What about Todd? Red Hood is proclaimed as Saint Protector of Children in Crime Alley, after all. He certainly has opinions about this ‘Santa’ person.

Timothy shakes his head- He got Jason too. I suspect he’s been under his control ever since he was a child at the manor.

-So, we are alone in this.

-Essentially, yes. Thankfully, not everyone celebrates christmas. Some religions flat out forbid it, so we won’t have as much ground to cover when we lay out a trap. We could choose a close by location and plan around it.

He nods, back straight with purpose. He -and Drake, he supposes- would be freeing Father and Grayson, along with the rest of the victims, from this madman’s control. Maybe even Todd, if he has the time.

-I’m with you on this endeavor, Drake.

-Good. Remember we need to act natural in front of the family. If Santa catches wind of what we’re doing, he might focus his efforts in getting to us.

Damian wants to say to let him come, he would show him why it's a bad idea to mess with his family. But Drake is, admittedly, the superior detective, and it seems he’s been working on this for a long time now. Damian will defer to his judgement this one time.

Drake’s superior knowledge and Damian’s unrivaled training might be what’s needed to orchestrate this ‘Santa’s’ downfall.

They will be a good team, he thinks.

#My writing #Tim Drake #batfamily #Batfamily Fanfic #core four #Dick grayson #Bruce Wayne #cassie sandsmark #kon el kent #conner kent #bart allen #jason todd #Damian wayne #this is just crack guys #Tim thinks Santa is out to get everyone #he's a tired boy okay #no edit #tw: mentions of child abuse #nothing graphic just Tim doing typical comic book research

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

lover series - daylight

Pairing: Carter Baizen x Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: this is what happens when i mention carter baizen more than once a day. also daylight just fits him as a person??? if you wanna listen to daylight while reading this, here. this was inspired by an ask i got in this blog, thank you for the idea 💕

My love was as cruel as the cities I lived in Everyone looked worse in the light There are so many lines that I've crossed, unforgiven I'll tell you truth, but never, "Goodbye"

- Get out.

- What? - Carter looked at the blonde sat next to him whose eyes seemed to wander to everyone but to him. - Don’t be like this. You’re just nervous about meeting your dad.

- I don’t need your help anymore or ever again. I should have done this on my own from the start.

- Fine, if that’s what you want. - he opened the door of the limousine, climbing off the comfortable warmth of their vehicle to be greeted with the darkness and coldness of New York during the warmth. Serena, without as much as looking back at the man who had spent a full year helping her find her father, ordered the driver to keep going. Well, he should’ve known better but once again, his judgement tended to be clouded whenever dealing with pretty women.

Once again he was all alone again, nowhere to go, no one to talk to. He could just fell his parents awaiting for him to return to them on his knees begging to be taken back but at this point there was too much damage done and Carter was much to prideful to return to them. In all honesty, Carter was much to prideful to even stay with New York. After the mess that had been his relationship with Serena, no doubt the rest of the Upper East Side was gonna go after him with every single little dark secret he had, and he had plenty of those.

With that in mind Carter decided to do what he always did; start again. That’s what he always did when things went south or when the world became too suffocating. However, after doing humanitarian work and a documentary, he wondered what he could do next. Lost in how to reboot his life for what seemed like the millionth time in his young years, a little fall of rain from the sky started to wet his cashmere black trench coat. He bite his lip out of frustration. Of fucking course, that was just what he needed right now. Before he could let out all his frustrations by kicking a nearby bin, drops of water stopped falling on his coat and instead sounded like they were falling onto plastic.

- Are you alright, sir? - a melodic, magical-like voice broke through his mind and his eyes travelled to a woman standing next to him. She was holding a plastic umbrella over him which kept both of them dry and away from the rain. Unlike him, she was dressed in a lesser quality fabric, using what looked like a blue waitress dress and some off brand white sneakers with her hair pushed into a ponytail, everything merely covered by a worn out black cotton trench coat. - Sir?

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you I've been sleepin' so long in a twenty-year dark night And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

Suddenly, he remembered a faithful sentence from one of the movies he had seen during his youth, finally understanding its meaning. They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops. It was true, time did stopped, everything seemed to move in incredibly slow motion, he could see every single blink of the most gorgeous pair of eyes he’d ever met, hear every drop of rain hitting the plastic of the umbrella. However, the later part of the sentence was also true, once time starts again it moves extra fast, and none was that true as a honking bus drove through a puddle of water, waking them both from a dream-like trance.

- I saw you being kicked off a car from my diner. You look like you needed help. - she pushed a few of the fly away hairs of her ponytail held together by a blue scrunchie behind her ear. Unlike the girls of Upper East, they weren’t adorned with pearls or heavy jewelled earrings. - Do you wanna come in for a bit, just while the rain doesn’t calm down?

Carter still found himself still staring at her. God, where had she been hiding his whole life? Did she just decide to pop up now that he had been truly humiliated by Serena. Serena, who was even Serena? He didn’t think he’d ever want to think about Serena, Blair, Beth. Who were any of them compared to that woman holding an off brand umbrella over his head as if he wasn’t one of the most hated people in the Upper East. In normal circumstances, he wouldn’t enter any lower ranked places but her smile and comforting aura just made him want to follow her anywhere she went. And so, with a nod, he followed her inside a small diner just in front o the place he had been so unceremoniously dumped. The place was small and empty seemingly with her being probably the last employee before closing time. Nevertheless, there was some charm on the beat up, too used black board by the kitchen window with various pie names written in beautiful chalk calligraphy.

- Do you want to eat anything? My treat. - he wondered why she wasn’t charging, why a woman who clearly was much lower than him status wise and could clearly see he was rich offer him something. Normally people would try to quickly rip him off. - I bake them all myself. A new one every single morning.

- You bake a new pie every single morning? - he took a seat on one of the red leathered stools by the main table. - Is this your place?

- No, I just work here but one day I’m gonna have my own place, my own pie shop and people are gonna come from all over the world to try my pies. - she seemed to get lost in her own fantasy before opening the lid of one of the various glass pies stands to take what looked like a wild berry pie slice, serving it perfectly on a freshly washed plate. - A little wild, wild, berry pie.

- Pardon? - he asked as she slide the plate towards him, handing him a fork at the same time.

- The pie. - she pointed at the board. - It’s the title. Cream patisserie with some berries on traditional pie crust. I got the idea while watching a particularly steamy scene on Sex and the City.

- You created the recipe?

- Where do you think recipes come from? - she smirked at him. - Come on, I promise it’s not poisoned.

Carter gave her a coyly smile before sinking in his fork in the beautiful berry coloured desert, taking a piece before bring it up to his mouth. As the sweet touched his tongue, he swore like he melted away from his whole body. The taste was fantastic and Carter was certain he had never tasted anything better than that small piece of pie.

- God, this is fantastic.

- Thank you, I try my best. - she smiled. - I’m Y/N, by the way.

- Carter Baizen.

