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nouearth · 1 year

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servicing justice: superman [1]

pairing ; kal-el / clark kent / superman x m!reader. fandom: ; dc, superman. word count ; 2144. series ; servicing justice. genre ; smut. rating ; m. warnings ; bigdick!superman. blowjob. gloryhole. handjob. mouth-fucking. oral (reader giving). sexworker!reader. note ; yeah, okay. maybe i've been watching too much of a certain video genre, ahem. but i hope you guys enjoy my first smut! it's been a WHILE since i've written one, so i know it's rusty, HAHA. looks-wise, i mostly had maws's superman in mind (because the art style is so good and so himbo), but feel free to imagine it with any superman!

it isn’t the most comfortable position to be in. you’ve been kneeling on the floor for quite some time now, waiting for your assigned client. your palms begin to sweat to a minimal but uncomfortable degree. did i fuck up already? you ask yourself as your mind clouds with questions, doubts, and even judgement regarding this new job.

“jesus, what did i get myself into…” you recall the long process it took for you to end up here. the intensive (and ridiculously long) process of reading and signing multiple forms and documents almost had you backing out of this opportunity. though looking back at it, it was understandable since it’s quite unheard of to be… a sex worker for superheroes.

for an incredible pay, your privacy will essentially be stripped away starting from today. all phone messages, calls, and social media activities will be monitored during your venture as a sex worker, and that post-graduate life was not going to pay itself. for the most part, so far everything seemed… great? being driven to work by a chauffeur, having your own personal room and health coverage provided, and most importantly… eating free lunch was not bad at all.

or maybe you’re just naïve.

all you had to do was kneel and suck a few superhumans off. as the newbie, you were told that you’ll be starting on gloryhole duty due to privacy reasons; at least until you built enough camaraderie. though, you didn’t even mind since there would certainly be less strain on your body.

you couldn’t help but snicker at the mere thought of an entire league of superheroes holding a meeting regarding this subject matter. especially since almost everyone in the world, including you, holds these superheroes in such high regard.

“meeting is adjourned until 9 am tomorrow! until then, please help yourself to some delicious food trucks from outer spac-“ your humorous imitation of a noble superhero is silenced when you hear the door opening. within your private booth, all that blocks you from meeting your approaching client is another door with a hole cut through.

your curiosity is piqued when you catch a sight of the man’s physique through the hole. plaid shirt and jeans aside, and assuming he had to underdress, he’s huge. maybe because you’re kneeling right now, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve never been near a superhero before, but you couldn’t help but be in awe at the size of the man. your eyes complete a full body scan by the time he approaches the door and before you could say something, he does.

“sorry i was late-“ a gentle voice echoes behind the door. contrary to his soft voice, the man’s large hands work aggressively at his belt, unlooping the leather with impatience yet eagerness as he anticipates the mouth that’s been waiting for his arrival. “there was this whole thing with this cat in this tree and then this school bus got hijacked- not my best day, unfortunately.”

“i’m sorry to hear that. sounds like a stressful day, yeah?” your voice is compassionate. you felt bad for the unnamed superhero and a part of you wanted to continue the conversation further, but your job isn’t to listen to their feelings. it’s to pleasure.

“yeah…” a huge sigh of relief expels from the man’s dry throat when he pulls his pants down. frustration stains another one of your client’s sigh, clearly troubled by the restrictive fabric guarding his erection. you watch with parted lips as he couldn’t help but give himself a needy stroke through his tight briefs, fondling his balls then beelining his palm to the very plump tip of his cock. your own cock hardens at this scene, and you find yourself doing the very same. mimicking his impatient hand to tend to the sensitive pressure below, you tiptoe the fine line between frustration and pleasure as your tightening pants and briefs define what it means to be an absolute nuisance. “very stressful.”

it doesn’t take much time before you’re faceful of cock and somehow, you manage to salivate more than you did a minute ago. the man’s throbbing erection is brimmed with thick pre-cum, stress practically leaving his body with every drip. it’s a heavenly sight that’s enough to make you stick your tongue out just in time to catch the substance into your mouth, not wanting to waste a single drop. the salty taste always catches you off-guard yet at the same time, it puts you under a spell. a tantalizing spell that commands you to drag your warm tongue over and back the underside of his thick shaft, completely avoiding the plump glans to have his cock leak even more… stress.

the taste of his musk drives your palm further into your erection, palming at whatever you could as you preoccupy yourself with teasing the man. you almost felt bad for him. contrary to his build, his whimpers are… so small, so weak. you notice his hands grip over the top of the barrier, and it turns you on upon realizing how this supposed hero could become so fragile at the simple taunt of your tongue.

“please…” the superhero whimpers out, needlessly fucking the air in hopes of granting his cock some type of friction. you’re amazed, and a little proud, by how much pre-cum he’s been leaking by now, and it all goes right onto your tongue. the wet muscle follows the natural curve of his cock to meet up with the wet and plump head. his hips buckle into the barrier and feeling it shake, you keep him steady by wrapping your hand around his shaft. you’re addicted at this point. addicted to the salty taste of his pre-cum as your tongue licks and explores into the slit of his cock, while at the same time, your hand works at his large cock in slow, but steady strokes.

“oh christ-“ he breathes out, repeating the same two words under his shaky breath as you continue to pleasure him with your tongue and hand. after a few licks, you pull away to give your tongue a break. in doing so, your grip tightens around his shaft to pace your strokes quicker. when you find a moment where your wrist needs a break, you let your client catch his breath. his cock throbbing more and more with every passing second when your tongue and hand aren’t exploring him, and you bask in the sight of it. you believe you deserve a medal at this point. not for doing a great job (though, it doesn’t seem too far-fetched), but for having control. you haven’t even sucked him off yet, but you’re content on remaining just like this for a while longer. though, that wouldn’t be fair for the superhero.

before he could whimper out another plea, your warm mouth finally wraps around the head of his cock and your ears perk at the sound of his low moan almost instantly. your hand returns to its rightful position around the lower base of his penis as you cycle your tongue over the glans, satisfying your need to taste his musk once more. seconds later, your hand lets go when you push your head farther, taking in an inch more of the hero’s cock. your knees dig into the floor as you push your head more and more, stretching your mouth with his cock until you feel yourself gagging.

“fuck.” you sniffle out when you pull back. perhaps you were challenging yourself too hard. you think to yourself as you catch your breath, using the remaining moment to sloppily jerk him off with your saliva. part of you wanted to challenge yourself to deepthroat him, impress your client on the first day. but you already know you wouldn’t be able to take it… at least, for now.

“you could hurt someone with this, y’know?” for some reason, you thought you needed to crack a joke as if there was an awkward silence that needed to be filled. maybe you just wanted to hear him talk again. his voice is warm and inviting, somewhat fitting for a superhero or even a television host as the moment you hear his voice again, you felt safe.

“i have before- oh god.” you lube up his cock with your spit as you continue to jerk him off, refraining yourself from fucking his slit with your tongue again to concentrate on his words. “which is why i don’t do this much- sex and stuff… it’s all troublesome, really.”

“yeah?” and just when you talked yourself out of challenging yourself, you feel the competitive spark ignite inside of you again. “well, i guess you just have to find the right one. could be anyone, even people you just met.” you try to play it nonchalantly, hoping that double-handing his wet cock would distract him.

he was beyond speechless at this point, moans drawn out by means of your sloppy strokes. you swear you can hear his heartbeat behind the barrier when you lean your head closer to suck him off again. you moan along with him, drawing out every breath of yours as you bob your head up and down, taking more of his cock every time you come down. your hand twists and strokes the remaining few inches that isn’t violated by your tongue and mouth, following your mouth like a reel as your intent to make him cum is fervent more than ever.

it hurts. your mouth hurts by how large your client is and tears brim in your eyes as you hold yourself back from gagging. but you don’t stop yourself because you’ll know it’ll be worth it. your endeavor to please him to the fullest has you drowning out his groans into white noise and you can barely register the fact that you’ve been on paused for a while now. you find yourself in a closer position than before, where your mouth is open, lips fully pressed around the carved hole as the superhero fucks into your mouth, fucks into your gags like you’re his personal flesh light. you didn’t care how dirty you looked, how you had saliva and spittle dripping out from the corners of your mouth and onto the floor. who would see? and you didn’t care that you were too preoccupied to touch your dick right now, because you know you’ll be thinking about this very moment for the rest of your life. and right now, you didn’t know if you wanted to be covered in his cum or to have your mouth be filled with it.

remaining in this position, you glance your teary eyes up at his grip over the barrier again. the strength in his grasp forms small cracks in the material of the barrier and that was the sign you knew you fulfilled your sense of purpose.

“christ, i’m going to come-“ your eyes shut again and you breathe through your noise, bracing for impact. he pushes his cock down your throat and hits that sore spot one last time before unloading his cum into your mouth with a stifled groan. warm, hot seed quickly fills you up and you pull your head back an inch to fully enclose your lips around his cock, ensuring none escape your lips.

in a heartbeat, you swallowed it all. his warm cum coats the back of your throat like medicine and you moan around his cock at the taste, intoxicated. you made sure to lick every inch of his cock clean, calmly slurping any saliva and cum that threatens to leave your mouth as you pull back up with a soft pop, swallowing the remaining remnants of his stress away.

“t-thank you. i needed that…” he pulls his softening cock out, careful in avoiding the hole as he was still sensitive. “did you need a tissue or anything? i think i have one somewhere…” you can hear him rummage through what you can only assume would be his bag and you find it charming, a quiet laugh leaving your swollen lips as you lean back onto your elbows to take a breather and stretch your legs out.

“no, no. i’m okay. i, uh, don’t think i wasted a drop.” you proudly brag, only for him to respond with a shy chuckle. you watch him tidy himself through the hole from a leaned back view, occasionally tilting your head in various angles to see if you could catch a glimpse on who the mysterious superhero is, but the barrier remains an obstruction to your view.

“well then, i… uh… thank you for your service.” he covers up the silence with another laugh and you join in, re-adjusting his pants and belt before turning his back towards you and heading out the booth. “i’ll try not to be late next time.”

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penkura · 26 days

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last forever [8/13]

Summary: Zoro only offered to marry you to keep you out of an arranged marriage with a man much older than you. You agreed with the caveat of ending it via annulment once you received word from your parents regarding the original engagement, despite your growing feelings for your close friend.

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!reader, mentioned Sanami later (like epilogue later so chill)

Warnings: Marriage of Convenience, Fake Marriage, referenced sex (waaaaaay later on), mutual pining, Zoro is bad at feelings but what's new there, eventual romance I promise, mention of past attempted assault (I'll warn in that chapter), creepy older dude later on

Note: This is my personal favorite chapter I've written. That's all I have to say lol.

Taglist:

@misfits1a

[Ch. 1] ● [Ch. 2] ● [Ch. 3] ● [Ch. 4] ● [Ch. 5] ● [Ch. 6] ● [Ch. 7]

“Hey, Sanji. Do me a favor.”

Sanji's nearly unconscious as Zoro speaks to him, his favor loud and clear before the blond passes out, leaving the swordsman to face Bartholomew Kuma alone.

You thought Zoro was going to die, you had convinced yourself he wasn't going to wake up. You'd stayed by his side, praying, ever since Sanji and Chopper brought Zoro back into Moria's mansion to treat his wounds and let him rest. Sanji won't tell you a word of what happened, no matter how much you beg him to.

“Mosshe– Zoro wouldn't want you to know. I doubt he wants anyone to know. Least of all you and Luffy.”

Whatever Sanji meant, you don't know, and right now you don't even care about what had Zoro knocked out the last little while.

Finally he was awake, it felt longer than it really was, three (agonizing) days, he had freakish healing like Luffy did, of course. But seeing he's awake, you can't help it, you throw yourself at him saying his name over and over like a mantra as you cry. Of course it freaks him out a bit, once he bites back a heavy groan from the pain you've just inflicted on him with your tight hug, it takes Zoro a moment to register you hugging him before he's able to do anything about it.

And he returns your hug slightly. Loosely wrapping his arms around you, one around your shoulders, the other barely touching your waist, an attempt at comforting you while you cry.

Damn it, he's tried so hard to push your feelings away, get you to stop looking at him like he was your world, but now Zoro realizes he's only stoked the flames by doing so, only made your feelings stronger without meaning to.

But, maybe he doesn't mind. He'd seek you out each morning, mostly asking if you'd gotten anything from your parents about your little sham marriage, but he'd also ask you to train with him if you weren't busy, and even be the one to go into town with you whenever the Sunny docked for a day or two. You never asked, you just knew he was coming with you so you waited for him, waited until he was by your side and then you'd smile and lead Zoro into the town to shop for whatever your heart desired (and your wallet could afford). In the time he'd started doing that, Zoro noticed different things about you.

The way you laughed with store clerks as they told you about an item you were looking at, your eyes would sparkle with every new find, how you'd hold onto his wrist to make sure he didn't get lost, you staying beside him when he'd nap on Sunny, you making sure he had enough water during his workouts.

How you'll help anyone on the ship with anything they need. You'll bring Nami the supplies she needs to make maps, help Usopp and Luffy fish for dinner, wash the dishes after dinner despite Sanji telling you he'd do it. You've been learning from Chopper how to treat wounds, you'll sit with Robin and listen to her tell you about history, you've even started helping Franky with his projects and helping to perform maintenance on Sunny if needed.

Then with him. With Zoro you're content to sit quietly while he naps, or watch him while he trains, never expecting a conversation. You willingly bring him whatever he needs, whether it's water or sake, you fix his shirts if they get torn, you even stay up when he has night watch and share drinks with him. He never thought someone would want to spend all their time with him or that he'd accept someone being so close to him, what had changed that made him actually want company during times he'd normally want to rest and be alone?

You. Damn, it was you.

You whose inner demons would infiltrate your dreams, causing you to slip into his bed for comfort, stability, as he slept soundly which gave you peace to do the same, a silent promise after the first time of yes, I’ll keep you safe. You who he had saved from drowning more times than Luffy and Chopper combined. You who made him feel like he was on fire with the slightest touch, even a brush of your fingers against his at dinner. You who had stitched him up multiple times, the first one turning into a jagged scar that if asked he'd say was his favorite. You who cared enough to stay sober in bars to drag him back to the hotel or the ship when you knew he needed to stop and rest.

You who would tell him every detail about the books you were reading, the ones you'd purchased or borrowed from Robin. The one time you told him the main love interest of a romance novel reminded you of him, making his face burn red out of embarrassment before he told you not to say such things, especially in front of the others (mostly Sanji).

Even after telling you in Alabasta that nothing was going to happen, you two weren't going to become a couple, he wasn't here to play romance with you or anyone else. Even after all that, you still stuck to his side almost like glue and didn't let it change anything.

Even with your argument after Robin joined, nothing much changed between the two of you. If anything, Zoro felt more drawn to you than anything or anyone else. He wanted to spend more time with just you and him. What a change from just a few months ago, he just realized.

Even once you kissed him and he returned it in Water Seven, you attempted to apologize soon after, before he stopped you. There had been nothing to apologize for, not from you anyway. If he'd thought about it at the time, Zoro would have apologized for not giving you a proper response then. For making you go to bed alone that night.

Damn it all.

What has happened to him? Ever since your sham marriage began something has been creeping into his mind every time he looks at you and remembers "Oh yeah I'm married to her" that makes him want to pull you away from everyone and damn it, he wants to kiss you again. There's another feeling of wanting, needing to protect you, despite how strong you are in your own right. Everything about this is weird, yet somehow comforting as well. Who put this spell on him, who made him have feelings like this? Are you secretly a witch on top of a swordswoman?

"Zoro…?"

Zoro breaks out of his thoughts when you speak his name again, this time as a question, your voice shaking as you hold him tighter, trying your best not to hurt him again.

"I…” your voice shakes again, and you hide your face in the crook of his neck, briefly wondering if this was the smart thing to do, before the words fall out of your mouth, “I love you…"

He pulls you closer, just a bit, your whispered confession only loud enough for him to hear. He doesn't have a response, not right now, but you're fine with that. You'd accepted long ago he may never love you back, but you had to tell him. He had to know.

After nearly losing him, you had to get these feelings out.

So when he ever so quietly thanks you, pressing the softest kiss to your temple, it makes you cry even more. You feel there's a chance, however small it may be, that Roronoa Zoro may come to have feelings for you one day.

Chopper returns a moment later, not wanting to pull you two apart, but he's so happy to see Zoro's alive and awake that even he cries a little, before checking the swordsman's wounds as you release yourself from him, Zoro allowing you to continue holding his hand for comfort.

Not only for you, but for him as well.

“I probably won't make it out of this…so take care of her for me, got it?”

+!+

"I told Zoro I love him."

It becomes so quiet you can hear a pin drop after that. Nami had asked why you were so spaced out that day, she and Robin now both so surprised at your confession. Nami's jaw drops and Robin has a small smile, before they look at each other with one thought in mind.