Luck of the draw only draws the unlucky And so I became the butt of the joke I wounded the good and I trusted the wicked Clearin' the air, I breathed in the smoke maybe you ran with the wolves and refused to settle down Maybe I've stormed out of every single room in this town Threw out our cloaks and our daggers because it's morning now It's brighter now, now

- Olivia? - Carter mockingly called out, looking around his hotel suit as he wrapped a burgundy red tie around his pristine white shirt. A small high pitched giggle came from behind the leather coach. With a coy smile, Carter slowly moved towards the couch. - Oh, where could my Libbie be?

Another high pitched came from behind the coach and before the three year old could realise what was happening, Carter had already grabbed her by the waist, throwing her to the ceiling before catching her in a fit of giggles, her inherited curly brown hair stuck in front of the same eyes she had definitely gotten from her mother. The little girl giggled once more, tiny arms coming to wrap themselves around her father’s neck.

- What are you two doing? - Y/N came out from her bedroom due to all the giggling. Noticing her daughter in her father’s arms she merely rolled her eyes with a smile on her face. - I thought you were supposed to be in bed.

- We’re just playing hide and seek. - she replied, hiding behind her father’s neck. She surely knew how to avoid confrontation. Y/N merely laughed, walking up to her husband and daughter. - Do you really need to go, mummy?

- It’s just for a few hours. We’ll be here when you wake up. - Y/N pulled some of her daughter’s hair away from her round, chubby baby face.

- Why can’t I go? - she pouted.

- You wouldn’t like it, baby. - Carter kissed her cheek before handing her to the nanny who they had hired specifically for tonight. Usually Y/N and Carter didn’t hire nannies as they would rather spend time with their daughter rather than having a complete stranger. Most of the times, Olivia would either be at the pie shop with Y/N or at Carter’s firm office. However, tonight specifically both Carter and Y/N needed to attend a donators gala hosted by none other than Carter’s old fling Serena van der Woodsen. Initially, Carter had been firm on his decision not go, much too uninterested in ever speaking to her or any of her friends ever again. However, after some convincing on Y/N’s part and how he shouldn’t really care about other’s opinion and just enjoy a nice night out, he had caved in. - Trust me, daddy won’t like it either.

- Tuck me in?

- Okay, baby. - Y/N took over from the nanny, picking her daughter up against her hip before walking away from the main room and into the bedroom of the hotel suit. Carter took to pushing the sheets away from the mattress as Y/N laid her daughter in, puffing her pillows just the way she liked it and pulling the duvet up to her neck. - Now you be a brave good girl for mummy and daddy, okay?

- Okay. - she nodded, holding onto one of her many stuffed animals. - Night, mummy. Night, daddy.

- Goodnight, ladybug. - Carter placed a kiss on his daughter’s forehead before getting up and following his wife out of the hotel room before he could change his mind. His life had gone a completely one eighty every since seeing the group of people he used to hang out with during his youth. He had gotten married to the love of his life who was fiercely by his side no matter what happened, had started his own firm finally riding himself of his parents name, and had brought in the most precious daughter to the world. Whatever happened in the Upper East Side was no longer something that interested him even if he was one of the most wealthy men in New York. He didn’t want Y/N or Olivia to frequent those rotten and cruel places. They were happy in their own little bubble however, sometimes, like tonight, he had to confront the rest of the whole who seemingly still had his eyes on him.

Noticing his tenseness, Y/N intertwined her hand with his, giving him a soft and understanding smile followed by a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

- You’re gonna be fine, you’ve done way better than everyone in that room. You didn’t inherit what you have, you built it and you should be proud of that, Car.

- Well, you have to say that, you’re my wife. - he moved his face slightly so he could kiss her properly. - I can’t believe you’re my wife.

- You asked me on a good day. - she looked at the engagement band stacked with her wedding band, simple in silver, nothing too big or too lavish, just something small that both of them liked.

They were both escorted into the limo with Y/N immediately cuddling up next to her husband unlike so many of his girlfriends before. In all honesty, Carter sometimes thought he was dreaming. He just couldn’t believe he was married to her and if he had told a younger self he would marry someone outside the Upper East circle he wouldn’t have believed it, yet here he was. She was a magnetic, kind, determined woman who had managed to get him out of a rut and push him to his full potential while still living her own dreams. He thought he couldn’t be more in love with her and then she gave him Olivia. He still remembered that faithful New Year’s Eve when she handed him a pregnancy test or when they had to rush out of one of his dinners because she had begun labour. There was nothing in this world that mattered more to Carter Baizen than his girls, something the rest of the Upper East didn’t really understand. However, he was happy, he was happily married, happy with his career and happy with his little ladybug.

- Car, are you coming? - Y/N snapped him out of his daze as they reached the gala’s location. Pushing away all the insecurities he had, he pridefully walked down the stairs with Y/N by his side, catching the attention of every single person who stopped their chat to look at the “disgraced” Carter Baizen and the so called “pie girl” he had married.

- Should we dance? - he gave her grin, offering her his hand eloquently much to her enjoyment. - I wish to dance with the prettiest lady in this room.

- Prettiest girl in the room? - she giggled, taking in his hand while the other one held her waist. - Should I ask how many girls in this room you’ve used that line with?

- Well, Mrs. Baizen, you’re definitely the only one I’ve used that on.

- You better not be lying to me, Mr. Baizen.

- I love you so much, Y/N. - he leaned down to peck her lips, not caring who was watching.

- I love you too, Car.

I once believe love would be burning red but it’s golden like daylight

#sebastian stan #carter baizen #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #carter baizen x you #carter baizen x y/n #carter baizen x reader #carter baizen imagine #carter baizen drabble #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan drabble

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horrible-monstrosity · 3 years

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I find myself increasingly concerned with the direction Legends Arceus is taking the relation between humans and Pokemens. No, I'm not talking about the bit with Pokemans attacking the player directly when you don't have your own Pokeymans ready, that was going to happen eventually, but just... the Sinnoh myths had stories about humans and Pokemon being so close they were considered the same sort of being, there's marriages, what have you, coming from thousands of years back. But this game apparently taking place only some hundreds of years ago... and it's "before Pokemons and humans lived together uwu"? The fuck? I feel like the games have been significantly moving away from humans and Pokemon being equals of a sort who both benefit from being together to Pokemons being some superior beings who humans benefit from but not vice versa and Pokemans are the superior creatures who humans should grovel in gratitude to and put up with all the shit from while never daring to burden them in any way. See gen 7, where living in haaaaarmony means having their lives and culture corralled by some asshole fairies because people can't be arsed to fight the ultra beasts, except the trainers who're forced to become kahunas fight the UBs themselves anyway (where they're forced to become fanatical enough about fighting to become strong enough to do so, but they're not even expected to be strong to fight UBs it's to lead their community... don't try understanding it just eat fairy shit and get excited for more fairy shit I guess). Why not just have a culture of the trainers who want to be strongest, or who have the greatest talent, being lauded as UB-fighters and becoming community leaders as well? Naw man, doing everything as the fairies want is haaaaarmony. Humans can't be strong enough with their Pokemon teams to fight the UBs, but have to be strong for other reasons ordained by The System, but then the ordained stronk humans have to fight the UBs anyway. But the fairies help, I guess. I fucking hate fairies man. Fucking elves of the Pokemon world. Smug sparkling fucks, fuck em I keep forgetting about the ride Pokemon but it still feels like the humans are supposed to bow and scrape to earn the gift of basic movement services so I don't think it really counts Gen 8 I don't know as well but it seems to go like this: Doggos are responsible for all good, their trainers or whatever their human companions are might as well not even exist. The postgame story is about those eeeeevil humans thinking they have some relevance to the doggos or something, eeevil I must say, so they have to do something evil to prove that.... um, something. Just some dumb shit that feels like a strawman argument against humans having any place in this world. Grovel to doggos.

Gen 6 was around the point where the weird cynicism started to creep into the franchise, mostly ORAS's weird abandoned ship segment, but it's pretty clear of this... aside from one random ace trainer or something late in XY who asks you, humans benefit from Pokemons, but how Pokemons benefit from huamn??? huh??? You're expecting an answer from him but he's just like, I bet you can't think of anything huh, hmmm??? Grovel, human.

You compare this to gen 5, and I'm not even talking about the Plasma plot (which was clearly bait on Plasma's part to get the public's sympathy anyway), but things like using Excadrill to dig out the mines. The 'drills were getting to do what they loved- dig- and being treated well by the humans in exchange for digging this spot in that way as directed. An equitable relationship that produced resources. This sort of thing existed as a counterpoint to N and Plasma's stated beliefs that humans were nothing but horrible for Pokemon and that they could never live together... Ironically what the later games are leaning towards, except that there is a way, and that's for humans to go fuck themselves. And again, Sinnoh's old myths, as well as any other myths that involve people and Pokemon together going back thousands of years.

I'd really thought the idea of this series was that Pokemon and humans were practically made for each other, that they were together from the very beginning. Raising Pokemon allows them to have a crafted moveset including TM and tutor moves, gain EVs, use held items aside from the few random ones they find in the wild... it's baked into the game itself completely incidentally. But no, I guess it's a Pokeyman's world and humans are just intruding on it somehow. What the fuck. Sigh.

I'm hoping that "Pokemans are so dangerouse man" line is just about the red-eyed frenzied Pokemon and that we aren't going into all Pokemons attacking humans and humans living forever at their mercy and deserving to scrape and grovel just to survive their onslaught.

By the way, my autistic retard fanfiction: First off, when the wall breaks and the doggo statues are found that make everyone realise who the "real" heroes are (something we can THANK Bede for by the way, because if he hadn't destroyed a priceless cultural artifact Eternatus would have gone off unopposed... but no one ever acknowledges this, as Bede is shat on and disowned by Rose for following what Rose taught him and then forced to trune out by trunny granny. figures she's a fairy trainer, I fucking hate fairies)- the idea that the doggos alone are the "real" heroes is actually a misconception brought on by people/society's tendency to elevate Pokemon, similar to why people bought PLasma's bullshit back in Unova. So when Eternatus is starting its nukes, people are just waiting for the doggos to get going and beat it... but when Hop sees the doggo statues, his budding professor brain immediately sees the truth- both the doggos and their human trainers are needed to unlock the true power of the sword and shield items. This even makes some sense with the game mechanics, as Pokemon typically can't use items more complicated than a berry... so with Leon and co busy fighting the dynamax mons and knowing no one would listen to him, Hop turns to the only person he can ask- you, who saw the doggos in the foggos at the beginning with him, to go retrieve the items so the doggos can actually do their thing. Also, Rose was radicalised and groomed by some crazy apocalypse cult, an ironic inversion of his supposed grooming of Bede (here he actually has a heartwarming father-son relationship of sorts with him). They pushed him to push the darkest day plan up like he did, convincing him there's a desperate energy situation but secretly just wanting the maximum apocalypse-ness out of a single action (while possibly believing themselves that there's an energy crisis but that the real solution is to destroy shit so less people and things use energy). So there's that. In the end he's taken to jail, but it's not some absurdly mundane ending where he just gets arrested for apocalypse crimes, rather he's being questioned for what he can tell them about the cult, on understanding that he was coerced into this, and that he can pay for his crimes by giving information on the cult itself. Bede relates this to you with some concern for his sort-of dad. The Swordward and Shieldbert plot (I forget if that's their actual names but whatever) has the two bros asking you to aid in investigating the apoc cult while preparing to accept their destiny as the doggos' masters. You see, they've been raised for this, learning all about Pokemon companionship but having no actual close contact with Pokemon at all (to prevent any Pokemon from forming a bond with them closer than what they'd have with the doggo- your first Pokemon is special, after all). Book smart but street dumb, in other words. You know, as opposed to some inexplicable dumb shit because Mother 3 ruined an entire generation of game writers. They call on the doggos to battle the baddies and are disappointed they go to you and Hop instead of them, but ultimately accept it. Afterwards, Hop contacts Sonia with a request... soon he has the two brothers over to choose their very first Pokemon. Swordbro was going on about Swordog's nobility and Shieldbro about wanting to touch Shieldog's fluffy mane, so Hop has out a Yamper and a Wooloo, presented as a choice, but he knows exactly which one they'll each choose. This is another manifestation of his potential as a professor- not only doing the professor thing of handing out first Pokemon, but considering what Pokemon they'd work well with. Isn't that nice? Also there's something in there about Bede's long lost identical twin who's also being used as a pawn by the apoco-cult but I'll explain that later

My idea for the origin of the Pokemon world as we know it- Arceus didn't create Pokemon, or the world itself, but it is responsible for the way the world is now. Once upon a time, when humans and Pokemon were one kind of being, there was too much strife and disagreement among the groups and nobody was learning their lesson, so Arceus got fed up and split the world into two types of beings that would have to get along in order to thrive. It instated the "rules" of Pokemon battles, that attacks have set damage ranges and types have well-defined interactions, that attacks in battles only deplete some abstract hit points level instead of causing the damage they "should" for what they are (this doesn't apply to wild-on-wild predation necessarily, so it's a privilege enjoyed by Pokemon being aided or advised by a human). Outsider beings- aliens, maybe ultra beasts, etc- are "converted" into Pokemon when they enter "Earth"'s airspace, which is why even beings from the furthest depths of space follow the rules and biology of earthbound species. These "rules" require Arceus' powers but don't rely on its constant action, so it can be captured and hang out with a trainer for a while, play by its own rules to see how things are going, without disrupting the system. I'd never expected anything even vaguely like this to turn canon of course, because it's so specific and particular to the sort of ideas I tend to have, but... not like this man

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fragmentwitch · 3 years

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Posting this because it's been sitting in my drafts and we're on Tatariakashi-hen so I wanna get ahead and just repost what I had up on reddit with more coherence.

spoilers for Gou and Saikoroshihen below.

In the post-Matsuribayashi world, the last time we see our kids is Rika and friends in a minivan going to Angel Mort where Shion is waiting. Satoko asks for them to go ahead without her; which seems odd because how else is she going to Okinomiya? I can presume that she either asks Irie for a ride or uses the Hinamizawa bus stop though.