Impromptu girl's night.

"I'm getting extra blankets and pillows!"

"I'll ask Sanji for some wine and snacks."

Once everything is together and all the pillows and blankets are spread on the floor, you have glasses of wine and small snacks, Nami demands to hear every detail and you tell her and Robin everything about your love confession.

"He…he thanked me and kissed me–"

"On the lips again?!"

You laugh and shake your head, taking a small sip of your wine. "No, just on my temple this time."

Nami squeaks a bit, Robin laughing lightly at her reaction and the longing look on your face. As soon as she joined she'd seen the love you held for Zoro on your face, anytime you spoke of him or someone else did, your eyes would light up and your cheeks would burn pink.

You were deeply in love with him, even though he showed no romantic feelings for you. Robin had given you a romance novel once specifically due to the fact the love interest even reminded her of Zoro, which you quickly agreed with and finished the book in nearly three days which surprised her.

Nami, knowing you and Zoro were married, wanted you two together from the start. Every time you told her something that made you fall more and more in love with him, she'd giggle alongside you which always got a strange look from Usopp and Luffy, who thought you were both insane. She'd push you two together so often, that when Zoro started following you off the ship she thought it was a good sign, since she didn't have to bribe him with reducing his debt or anything. He just went on his own.

"That's such a great sign!" Nami throws her arms around you in a hug, making you laugh while Robin nods. "He's starting to fall for you! Finally!"

"I wouldn't go that far, Nami."

"I would! After all these months, you guys could be a real couple!"

"Nami, let's calm down a bit," Robin smiles and puts a hand on your shoulder, "She and Zoro will need to talk things out eventually, but let's see if anything changes since she's confessed her love to him."

Sighing loudly, Nami nods but still holds onto you, seeing a strange look on your face. She's not sure if it's one of concern or what, but it makes her hug you a little tighter.

"I'm sure he loves you, maybe deep down right now, but, he's gonna tell you one day."

You smile a bit with a slight nod, hugging Nami back. You believe her, you really do. Even if it takes a while for Zoro to say anything back to you, it doesn't matter. You'll wait as long as it takes and not give up.

For Zoro, you'll wait a lifetime.

+!+

You're crawling into Zoro's bed a few nights later. Your nightmares had turned from your neglectful parents to losing him at Thriller Bark, waking you with tears and sobs that Robin tried to help you through, calming you down enough for you to tell her you were going to slip into his bed like you'd done every time before. She simply nodded and let you go, promising to tell Nami nothing about it, you didn't want her worrying.

Zoro's fast asleep, as always, as you quietly sneak into the boy's bunks and step over Luffy who had fallen out of his hammock. You hear him mumble something about meat in his sleep while Usopp snores and Chopper sleeps happily beside him, but you pay no mind to it. You feel lucky Franky's in his workshop, Sanji's still busy in the kitchen, and Brook is out on the deck playing his violin. None of them should cause you any problems this time, but does it matter if they do?

Your thoughts are entirely on Zoro and making sure he's okay. He's still injured, but you have to be certain nothing is wrong.

You quickly and quietly slip into his hammock once you reach it, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his back, hearing a slight groan from him due to his wounds still not being fully healed. You feel bad waking him, even as he turns around and throws one of his arms over you, looking at you as if asking what was wrong, even though he thought he knew. It's been a while since you've last done this, your nightmare must have been particularly awful for you to return to this habit he'd thought you'd stopped.

"You okay?" His brows are furrowed while he wipes a few of your tears away. He's never seen you this upset after a nightmare before.

You try to speak but all that comes out is a whimper and a quiet sob, making you grip his shirt tighter as you shake your head. You can't tell him, you can't get the words out that it was a nightmare about him dying after he’s told you numerous times he wasn’t dying until he became the world’s greatest swordsman. He came so close to death at Thriller Bark that you were just terrified deep down about it becoming reality.

Instead of inquiring further, Zoro just nods, pulling you closer in an effort to calm you down.

"You're safe here. Nothing's gonna get you while I'm around."

You feel the quickest of kisses on your forehead before Zoro tucks your head under his chin, closing his eyes to sleep again, and it's all so strange to you. You've not had time to sit and talk since you told him you love him, but he's treated you slightly differently lately. Still going into town with you, training with you, but now sitting beside you at every meal which pissed off Sanji at times, purposefully leaning against you while he napped as you read a book.

He let you hold his hand the other day in town, even stopping at a small café with you for lunch and refusing to let you pay for your own meal despite his own money problems.

Zoro may not be in love with you yet, but you can tell he definitely cares for you in how he treats you. He saw through your façade of acting like all was well while you were still nursing the pain from your parents treating you like property and trying to sell you off to someone nearly twice your age just for money, the pain your brother tried his hardest to lighten before he helped you run away. He'd noticed from the moment he met you that there was something you were keeping from him and when he got it out of you one night, he said he'd keep you from having to go back. That was why he married you, you had more to give and do than be someone's third bride, he'd help you achieve it himself.

"Thank you, Zoro."

He's still awake, but once you finally fall asleep, he opens his eyes and watches you, finally peaceful. He feels bad he doesn't have a true response to you yet, he’s still working things out in his own mind and heart. Telling you once before that he held no romantic feelings for you, but now realizing that his thoughts have changed, it’s hard to work through that without letting anyone know. He doesn't want to get your hopes up just to tell you he doesn't feel the same in the end.

But, Zoro thinks that maybe, maybe staying married to you won't be so bad. Maybe, once he works out his feelings, he'll try to properly court you, give you a relationship you deserve, he'll protect you from anything and anyone else.

And then, one day, you could revisit this being a married couple thing, maybe actually live as husband and wife.

+!+

There's a slight bit of teasing the next morning from Franky. He'd finally gone to bed at one point and was surprised you had snuck into Zoro's hammock, the swordsman having an arm around you as you both slept. Granted he's seen how close you two are, especially after the fiasco of Thriller Bark, but didn't think you were that close.

He's also surprised by none of the others, apart from Brook, saying anything about it either. Was this normal for the two of you, to share a bed like that? If it was, why didn't Zoro just join you in the women's bunks? Surely your bed was more comfortable than his hammock.

Your face feels like it’s burning all through breakfast, the same as when Sanji first caught you in Zoro's hammock and made a fuss about it. Zoro just sets a glare at Franky anytime he says something about you two getting cozy with a grin that tells him your shipwright is getting the wrong idea. You two hadn't done anything, you slept like the other times, there's no reason for this teasing.

Zoro eventually has enough and slams his hand on the table, frightening most of your crewmates, standing up and continuing to glare at Franky.

"Would you just shut up about it? She had a nightmare and came to me for help, that's all. Come on, let's go."

Luckily you're done with breakfast when Zoro tells you to go with him, nodding and doing so as you hear Sanji and Nami reprimand Franky, who's now wondering why Zoro, of all people, got so angry about a little bit of teasing.

"I don't get what the big deal is," Franky leans back in his seat, ignoring how Nami is still looking like she's going to smack him, "So what if they're together? Not like it's against the rules or anything."

"Except they aren't together." Sanji responds before Nami can, and all it does is make Franky question the situation even more. He's trying to diffuse the situation, making sure your arrangement with Zoro doesn't get out before you either annul or Zoro decides to stay with you.

Luffy nods, before saying "They're married though, but don't tell anyone else!"

"Luffy!!" Nami doesn't even wait to smack him over the head, making your captain whine and ask what that was for. "That's not our secret to tell!"

"Well they're gonna get an annulment thingy anyway, so why does it matter??"

"Wait what, what the hell?"

“I didn't know Zoro and [Y/N] were married!” Chopper sounds beyond excited, while Brook laughs.

“Yohoho, what a surprise!”

Franky and Brook try to question Luffy and Nami about the whole thing, while Robin smiles to herself.

She's heard you and Sanji talking about your marriage to Zoro every now and then, and knew most of the details already, but knowing your feelings for him, she’s sure it’s only a matter of time before you two actually became a couple.

Though, she’s also fairly certain that if you heard your marriage had been revealed, you'd crawl in a hole and die while Zoro would seriously consider throwing Luffy overboard, before saving him in the end.

+!+

"I don't think Franky was trying to be rude about it."

"He was being obnoxious is the point, [Y/N]."

Nodding in agreement, you keep your eyes on your book once Zoro comes back from showering after his morning workout. He'd gone straight to the crow's nest after leaving the kitchen, you running to get a book and joining him once you'd picked one out. You've been sitting there ever since, having small conversations with Zoro while he worked out, eventually leaving long enough to take a shower before coming back to you in the same spot. He didn't want to talk about the morning's events anymore, but you felt like you had to say something no matter how obnoxious Franky was about the whole situation.

Zoro sits beside you, and you barely glance over a few times, wondering if now was a good time to talk about your confession and what's next for the two of you, before he speaks first.

"Anything from your parents?"

Ah yes, that makes sense. He hasn't asked yet today, that's what was missing from this day.

Shaking your head, you close your book and lean back to stare up at the ceiling. "Not a word. Makes me think they forgot they had a daughter."

"We're three days out from having to divorce, right? So there's probably no chance of them responding in time."

You're not sure if you hear annoyance or concern in Zoro's voice, but again you nod.

You don't know how to voice that you don't want to annul or divorce, that your confession to him after he woke up at Thriller Bark wasn't a heat of the moment thing or simply crewmate concern. You really are in love with him, that was a fact you've come to know over the last few months but were only able to voice recently.

Why do feelings have to be so complicated?

"You meant what you said, after I woke up?"

He's very quiet, you almost miss him speaking, but your breath catches in your throat, and its all you can do to just nod, a small 'yes' coming out of your mouth.

Zoro's not at all surprised as he nods, trying to plan his next words carefully. He's not ready to say the same love confession to you, but he might be willing to try. Try a relationship with you and keep you safe, whether your parents ever reply to you or not. He's willing to give the two of you a shot.

It's strange, how just six months ago you were in tears to him about the arranged marriage and he quickly offered to marry you and keep you from going home, from leaving him. At first, he tried to convince himself it was because you were useful, you worked well with him when taking down bounty targets. You knew how to use a sword and could perform recon work on your targets, all of that was more than what he needed in a bounty hunting partner, when he'd never thought of having one before. Not until he met you in that dinky little bar when you were running away from home, nearly passing out when you ran into him because you'd had a fever and he kept you from hitting the ground. He lost a couple days of work taking care of you, a complete and total stranger, that you were so grateful to him you offered to help and he only let you do so after you sparred with him. You lost obviously, but Zoro was impressed enough to let you follow him if you wanted to.

The year and a half you had traveled and worked together was enough, he knew it when he told you he'd marry you. You didn't know it, still don't to this day, and Zoro would likely take the truth to the grave with him, but at this point he knew it.

He knew he had feelings for you, it was just telling you. That's the difficult part right now.

You'd said your side of it, Zoro just needed the right place and time to return your words.

"I want–"

There's shouting from down on the deck that snaps you both out of your little world you're in, and you sit up to look out the window, seeing what looked like a large fish tail and Sanji freaking out over something. You wonder what's going on, before looking at Zoro, who looks less than thrilled you two were interrupted.

"Something's going on! Let's go see!"

He doesn't fight or grumble while you grab his wrist and pull him up, there's nothing he can do about it now.

Maybe tomorrow I guess.

+!+

“What’s with the bird?”

You don’t even have the chance to untie the letter from your parents before Zoro asks, you just smile before petting your family’s carrier bird on her head, giving her a few scratches as she perches on your shoulder.

“My parents are wealthy, so they have their own carrier birds. We’ve had Chisa here since I was little, she brings me mail and letters all over, wherever I am she’ll find me.”

“Seriously? All of that just to flex their cash?” Zoro rolls his eyes when you nod with a small giggle, opening the latest letter you’d been sent by your parents.

Every one so far had been a demand to return home and “fulfill your duty” of marrying the man they’d chosen for you. It was ridiculous, you’ve let Zoro see a few of them, even though every letter says the exact same thing. The only one that had been different was a letter exclusively from Elias, telling you about his marriage because he knew you’d be happy for him.

You start to follow after Zoro as he attempts to lead you back to the town you’re staying at, not even sure why you’re reading the letter that’s most likely just their demands for you to come back, until you catch a new line in the letter that makes you stop in your tracks.

The second he hears your breathing pick up, Zoro stops and looks over his shoulder at you, eyes widening just a bit when he sees your shoulders shaking and it almost seems like you’re about to have a panic attack.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” he’s almost instantly in front of you with his hands on your shoulders, Zoro knows he isn’t good at this stuff, but he’s got to get you to calm down, “What’s wrong? What’s in the letter?”

“I…I’m eighteen.”

“Yeah…? So what about—”

“Shit, shit, they’re gonna,” Zoro can barely keep you from hitting the ground while you crouch down, still holding the letter but putting your hands on your head to try and calm yourself down, “They’re gonna find me and force me to marry him.”

Zoro takes the letter from you while you start crying over your fears of being forced back home, reading the letter himself to see there’s some caveat in the agreement between your parents and alleged fiancé, where you’d be legally married soon after turning eighteen whether you had a wedding or not. Scowling, Zoro starts to rip to letter up, watching you fist your hair and close your eyes tight. Whatever you went through while dealing with this arranged marriage situation, it’s left a bad impression on you, he’d be surprised if you ever chose to get married one day because of it.

After a few minutes, Zoro helps you back up, holding your shoulders again, before trying to speak to you.

“What—"

“I can’t go back, I can’t!” Finally looking up at him again, you’re still in tears and griping his shirt so tightly, almost desperate for some way out of this arrangement, some way to keep from being found and dragged back there. “I won’t go back, Zoro, please, help me!! I can’t marry that man!”

What is he supposed to do? There’s very little chance your parents haven’t sent people out to find you, or sent your name and picture across government facilities that honor small village traditions, no matter how dark or outdated they may be. He doesn’t know what to do, this is so foreign to him! How is he supposed to keep you from marrying someone?

“I’ll marry you then.”

“W-What??” This isn’t what you expected for help, not even in the slightest. You don’t even think Zoro knew he was going to say that, or planned to, it seems like it just came out with no rhyme or reason.

But, it would fix the problem. If you married someone else, your parents couldn’t rightfully force you to marry someone else, whether they had chosen the person or not.

“I…” You shake your head, not wanting Zoro to feel like he has to do something, it’s not his job. All you’ve done is follow him the last year and a half, he’s not supposed to be your protector or anything like that, just a friend that let you go with him so you didn’t have to go back home, back to what you’ve fled. “We can’t! I mean, we aren’t—"

“If I marry you, will that keep them from forcing you home?!”

“I…I think so?”

Nodding, Zoro takes your hand off his shirt, watching you for any signs of rejection or if you want to say anything else. There’s something in his eyes, you don’t know what it is, you probably never will. But he holds your hand so tightly, keeping you from pulling away before he says it again.

“Marry me, [Y/N].”

For a moment, you don’t respond, wondering if Zoro’s screwing with you or not. But that’s not like him. You’ve only known him for about eighteen months, but you know that he would never joke around about something like this. He might be a little closed off still, but he would never play with someone’s feelings this way.

After another minute or so, you nod.

“I’ll marry you, Zoro.”

+!+

You’ve not thought about how Zoro offered to marry you in quite a while, the memory waking you up from a dead sleep in the village you’ve been in the last eighteen months. After receiving Luffy’s message about when to meet your crew again, you ended up staying in a village that excelled in training swordswomen, working your hardest every day and improving to the point very few of the other women even tried to spar with you.

Now I can’t sleep.

Sighing, you get up from your bed and go to the balcony in your little apartment you’ve been granted use of. Remembering the proposal that’s put you in this situation still, where you’ve been legally married for two years, have told Zoro--who was supposed to be your temporary husband--that you’re in love with him, and it seems like he might be starting to feel something similar towards you. It’s still all so strange, but it makes you smile while you watch the stars for a few minutes, silent prayers for your crew’s continued safety, and hopes that you and Zoro can make things work out.

“Happy anniversary, Zoro.”

+!+

You’ll be surprised to hear, one day in the future, that Zoro had the same dream about his impromptu proposal around the same time you did. He even realizes that it would’ve been your second anniversary at the time, give or take a few days, Mihawk doesn’t have a calendar or bother to keep him and the ghost girl up to date on what’s going on outside the island.

The dream isn’t enough to wake him the way it does you, but it does linger in his mind the rest of the day, even as he trains. It gets to the point that Mihawk stops him, asking what on earth could be distracting the twenty-one-year-old so badly that he’s making beginner’s mistakes, and Zoro decides to tell him, just to get it out there. Maybe that will help him clear his mind.

“Just… thinking about my wife.”

This earns a raised brow from Mihawk and a shout from Perona.

“A wife?”