But she wandered into the ritual tool storehouse and found a horn that fell out of the Oyashiro statue that presumably is Eua's vessel. And then things kick off with Satoko's descent into hell.

So this might just be me but while watching Sotsu, I have been getting HUGE Saikoroshi vibes from Satoko's Looper journey because we don't explicitly see her die on-screen when Eua uses her magic. And I want to approach this narrative divorced from Umineko since I'm still a fencesitter about how much is canonly tied to Umineko and not just "haha hidden easter egg go brrrr".

It's possible I read a mistranslated version because I watched a youtube playthrough that sometimes had errors in grammar, but Hanyuu put Rika in a similar situation in order to 'purge Rika of her sins', which presumably has to be the Frederica Bernkastel persona or Dark Rika. Hanyuu deliberately orchestrated every parameter of that dream (I know Rika says it definitely wasn't, but it ended up as nothing more than that due to her decision) and purposely excluded herself from that world so Rika would be forced to make a choice on her own; either return to 'her' miracle world that was stained by sins through committing a sin of her own, or make the best of an unfamiliar sinless world. If she chose the sinless world (which I believe was the choice she made before Hanyuu made her think she actually killed her mother to return... feel free to correct me) she would sin by allowing a world where everybody worked so hard to achieve dissolve into oblivion and become nothing more than a dream. Choosing her world would require an act of Matricide since she had failed to value her parents in the times she was able to go back that far. Regardless of her feelings, she didn't have much certainty because it would be the last loop. And she didn't really learn to value how precious life is until then; in the grand scheme of things, many people died in unfortunate accidents like that all the time and wouldn't have a goddess to put them in the next world in hopes of a better ending.

Technically she didn't ask to become a Looper but Satoko is given these choices but things are switched: either she makes the best of her sinless world (Matsuribayashi is really a world cleansed of sins) and accepts the painful parts of that reality, or she stains these new worlds with sins to create her certain perfect world. Without Hanyuu there is no real Hinamizawa Syndrome and each loop Satoko did always started off after Takano's defeat.

It's a choice she makes with almost complete self-awareness aside from her dismissing every world she destroys as simply a dream.

To get a miracle world, Rika was tasked with preventing any more sins from taking place while Satoko has to taint any number of sinless fragments for an indeterminate amount of loops (or until Rika gives up). I think it's deliberate that we haven't been given any on screen hints that Saikoroshi ever happened so far, because it comes right after Matsuribayashi.

And for what Eua has chosen to tell Satoko, she hasn't indicated at all so far if she also sent Rika back in time with the others. From the chandelier scene on, I have had a gut feeling that she's actually been chasing after the wrong Rika this whole time. Eua never said she also sent Matsuribayashi Rika back into the endless June (or rewinded back time... she most likely jumped fragments), and that would explain why Hanyuu is just a husk; the original one went to sleep in the prime world where the club are all on their way to angel mort with 'our' Rika. This Hanyuu could either be Eua's creation or a remnant from all the times Rika has transferred her consciousness into a new world and taken that Hanyuu's place.

Satoko might wake up from what was a terrible nightmare, and she comes clean to Rika about everything bottled up inside and they actually resolve things without anger or violence. Thus purging the sins she accrued (even if she doesnt do them in reality, they are a malevolent manifestation borne from her emotional turmoil levied at Rika).

Or she might not. Depends on whether you pick 'fantasy' or 'reality'. Suppose this isn't all a hellish nightmare Satoko is having.

In Tataridamashi, it really did seem for a second that both anime AND manga, Satoko contemplated staying in that fragment but only because she chose Keiichi. She calls him Nii-nii, blushing, even wearing an outfit just for him. She stopped clinging to Rika just like she stopped clinging to Satoshi and jumped for Keiichi. Her Prince on a White Horse.

Except I think she realized this alternative happiness far too late into the fragment. Satoko controls who gets the Syndrome but not how it affects them or who they kill specifically.

Judging from the sound of bells and Teppei's glowing red eyes, I'm pretty sure by now Ryukishi lied about Ooishi "naturally" going L5 and attacking the festivalgoers. I think Satoko injected Ooishi, perhaps another one of her experimentation ideas (TAKANO JUNIOR). Satoko was so focused on resetting loops to trap Rika that she never considered the possibility of any external factor changing her mind.

Keiichi's efforts to save her from Teppei (despite her faking it most likely) made her realize she had deceived her friends' trust due to seeing the previous fragments. Keiichi promises to never abandon his friends. Satoko, just this once, lets her heart open up to those words. Except... she can't have a truly perfect ending because things have progressed past the point of return. Satoko never bothered to protect anybody but this time, just like Mion, she decided to spare Keiichi.

The only way to do it is lock him inside the house, and keep the lights off so nobody thinks someone is in there. I don't think she intended to kill Keiichi, especially didn't expect Teppei to come out and nearly kill him. She looked genuinely shocked.

Which says to me that Eua did it. Satoko's seemingly abandoning her original goal that prefaced granting her Looper abilities. She promised all her friends that once Rika was convinced to stay in Hinamizawa, they'd all have a perfect world. So by choosing to spare only Keiichi and letting the rest die in collateral damage, she's betraying them and forsaken them and the original goal.

I doubt Eua has any morals, but if she's the ruler of these fragments and not Hanyuu, having her miko run around disobeying continuity is going to be troublesome to deal with. (Notice that Eua places great emphasis on Hinamizawa Syndrome being real and Rika being a Queen carrier) She might have a hand in driving Satoko's will to break down and culminate into the gutting scene.

#higurashi gou #higurashi sotsu

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nitewrighter · 4 years

Note

Hey :) i kinda miss your prefall Gency fic... Do you think you can write some more ? Take care ♥

I’m still thinking about the canonical existence of Overwatch Propaganda Cartoons that we saw in that preview of Hero of Numbani.

...can you tell I watched old GI Joe opening theme songs specifically for this fic?

Also credit goes to @apocryphist for coming up with “underhand” which really should be the only name for villains in the Overwatch universe.

-----

Genji drummed his fingers on the conference room table as he rested his chin in his other hand. Mercy sat to his left, nonchalantly tapping out some correspondence on her tablet as they waited. On his other side, Tracer was bouncing her knee with her fingers interlaced on the table in front of her, doing her best to at least put forward the semblance of a strike team leader despite her fidgeting. Winston sat stiffly next to her, apparently trying to scroll through lab results on his own tablet but clearly too nervous to stay focused. It was a bright and slightly breezy afternoon in Zurich, and normally Genji would have been gracefully slashing his way through the training grounds at this time, but instead they were all here.

“I can’t stand it when they don’t say what the meetings are about,” mumbled Winston.

“It’s probably a top secret mission!” said Tracer.

“’Secret?’” said Winston, sounding even more nervous, “I’m... I’m not exactly good at ‘secret.’”

“Is it unrealistic to hope we got more intel from Doomfist?” said Genji, glancing at Mercy.