“You’re married and never told us?!”

“You aren’t my crew!”

Perona sticks her tongue out at him, demanding answers about you and your marriage, questions Zoro refused to answer right now, before Mihawk interrupts them.

“I care not that you’re married. You can think about your wife later, focus on training now.”

Though Zoro knows Mihawk is right, he should be focusing on his training, thoughts of you and your strange marriage don’t leave his mind, despite his nodding.

“Right.”

I’ll talk to you soon then…[Y/N].

#zoro x reader #one piece x reader #reader insert #last forever #fem!reader #roronoa zoro x reader

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aperrywilliams · 2 months

Text

It Was Horrible Until It Wasn't (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Part 1: If Anything I Find It Educative

Part 2: It Was Horrible Until It Wasn’t

Part 3: Douchebag Falls Short in This Case

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Reader comes up to her apartment after Spencer walks her home from the diner, where they spend the last couple of hours. She is still processing the night and wonders if they will meet again. Another fortuitous event makes that happen. In which terms they will part ways again?

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Mention of guns (tests to carry a gun). Mention to Reader's ex. Some strong words? IDK what else. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: I got very excited after your reactions and comments to "If Anything, I Find it Educative." So this is kind of part two, from Reader's perspective. I'm not convinced about a series yet, even if I have some ideas. What would you like to see if it happens?

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Reader's POV

-----

As I open the door, a bunch of cardboard boxes scattered on the floor greets me. That reminds me that I haven't unpacked all my things yet.

I've only been living here for two weeks, and I'm still getting used to the idea that this is my new home.

It doesn't feel like it yet.

But the boxes will be a problem for tomorrow. Now, I only want to take off these high heels and this fancy dress and call it a night - a pretty eventful night.

Not only did I have to confront my ex with his new girlfriend, but I also had to pretend I was okay with it. But how did I expect to do that? Did I genuinely think two months would be enough to be outside again to prove I got myself up?

How naive of me.

I make a beeline to my bedroom, not even bothering to look at the rest of the apartment.

Again, it's tomorrow's problem.

Retreating my phone from my purse, I plug it to charge over my bedside table as I strip from my clothes and go to the bathroom to do my nightly routine.

The entire time, my mind doesn't stop wandering. At some point, it settles on the girl I helped from choking. It was a total coincidence for me to be there. I only approached the bar for another drink when I heard that man rambling. I don't know why my ear perked up, but it did. When I look to find the voice's source, my eyes land on the man and the girl by his side.

He was talking as if the world would end if he didn't, and the girl only eyed him from head to toe, clearly not giving a damn what he was saying. I kept subtly listening to them while sipping my drink. The guy's voice had something enchanting. I would have heard him talk for hours if it were from me. It was a bad thing his interlocutor wasn't so receptive, and when she occasionally said something, it was a flirting remark that only made him uncomfortable.

What a shame.

When I noticed her fighting to breathe, swatting her hands in desperation, and the poor guy froze on the spot, I knew I needed to do something.

I didn't think much of it and wrapped my arms around her torso to help her. It worked. The oyster she choked with flew into the air, and she could breathe again.

But the next thing I knew, her palm connected to the man's cheek.

The poor guy seemed so confused, and the people talking around didn't help either. What a shitty situation. And as the good citizen I am, I tried to do something about it, only to get lashed out by the same woman I just saved from choking.

Fuck it.

Seeing the people's attention returned to them, I walked away. That wasn't my fight in the first place.

Returning from the bathroom, I hear my phone ding. It's a text from my friend Andie.

Andie: How did the gala turn out? Did you see him? He was with her, right?

Andie had insisted on me not going to the gala, although I repeated to her several times that it was okay, that nothing would happen, and that I couldn't hide forever.

Me: You were right. I wasn't ready.

It's a defeat I must recognize. I wasn't prepared to see them.

Andie: My girl, I'm so sorry. It must have been awful for you.

It was, but it doesn't mean the night was a disaster.

Me: It was horrible until it wasn't. I can tell you more tomorrow. Now, I only want to go to bed.

Andie: You have me a bit confused here, but okay. I'll call you tomorrow. Sleep tight; I love you.

I return my phone to the charger and slip under the covers.

It was horrible until it wasn't.

I keep thinking about that. And a smile tugs the corner of my lips. Since Spencer - the guy who got slapped by the oyster-choked girl - approached me at the terrace, the night wasn't that awful anymore.

Who would have thought I would end my night in a diner, dressed to the nines and spouting details of my messy life to a stranger?

Monday morning comes faster than I wanted.

I spent my Sunday mostly unpacking boxes and tidying my apartment, and now, with a coffee in hand, I cross the hall to my office on the third floor of the FBI building in Quantico.

Some colleagues greet me as I pass by. I return them with a polite smile. I saw a couple of them at the gala on Saturday. I only hope they didn't notice the wreck I was that night.

On my desk, a pile of hundreds of manila folders are waiting for me.

This Monday will be a blast.

Dutifully, I reach for the first folder to start my work, as my ear perks up to two colleagues' conversation about the gala.

"Did you see them? Those hot chicks from Counterterrorism?" a male colleague says to another.

"Yeah. I heard one of them was hitting on Reid from the BAU. What a waste!" The other adds.

"And the lucky bastard wasn't able to take her home. His nerdy charm didn't even help him with that."

The mention of the BAU brings Spencer to my mind again. And I realize I don't even know his last name.

I don't think I need to know, but I can't stop my fingers from typing 'Spencer FBI BAU' on my computer.

My findings make the conversation between my colleagues intriguing. They were precisely talking about Spencer, Spencer Reid, and the girl with him at the gala. Clearly, the incident did not go unnoticed.

I don't like the tone they refer to him, either. I do not know the guy well, but I'm sure he's way better than any of the men at the venue that night.

Are you hearing yourself (Y/N)? That kind of blind trust put you in this situation with your ex in the first place.

I shouldn't grant credibility so fast, but honestly? Spencer seems to be everything but a threat. The things he said, the way he spoke. Anyway, I should stop thinking about that if I want to finish some work. Yeah, that's what I need to do.

Drowning out the noise, I return to the opened folder and continue working.

Some would ask how a task as monotonous as the one I'm doing now could be appealing to someone. The appeal for me comes from how everything fits in the right places and serves a purpose. That's enough for me, even if some people don't understand it.

My ex didn't. And as him, many others.

I'm still fighting to ease the effects their judgments had on me.

Around lunchtime, stopping the papers review, I pick up my phone to check my messages. Yesterday, I promised Andie I would have lunch with her today, so I'm checking for her confirmation and a place to meet.

Just in time, a text comes. She is free right now and suggests a restaurant just outside the building.

"Hey, girl! I'm glad you made it," she greets me as I spot her on one of the tables.

"Of course. I promised I would."

Lunchtime is only one hour, so we order quickly and go straight to the matter.

"I can't believe the son of the bitch decided to go and show off his new conquest," Andie huffs.

"Not that new, considering she has been sleeping with him in what used to be my bed at least a month before I discovered it," I correct with an annoyed look.

It's good to say these things without crying my eyes out anymore.

I tell Andie more details about how it went to share a space packed with mutuals around us and try to stay composed.

"But at some point, I just couldn't. So I retracted to the bar. I only wanted to grab a drink and be alone."

Andie nods in understanding.

"I don't blame you. So you were at the bar when you crossed to the girl to whom you did Heimlich?"

Yesterday, by phone, I told Andie the main facts regarding that, and after laughing for a solid five minutes about the whole ordeal, she made me promise to reveal more details in our lunch meeting.

That's why I'm describing what happened piece by piece.

"She slapped the guy? And she yelled at you? What a bitch! But I don't understand why he apologized on her behalf."

"Honestly? I didn't understand it, but it made sense after talking with him. The guy felt responsible, even if it wasn't related to him. It was the fact that someone had to do the right thing," I explain, with my eyes fixed on my water glass, recalling Spencer's words from that night.

I can't help but feel some fondness for his genuine worry. Andie raises an eyebrow and hums.

"The guy made a good impression on you, I see."

Andie's tone is teasing, and I know exactly where she is heading.

"Come on, don't start with that," I warn her. I'm not thoroughly annoyed, but I'm not in the mood for teasing. Andie scoffs.

"I'm just saying it's good to know there are men out there that give hopes up. That's all!"

"Sure," I mumble, not very convinced by her explanation.

The rest of our lunch follows a similar tone. When I finish telling Andie about Spencer walking me home, I know she is biting her tongue to say something to taunt me, but she holds back and opts for a question.

"Do you think you'll see him again?"

I ponder my answer. I don't know, although I remember Spencer asking, 'See you around?'

That doesn't mean we agreed to see each other again, even if I said, 'Sure, why not?'

Did Spencer mean that? Did he want to see me again?

"I don't know. Maybe. We both work in this building, so there are chances, I guess," I shrug. Andie narrows her eyes.

"But do you want to?"

That's a question I don't know how to answer, so I take some seconds to think about it.

"Let's say I'm not opposed to the idea."

A reply that could be an understatement. But not I'm telling Andie that.

She doesn't press on the matter, though. And I'm grateful she doesn't.

Now it's time to go back to work. We walk out of the restaurant to our building and separate ways at the elevator. Andie continues to the eighth floor when I hop off on the third.

Returning to my desk, I continue checking the folders piled on my desk, and my mind only focuses on that, knowing if I don't, there is no chance of getting this stack finished.

----

A good thing about the week progressing is nobody talking anymore about the damn gala. It's been a nightmare since Monday when everyone had to mention something about it. That included comments about me facing my ex there.

Of course, it was public knowledge I was dating an agent of the Criminal Investigative Division. Also, it became public knowledge he cheated on me with his current girlfriend from Counterterrorism.

But finally, it is Thursday, and everything seems to have returned to normal, so much so that the amount of work has increased exponentially. That's why I'm still at the office at seven pm.

I only assume it's time to go home when my boss pokes out of his office and calls for Andrew, one of our coworkers who distributes files and memos to the other departments.

I turn around, and it's only me at this hour. My boss notices the vacant office and is now talking to me.

"I guess I have to ask you to do this. Can you go to the sixth and drop this to Aaron Hotchner's office? I would have waited until tomorrow for Andrew, but this must be at his desk today."

I don't think I have a choice, so I pick the folder, promising to drop it before going home.

With my coat and purse, I grab the folder and stroll to the elevator.

I have been working here for four years and know every financial detail of each Quantico department, but I still need to recognize all department locations in this facility. So, floors are just floors, except the eight where Andie works.

Arriving at my destination, I walk into a bullpen, where I can see a lot of desks and offices. And just like my floor, it is almost empty. Anyway, I see one of the offices with lights on. My instinct tells me that's the place I'm looking for, and the plaque at the door confirms my suspicions: SSA Aaron Hotchner.

"Come in," a voice comes from the office when I knock.

Peeking inside, a stern-looking man is glancing in my direction. "Can I help you?" he asks with a slight frown.

"Yes, sir. I'm with the Finance Division, and my boss asked me to bring this to you," I explain as I reach out to hand him the folder. When he grabs it, realization washes over the man.

"Of course. Thank you very much-" Agent Hotchner trails off.

"(Y/L/N)," I supply, knowing he wants my last name.

"Thank you very much, Agent (Y/L/N)."

Weird.

Everyone in the finance and administrative department refers to each other only by last name. We use the 'agent' thing mainly with those who do the fieldwork, and we are used to that.

"You're welcome, Agent Hotchner," I smile politely, ready to leave the man's office. He nods approvingly.

"Hotch, sorry for interrupting you, but I'm ready with my report. I thought you wanted it-"

A man talks, entering abruptly at the office. He stops in his tracks when he sees Agent Hotchner isn't alone.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were with someone. I can come back later," he apologizes.

Wait. I know that voice.

I turn, and I see Spencer standing there. His eyes meet mine, and I feel my cheeks burn. He doesn't say anything but doesn't tear his eyes from mine.

I don't know how many seconds pass, but it's enough for Agent Hotchner to intervene.

"Reid?" he calls Spencer's attention.

"Uh?"

"The report. It's okay; you can give it to me," he tells Spencer, not without subtly bouncing his gaze between us.

"Oh. Okay." Spencer approaches Hotchner's desk, but he still directs glances at me. I want to say hi to him properly, but it doesn't feel okay knowing the man in front of us is undoubtedly his boss. I don't want him to feel uncomfortable. So, I take that as my cue to leave.

"If you excuse me," I tell Agent Hotchner, signaling my departure. Spencer looks at me, and I give him a subtle smile.

"Of course. Thank you again, Agent (Y/L/N)."

"To you, sir. Have a good evening."

I walk down the stairs to the open bullpen and toward the elevator.

Before I can push the go-down button, a voice calls my name. It's Spencer's.

"(Y/N), wait!"

I turn and see him trotting towards me.

"Hi!" he says once we are face to face.

Now I feel bad. Spencer comes here to say hi, and I didn't greet him properly just two minutes ago.

"Spencer, hi. I'm sorry, I should have said something there, but I didn't know if you wanted him to know- I mean, I supposed he was your boss, and I-"

What's wrong with me?

Why can't I explain myself without stumbling with my words?

"No. No. Don't apologize. It's okay. I should have told you something, too. But I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither. My boss sent me here instead of one of my coworkers, who left early. I didn't know this was the BAU floor. What a coincidence, uh?" I play cool, shifting my weight from one foot to another. Spencer nods in agreement.

"Totally. It's good to see you, though. I hoped we could cross paths again."

Isn't it weird that his words have produced a funny tingle in my stomach right now?

"Is that so?" I half-breath, noticing his cheeks turn a shade of pink.

"Yes. I mean, I truly enjoyed talking to you that night," he sheepishly admits.

I more than enjoyed it, Spencer.

"Yeah, me too."

Silence sets between us. And it's time to make a decision. I could say I go home and leave him with a lukewarm 'See you around,' or say I'm leaving, but before doing so, give Spencer my number so we can talk soon. Or...

"Are you busy right now? I'm heading home now, but if you can and want, we can go for a coffee."

Wow (Y/N). Very smooth. I like you smooth.

Spencer's eyes widened, and I wondered for a second if my offer was too straightforward.

"If you have plans, it's okay. We don't have to," I relent.

"Oh, no. I don't. And I would love to go for a coffee with you," Spencer hastens to say. I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Yeah?"

"Sure! If you wait for me just a second, I'll pick my things from my desk, and we can go."

----

This time, it's my turn to pick the place.

It's a small coffee shop in the middle of Virginia, just mid-way between Quantico and my apartment.

As we get on the train, I ask Spencer about Agent Hotchner.

"Hotch? Well, he has been at the unit for twelve years now. Gideon, a former agent, told me once he didn't expect Hotch to last long in the BAU. But he proved him wrong. Indeed, Gideon left, and Hotch stayed. Honestly, I can't picture the BAU with another unit chief."

There is a fondness when Spencer talks about Hotchner. I can tell he sees him more than as a superior.

"What about yours?"

Now is my turn to talk about my boss.

"Agent Williams? He is a bureaucrat from head to toe. He had just transferred from another administrative department when I joined the financial division four years ago. At that time, he had ten years working with the FBI. The guy is a genius but lacks social skills. I'm not judging him; I'm a bit like him. But in his position, he needs to make politics, which involves talking and convincing people."

The conversation with Spencer flows so well and easily that I'm as impressed as I was the night of the gala.

When we reach the coffee shop, we sit facing each other. After ordering our coffee, we start talking about our coworkers.

"So Garcia is our technical analyst. I have to say she is like the team's heart. Besides her outstanding skills, her compassion and care are something out of this world," Spencer admits, and again, I feel the fondness in his voice.

"She seems very special," I add. Spencer nods.

"Very. I don't know what it's like to have a sister, but if I had one, I would have liked someone like her.

So he doesn't have a sister. Does he have brothers, though? We have yet to talk about our families, so this is the first piece of information I get about it.

"What about the guy who came to check what was happening with your girl at the gala?" I ask, and Spencer scoff.

"First of all, Ashley isn't my girl. I think she made it pretty clear that night. And secondly, the guy in question is Morgan, the culprit of why I was with Ashley in the first place."

That's interesting. I want to know more about that.

"How is that?" I ask, sipping my coffee.

Spencer tells me how Morgan insisted they talk to the girls - Ashley and her friends - and how he reluctantly followed him.

I'm about to make a not-so-kind remark when Spencer gets ahead of me.

"I know it may seem like he is a thoughtless person, but he truly means well. I can't entirely agree with his tactics most of the time, but he's right when he tells me I should enjoy more and work less."

"It's safe to say you weren't 'enjoying' that much there," I quip, air-quoting the word 'enjoying.' Spencer chuckles.

"Yeah. Honestly? I have more fun when Morgan kicks doors down in our field chases than when he tries to play wingman for me."

What? Kick doors down?

"Wait a minute. Are you telling me that the FBI had to spend thousands of dollars in repairs for third parties last year because of him?"

I know I'm being dramatic. It's impossible that just one agent destroyed that amount of dollars by kicking doors. But still.

Spencer's eyes widen.

"What? No! I mean, yes. He does that, but thousands of dollars? Last time I checked, doors are not that expensive."

I roll my eyes. That's not the point.

"Okay. I know it's not only Agent Morgan's doing, but did you know the buro's budget had increased by 4% last year due to refunds for field operations? And did you know 70% of that increase refers to agents shattering private property?"

Now, I sound like my boss. Great. I became what I swore to destroy.

Spencer looks at me with amusement. I narrow my eyes to him. "What?"

He clears his throat. "Oh. No, nothing. It's just - well, it's fascinating to hear you talking about - uh - numbers."

I can't help but snort. "Come on, how fascinating that can be?"

Spencer grins. "If anything, I find it educative," he parrots my words from that night, and we fall into a fit of laughs.

"Yeah?" I muse after the laughter subsides. Spencer nods, still a smile gracing his face.

Gosh, that smile.

"Well, I can talk about numbers all day. But I'm sure you don't want me to 'fascinate' you that much."

Spencer hums, faking be pondering his options.

"Don't tempt me. I like to know and talk about everything. But before returning to numbers, I want to ask about your coworkers. I already talked much about mine."

Even if there is not much to say, indulging him with an answer is only fair.

"What can I say? In my area, there are three: Anthony, Leah, and me. We were four then, but Andie was promoted to the eighth floor a year ago. Anthony is a good guy, a little inexperienced, but very eager to learn. We don't have a very close relationship, but he's my protegee at work. Leah is very clever and has enough experience, but sometimes she is not present, making things a little tense between us. Andie is rightfully my friend. We got to the bureau simultaneously, and although she doesn't work with us anymore, we are very close."

Spencer is looking at me with full attention. It's odd to talk about this kind of thing with someone. I don't like to talk about my bonds in general. It makes me feel vulnerable. But for a reason that I still don't get, with Spencer, it feels right.

It's night already, and we are in our third coffee.

"Do you usually drink this amount of coffee daily at this hour? I try to cut off my dosis after lunch, but sometimes I just can't," I point as I stir the spoon on my coffee. Spencer hums.

"I drink a lot of it at any time of the day, every day. It's worse when we are on cases because that shitty coffee at the precincts should not even be called coffee," he scoffs, pouring half of the sugar pot into his cup.

I have already noticed the amount of sugar Spencer has used in his two previous coffees; this third is not the exception.

"I'm sorry, but I have to ask," I say as my eyes dart to his sweet liquid. He follows my line of sight and chuckles.

"I love coffee, but I don't like its bitterness. I know it doesn't make sense, but for me it does."

"Fair enough."

After that, our conversation stumbles to lousy sleep habits.

"Ray hated it. Even once, he told me I purposely got up in the middle of the night to annoy him."

Spencer's brow furrows.

"Ray is your ex?"

Shit. I don't realize I'm talking about him.

Why do I have to mention him? I hate how ingrained he is still in my life.

"Yeah, Raymond. No wonder why things didn't work out between us," I try to joke because I don't want to cry about it anymore.

"An example of a man," Spencer follows my lead, and I'm grateful he doesn't look at me like people usually do when I talk about it. There is no pity. There is no that look saying, 'Oh, poor girl who got cheated on.' It's like a whole understanding. It doesn't make me feel like a failure. And that's a change—a good one.

I chuckle. "Hell, he is."

It's getting late, and it's time to part ways, even if I don't want it. Hours pass quickly with such good company.

"We should get going. It's late," I point as I glance at my phone. Spencer nods in acknowledgment, signaling the waitress to get the check. He is about to fish his wallet when I stop him.

"No. Don't do that. I invited you."

Spencer scoffs, opening his wallet nonetheless.

"No way. You invited me the other night. You can do it next time."

Next time, uh? I want to say something teasing, but the waitress returns with our check.

We are outside the coffee shop now. I adjust my coat as Spencer does the same with his suit jacket. The night is chilly, and the contrast with the warmth of the coffee shop is evident.

"Can I walk you home?" He offers. I have my doubts about that. It's not that I don't like the idea; I just don't want to use more of his time.

"You don't have to. Really," I shake my head.

"Please? You already said it. It's pretty late," he insists, looking at me with dog puppy eyes.

Why is he doing that? He is testing my resolve.

"You know I can take care of myself, right? I'm a certificated FBI agent. I can't carry a gun, but sure I could manage," I argue in a teasing tone. Spencer chuckles.

"I know you are. And I'm sure you could. Even though, why no to prolong our evening for fifteen minutes long?" I raise an eyebrow.

"So you really like my company, uh?"

I'm sure I see a blush creeping his cheeks, and it's endearing.

"I like your company. I thought I made it pretty clear the other night?" he probes. And I don't know how to respond to that.

The truth is quite curious. Teasing Spencer seems so natural sometimes, but now I don't know what to say.

I decide not to say anything and nod, motioning for us to start walking.

Spencer follows me, and we walk in silence for the first block. Then, I feel the need to continue our conversation. I want these fifteen minutes to be as good as the previous two hours.

"Did you know that I used to carry a gun? Although it took me three failed tests to do so."

Spencer looks at me, surprised. I take that as my cue to tell that story.

Once I tell him how I finally managed to pass my shooting test, he starts telling me how he also failed his test a couple of times.

"So you saved your boss life shooting an unsub?" Spencer nods.

"But I really aimed to his leg, not his head," he adds, and we burst into a fit of laughter.

Without realizing it, we are already in front of my building. The laughter subsides when we notice where we are.

I clear my throat. "Well. Uh-thank you. Again," I say, referring to him walking me home.

"No need," Spencer says. "I had a good time today," he adds, smiling.

I can't help but feel my cheeks burn. Spencer casts his eyes to the ground.

"Me too," I admit, biting my bottom lip. "I - uh."

Why am I so nervous right now? Just say what you want to say!

"I - uh. I'd really like to do this again. I mean, you know, maybe next time could be something planned?"

Spencer's eyes flick to mine. I would say he didn't expect me to say that.

"I would love that," he says, keeping eye contact. And for a moment, I think the breath leaves my lungs. Those eyes are something I didn't see in my life before. I can't describe it, but it's enough to make me speechless.

"I guess it's here when I ask for your number?" Spencer's voice is the one that brings me out of the trance.

I chuckle, mid-embarrassed by my absorption moment. I gesture for him to give me the phone. Spencer does it, and I advert his piercing gaze to focus on typing my number. Once done, I return the device with a playful smile. Jeez, I feel like a damn teenager.

A snort leaves Spencer's lips when he sees the name I used for my contact.

"Really?" He asks. I nod, chuckling.

"It's safe to say you won't forget who I am," I confirm.

"Bet I won't."

"Good. Now I'm going to come up," I gesture to the building. "Good night, Spencer."

"Good night, (Y/N)."

I turn to enter the building, and although I can't see him, I feel him standing there in the cold night until I disappear into the elevator.

Once I cross the threshold of my apartment, a ding comes from my phone. Frowning, I pick it up.

Unknown number: Are you free on Saturday at midday? We could go to lunch. Let me know. Good night. SR.

I bit my lower lip. And after typing a reply, I start my night routine before bed.

Oh, boy. What are you getting into (Y/N)?

Whatever it is, it feels so good.

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

Next -> Part 3: Douchebag Falls Short in This Case

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

A/N 2: As always, I'm excited to know your thoughts about this one!

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

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #aperrywilliams #amanda perry williams

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racefortheironthrone · 7 months

Note

What did you think of X-Men Blue Origins?

(I may turn this into a People's History of the Marvel Universe later today, so keep an eye on this space.)

X-Men Blue: Origins and the Power of the Additive Retcon

(WARNING: heavy spoilers under the cut)

Introduction

If you've been a long-time X-Men reader, or you're a listener of Jay & Miles or Cerebrocast or any number of other LGBT+ X-Men podcasts, you probably know the story about how Chris Claremont wrote Mystique and Destiny as a lesbian couple, but had to use obscure verbiage and subtextual coding to get past Jim Shooter's blanket ban on LGBT+ characters in the Marvel Universe.

Likewise, you're probably also familiar with the story that, when Chris Claremont came up with the idea that Raven Darkholme and Kurt Wagner were related (a plot point set up all the way back in Uncanny X-Men #142), he intended that Mystique was Nightcrawler's father, having used her shapeshifting powers to take on a male body and impregnate (her one true love) Irene. This would have moved far beyond subtext - but it proved to be a bridge too far for Marvel editorial, and Claremont was never able to get it past S&P.

This lacuna in the backstories of Kurt and Raven - who was Kurt's father? - would remain one of the enduring mysteries of the X-Men mythos...and if there's one thing that comic writers like, it's filling in these gaps with a retcon.

Enter the Draco

Before I get into the most infamous story in all of X-Men history, I want to talk about retcons a bit. As I've written before:

"As long as there have been comic books, there have been retcons. For all that they have acquired a bad reputation, retcons can be an incredibly useful tool in comics writing and shouldn’t be dismissed out of hand. Done right, retcons can add an enormous amount of depth and breadth to a character, making their worlds far richer than they were before. Instead, I would argue that retcons should be judged on the basis of whether they’re additive (bringing something new to the character by showing us a previously unknown aspect of their lives we never knew existed before) or subtractive (taking away something from the character that had previously been an important part of their identity), and how well those changes suit the character."

For a good example of an additive retcon, I would point to Chris Claremont re-writing Magneto's entire personality by revealing that he was a Jewish survivor of the Holocaust. As I have argued at some length, this transformed Magneto from a Doctor Doom knockoff into a complex and sympathetic character who could now work as a villain, anti-villain, anti-hero, or hero depending on the needs of the story.

For a good example of a subtractive retcon, I would point to...the Draco. If you're not familiar with this story, the TLDR is that it was revealed that Kurt's father was Azazel - an evil ancient mutant with the same powers and the same appearance (albeit color-shifted) as Kurt, who claims to be the devil and is part of a tribe of demonic-looking mutants who were banished to the Brimstone Dimension, and who fathered Nightcrawler as part of a plot to end this banishment.

I don't want to belabor Chuck Austen, because I think that Connor Goldsmith is right about his run actually being a camp cult classic in retrospect. However, I think we both agree that the Draco was a misfire, because of how the retcon undermined Kurt's entire thematic purpose as established in Giant-Size X-Men that Nightcrawler was actually a noble and arguably saintly man who suffered from unjust prejudice due to the random accident that his mutation made him appear to be a demon, and because of how the retcon undermined the centrality of Mystique and Destiny's relationship.

X-Men Blue Origins

This brings us to the Krakoan era. In HOXPOX and X-Men and Inferno, Jonathan Hickman had made Mystique and Destiny a crucial part of the story in a way that they hadn't been in decades: they were the great nemeses of Moira X, they were the force that threatened to burn Krakoa to the ground by revealing the devil's bargain that Xavier had struck with Sinister (and Moira), they were the lens through which the potential futures of Krakoa were explored, and they ultimately reshaped the Quiet Council and the Five in incredibly consequential ways.

This throughline was furthered after Hickman's departure, with Kieron Gillen exploring the backstories of Mystique and Destiny in Immortal X-Men and Sins of Sinister, and both Gillen and Si Spurrier exploring their relationship with Nightcrawler in AXE Judgement Day, Sins of Sinister, Way of X, Legion of X, Nightcrawlers, and Sons of X. One of the threads that wove through the interconnected fabric of these books was an increasing closeness between Kurt and Irene that needed an explanation. Many long-time readers began to anticipate that a retcon about Kurt's parentage was coming - and then we got X-Men Blue: Origins.

In this one issue, Si Spurrier had the difficult assignment of figuring out a way to "fix" the Draco and restore Claremont's intended backstory in a way that was surgical and elegant, that served the character arcs of Kurt, Raven, and Irene, and that dealt with complicated issues of trans and nonbinary representation, lesbian representation, disability representation, and the protean nature of the mutant metaphor. Thanks to help from Charlie Jane Anders and Steve Foxe, I think Spurrier succeeded tremendously.

I don't want to go through the issue beat-by-beat, because you should all read it, but the major retcon is that Mystique turns out to be a near-Omega level shapeshifter, who can rewrite themselves on a molecular level. Raven transformed into a male body and impregnated Irene, using bits of Azazel and many other men's DNA as her "pigments." In addition to being a deeply felt desire on both their parts to have a family together, this was part of Irene's plan to save them both (and the entire world) from Azazel's schemes, a plan that required them to abandon Kurt as a scapegoat-savior (a la Robert Graves' King Jesus), and to have Xavier wipe both their memories.

Now, I'm not the right person to write about what this story means on a representational level; I'll leave it to my LGBT+ colleagues on the Cerebrocast discord and elsewhere to discuss the personal resonances the story had for them.

What I will say, however, is that I thought this issue threaded the needle of all of these competing imperatives very deftly. It "fixed" the Draco without completely negating it, it really deepened and complicated the characters and relationships of both Raven and Irene (by showing that, in a lot of ways, Destiny is the more ruthless and manipulative of the two), and it honored Kurt's core identity as a man of hope and compassion (even if it did put him in a rather thankless ingénue role for much of the book).

It is the very acme of an additive retcon; nothing was lost, everything was gained.

I still think the baby Nightcrawler is just a bad bit, but then again I don't really vibe with Spurrier's comedic stylings.

#xmen #xmen meta #raven darkholme #kurt wagner #irene adler #xmen blue #nightcrawler #mystique #destiny #chris claremont #si spurrier #krakoa #retcons #xmen spoilers #hoxpox

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humanityinahandbag · 2 years

Text

Steddie Modern AU: TikTok

Steve would absolutely be that guy who would not understand TikTok. He and Eddie are older by the time it comes out, and most of the content there is of young kids going completely buck wild. Steve of course disapproves, hands on his hips, huffing about no supervision these days even though he was absolutely a terror in high school.

Eddie, rock star that he is, gets it to an extent. "They're expressing themselves!" he'd say.

Steve would only shake his phone around and point aggressively to a video playing on loop of a young man dancing along to some new trendy song, trying his hardest to seem cool and popular. "This isn't expression," he'd say, mother hen voice at top volume. "This is them trying to peacock to the world!"

"You did that once, too, Stevie."

"Yeah, and I was a little shit!"

And so Steve, in an effort to curb the young teenage population and keep them from making his mistakes (mostly due to parental neglect and hopeless, crushing self deprivation), would start his own TikTok channel.

"Hey there," he says into the camera, because for all the pride around his good looks, he has zero clue how to record a video of himself. "My names Steve, and I've been noticing a bunch of you on here who are out of control! Listen to me, alright? You need to dial it back. All that shit in high school is completely null and void when you're an adult. Trust me. From a former popular asshole, there's better shit you could be doing. Now let me show you how to scramble an egg."

His videos mostly consist of simple lessons. Giving out little pieces of advice. Teaching them basic life skills he had to learn on his own. How to cook. How to clean. How to iron a polo shirt. How to style your hair. How to do laundry. How to do basic first aid.

He often becomes transparent, telling them about his own childhood.

Sometimes he brings Eddie into his videos.

"This is my husband's favorite," he says, by way of explanation as he shows TikTok how to make pasta sauce from scratch. "He used to eat spaghetti out of a can. A fucking can!"

Despite his posturing on stage, Eddie becomes shy whenever a camera is in his face, and ducks his head away, smiling quietly towards the camera. "It's not that bad," he says.

"Not that- The sodium in that could kill an elephant!" Steve laughs.

"Yeah, well... I don't want you doing too much for me."

"I like doing things for you."

Eddie flushes and ducks his head, hiding his face away behind a curtain of curls.

Steve leans over a kisses his temple, pushing him gently out of frame where he'll be more comfortable, before turning back to the camera. "Anyway, this recipe is great if you're on your own for long periods of time. Especially because you can freeze some for later. Now the trick here is garlic. Let me show you how to peel it without making a huge mess!"

It's a month later where Dustin shows up at their door and shoves his phone into Steve's face. "Why the fuck," he'd snap, "are you trending?"

It turns out, the tiny community that Steve had been lecturing to wasn't as small as he originally thought.

There are so many kids out there desperate for parental affection, and they look to Steve, feeding off his pride, his kindness, his stories, his advice. Not only that but the fact that they get to see a former bully, a former popular kid, a man who grew up from neglect, become someone happy and married?

That's just... so wonderful.

"I've been on TikTok from the beginning and I only have, like, two thousand followers."

"So what? I don't have that many."

"You've got three million, Steve," said Dustin. Steve was not expecting that, squinting at the phone screen in his face. "Three fucking million! People are stitching your videos saying you guys are their new dads," Dustin squawked. "How did you not know you were this popular!?"