“I wish,” huffed Mercy, “But from what debriefings I could get my hands on, he hasn’t given us anything useful.”

“How is that possible?” said Genji, “After all the internal damage he did to Talon’s internal power structure, shouldn’t they be scrambling without him? Shouldn’t there be a power vacuum?”

“I don’t know any more than you do...” said Winston, readjusting his glasses.

“Honestly I thought you’d know more about it, what with the Blackwatch stuff,” said Tracer.

“Still benched,” said Genji, folding his arms.

“Officially,” said Mercy with a slight side-eye.

Genji gave her an amused “Hmph,” before saying, “Either way, Reyes pushed me out of the loop now that I’m on your strike team... not that I paid that much attention to the loop befo---”

The door opened and everyone perked up at the sight of Jack Morrison and Sojourn walking into the room. Jack seemed uneasy, but honestly Mercy couldn’t really recall the last time he seemed at ease.

“Okay, before we start, I want all of you to keep an open mind with this,” he said, looking across all of them.

“...Very encouraging, Strike Commander,” said Sojourn, with slightly sardonic amusement. She put her hands on her hips and turned to face Tracer’s strike team, “As you all know, when you’re recruited into Overwatch, you sign a waiver allowing us to use your image in... all sorts of stuff. Press releases, scientific publications, training videos for new recruits---”

“Posters,” said Mercy, already skeptical.

“Posters, too,” said Sojourn with a smile, “However, back during Omnic Crisis Reconstruction, we were using the images of heroes for a lot more.”

“Heroes?” Genji repeated quietly as Sojourn produced a remote control from the pocket of her jacket and hit a button. The venetian blinds tilted to shut out the sunlight and the lights of the room dimmed as the wallscreen lit up behind Sojourn. The screen lit up in bright colors and red and yellow explosions as a trumpeting fanfare started playing. Tracer’s face lit up as a young cartoon version of Jack Morrison appeared on the screen, pumping his fist in the air.

“The world needs heroes!” said the cartoon Jack Morrison, “Are you with us?”

Genji glanced at Jack who was very clearly cringing at his cartoon self.

“Oh yes!” said Tracer, her eyes bright, “It’s been years since I’ve watched this! You guys know the song, right?” she said looking at her teammates, “..No?”

The theme song was already playing, and Tracer was singing along with it eagerly.

There’s no need to fear

Overwatch is here!

Saving all we hold dear!

Mercy made a ‘I really hope this meeting isn’t going the way I think it’s going,’ face at Genji and Genji suppressed a chuckle, but Tracer seemed absolutely thrilled and even Winston was humming along with the theme song. The theme song kept playing and even introduced different members of the old Overwatch Strike team. One of the animators clearly had fun lavishing a lot of attention on Ana Amari’s hair whipping around from the force of an explosion behind her. A still-blonde cartoon Reinhardt brawled fist-to-fist with some kind of black and neon green robot. Cartoon Morrison jumped a motorcycle off of an aircraft carrier with cartoon Reyes wielding a missile launcher in the sidecar. Torbjörn and Liao were working side by side in a lab before the camera panned out to reveal they were in a bright blue tank-like vehicle Genji safely assumed was entirely made up to sell toys, firing off RPG’s with even more explosions. Sojourn chuckled watching her cartoon self fire two submachine guns at black and neon green helicopters while parachuting out of an exploding jet. There was, all in all, a frankly ridiculous amount of explosions. It finally ended with one last massive explosion and fanfare and cartoon versions of Sojourn and the entire original strike team all pumping their fists in the air with Morrison in the center.

Sojourn hit another button on her remote, the wall screen blipped off, the venetian blinds opened and the lights came on, leaving everyone sitting at the conference table blankly.

“Ahh! Still just as good as when I was a kid!” said Tracer, excitedly.

“Now, I know what you’re going to say--” Morrison started.

“Propaganda,” said Mercy, “You want to put us in propaganda.”

“You’re already in propaganda,” said Sojourn, flatly.

“This is propaganda aimed at children!” said Mercy.

“Do you know how young Talon is recruiting?” said Sojourn.

“That doesn’t mean we should stoop to their level!” said Mercy.

“Wars aren’t just won by strategy and firepower, they’re also won by ideology, by public support,” Winston suggested.

Mercy remembered something Moira said and it sent a shiver down her spine.

The true struggle is for the superiority of ideas.

“Thank you, Winston,” said Jack, “It’s not necessarily about convincing them to join, it’s about convincing people that we have their best interests in mind. Which...” Jack gestured, “We do.”

“Those bad guys didn’t look like Talon,” said Genji.

“Oh, it wasn’t Talon!” said Tracer excitedly, before dropping into a dramatic narrator voice, “Underhand is a Ruthless Criminal Organization determined to rule the world!”

“Uh--Underhand?” said Winston. Jack said nothing but somehow managed to look more dead inside.

“...Overwatch and Underhand...” Mercy repeated incredulously.

“So--we’re going to be in a cartoon?” said Genji. For some reason, his armor seemed to feel tighter, pinching, constricting around him.

“Well, we did some polling after the Doomfist fight and ran some algorithms through a handful of popular forums and social media,” Sojourn explained, “It turns out you’re all very popular with the younger crowd. Winston and Tracer pull the biggest numbers, but you, Genji, are incredibly popular with boys aged 6 to 14.”

“I...I am?” said Genji.

“Shining armor,” said Mercy, smiling at him, and steam vented from his shoulders.

“And Mercy has a death-grip on the ‘Girls aged 3 to 11′ demographic,” said Sojourn.

“So... more girls are getting into STEM?” said Mercy.

“I’m.. not sure about that, but they seem to really like the fact that you’re pretty and you can fly,” said Sojourn, flipping through the report on her own tablet.

Mercy’s face dropped and she shook her head. She pursed her lips and thought for a few moments. “I’m not sure about this...”

“If we’re all over the news already, it could help to put stuff out there that gives us more control over our image,” said Winston, he scratched the side of his head, “It... would be nice to show people I’m more than just a gorilla...”

“Genji?” said Mercy, looking over at him. Genji was running his thumb over the knuckles of his prosthetic hand and he seemed to snap out of some particularly stressful train of thought.

“Oh...um... well... it would give you a chance to talk more about Overwatch as a peacekeeping organization?” said Genji, “And if you’re talking about it to children...”

“They might be less inclined to carry on the conflicts of previous generations!” said Mercy, her eyes brightening.

“Like we said, ideologies,” said Jack.

Mercy inhaled thoughtfully. “If--if we’re going to do this, I want my likeness used responsibly. I don’t want to advocate for violence in any form.”

“...yeah I figured you’d say that,” said Jack.

“And, even if we’re going through fictional conflicts, I don’t want it... glamorized and sensationalized like the old cartoon. We don’t need all those explosions---”

“You did pull Genji out of that explosion a few weeks ago though,” said Tracer.

“Well that’s different--! That’s--!” Mercy huffed, “I think we should push more of Overwatch’s scientific and humanitarian efforts. Show that making the world a better place is more complicated than just.. shooting at bad guys.”

“We could have a science corner!” Winston chimed in, “’Winston’s Science Corner!’”

“Ooh! And maybe I should say something about friendship and teamwork at the end!” said Tracer.

Genji was shrinking a little where he was sitting, unconsciously sliding his wrist plate back and forth.

“What do you think? Edu-tainment?” said Sojourn, glancing back at Jack.

“Could go over easier than a purely fictionalized narrative,” murmured Jack.

“Aw, I wanna fight Underhand, though!” said Tracer.

“Well in any case, you can expect more correspondence from our PR department as we move forward in this project,” said Sojourn.

“You might not be fighting Talon in some far-flung corner of the world, but make no mistake: this is an important part of the fight,” said Jack.

“And who knows,” said Sojourn as an assistant hurried in with a cardboard box and set it on the conference table, “You could end up some kid’s best friend.”

Tracer and her strike team all stood up from their seats to look into the box.

“Oh commander...!” Tracer looked about to burst with excitement as she reached into the box and pulled out an action figure of herself, “I love it!” She turned over the action figure in her hands and saw a button on the back. She pressed it.

“Cheers love! The Cavalry’s here!” said the Tracer action figure.

“That’s my line!” said Tracer, delighted.

“It’s quite a stunning likeness,” said Winston, taking his own action figure out of the box. He pressed a button on the back of his action figure.

“Primal Punch!” declared the Winston action figure and Winston chuckled.

Mercy took both the Genji and the Mercy action figures out of the box and chuckled a little.

“Yours is so pretty, Doc! They even got the wings!” said Tracer as Mercy fiddled around with the action figure’s wings.

“Yes, ‘pretty and flies’ indeed.’ I might be more inclined if she comes with a lab coat accessory,” said Mercy, giving a skeptical glance to her action figure’s bust size. She pressed a button between her action figure’s wings and scoffed a little as the action figure said, “Heroes never die!”

She held Genji’s action figure out to him and he hesitantly took it. “What do you think?”

Genji turned the action figure over in his hand and looked at the button on the back. He pressed it, but the figure said nothing.

“Oh we um... didn’t really have a ‘catchphrase’ for you yet,” said Sojourn as Genji gingerly ran the finger of his prosthetic hand up the blade of the action figure’s sword clasped in his little plastic hand, “We were hoping you could put in a word for it. These are just mock-ups, really.”

You’re incredibly popular with boys age 6 to 14...

Genji moved the arm of the action figure up and down, the figure striking downward with its sword, and he thought of young boys playing with this miniature him. Running with the action figure clutched in little hands with white knuckles, playing out battles, having the action figure swing its sword at all those foes, imitating his own swordsmanship, fighting their brothers with sticks, punching each other, kicking each other---

“No,” Genji said on reflex.

“What?” said Sojourn, glancing up from Tracer chattering about her own action figure.

“I--I said no. I shouldn’t have an action figure. I shouldn’t be in the show,” said Genji. His voice was tight.

“Genji...” Mercy started.

“...is it about how you look?” said Sojourn, “Because Genji, I can tell you, seeing people like us on the screen means the world to kids with prosthetics---”

“No--” Genji was stammering, “It’s not about that, it’s--”

“Genji, you’re a part of the team,” Tracer tried to reassure him, “It wouldn’t be the same without you--”

“Children shouldn’t want to be like me!” Genji blurted out, and there was a small plasticky snap. Genji glanced down and saw that he had unthinkingly broken the arm off of his own action figure. The entire room had gone silent, staring at him. He set both the action figure and its broken-off arm on the table and exhaled. “I’m-- I need to think about it,” he said, pushing up from the table and walking briskly out of the room.

“Genji, wait--” said Mercy, standing up. Her eyes flicked to the broken Genji action figure on the table and she picked it up, tucking both the figure and the broken off arm in the pocket of her lab coat. The door slid shut behind Genji but she quickly walked after him, leaving Morrison, Sojourn, Tracer, and Winston alone in the room. A long quiet pause passed between the four of them.

“Maybe just web shorts?” said Winston, “Just.. um... just the science corner?”

“Winston--” Tracer huffed.

“Right--sorry,” said Winston.

“...well, they did keep an open mind,” said Jack, “Mostly.”

“Don’t make me break out your action figure, Jack,” said Sojourn.

----

It was a known fact that if you broke visual contact on Genji, you had a pretty low probability of finding him again unless he wanted to be found. Still Mercy spent more of the remainder of the afternoon looking for him than she was readily willing to admit. The fact that he was able to disappear from the hallway that quickly made her assume he had taken the window (very mature, by the way, Genji, she thought with an eye roll) but she checked all of his usual spots and even went to his room before finally huffing and returning to her lab.

It was about 11 at night when the door slid open.

“Genji, we’re beholden to the UN. I know that was an uncomfortable situation, but... there are still protocols,” said Mercy, not even looking up from her screen.

“I know,” his cybernetically reverberative voice hummed from the other side of the room.

“I don’t know how... informally Reyes maintained his meetings, but we can’t--” Mercy looked up from her screen and read his posture and expression. Her shoulders slumped. She pushed up from her desk and walked across the lab over to him.

“I’m sorry, I know. I just shut down,” said Genji as she closed the distance between them, “I don’t even know where it came from, ever since I joined Tracer’s strike team, I thought I’ve been getting better but--” he cut himself off as she hugged him. He stood there for a few seconds before returning the embrace. A part of him wanted to take his faceplate off, breathe in the smell of her hair and the smell of coffee on her, but he tamped that down. They had embraced before, after Gérard Lacroix’s death, and had broken out of it, both of them muttering about it being inappropriate and messy, but after missions together on Tracer’s strike team, there was no such shame in taking comfort in each other like this. She loosened the hug slightly to look at him.

“What you said... about you and children...” she trailed off.

“I...” Genji sighed, “I’m an assassin.”

“You’re an agent,” said Mercy.

“Whose skills all come from the fact that he was raised to be an assassin,” said Genji, “What I went through as a child---I don’t want another child to go through it. And I don’t want children to think that’s what they want because it’s not.”

“They won’t have to,” said Mercy, putting her hands on his shoulders, “The Shimada Clan’s practically collapsed! You get to decide who you are, not them! You get to choose what you do with your skills,” one of her hands trailed down his arm and clasped his organic hand, “And you choose good. You’ve been choosing to do good.”

“...kids shouldn’t want to be like me when I don’t even know what the hell I am,” muttered Genji.

Mercy gave a helpless chuckle, “Join the club. ‘Mercy’ is easier to be than Angela. People listen to ‘Mercy,’ except not really, because she’s just pretty and she flies and at the end of the day, she’s just a bloody idea, so no one actually listens to her because she’s not real---” she caught herself, “God, they’re really going to turn us into cartoon characters, aren’t they?” she said, pushing her bangs back from her face, “As if things weren’t already weird enough.”