"I didn't know how to check my follower count!" Steve said, sincerely. It wasn't like he actually checked the thing! He just enjoyed making videos.

"You're so old."

"Hey," said Eddie from the kitchen, "don't talk about your mother that way."

"Yeah!" agreed Steve. "Don't talk to me that way! Now get into my next video so I can introduce you to your three million siblings."

And that is why I firmly believe that, if given the chance, Steve (and subsequently, Eddie) would absolutely become the internet's favorite parental figure(s).

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

Text

cigarettes & coffee (carmy x fem!reader songfic)

summary: carmy can't sleep and neither can you. after moving in together you spend a morning drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. (part of the make my heart surrender verse, but can absolutely be read as a standalone piece).

word count: 1.2k

warnings: smoking, she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, but i don't think any others

listen to: cigarettes & coffee - otis redding

a/n: just a lil something to hold the carmy fandom over while i work on some engagemet smut and the prequel to make my heart surrender

"it's early in the morning about a quarter til three, i'm sittin' here talkin' with my baby over cigarettes and coffee."

"Can't sleep?" Carmy hears you say, your soft footsteps filling his ears.

He's curled up next to the windowsill, inside of the reading nook that's tucked perfectly into the apartment's alcove.

"Nah," you shake your head, your footsteps carrying over to your now shared open kitchen.

You notice that he's opened one of the windows and is fumbling around with an unopened pack of cigarettes.

"Sorry did I wake you?" he asks, just a hint of nervousness in the sound of his voice.

"It's okay," you respond, quietly reassuring him.

And it is okay.

But it's also going to be an adjustment.

"darling, I've been so satisfied, honey, since I met you, baby, since I met you."

You start making your morning coffee as you can hear Carmy beginning to fidget with his lighter. Carmy has a marlboro pressed in between his lips as he listens to you. He shifts forward from where he sits so that he can move the needle of your record player back over to the dark-colored vinyl you both were listening to the night before. He half-smiles as he watches the record begin to spin, turning the volume down just a hair from where it was the night before.

The love he has for vintage denim is the same love you have for vintage records, you'd explained to him when you'd first met.

You'd really lucked out yesterday by finding this old copy of Otis Redding's "The Soul Album" at the used bookstore a couple of blocks away. You'd purchased it as a symbol of you and Carmy's new chapter. Every time you wanted to remember this phase of your life, you could pull the vinyl from its sleeve and take a trip down memory lane.

"but it seemed so natural, darling, that you and I are here, just talking over cigarettes and drinking coffee."

Carmy takes a look around at the mess in your -- well, now the both of your -- apartment. Unpacking amidst the move felt like it would never end, and he felt bad about the state of disarray he'd left your apartment in. Pushing the thoughts from his mind, he lights up the end of his marlboro in avoidance.

He inhales the smoke deeply -- a somewhat frustrated and burdened quality to it.

You chuckle to yourself.

Yes. This is who you get to wake up to every morning: the man that you love, your best friend, your lover who sometimes carries the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"What's on your mind?" you ask softly, setting a timer on your phone for your French press.

Carmy sighs as he exhales the smoke, angling his face in the direction of the open window.

Sure, you'd both agreed he wouldn't smoke in the house but... it would take some getting used to.

"The agnolotti you made me a few weeks ago," he finally answers, his eyes fixed on the sun peaking just underneath the horizon.

Of course he's thinking about a menu.

"For The Bear?" you ask, curiously.

"Maybe. What do you think?" he asks back, turning his head to look at you.

You turn to him, your back pressed against the kitchen counter as you say: “I thought you said you already tried a stuffed pasta."

The corners of his lips curl into the smallest smile as he answers, “Not yours.”

You smile softly, thinking it over.

A few weeks ago, before the madness of the move, you'd been on a creative bender. You'd dreamed up a savory braised leek agnolotti del plin with a lemon beurre monte to brighten up the dish. You and Carmy had been working opposite shifts as of late, and it had worked out perfectly that you'd been able to surprise him with a home cooked meal when he'd gotten off of a particularly challenging shift.

"It could work," you state, a strategy beginning to unfold in your mind.

"We could do a little R&D with it as a special before committing to something that detail oriented. Think it would still work with the flow of things. Not too much extra work for Manny and Angel? Maybe Syd would be up for the challenge...? Or maybe you and I could work on it together."

"I'll throw it out there... talk it over with Sydney," he replies, coming to a temporary pause on the thought.

Carmy continues smoking his cigarette as you busy yourself with the remaining dishes left over in the sink. Since you started moving him in, it'd mostly been takeout or ordering a pizza -- neither of you having the energy to cook between the move and the restaurant.

"and oh, my heart cries out, love at last I've found you, oh, and honey, won't you let me just build my whole life around you?"

As your timer goes off for the coffee, you push pause on dishes and dry yours hands off.

You make up one of your little serving trays with two mugs, filling both cups 3/4 of the way. You add the remaining coffee, still in the French press, and the remaining milk you have in your fridge, to the tray.

Ready for your morning coffee, you turn around, tray in hand, as you take in the image of your handsome boyfriend. He's exhaling the smoke out of the window, his back pressed up against one of the walls of the alcove. The sun is just starting to rise, and you can't help but think he looks like an old hollywood movie star with the way that the sunlight hits his face.

You can't believe you get to wake up to this every single morning now.

"i would love to have another drink of coffee, now, and please, darling, help me smoke this one more cigarette, now, i don't want no cream and sugar, 'cause I've got you now, darling."

Sure, you'd agreed you wouldn't smoke in the house but when he looks this good doing it, you don't have the heart to stop him. You make your way to where he sits in the apartment's little reading nook before setting down the tray of coffee.

He looks to you, noticing the amused look on your face as your eyes flicker over to his cigarette. He looks down for a moment, before looking back to you, his blue eyes catching yours.

"Am I in trouble?" he asks, a small smirk on his lips. You pick up your cup of coffee taking a sip before responding.

You shake your head, "Not this time."

You lean in towards Carmy, and just as he thinks you're going to kiss him, you take the cigarette from him, trading him your coffee cup. He watches you, completely enchanted with you as you curl up on the other side of the seating area. With your back pressed up against the closed window and your feet hanging off of the reading nook seating, you bring the cigarette up to your lips to inhale.

Carmy takes a sip of your coffee as you exhale, facing towards the open window just like he'd done previously.

His chest filled to the brim with warmth, he asks you, "How're you mine?"

You shrug, the corners of your lips curling into a smile you reply, "Guess we both got lucky, huh?"

"it's so early in the morning, and I've got you and you've got me, and we'll have each other, and we don't, and we don't want nothing but joy."

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #make my heart surrender #still into you #carmy #songfic #song recs

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pleasingsatellite · 2 years

Note

Bestie can write to Instagram where the reader is dating Harry and she is a person with a normal life, outside of this celebrity world, and one day Harry makes the mistake of commenting on one of the photos of the reader with his public account.

I’m just going to use harry’s actual finsta as his finsta in this post 🫶🏻 but act like no one knows it him lol

liked by yourfriend1, yourfriend2 and 372 others

yourinstagram today drained me.

view all 78 comments

yourfriend its giving dramatic

yourfriend is must be draining being so pretty, don't know how you do it every day 😐

↳yourinstagram someone has to do it 🤷🏼‍♀️

scottysakamoto yeah getting coffee and looking pretty exhausts me too, I know how you feel.

↳yourinstagram In my defence the coffee shop is like a 30 minute walk from our hotel

liked by harryfan1, harryfan2 and 45,729 others

hsdaily harry walking around nyc today with some friends!

view all 462 comments

harryfan1 I love when my man wears a hat backwards damn 😅

harryfan2 the little curls peaking out of the sides will do it for me everytime

harryfan3 I thrive when fratrry makes a debut

harryfan4 Apparently he was spotted at a coffee shop with some girl later in the day anyone know who she is?

↳harryfan5 nope, probably just a friend

liked by yourfriend1, scottysakamoto and 289 others

yourinstagram hot girl walk of the day

view all 20 comments

yourfriend slayyyyyy

yourfriend whatcha listening to?

↳ yourinstagram this indie singer named harry styles, you probably don't know him

scottysakamoto Is this why you arent answering my texts??

↳yourinstagram oh I've been gone for like an hour calm yourself

yourfriend ya'll stress me out, harry's fans are like the FBI they're going to find his finsta eventually

↳yourinstagram hehe it's fun though, I like having a secret 🤭

liked by yourfriend1, harrystyles and 1,729 others

yourinstagram heyyyyy

view 890 comments

yourfriend damn no photo credits?

yourfriend lil miss new yorker

harrystyles come back to the arena I miss you

↳yourinstagram HARRY OMG WRONG ACCOUNT

harryfan1 omg wtf who is this why is harry commenting on her pictures?

harryfan2 shut up harry has a finsta, the scottysakamoto account is his all his friends and family follow it 😧

↳harryfan3 is this his girlfriend??? Is this who people have said they saw him with???

liked by harryfan1, harryfan2 and 2,729,920 others

harrystyles Love on Tour. New York City V. August, 2022.

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harryfan1 so we just not going to acknowledge the elephant in the room

harryfan2 rip singlerry, you'll be missed

harryfan3 had a whole girlfriend this entire time huh

harryfan4 you guys are so dramatic like no wonder they were so secretive

harryfan5 okay but she's really pretty too bad ya'll made her private her account

jefezoff ........call me.

liked by yourfriend1, scottysakamoto and 215 others

yourinstagram going private, thanks harry 🫶🏻

view all 37 comments

yourfriend girl I saw this coming!!!!

yourfriend at least you look really hot as you have your privacy invaded

scottysakamoto .......oops

↳ yourinstagram delete this account immediately 😐

yourfriend I can only imagine the amount of follow requests you and harry both have right now 🤭

↳ scottysakamoto I don't even think the number I'm looking at right now exists.

↳yourinstagram I had to turn my phone off from the notifications

liked by harryfan1, harryfan2 and 34,729 others

harrysatellite I found these on y/n’s instagram before she went private they’ve been together for so long and we didn’t know at all literally how?

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harryfan1 I didn't even think harry hiding a gf was possible

harryfan2 I don't know how no one found anything out until now like I'm pretty sure they've been dating for over a year

harryfan3 she's really pretty, does anyone know anything about her?

↳ harryfan4 from what I can tell she's super normal like went to college and all that

harryfan5 pretty sure they met either through mutual friends or something like that, it looks like she lives in London

harryfan6 I think everyone just assumed she worked for him when they were spotted together or if she was at his shows

Enjoy! Sometimes writing comments gets hard so this was fun getting to write from friends and harry's finsta :)

#harry styles fake social media #harry styles fake ig #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles headcannon #harry styles fic

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shuttershocky · 8 months

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Based on my (limited) experiences following the Type Moon fandom, it seems like there's such a wall between the fans of the "OG stuff" (mostly Mahoyo, Tsukihime, Kara no Kyoukai, FSN) and people who started with/also enjoy Grand Order, it looks like such a one sided thing where the fans of the older stuff tend to hate on FGO's writing and whatever it might have done to have done to Type Moon and Nasu's priorities, while the FGO fans just seem to enjoy the story while still being happy enough to support the OG stuff (Mahoyo/TsukiRe english release for example)

That incoherent wall of text is basically set up for me to ask what *you* think of FGO as someone who I imagine came from the older works. I'm curious about how you feel about the writing and stories in particular, from the arcs where Nasu started to be more involved (I haven't played them, but I believe it's Camelot?) since that's where I heard they started to get more elaborate. Do they live up to the experiences you've had with TM's other works?

Sorry for the long question, and I hope you have a great day!

Wow. I've been here for an incredibly long time if people no longer know about how much I used to play FGO.

Anyway, I would say what really sets FGO apart, not just from the rest of Type-Moon but even from other Fate works, is its scale, both in terms of the storytelling and its real life commercial value.

The hate you see many non-FGO playing TM fans have toward FGO is resentment towards how much it has simply taken up Type-Moon as a whole. The Tsukihime Remake was announced all the way back in 2008 and released in 2021 for example, partly because FGO taking off the way it did in 2015 meant it took up all their time and effort. They could not focus on anything else.

As their biggest moneymaker, it also began to warp the production of other works around it, as FGO had now become the main way by which people got into Type-Moon. Therefore, all things had to appeal to FGO fans in order to sell whether that was Fate/Extella Link pulling in FGO cast members like Scathach and Arjuna into the game, or Fate/Apocrypha's anime adaptation including as many FGO cameos as possible like Medea Lily (what was she even doing there lmao).

Of course, just adding FGO references doesn't automatically make something bad. Fate/Samurai Remnant for example has made fantastic use of FGO characters while mixing them in with new ones. However, you also get stuff like Melty Blood Type-Lumina having Saber, Ushiwakamaru, Dantes, and Mash all in the game while old fan favorite Melty Blood characters like Sion and Len are nowhere to be seen. You know that "Wi-fi is okay if you're close to the router" Melty Blood meme? That character Nanaya Shiki isn't even playable in the latest Melty Blood. When you see that and see not one, not two, but THREE FGO characters taking their place (Saber's a free pass), you'd see why there's a lot of resentment built up towards FGO by older Type-Moon fans.

As I said before, the difference isn't just in its commercial scale, but also in its creative one. Even in the most outlandish of settings, Type-Moon works are almost always smaller scale, character-centric pieces. Fate/Extra took place inside a supercomputer on the Moon, but it was about a glitch making an AI fight in a death battle between humans, and how that formerly blank AI feeling danger and wanting to live blurred the lines between what is human and what isn't. Tsuki No Sango (Coral of the Moon) was about a world 3000 years in the future, but the entire thing was a little space man in the palm of a girl's hand, listening to a love story about a man and a computer on the Moon.

For all its many similarities to previous TM works, FGO is still ultimately a save the world type of story. It starts with a demon destroying all of time, and then turns into a death game between entire timelines. It's big, it's bombastic, and it's instantly accessible, the kind of story structure you want to be able to fit the gacha format of an endless stream of new characters while keeping the ship steady with an overarching plot that lets you keep meeting an endless stream of new characters.

That's not really what I'm a TM fan for. I played FGO for its first 3 years, and once they brought out the Lostbelts I realized I was already satisfied and did not want to read yet another big world saving adventure plot all over again. I was pretty happy with how the first arc ended already, so my interest in continuing FGO shriveled up soon after.

Quality wise I'd say FGO is a very mixed bag, inevitable when FGO itself is a mix of very different writers (who themselves can be pretty inconsistent, Nasu included). Plenty of FGO chapters have also been cursed with subpar adaptations (looking at you, Camelot and Babylonia), further muddying the perceived quality of the stories.

I will say when FGO is bad, it's really bad (and often pretty racist), but when it's good, it's really good. For what I consider to be a mediocre baseline, FGO has some incredibly high peaks that rival the best in Type-Moon, and even when something is just okay execution wise (like Shimousa), some of the characters, concepts, and story beats are just so damn cool that they become intensely emotional and impactive all the same and inspire superior adaptations and follow up works (like Shimousa).

That being said, my favorite stories in FGO were the ones that would use much smaller scale, isolated adventures with a far stronger focus on characterization and emotional arcs that follow its thematic ones. Aeaean Spring Breeze is one of the best examples, being a tiny event about helping Circe move on from having been rejected by Odysseus in life, with some incredibly solid character work and a great understanding of how to mix the needs of a light-hearted comedy event with making genuine, emotionally compelling moments from a character that almost never speaks from the heart.

#in case I haven't made it obvious yet read the Shimousa Manga

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centipedelightning · 10 months

Note

Could you do an Undertale, Underfell, and maybe Underswap with an enderman-like S/O, like they're really tall, jet black skin, can teleport, the whole shebang. But instead of eye contact making them aggressive, it just makes them really anxious and on edge.

(To clarify, I see teleporting and short cutting as to different things. Teleporting is instantaneous disappearing and then reappearing while shortcutting is more like a portal type thing)

(Love your hcs, btw. Here, have some chocolate 🍫 ❤️)

Enderman-like OCs and stuff are always so cool bc Endermen are cool. And thank you!! can't have chocolate without strawberries though! so here !! 🍓🍓🍓. I agree btw! I don't always write it, but I've always seen shortcuts as needing to happen at the edge of the screen/at certain points in the world like doorways. So portal-like if you don't think about it too much!

| UT/UF/US x Enderman-esque!Reader || Romantic || Fluff |

Sans

How neat!

Up until meeting you, he's been the only Monster that can disappear and reappear he knows.

On the surface, he definitely likes to race you and see who can get further faster. The deciding factor is genuinely only on if you can teleport before Sans can get to a shortcut.

Y'all's score is about even.

Listen. This man is like 5'2" (~157cm). Even if you aren't exceptionally tall, like 6' (~182cm), he has to try to look in your eyes.

Try to tell him pretty early on in the relationship, but even if you put it off you really don't need to worry too much.

For others though, he tries to act as a mediator to give you a second to prepare yourself.

His life as a stand-up comedian has also given him a few tips and tricks to help you.

Things like "Look just slightly past the person you're talking to" and "Look right between their eyes"

Once you guys are pretty established in your relationship Sans makes sure to keep something for you to hold onto in his pocket.

Sometimes it's a fidget toy. Sometimes it's a roll of tape he snagged out of the junk drawer on the way out the door.

Truly depends on the day.

Papyrus

"PLEASE TELL ME YOU DON'T USE YOUR TELEPORTING TO BE A LAZY-BONES LIKE MY BROTHER"

Tred... Carefully here.

He thinks it's neat sure, but if he catches you teleport from the couch to the kitchen for a snack back to the couch prepare to be lectured.

He's not mad at you he's just passionate.

You can buy his silence very easily if you are willing to surprise him with a grocery run without needing to drive.

Papyrus is scary good at reading people, so if you don't mention that you can't do eye contact, he'll figure it out by the end of the day.

So, regardless of whether you tell him or not, he will start fully turning his head away from you while you guys talk.

He doesn't even need to be able to see your face normally.

He can be doing something with his back to you and he will instinctively turn his head.

Yes, that does probably mean he turned enough to see you slightly.

That also means he can see what he's doing less so you might want to remind him to look forward lest y'all have a mess.

As a crafty guy, he'll make you some little item for you to hold onto if you need to.

Introduce him to fidget toys. He'll lose his mind.

Red

Stressed mostly.

Underground, someone who can teleport is bad news.

Once you get into his good graces, he's your biggest fan.

Have you ever been a living taxi? Do you want to be? regardless of the answer Red is gonna try to mooch a free trip out of you all the time.

Similar to Sans, he's short. You really don't need to worry about constant eye contact from him.

Or any Monster for that matter. I've always seen Fell-verses as not being eye contact heavy for probably obvious reasons.

Red still does try to give you some tips and they are somewhat similar to Sans'.

He likes to whittle things with interesting textures for you to hold and mess with.

Think something like a little animal figure with ridges and bumps and stuff.

Edge

So here's the thing about Edge.

He is not dumb and he is very emotionally intelligent.

That awareness of the world does not overpower his lack of chill.

He makes the Most Intense eye contact with people and you are going to need to tell him to knock it off.

Because you can be completely turned away from him and you will still feel his gaze.

Once your relationship progresses more, he stops trying to turn you to stone with his eye sockets.

By that point, he will also be comfortable telling you to do whatever you want so you don't need to worry yourself about looking in other people's eyes. If they say anything he is more than ready to tell them off for you.

Obviously, he also has a similar worry to his brother about your teleportation. At least initially. He's in the royal guard and a high-ranking member at that! He has a right to be a little wary.

What he won't tell you is that he's easy to please so you can do the bare minimum to prove your friendship/interest in him and he folds.

If you're the type that's into it, he really enjoys sparring with you. He thinks your teleporting is a really fun challenge.

Edge will find you the tiniest, most obscenely complex puzzle boxes on the market to give you.

He says it's something about keeping your mind sharp but it's more so insurance that you won't get bored of it too quickly.

That and he likes bragging about his datemate being able to solve complex puzzles.

Blue

Despite the height difference, he looks you in the eyes super hard all the time.

It's not to be mean or anything! He's just passionate and forgetful.

This is one of the few guys where avoiding eye contact is gonna be more on you.

He'll notice after a bit during conversation and relax a bit but until then...

He thinks your teleporting is pretty neat!

He's not crazy about the lazy applications of your ability, but who's he to tell you to stop teleporting?

He complains even less once he realizes you can take the both of you on spontaneous, last-minute date nights.

He likes to give you his things to hold onto.

He tries to keep it to a reasonable size but you have ended up with one of his action figures before.

Guess you can carry it in a bag?

If you like much smaller objects he'll give you cool rocks out of his collection

Stretch

He was already a couch potato before meeting you, he's even worse now.

To shortcut he still has to get up and walk to a spot where he can but you? You can just poof from wherever?

Yeahhhh you're on snack duty from now until forever. That includes the convenience store.

Force him to come with you. Don't let him get too comfortable.

Stretch isn't big on eye contact himself, so neither of you has ever had a problem with it.

Stretch will find you cool knickknacks to hold onto. usually super little ones with a button or switch. Something tactile.

If it's your style, he is also willing to sew you a little stuffed animal or something. It makes it happy to know it's being loved regularly.

#papyrus x reader #sans x reader #undertale x reader #undertale imagines #undertale scenarios #ut!papyrus #ut!sans #uf!papyrus #uf!sans #us!papyrus #us!sans #x reader #underfell x reader #underswap x reader #•centipede writes•

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7-wonders · 3 months

Text

At the Edge of the Universe

Michael Langdon x Reader (Mad Love Act II, Chapter XIV)

Summary: It’s time to meet the residents of Outpost 3 as Michael begins his interviews to see who will make it to the Sanctuary (spoiler alert: not many).

Word count: 4.1k

A note from the author: Surprise Mad Love drop! We are down to our last three or four chapters, can you believe it? I've told myself that I'm not allowed to write anything else until I finish this, so expect updates semi-frequently. Goal is to get this bad boy finished by June! As always—hope you enjoy, and remember that likes, comments, and reblogs make my world go round!

Mad Love Masterlist

This is your fourth Outpost visit, and as you look out at the small crowd of survivors gathered in the sitting room of Outpost 3, you believe that you can confidently say that every one of them looks exactly the same.

Not appearance-wise, of course. Overseers are allowed to establish their own rules for their respective Outposts, including wardrobes. Most had been pretty laidback, actually. Outpost 3 is by far the most draconian, and you’re already regretting not pushing back on Michael’s decision to have you join him as you sweat in your stiff Victorian gown.

Though outfits and rules may change, what doesn’t is the faces. Every single time, when you and Michael arrive and make your introductions, the faces of the survivors are filled with hope. The hope of new drama, the hope of continued survival, the hope of a way out of the Outpost. It’s so familiar now, and each time, it’s pained you to see. These people that the apocalypse has spared, whether due to circumstance or societal standing, have no idea that they’re just pawns in Michael’s game of chess. No, worse than pawns. They’re nothing but dolls, amusement for Michael to play with before tossing them to the side like they’re worthless.

“My name is Langdon,” Michael starts. Instead of introducing you, he looks to you to introduce yourself, and you press your lips together to keep from smirking. Oh, he’s so going to regret this.

He immediately does the moment that you introduce yourself with your first and last name. Your legal last name, the one you were born with, and not that of your infernal husband. You can feel him looking at you, surely with barely-contained rage. Instead of looking back, you simply smile warmly at the occupants of Outpost 3, waiting for Michael to get back with the program.

“We won’t sugarcoat the situation,” he says after a brief stumble. “Humanity is on the brink of failure. Our arrival here is crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth.”

There are a couple of other things that don’t change from Outpost to Outpost, you note as you watch the interaction that unfolds. The questions, for instance, are almost always the same, and almost always asked out of turn in a way that is guaranteed to infuriate Michael. What happened to everybody, what’s the Sanctuary, will some survive, etc. You clock every single question—even robot Ms. Mead’s, though that one wasn’t too surprising since you knew how she was reprogrammed—and listen as Michael gives the same answers that he always does.

Something else that doesn’t change? The abject lust displayed by a good contingent of the survivors. Michael’s a very attractive man, which you obviously know. 18 months is a long time to be surrounded by a very small amount of people day in and day out, and now that there’s fresh blood offering them a chance at salvation, they’ll do anything to convince him that they’re worthy. You frown as the survivors jockey for his attention, to be first.

Not because you’re jealous or anything. It seems as though the only aspect of Michael’s personality that has remained untouched through his rebirth into a full-fledged Antichrist is his devotion to you. No, you frown because you know that Michael loves to use this to his advantage. After all, lust is one of the seven deadly sins.

“What was that?” Michael asks after the introduction is over and as soon as the doors close behind you in the office in which the interviews will be conducted.

“What?” you ask coyly, playing a game of your own.

“You know what.”

“Oh, that?” Michael nods exasperatedly. “Langdon’s not my last name.”

You’re not sure if he looks more angered or bewildered, though the combination does have a pleasing shade of red creeping up his neck. “Of course it is, you’re my wife!”

“Not legally,” you retort.

“Well, we can’t exactly go to a courthouse to make it legal.”

“Hmm, maybe you should have waited for us to get to the point where I wanted to get legally married before ending the world.”

Michael’s jaw clenches, and he smirks. “Clever, though I have to say that your attitude is getting old.”

“And yours isn’t?”

You’re both breathing heavily as you glare, daring the other to continue. You fight with Michael so often now that this is a familiar dance, and you know the next move. He goes to kiss you, and though you’re certainly tempted, you put a hand up to stop him.

“No! No, we are not having sex right now.” You try to sound convincing, though you might be attempting to convince yourself more than Michael. It’s just so easy to resort to sex. It’s the one thing that you both agree on in this new world—that you’re good at having sex together. Plus, that’s one of the only times that you don’t completely hate him, and though it pains you to admit it, you look forward to those moments when you forget why you should think him a monster.

Michael raises an eyebrow. “We could, though.”

“No.”

To drive the point home, you put as much space between you as possible and go to the desk that holds all of the files of every Outpost 3 resident. If there’s one thing that gets Michael’s mind out of the gutter, it’s talking about his magnum opus: the apocalypse.

“What’s Dinah doing here?” That had been quite the shock, to greet Outpost 3 and find yourself meeting the eyes of the (now former, you suppose) voodoo queen. Though her own had widened in a frightened recognition, she looked down at her hands and kept her gaze there for the remainder of the meeting. The man next to her, her son, was one of those who instantly fell a little bit in love with Michael.

“She bought her spot, just like all the other rich fucks.”

“So she won’t be joining us back at the Sanctuary,” you tease.

“Absolutely not, especially now that I have no use for her and her powers.”

Ever since ending the world, Michael’s powers have blossomed into a whole different beast. He’s so powerful now that you don’t even know the extent, and you don’t think you want to. Where before, he would have needed the help of a voodoo queen or the Supreme when doing something especially complicated or out of his wheelhouse (such as enlisting Dinah’s help when you ate Satan’s poisoned apple or getting a spell from Mallory to reveal the ghost of Cordelia Goode), now, their powers would be worthless to him. You’re no expert when it comes to magic, but you think that his power must be equal to at least ten Supremes.

You certainly don’t want to test that theory.

“How many survivors will be accompanying us back to the Sanctuary, do you think?” you ask.

“Considering I’m not hopeful about interviews, there will be two. A man and a woman, both selected for their optimal genetics.” The interviews are never something to be hopeful over, because they almost always are a disappointment. In the other twelve Outposts, there have been a total of nine survivors that impressed Michael enough with interviews alone that he spared them from their original fates and gave them a spot at the Sanctuary.

“If I had to guess, I’d say it’s the two that are very obviously in love with each other.”

“Which ones?”

You rifle through the folders until you find two with pictures that match who you were looking at in the library. “These two. Timothy and Emily.”

He looks up at you curiously. “How could you tell?”

“When they weren’t watching you, they were staring at each other.”

Though the two were sat across the room from each other, their eyes were continually drawn together like magnets of differing polarities. You’re a little shocked that Michael couldn’t tell, considering his ‘night vision of the soul,’ as he calls it.

You just call it his creepy Antichrist powers.

You try not to, but you find yourself beginning to look through all of the files. They’re all fairly simple; a headshot, a bio, medical information. Really, Michael only uses them to look official and mysterious as he begins to pick their personalities apart bit by bit. For you however, they help to get to know the survivors, even just a little bit.

That’s precisely why you don’t like looking through these, why you don’t like these visits at all. Because knowing them, and knowing their ultimate fates, is something that makes you sick. Maybe that’s the price you’re forced to pay by the universe for being the Antichrist’s wife. You’re forced to be complicit in the continued mind games and eventual deaths of these people who thought that they were somehow safe after the bombs dropped.

Michael scoffs at the next file you flip open. “That’s one interview I’m dreading.”

“Her?”

“Mhm, Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt.” His words drip with disdain.

Coco…the name strikes some level of familiarity, but you can’t remember where you would have met a Coco. She didn’t look familiar when you saw her and her…interesting hair in the sitting room. She’s obviously a socialite, so maybe she was trending for some scandal or another in the Before. It’s so hard to remember that time, not only for the pain, but because it feels like an entire lifetime ago.

(Was it really only eighteen months ago that you were preparing for graduation, scrolling through social media, and participating in regular 21st-century society?)

One person who does look familiar? The white-haired stylist whose work Coco sports and the one who claimed the first interview spot before anybody else, Mr. Gallant. You’d recognize him anywhere—his confidence in you was one of the sole reasons you had the courage to go down the stairs and join Michael for your first Cooperative function. But as for him?

“Mr. Gallant didn’t recognize us,” you broach.

“No, he wouldn’t. Those whose services are needed by the Cooperative but aren’t trusted enough to keep their mouths shut are…conditioned to forget.”

“You brainwash them,” you clarify.

“I don’t.” His lips twitch at his own joke. Of course, he doesn’t. That would be getting his hands dirty, which he hates doing, especially now that he has all the resources in the (under)world at his disposal.

“My bad.”

“You’re so interested in this group of survivors. Does that mean you’ll be joining me for interviews?”

When you joined Michael for the first time, at Outpost 6, you said yes when he asked you this question. It was something different, after all, and you were at first interested in being a part of the process and getting to know some new survivors. Of course, this was all before you actually sat in on the first couple of interviews and witnessed Michael’s interview ‘style’ firsthand.

You roll your eyes. “Ugh, no. I hate all the weird sexual tension you have with everyone you interview.”

Naturally, Michael gets the wrong idea and thinks that you’re jealous. He places his hands on the arms of your chair, and leans in until he can meet your eyes. “You’re my one and only, you know that.”

“I do.” You stare back at him unflinchingly. “Doesn’t mean I like it.”

“The sexual tension or that you’re my soulmate?” You simply raise an eyebrow in response, and Michael sighs before straightening up. “Well, a Gray should be arriving at any moment with Mr. Gallant, so if you don’t want to see any ‘weird sexual tension,’ I would suggest leaving now.”

“Alright then, guess I’ll give myself a tour around ol’ Hawthorne.”

Michael pouts. “I was planning on taking you around tonight after Venable’s curfew.”

“Oh, that sucks. Have fun.” You give him a friendly pat on the shoulder as you leave the room.

Outpost 3 isn’t the largest Outpost you’ve visited, but it’s still pretty expansive. In most cases, this would mean lots of exploring to do. Unfortunately, it seems that Ms. Venable has stripped this place of anything that would make it unique. Hall after hall looks exactly the same in a way that would be disorienting if you weren’t keeping track of your whereabouts. The same boring, gray walls, the same black doors, the same frightened Grays scurrying around.

(If you had to pick the worst part about this Outpost so early on, you’d have to go with the forced servitude of some of the survivors here. Most of the other Outposts had a glorified chore chart that distributed tasks equally among survivors. Others had special privileges given to those who volunteered to work. This system? Well, this system has you hoping that Michael’s especially tough on Ms. Venable during her interview.)

After coming to the unfortunate conclusion that this is about as interesting as it’s going to get for you, you make your way back to where it all started: the library. This room at least has some character, between the fireplace and the music playing. Yes, it might be the same song on repeat, played on a vintage radio, but at least it’s something.

As it turns out, you won’t be alone. The two that you had noticed earlier, the ones that couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other, are holding hands and whispering to each other on the couch. They spring apart when you enter, and it’s obvious that they’re not expecting anybody to see them. Their attitude, and the way they’re trying to play it off like they weren’t conspiring, gives you pause. What other severe rules has Ms. Venable imposed on those under her care?

“Hello,” you smile at the two warmly in between appraising the titles on the shelves. “Timothy and Emily, right? It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Timothy says warily.

Emily, who doesn’t have that same tact, immediately gets to her question. “Are you here to interview us?”

You shake your head. “No, I let Langdon do the interviewing.”

“So…what do you want with us?”

“I don’t want anything with you. I am trying to find some entertainment, because this place is already incredibly boring and I’ve barely been here six hours.”

Timothy laughs. “Yeah, that doesn’t really get better.”

They watch as you continue to peruse the books, waiting to see if this is some sort of trap devised by you and Michael. It’s not—you genuinely just want to find a book you haven’t read yet and escape to your bedroom for a few quiet hours. Unfortunately, nothing is modern here, not even the books, and you end up settling on Frankenstein, which you’ve read a couple of times now.

“Is it alright if we ask you a couple of questions?” Timothy asks when you turn back around.

So much for a quiet few hours.