“Cyborg ninja. Angel doctor. Time traveler. Gorilla from the moon. It really makes no difference at this point,” said Genji with a shrug, looking over her shoulder, he noticed a small figure on her desk. “Is that---?” he broke out of the embrace and walked over to the desk to see his action figure standing there. The arm had been glued back on, the seam of the break barely visible. He picked up the action figure. “You fixed me? It--It-- I mean it. You fixed it?” he said glancing over his shoulder at her.

“Well I couldn’t just leave you like that,” said Mercy, chuckling a little.

“’You’ve rescued me again, Doctor Ziegler!’” said Genji, making the action figure bob with his words. They both snickered. “Maybe that can be my catchphrase,” said Genji, a smirk in his voice.

“Absolutely not,” said Mercy, giggling.

#gency

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tiramisiyu · 3 years

Text

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: A Love Poem to Skadi - Manor of Hermes, Zuo Ran Route

Translation Masterlist | Themis Event Masterlist

Routes: Xia Yan | Zuo Ran | Mo Yi | Lu Jinghe

The “Manor of Hermes” portion of this event requires you to search an abandoned mansion, rumoured to be haunted, to discover its various secrets with each of the male leads.

Please note that there are some subject matters discussed in the “Manor of Hermes” as the player progresses that may make some uncomfortable - please exercise discretion and know your limits. Feel free to ask me for details to check!

See Xia Yan’s route for items that all MLs can find.

Zuo Ran-specific Items

1st Floor – Small Bedroom

MC: Lawyer Zuo, there’s a box under the bed. Should we open it to look?

Zuo Ran: Mm.

Zuo Ran took the box out slowly, then lifted up the box lid.

Zuo Ran: In the box… there are only some communication letters and a drawing.

Zuo Ran: Also, these letters use Akkadian language, the same as in the “Code of Hammurabi”.

Zuo Ran: Do you want to know what is written in the letters?

>I do

>For now, I don’t

MC: I do. There might be important clues in these letters.

Zuo Ran: You’re right. These letters… should be love letters.

MC: Love letters?!

Zuo Ran: Indeed.

Zuo Ran: Look at this one – it starts with “To beloved Allie”. The signer is “Winter”.

Zuo Ran: While the other one, the addressee and the signer are exactly opposite.

Zuo Ran: As for the contents of the two letters… most of it is sweet nothings confided with each other.

Zuo Ran: The other letter mentions that Winter is the son of this mansion’s butler.

Zuo Ran: He and Allie were childhood sweethearts, and the two of them grew up together.

Zuo Ran: But because of some reasons…

Zuo Ran: They were unable to openly display their emotions, so they could only rely on writing letters.

Zuo Ran: As for this drawing… it is written here that it was a present, sent from Allie to Winter.

Zuo Ran: In the corner, there’s also a little sentence saying, “True love with me – Winter and Allie”.

MC: So… these two people were in a romantic relationship?

Zuo Ran: I’m afraid so, although there’s a point that deserves our attention – in the letter that Allie sent to Winter, she said that her days were numbered…

Zuo Ran: I’m afraid that this romance… had some hidden matters in it.

When Zuo Ran finished speaking, he searched through the box again.

Zuo Ran: !!!

MC: What’s the matter, Lawyer Zuo?

Zuo Ran: I found some red gem pieces in the box.

MC: Red gem pieces…

MC: The ones on Allie’s Winter?!

Zuo Ran: They should be.

[Get: Winter and Allie’s Love Letters (1), Drawing, and Red Gem Pieces]

1st Floor – Small Bookroom

MC: Lawyer Zuo, look in these books – there seems to be a document.

Zuo Ran: Don’t touch it yet – I’ll take it.

After he finished speaking, Zuo Ran guarded me behind his body as he took the document.

MC: What’s it like? What’s written on it?

Zuo Ran: This document…

MC: What’s the matter?

Zuo Ran: It seems like this document uses Akkadian language to replace key information.

MC: Then, Lawyer Zuo, do you understand what it says on there?

Zuo Ran: Mm, I’ve analyzed the “Code of Hammurabi” before, and learned Akkadian language along the way.

Zuo Ran: This document… it’s a fire combustion experiment record.

MC: Fire combustion experiment record?

Zuo Ran: That’s right. The person who wrote this document seemed to be testing how much area different levels of fire could cause damage to.

MC: If so… someone once was planning to set a fire in the mansion?

Zuo Ran: It’s definitely possible.

Zuo Ran: Although… this document seems to be missing a few pages?

MC: Missing a few pages? Did they fall into other places on the bookshelf?

Zuo Ran: Let me look again.

Zuo Ran searched up and down the bookshelf again. A while later, he stopped his movements.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, did you notice something? Is it the missing experiment records?

Zuo Ran: No, they’re the red gem pieces.

Zuo Ran: Should be the missing parts on “Allie’s Winter”.

[Get: Incomplete Fire Combustion Test Record (1) and Red Gem Pieces]

2nd Floor – Allie’s Bedroom

MC: Seems like there’s something here…

I tried groping into the bottom of the cabinet, and I grabbed onto a document.

MC: Look, Lawyer Zuo, isn’t this a… experiment record document?

Zuo Ran: It is.

MC: Then are you able to read what’s written on here?

Zuo Ran: …

Zuo Ran: !!!

MC: What’s the matter? Lawyer Zuo, why has your expression twisted like that?

Zuo Ran: In the contents of the records on here, they used Akkadian language to replace some key information.

Zuo Ran: But this record document is incomplete. This page here has probably been ripped out intentionally.

Zuo Ran: What’s written on here is… setting a fire in the first-floor kitchen will allow the fire to spread at the fastest rate.

Zuo Ran: Once the fire blocks off several paths and stairs, it will cause disorder. Use this to escape the mansion quickly.

Zuo Ran: Aside from that, there’s a single line of an annotation on the document’s blank space… Skadi Island’s local laws, a century ago.

MC: What… were they?

Zuo Ran: “Those who use malicious methods to damage the property of another person, using theft, arson, robbery, et cetera…”

Zuo Ran: “Regardless of the reason, they will be punished by execution.”

Zuo Ran: Wait… aside from this annotation about the law, there’s also a line written under… which seems to be someone’s comment?

MC: ???

Zuo Ran: “He can’t do it… but the method is feasible…”

MC: This…

Zuo Ran: …

Zuo Ran: Let’s look around again, to see if there are any other clues.

MC: Okay.

Zuo Ran and I earnestly searched around the closet again.

But aside from finding some gem pieces that we suspected were needed on “Allie’s Winter”…

We didn’t notice anything else that was useful.

MC: …

[Get: Incomplete Fire Combustion Test Record (2) and Red Gem Pieces]

I noticed a diary under the pillow.

>Read the diary

MC: …

Zuo Ran: What are you looking at?

MC: It’s the diary I just noticed. The owner’s name is written on the cover, “Allie”.

MC: But in this diary, a large portion of the contents have been replaced by Akkadian language.

MC: I don’t understand this…

Zuo Ran: Give it to me – I understand these kinds of languages.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, do you really have no problems with this? With so much…

Zuo Ran: Have you forgotten what I’ve said? I’ve analyzed Akkadian language before – don’t worry.

MC: Then… I’ll have to trouble Lawyer Zuo.