You sigh and sit down on the couch opposite the pair. “I can’t guarantee that I can answer all of them, but I’ll certainly try.”

“What’s it like out there?” Timothy asks the question, but both his and Emily’s eyes shine, desperate for any sort of news about the world outside the walls of Outpost 3. You wish you had better to share with them.

“Lawless. You remember the movies about the apocalypse?” They nod. “It’s worse than that. The world is completely unrecognizable, decimated by the bombs. If it weren’t for a map, I wouldn’t even know where we are. Those who survived the blast have been affected by the radiation from the fallout in the most terrible of ways. They have…sores and growths and cancer, all over their bodies. People kill each other for the smallest scrap of clothing. I’ve seen cannibals picking clean the bones of someone they once traveled with, someone that was once their friend.”

“My god,” Emily mutters.

“When M-–Langdon traveled to Outpost 2, his carriage was almost overrun by a band of survivors. They believed there was food inside, and even if there wasn’t, they wanted the chance to hurt somebody that hadn’t yet been hurt by nuclear fallout.”

That had been a terrifying ordeal to hear Michael recount. He wasn’t scared at all, knowing both that the radiation couldn’t hurt him and that he could (did) kill all of them with the snap of his fingers. But you were, for the simple fact that the world that you had once lived in was completely gone and replaced by one where people hunted each other out of necessity, because it might be the only true meal they could eat in weeks.

“How did he get out of it?” Timothy wonders.

The true answer obviously isn’t something that you’re able to share, so you instead go with what would have been the answer if it were any other member of the Cooperative in the carriage. “The bodies of the carriage have an electric current that can be activated in case of emergency. The attackers were all electrocuted with the push of a button.”

“Langdon mentioned a Sanctuary,” Emily says. “Is that where you live?”

“We both do.”

“What’s it like?” Timothy asks, while at the same time, Emily questions, “Where is it?”

“The Sanctuary is…well, it feels like the world never ended, that it just moved underground. As for the location, I’m afraid that’s classified.” You smile sympathetically, feeling a lot like Michael.

Now that this line of communication has been established, that Emily and Timothy now feel like they can trust you, you can practically see the plethora of questions that they want to ask.

“So how do you end up working for an organization like the Cooperative?”

Now that’s a question you haven’t been asked before. “It’s kind of a long story,” you say with an awkward laugh, wracking your brain to come up with a lie convincing enough that they believe it.

Before you can, the sound of a cane clicking slowly across the floor stops you. You look in the direction of the entryway, where none other than your dour host stands. Her bright orange hair stands in stark contrast to the rest of her outfit, black like yours. She smiles at you with darkly painted lips, but it’s a smile that holds absolutely no warmth.

“Dinner is served,” she announces.

The three of you stand, but only two start to follow Ms. Venable to the kitchen. “I’ll take my leave, then,” you say.

“You won’t be joining us?” She sounds a tad incredulous, as though nobody’s told her no in quite some time. That’s likely the case.

“The Cooperative supplies us with rations of our own, so as not to take from the Outposts’ stockpiles.”

It’s technically true. Michael would rather starve than eat the gelatinous cubes that constitute nutrition, and thanks to the endless powers he’s gifted with, meals remain the same as they are when at the Sanctuary.

“We shall see you tomorrow, then.”

You nod before smiling at Emily and Timothy. “It was nice talking to you.”

As you walk towards the office, you can already hear Venable questioning what it was that you talked about, trying to determine if the two gained an edge on making it to the Sanctuary. If only she knew that they’re practically guaranteed spots, you think with a quiet laugh.

Michael arrives at the office at the same time as you do, which is odd, considering he’s meant to be inside the office conducting his interviews. He takes your hand and kisses the back of it gently before opening the doors and leading you in.

“Where were you?” you ask.

He waves a hand and the doors close behind you. “Finishing up an interview.”

“Doing a little field work?”

“Something like that. Now, I’m starving, and I would very much like to enjoy dinner with some good company.”

At first, you felt a little bad eating your favorite foods while the rest of the inhabitants were forced to eat what was left of their rations. Why should you enjoy while they suffer? And then, you met the survivors, most of whom were filthy rich, and you felt okay with it.

Now, as you sit across from Michael enjoying an actual meal, you allow yourself to pretend for a little bit that your life is still as it was before the end. That this is a regular day after classes, and you’re eating a quick meal and enjoying the company of the man you love before you’re off to finish homework, go to an activity, or just hang out with friends. You miss the simplicity that you didn’t know you had, even still after eighteen months.

“How were your interviews?” you ask, trying to bask in that normalcy for as long as you can.

“Nothing to write home about, though I did learn that Ms. Venable is…shockingly self-conscious beneath her hard exterior.”

You scoff. “And that’s surprising to you?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“I talked with Emily and Timothy,” you mention.

“Please tell me they’re not as vapid as the rest of the inhabitants of this Outpost.”

“No, they’re…actually kinda cool.”

If you’re being honest with yourself, the reason that you immediately liked them so much is because they kind of remind you of you and Michael, before the apocalypse. They’re so in love with each other, so eager to just be near one another and enjoy their presence. It brings you back to New Orleans, walking through the market arm in arm as you searched for the perfect gift for Kate and he eagerly shared what he had learned when looking up grad schools for you. What you wouldn’t give to be showing him how to catch fireflies, or enjoying a sugary treat together.

Shouting sounds from downstairs, a loud argument starting to take place and distracting you from your thoughts. While you strain to try and hear what’s being yelled about, Michael simply smirks. “Took them long enough.”

Neither of you is surprised, because this is what always happens when Michael arrives at an Outpost. He, quite literally, brings Hell with him. It’s an interesting side effect of what happens when an Antichrist inhabits your space. Those walls that people put up, the rules that they live their lives by, crumble when the living embodiment of sin walks in. From there, it’s only a matter of time until everything unravels and they begin giving in to those seven deadly sins. As you listen to wrath begin to cloud minds, you can practically see Michael becoming more powerful thanks to it.

Later, wrath continues, along with a side of lust.

High-pitched shrieking, so different from the argumentative yelling of earlier, wakes you from the dozing you had taken to while trying to read Michael’s interview reports after dinner. You scramble to sit up in your chair, looking at Michael with wide eyes.

“What was that?” you ask.

He doesn’t even tear his eyes away from the computer to look at you, simply waving a hand nonchalantly. “Oh, Timothy and Emily have just been caught having sex. They’re about to be executed.”

“What?” You stand up in alarm, sure that this is actual cause for alarm. Michael, on the other hand, doesn’t even react to your reaction. “Michael!” you snap, desperately wanting him to show some kind of humanity.

Finally, he turns around in his chair and sighs as though you’re interrupting your work, which you know for a fact you’re not. “Yes?”

“We can’t let them die.”

“We won’t.”

You look at him in disbelief, because it sure looks like he’s going to let them die. “Then why aren’t you stopping this?”

Michael finally joins you in standing, taking your hands in his and squeezing reassuringly. “It’s sweet of you to worry about them, and I promise you that they will not die before reaching the Sanctuary. I’ll stop this when the time is right. First, however,” he smiles, “I’d like to enjoy their terror for a bit.”

“Every time I think you can’t possibly let me down more than you already have, you prove me wrong.”

Michael’s face falls at the barb that hits unexpectedly deep, but you don’t have it in you to claim any sort of victory in this. Anger, that heady emotion that’s fueled you up until now, has completely left you at this latest example of Michael’s lack of humanity. All that remains now is disappointment, and it’s a disappointment that leaves you tired. Tired of these games, tired of the life that you’ve found yourself in, tired of being able to do nothing but watch.

Except, you can do something this time. In this Outpost, you have the same amount of power as Michael. With that in mind, you pull your hands free and make for the door.

“C’mon, where are you going?” Michael calls after you.

You don’t answer him, because he knows as well as you. If he won’t put a stop to this, then you will.

///

Tag List: @thatonehumanbeing05 @xavierplympton @hecohansen31 @codycrazy @love-on-the-murder-scene @michaellangdonswhore @nsainmoonchild @aftertheglitterfades @iamlivingforturner @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @angistopit @littleangel4996 @xo-angel-ox @ajokeformur-ray @iamavailablesstuff

#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #american horror story #american horror story imagine #ahs imagine #michael langdon imagines #mad love musings

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intothegenshinworld · 1 year

Note

Me: has all archons

Also me: uses their children and Kazuha (+Barbara as healer)

Man, listening to Xiao and Scara talking is funny, meanwhile Kazuha and Barbara just chillin'

Idk why I'm sending this, just why not :>

Plus it light be a sagau idea? I'm not sure

Hello btw! How was your day? Has something new/good happened? Stay hydrated and don't forget to rest <3

When you first sent this I had a really bad day. Reading the end part made me smile again, so, thank you! Also, I decided to keep it a bit more general otherwise I was stuck with the teamcomp requests XD

"Not using the Archons"

Venti is one with the wind. Wherever the wind blows, he follows.

From Mondstadt all the way to Inazuma and beyond, he watches the traveler save multiple nations.

He's a bit sad you can't take him with you on these adventures, but then again, he would never chain you down with guilt for not taking him.

But that doesn't mean he can't force his way through the code when you pull a single wish on his banner!

"Even one adventure is enough for me! Now, dear Creator, won't you sing me a song from your world?"

Zhongli is content. Content with watching you from afar, and content with the time he has spent with you in the past.

He has lived a long life and he's happy to see more and more vision users get blessed with your presence, even when he himself isn't included.

He'd probably invite the traveler to Liyue and ask them to do more quests for him instead.

That way he can still greet you once every while.

Has tried to send you osmanthus wine as his birthday offering multiple times but each time it seems to get rejected. Do you really prefer flowers nowadays?

"Everything changes, time spares no one, but you still look as radiant as ever, dear Creator."

Ei has been alone for what seems forever now. She wasn't the original electro Archon, so she understands. But still.

She wishes she could talk to you just once.

You could be the only person who understands her pain, the only person she could talk with about the past, the only person she can be weak around.

But that's not how people are blessed.

Only the strongest of the vision users catch your gaze, and thus she'll have to become stronger until one day she can hear your laughter wash away her sorrows.

"It's taken me everything I had to get here. But I won't have to be alone by your side, dear Creator."

Nahida is a dreamer. She has all the knowledge of the world but she still wants to learn how to 'walk' amongst the people as you do.

Whenever she sees a "blessed one" run by, she smiles.

She wonders how you're doing and hopes she can one day ask you herself.

You're registered in Irminsul, but not in the same way as everyone else. A lot of information is missing and the tree of knowledge really makes you seem like a deity that's out of reach for anyone.

Still, Nahida is a dreamer.

And each night she dreams that she'll be blessed.

"Oh? It's you dear Creator! I've been waiting for you for a while now. Please sit, I know a few good stories about Teyvat."

755 notes · View notes

shiut · 4 months

Text

Waiting For Yuma Chapter 1 : Preview

Some english translation for the Rain Code novel, Waiting for Yuma. This is how many pages are provided in the trial reader preview, but it's still rather long, so I've put most of it under the cut.

I've also put it into an online document if you want to click here instead.

Chapter 01

The Silence of the Dolls

Morning arrives early for the trainee detective.

However, though belonging to the 【World Detective Organization】, he/she has not yet completed the training course. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. A piece of paper will never reach the moon unless it is folded forty-two times. There is much work to be done in order to become a 【Master Detective】.

Working hard to develop and refine special abilities. Acquiring basic detective skills. Sharpening a keen eye for detail. Not only that, but there are many other challenges to worry about too. I suppose you could say that the days have been filled with more hardship than joy. However, you can't call yourself a 【Master Detective】 if you can't overcome all of that. It might be a different story for people who have exceptional supernatural abilities. However, for those who don't, they must continue to keep improving in order to reach the stars.

For one such trainee, Yuka Kisaragi, this day ought to be a momentous milestone. Her efforts were recognized, and so she was allowed to accompany a real 【Master Detective】 to the crime scene. As soon as Yuka heard this, she hugged and danced with everyone she saw, which almost got her reported in the process. That’s to say, she was putting out more energy than usual for such an important day.

Or at least it should be...... no, could that be why?

Let's go over that one more time.

Morning arrives early for a trainee detective.

That should be the case, but Yuka was in fact remarkably late.

***

"Why, why, why, why, why!?"

Yuka asked herself repeatedly as she roared down the street. Under the clear blue sky, she trampled across the well-maintained cobblestone pavement. Though, she didn't have to bother questioning herself when she already knew the cause of the problem a while ago.

First of all, the toast was burnt.

Secondly, the hair iron went missing.

Third, she forgot to cut the tag off her new coat that was bought for today.

That sums up why she was late today.

It was entirely a bed of her own making. But still, Yuka thought, there must be a reason for all this bad luck. It could be the alignment of the stars, or like the flow of fate, or something.

Could it be the influence of the 【Master Detective】 that I'm about to meet?

It may be due to something like sound waves or telepathy caused by the person in question. Though, I'd rather those predictions to not be true. Yuka kept running, hoping at the very least that a kind person would be waiting for her.

Then when she rounded a sharp corner —— she burst into a stylish cafe that had a strikingly chic dark-toned exterior wall. The interior was also uniformly monochrome, with bright light streaming through the large glass windows. The clientele had a somewhat intellectual and relaxed atmosphere. Yuka immediately felt nervous. She looked around as she listened to the classical music that was playing. The meeting place was at the far end of the window. Right, she repeatedly mouthed these words to herself while she walked over... she was suddenly rendered speechless.

Therein, was a beautiful person.

A hard leather sofa, and white painted wooden table.

There sat a person dressed in gray. The way in which they tipped their coffee was picturesque. Their pale hair and glasses suited their sagacious profile and air of intelligence.

While admiring the sight, Yuka had to wonder. There's an ambiguity to the person before her. Their gender is indiscernible. No matter how you look at it, it's impossible to tell if it's a he or she. They could pass as a beautiful man, or even as a ruggedly dignified woman perhaps. Yuka stared intently in order to ascertain the truth the best she could.

"......Three million"

"Eh-?"

What did they say? Yuka let out a dumb sound as she thought. Caught off-guard, she simply blinked. The beautiful person took another sip of coffee before her.

Gracefully setting down the cup, the other person continued.

"It's one hundred thousand per minute. My time is not cheap...... More importantly, you wasted precious time before the investigation as a 【trainee detective】, of course you're prepared to pay that much, right?"

Smoothly —— he, no, maybe she —— the 【Master Detective】 spoke.

Confused, Yuka twisted her head like an owl. However, after a few seconds, she realized that what this 【Master Detective】 was referring to were 'late fees'. Yuka choked with a hissing noise. How ruthless. Is this person a demon? That's what her immediate thought was.

Flustered, Yuka tried to explain herself. He/she opened their mouth to interrupt.

"I'll have you know, burnt toast, a misplaced hair iron, and a coat tag are no excuse for being late."

"Huh-? How did you know?"

"Bread crumbs"

They pointed to Yuka's chest. If you look —— peeking out from a crimson coat ——was a cream-colored sweater dotted in black specks. Pointing at it, the 【Master Detective】 continued.

"It's a notably charred color. Also, although some of your hair is disheveled, only the ends are straightened out. A sign of a frantically used hair iron. Did you simply not spend enough time on it? No, it looks like you intended to use it properly, but were forced to use it in such an errant way. You could naturally assume that it's a result of stubbornly searching for the hair iron that consumed most of your time. Also, there are threads sticking out unnaturally from the collar of your coat. This could be the trace of a tag that was yanked out in a hurry. That's all."

He/she lifted their cup with a clink. And with that, they swallowed the pitch black liquid. The coolness of their profile showed no signs of even the faintest hint of bitterness.

Once again, Yuka looked down at herself. She was wearing a crimson coat that was bought specially for today, and paired with it was a cream sweater with a rounded collar plus a black skirt. On her feet, she wore leather shoes. Her shoulder-length amacha sweet tea colored hair was partially frizzy, though she still managed to take care of the ends.

And then there were the bread crumbs that were left sticking to her.

Yuka was taken aback by all the things they had pointed out.

But soon after, her face lit up.

As an aspiring detective, she's yearned for this kind of precise deduction skill.

"Tha-..... That's amazing! Just as expected of a 【Master Detective】!"

"Praising people so carelessly will result in brain rot."

"Ough-"

"Something like this is not even the ability of a 【Master Detective】. These are the most basic fundamentals that even an amateur should be able to do...... right from the start. To my knowledge, it's not standard for a detective to bring along bread crumbs to a crime scene now is it?"

"I-, I'm sorry."

Yuka patted off her sweater, and the black food particles were brushed from her cream-colored top. She moved her leather shoes to sweep the fallen crumbs to the edge of the wall.

She once again turned her attention to the person in front of her. They were still so young, but they certainly seem like a 【Master Detective】. Even though he/she says that even an amateur can do it, his/her observational skill is beyond that of an ordinary person.