Zuo Ran: No problem.

Zuo Ran: …

Zuo Ran flipped through the diary, sinking into deep thought for a while.

MC: Did you notice anything?

Zuo Ran: This truly was Allie’s diary. As for why she used Akkadian to switch out the diary’s contents…

Zuo Ran: She did this so her father would not notice that she was interacting with the butler’s son, Winter.

Zuo Ran: Based on the local laws of Skadi back then, parents had the full right to decide on the marriages of the younger generation.

Zuo Ran: And Allie’s father… severely looked down on Winter.

Zuo Ran: To protect each other, Allie and Winter used Akkadian language, a language that only the two of them knew in this whole mansion.

MC: Is that so…

Zuo Ran: Mm. Another reason was that Winter dreamed of becoming a big judge…

Zuo Ran: So Allie accompanied him in studying and analyzing all sorts of legal code items.

Zuo Ran: She also wrote in excerpts in her diary in passing, or she used the contents of many classic literature works.

Zuo Ran: Simultaneously, there are also her own feelings and annotations beside these contents.

Zuo Ran: Like this line – this is from the “Code of Hammurabi”.

Zuo Ran: And this line is a law from the “Code of Justinian”.

Zuo Ran: It seems like she… saw these activities as a way of… “entrusting her hope” in her chase after freedom.

MC: ???

Zuo Ran: Here, she wrote: “Though I have no way to leave this mansion, and I have no way of shaking off the chains that bind me…”

Zuo Ran: “When I study these materials, my soul is free.”

Zuo Ran: “Through them, I can imagine those worlds outside that I’ve never seen before.”

Zuo Ran: Although…

MC: ???

Zuo Ran: The first half of the diary is normal. The latter half… Allie’s handwriting is messy and her phrasing is panicked…

Zuo Ran: And there are a lot of sketches, the reason of which is unknown.

Zuo Ran: This kind of condition seems somewhat like some mental illness patients that I’ve seen before.

MC: Then, Lawyer Zuo, you mean that Allie might have been afflicted with a mental illness?

Zuo Ran: It’s just a possibility, but we can’t be sure.

Zuo Ran: Oh right, there are some gem pieces stuck between the diary pages.

Zuo Ran: It should be what we’re looking for.

[Get: Allie’s Diary and Red Gem Pieces]

3rd Floor – Art Room

MC: (There are letters in the box… but the contents of these letters are… Akkadian language?)

MC: (I don’t understand these languages whatsoever)…

MC: (Akkadian language… right!)

MC: Lawyer Zuo, may I request for your help?

Zuo Ran: What do you… need me to do?

MC: May I trouble you to see what’s written on these letters?

MC: When the letter was written, they used Akkadian language…

MC: I remember that Lawyer Zuo is very familiar with these languages.

Zuo Ran: Give it to me.

Zuo Ran took the letter.

Zuo Ran: …

MC: How is it, Lawyer Zuo?

Zuo Ran: These letters are the private “love letters” between two people, “Allie” and “Winter”.

Zuo Ran: Allie and Winter had romantic relations, but Allie seemed to… receive some sort of treatment?

Zuo Ran: Not only did this treatment not make her body better, but she instead got worse and worse…

Zuo Ran: Thus, she felt that her days were numbered.

Zuo Ran: Allie wanted to convince Winter to leave, but Winter refused. The reason why he refused was…

Zuo Ran: !!!

MC: What is it?

Zuo Ran: “I’ve found a way that will let us completely shake off this mansion and your father.”

MC: !!!

Zuo Ran: Wait, there’s also a follow-up here…

Zuo Ran: Based on the date, it seems like some time had passed.

Zuo Ran: In the letter, “Winter” told “Allie” that their original plan required changes.

Zuo Ran: “There’s already no more time for me to finish preparations. They will change you into a walking corpse.”

Zuo Ran: “There’s no more time to hesitate – I will immediately take you away.”

Zuo Ran: “Escape with me, my Allie.”

MC: !!!

Zuo Ran: …

MC: So… did they escape?

Zuo Ran: I’m afraid we need to find more clues to know.

MC: Then let’s keep searching.

We lowered our heads again, carefully searching through the inside of the box.

But we didn’t find any similar letters.

Although, we did gain some fortune because of disappointment – I noticed some gem pieces at the bottom of the box.

MC: (This should be what we’re looking for.)

[Get: Winter and Allie’s Love Letters (2) and Red Gem Pieces]

A letter was hidden at the back of the art easel.

>Take off the letter and open it

MC: …

Zuo Ran: What are you looking at?

Zuo Ran: It’s the letter I just noticed behind the easel, but this letter was written using Akkadian language…

MC: I don’t understand these languages, so…

Zuo Ran: Give it to me.

Zuo Ran: I once analyzed the “Code of Hammurabi”, and learned Akkadian language for this.

Zuo Ran: This should be able to help you.

MC: Th-thank you, Lawyer Zuo.

Zuo Ran: …

Zuo Ran took the letter and quickly read it.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, what’s written in this letter?

Zuo Ran: The person who wrote this letter is “Winter”. This is his… “suicide note”.

MC: Suicide note?!

Zuo Ran: Mm. In the letter, he says…

Zuo Ran: “In compliance with the appointment, I returned alive after the fire went out, but you missed the appointment…”

Zuo Ran: “Though it was lonely during these years in the mansion, it was very happy…”

Zuo Ran: “I’m sorry. In the future, I can no longer protect you…”

Zuo Ran: …

The atmosphere gradually got heavier, and I decided to change the topic.

MC: Oh right, Lawyer Zuo, I noticed something else when I noticed this letter just now.

Zuo Ran: What is it?

MC: The gem pieces we’re looking for.

MC: If we keep going at this rate, we should be able to fully piece together the gems very soon!

[Get: Winter’s Suicide Note and Red Gem Pieces]

B1 Level

MC: (We’ve already collected all the gems.)

MC: (Looking at the shape of the notch beside the door lock, it looks similar to the missing part on the flower cluster of “Allie’s Winter”…)

MC: (Let’s try putting this portion’s red gem into it…)

B1 Level – Underground Air-raid Shelter

MC: Lawyer Zuo, look at the wall!

MC: Starting from this wall corner, there are a lot of dried blood markings and scratches on the wall.

Zuo Ran: These marks look like they were left from human struggle and self-harm.

Zuo Ran crouched down at the wall corner, observing the details of the marks, one place after another.

Zuo Ran: !!!

Zuo Ran: These blood marks seem to be a sentence.

MC: “Sentence”?

Zuo Ran: Mm. Because it’s written in Akkadian language, most people might not recognize it.

MC: Then what’s this sentence that’s written on the wall?

Zuo Ran: The meaning of this sentence is…

Zuo Ran: “Continue to live on – I will always love you.”

[Get: Allie’s Last Words]

#tears of themis #weiding shijian bu #未定事件簿 #zuo ran #yeah this one gave me chills #xia yans wasn't as spooky #i hear mo yis and lu jinghes get even darker #tot translation #tot skadi

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