Yuka was so excited. She bowed her head in greeting.

"Once again nice to meet you, I'm Yuka Kisaragi."

"Halara Nightmare"

Yuka acknowledged the name with a nod.

I was given very minimal information about the 【Master Detective】 I'd been scheduled to accompany today. The 'Jeweler Campanella Murder Case' that took place the other day at the only public casino in the area —— the genius who led to its solution was Halara. He/she was one of the shining stars in the sky. They're a detective for Yuka to look up to.

Yuka stared at Halara with admiration. Without a response, Halara got up from their seat. Then, in one fluid motion, they handed a slip to Yuka who accepted it without a thought.

Yuka’s head tilted as she found herself caught by a ruthless follow-up.

"Three million, plus the coffee bill. That is your payment."

"Huh-?"

"It'd be in your best interest to pay up before you forget."

"Wait, what, weren't you kidding before?"

"Does talking about a debt with someone you've just met sound like a joke according to your trite standards? That's quite nonsensical."

"Sure it's a strange joke to make but... even so, eh-?"

"Rest assured that you won't be charged any interest. Just make sure you've set up a payment plan."

Halara walked off, leaving a confused Yuka in their wake. Their back held a beautiful and dignified posture. However, it seemed like they had no intention of looking back. With the check in hand, Yuka felt her head spinning.

"Eh-...... Ehh-"

One thing is for certain.

Yuka has been haunted by bad luck ever since this morning.

But the worst part of all was, without a doubt, the presence of this detective.

As her head sank in disappointment, Yuka couldn't help but think.

Halara Nightmare must be some sort of demon.

***

"W-, Well then, let's change the mood shall we!"

"............"

"Halara-san please say something too!"

"Anything in particular?"

"...... I can't even think of anything I had in mind."

At any rate, the two arrived at the manor where the scene of the crime took place.

Diverting her attention from the debt of three million, Yuka looked up at the old-fashioned building.

The walls were constructed with dull red clay brick tiles and lines formed with white granite. Placed atop that was a massive black roof. The exterior was reminiscent of an antique dollhouse. Additionally, the property was encompassed by a magnificent rose garden. The vibrant dew-covered petals almost looked artificial. Everything was so breathtakingly beautiful that it looked like something straight out of a vintage masterpiece.

Yuka couldn't help but let out a sigh of awe.

"How atmospheric~. Ah-, hey, please don't leave me behind!"

Halara had begun to walk off while I was immersed in the building's peculiar and chilling atmosphere.

Yuka rushed to follow behind their slender back. It was as if they were swimming in a sea of roses as they made their way along the path.

Eventually, the two arrived in front of an arched doorway.

Waiting there was a gentleman dressed in a brand-name suit. His eyes were amber. His hair black. His physique appeared portly. Twisting his magnificent mustache, he raised his booming voice.

"Hey there, Halara-san! I haven't seen you since the 'Jeweler Campanella Murder Case'! I'm glad you could make it! It was worth the trouble of going through the Unified Government to make a request with the 【World Detective Organization】!"

"...... As I suspected, this was no mere coincidence, but rather a request on your behalf, wasn't it?"

"Eh-, do you know each other!? And what's more...... through the Unified Government no less...... Could it be that he's that big of a deal?"

"Hahaha, oh, you could say the Unified Government tends to be a bit involved when it comes to matters of international trade. I can't get into any details, as much as I'd love to talk about it. Anyways, when it comes to securing the food supply in this district it is I, Richard Thomson, who's your go-to guy! Also, what's there to hide between Halara-san and me? We've solved a case together after all!"

"H-...... He's a real talker."

Suddenly, Richard moved in closer. Feeling pushed by the pressure of his prattling words and moundish belly, Yuka took a step back. Meanwhile, Halara narrowed their eyes in displeasure.

Gracefully, he/she crossed their arms. Letting out a small breath, Halara continued.

"If you'd mind refraining from distorting the facts. We did not solve it together. The case had indeed been solved....... however, it was all by my ability alone of course."

"Eh-, if that's the case, then what about Richard-san?"

"He was merely the first person to discover the incident. Rather than finding a solution, he challenged my theory based on his own faulty recollection, and thanks to this I had to explain 【Postcognition】 at the request of the police."

"【Postcognition】?"

Yuka found herself tilting her head. She was unfamiliar with the term.

In order to prevent further questions for the time being, Halara spoke up.

"It's my ability as a 【Master Detective】 ..... we'll be needing it for this crime scene as well. I'll discuss it later. So then...... since you're aware of these abilities, you should already understand right?"

"Yes, of course! I am fully knowledgeable about all of it! Just as expected of me. All pro~per preparations have been made accordingly, of course!"

Richard puffed out his chest. From a pocket on the inside of his coat, he pulled out a photograph and presented it to Halara. Yuka took a peek at the picture from behind him/her.

Similar to a portrait, the upper half of a lady was shown. She was a slender and petite woman. However, she had a firm and straight posture, staring at the camera with a steely gaze—— Strangely, her eyes seemed somewhat out of focus—— Her hair was tied up in a golden bun, and her eyes were a deep blue. She was beautiful, yet had a somehow frighteningly icy air about her. It was a perilous sheet of ice over a deep lake that could crack at any moment.

Nervously, Yuka asked.

"...... Is this?"

"The victim in this case. It's my wife. She was quite a cold woman. To be honest, our whole relationship was cold, but I never expected something like this. Whether I'm sad or not, I'm still not sure. I'll worry about that a bit later. Incidentally, I had a business meeting that day, so I have a flawless alibi, ahem. If you ask me, my wife would complain to the chef about the taste of the soup. It seems pretty suspicious to me, so I hope you'll be able to help me out here."

"H- he really is a chatty guy."

Yet again, Richard moved forward. Yuka slowly backed away. Halara took a long thorough look at the picture that they had received before returning it. Nodding, Richard opened the door.

"Here, go right on ahead. We'll go over the details on the way to the crime scene. Why, I couldn't even tell you how glad I am that you came, Halara-san. Ever since the 'Jeweler Campanella Murder Case' I just haven't been able to contain myself from telling my family all about your story, Halara-san. Hahaha. Ah-, as for a full-scale police investigation, I have all the power and resources needed to keep them out of it, so feel free to......"

"Eh-, why would you want to hold back the police?" Yuka voiced her surprise.

Rumor has it—— now was it Kanata Ward, or Kanaya Ward—— that some places have been under lockdown and the police haven't exactly been operating properly. However, places such as that are the exception. The legal organization should be operating in proper accordance here. But even so, is there any sense to purposefully suppressing them? In response to Yuka's question, Richard softly curved the flesh bordering his mouth.

He spoke while displaying a clownish grin.

"Because, having a 【Master Detective】 solve it would be more fun, wouldn't it?"

There was a childishness in his eyes,

and a warped sense of delight began to surface.

***

"...... Is that guy alright?"

It seemed that Richard had the intention of sticking around the crime scene. However, it appeared that there was a problem with his cargo ship, so he left while grumbling something about just getting started. 'Please don't solve the case until I return' he added, but I'm not really concerned about something like that.

After making sure that he had gone down to the first floor, Yuka then went to inquire Halara.

Located on the second floor —— in front of his wife's bedroom, he/she answered with indifference.

"Probably not. However, as long as 【Master Detectives】 exist, so too will there be people who hold an excessive admiration for them, or even an addiction...... There’s no telling what type of bad precedent it could set if it were a person in power."

Yuka reflexively shifted her gaze downwards.

That admiration of 【Master Detectives】 is something she could understand. To some people, those who possess supernatural abilities and eliminate unsolved mysteries are like that of stars shining in the sky. There are some who may wish to bask in the radiance of that light up close. However, despite the murder of a family member, it was nothing short of abnormal to request a 【Master Detective】 while shutting down the possibility of a quick solution.

Yuka's skin crawled with disgust as she asked.

"Are you going to accept this request?"

"Five million."

"Eh?"

"It was mentioned to me a short while ago. This is the amount he said he had set as a reward for my success...... I have no obligation to help others, but I work sincerely according to the payment I receive...... That is my pride as a detective."

"So that’s the only reason."

"It's reason enough, among other things."

Yuka almost raised her voice. However, in response to this Halara spoke calmly.

He/she emotionlessly included more reasons.

"The police have had no involvement in this case. Hence, the situation where the more time passes, the more evidence is lost...... Given the circumstances, there is no detective better suited for this case than me. Still, even if I decline this request, he would probably just vet another 【Master Detective】 to appoint anyway. It's a waste of time."

"Surely......"

"The quickest and most rational decision would be for me to continue with the investigation."

Yuka gave a deep nod. To reject a request based on emotion would also be an unethical decision. Once she came to an understanding, Halara then placed their hand on the door.

Nevertheless, without pressing the matter further, she continued to ask questions.

"Then let's move on with the investigation. It'd be foolish for a 【Master Detective】 and trainee to continue to stand around talking to each other...... Before going any further, I'm sure you've already been properly briefed with a sufficient overview regarding the case thus far before arriving here, right? Mister Richard did speak rather quickly."

"If that's the case then please leave it to me! Uhh let's see now...."

Yuka twiddled her thumbs around in the air.

She then began to explain the overview of the murder case as told by Mister Richard.

***

To recap, the story goes like this.

Mister Richard has a family of five—— however, his second born daughter is staying in a dormitory—— Therefore, at the time of the incident, there were seven people in the mansion: him, his wife, his eldest daughter and his eldest son, a cook, a maid, and a gardener.

It was there that Mister Richard's wife, Beatrice Thompson, was murdered.

No one had seen her after she ate dinner and went to her room at 8 p.m.—— This has so far been confirmed by the initial police report —— The estimated time of death was between 9 and 10 o'clock p.m. The cause of death was stabbing. The murder weapon, a knife, was left lodged in her chest. There were no fingerprints. Also, a water pitcher—— which she loved to use when she went to bed —— was confirmed to have been laced with stolen sleeping pills.

Because of this, it's been concluded that the crime must have been premeditated by an insider.

The first to discover the scene were the gardener and the eldest daughter. The gardener would visit the victim every night at 10 o'clock to consult with her about remodeling the garden, and when she did not respond he then approached her eldest daughter —— Afterwards, both parties felt uneasy about there being no response, and so as a result of breaking down the door, the dead body was discovered —— This was at about half past 10 o'clock. Additionally, there were signs of intentional destruction within the room at the time. The eldest daughter then immediately called out to the eldest son, who was in the garden, and asked him to report the incident.

And then there's the key detail.

The room was a locked room.

"The crime scene was a closed room with both the windows and doors locked at the point which it was first discovered when the door was opened. Furthermore, the victim was leaning against the door, and there were no signs of it having been opened directly beforehand."

"Well done. Seems like nothing has been misremembered." Halara gave a brief nod, their pale hair swaying with the motion.

Naturally, Yuka puffed her chest proudly. She had also been honing her memory as a part of her training to become a 【Master Detective】. She also had a bit of a talent for picking up on fast-talkers, which was something she was prepared with at the very least.

Halara stared at the door with the knob still in hand.

Gazing at the floral reliefs carved across its surface, he/she continued.

"Wherever there's a locked room, there is an explanation behind it. It's the detective's job to uncover it."

Halara opened the door with a click.

Stepping through and, suddenly, looking to the side —— Yuka took a sharp breath.

***

It looked as though there were many girls standing there.

Dolls were lined up in front of a mainly yellow floral-patterned wallpaper.

The smallest one was a baby, while the largest figure looked to be around 10 years old. Everything looked to be things belonging to girls of various sizes. But oddly enough, there was also a strange sense of uniformity.

Lovely beings clad in a luxurious and solemn aura. Their eyes were made of deep blue glass, and their heads were covered in gold thread. Their shrewd features somehow had an uncanny resemblance to the victim's wife. Moreover, there were other bizarre details as well.

All of their heads had been torn off. Some were set up to be holding dolls, while others were lying on the floor. Many of them were grouped together and placed against the wall.

It was as though the dolls had also been murdered.

"Wh-, what is this--. How disturbing...... So it was the dolls that they were referring to when they said some of the rooms showed signs of intentional destruction. But still, why is it like this?"

"......On the other side of the doll...... there is a fireplace to the right hand side when you enter through the door."

Halara muttered under their breath as they covered their mouth. He/she stepped forward to approach the mantlepiece of the elegant fireplace. Halara crouched down to peer inside before looking up.

Yuka followed their lead and crouched down beside them, copying their actions. Before them was a grimy chimney that extended from their field of view. The distant opening was tightly sealed with a fine mesh. She nodded with a hum.

"It seems unlikely that the killer could have escaped by climbing up here."

"However, it doesn't seem irrelevant."

"Eh?"

"Look here, there are traces of soot on the floor."

Yuka lept back at the mention of it. That was a close one. She almost stepped on a piece of evidence.

Seeing her panic, Halara adjusted their glasses.

"I thought you were conscientiously avoiding it...... Seems I overestimated. Are you really so dense as to have not noticed?"

"Th-, that's not it! I noticed! Of course I noticed!"

Despite her insistence, she of course did not notice. Halara's gaze was truly cold.

Yuka was quick to redirect it by changing the subject.

"Uhmm, well...... Let's see, the victim was lying in front of the door, and the eldest daughter thought about the possibility that someone could have broken in, so she went to check the window...... but found that it was locked."

"So, she found the eldest son in the garden and called out to him...... I see, it is visible from here perhaps. There don't appear to be any contradictions evident in those facts themselves at the moment."

Halara and Yuka moved over to the window to look out over the garden.

The rose garden could clearly be seen from the wife's bedroom window. Though it was now daytime, we confirmed that there was a haze from floodlights scattered about for illumination. That meant that the eldest son could have been seen without any problem even at night.

Touching the golden crescent lock, Halara nodded with a hum.

"The locks on the windows are rather standard...... so I can't say for sure that there's no possibility of tampering. However, there are no scratches. I don't see any evidence of thread or any other such material being used."

Halara turned while muttering to themself.

Once again, he/she looked over to the door the victim was leaning against.

"...... There isn't much blood. In other words, the criminal did not pull out the knife after dealing the blow."

"That is true, isn't it."

The two discussed their thoughts about the bloodstains on the carpet, though the body has already been removed. The crime scene was not preserved exactly as it was in its original state. The family must've had some sort of hand in it. At this point, there may be some things that an investigation won't be able to uncover.

Yuka spoke up without thinking.

"Hmm, I guess there's nothing more to see here other than the information that's already been given so far. There's got to be things that we're missing. That's the problem with being a detective who's always asked to do things after the fact. Ahhh, if only we could see the crime scene right at the time of the body's discovery."

"You wish to see it?"

"Eh?"

"Who...... do you think I am?"

"Who?"

"I'm Halara Nightmare."

The phrase rolled off Halara's tongue in the most natural way. Yuka cocked her head.

Well, I've already gone through introductions. Regardless of if it's impossible to tell whether they’re a man or a woman, there was no doubt that the person standing before me was Halara Nightmare. Isn't that so?

But he/she continued on.

"The 【Postcognition Detective】, Halara Nightmare."

***

What exactly is this 【Postcognition】.

Halara began to explain.

"My 【Forensic Forte】 is 【Postcognition】 ...... It quite literally is the power to see a snapshot of the past. However, it can only be used at murder scenes. To be precise, it's the ability to see how a crime scene 【appeared at the time it was first discovered】 with one's own eyes. Another way to describe it would be 【crime scene-limited psychometry】, if that's easier to understand."

Yuka couldn't help but gawk in surprise.

She knew that the 【Master Detectives】 who work in the field had special abilities. Yuka herself had something that could be considered as such. Halara's was outstanding, however.

It's almost too convenient.

As far as a detective's supernatural ability goes, it could be considered among the best.

Halara continued in the wake of Yuka's astonishment.

"My power allows me to see the 【moment the first witness saw the crime scene】. In other words, not the culprit, not the victim, but how it appeared when a third party first entered. The memory or perception of the witness does not affect my 【Postcognition】. What I see is what actually was there. When it comes to my power, the witness is not a camera or a recording device, but rather a trigger...... Perhaps the best way to think of it is like a bookmark stuck between the pages of when the body was found. It's not a power that can be taken advantage of unconditionally, however.”

Perhaps it was something akin to envy and jealousy that swirled in Yuka's eyes like heated candy. Halara continued to explain the activation conditions and limitations of their power.

"First, I must be standing at the crime scene...... this condition is absolutely required. I must also know the victim's name and face. That's why prior research is crucial. Lastly, 【Postcognition】 is only effective in a 10-meter radius around the body. At the moment, I can only see the crime scene and the victim. I can't see any living things that were at the scene.”

Yuka's eyes flickered with a blink. So even if the culprit was hiding at the crime scene—— it wouldn't be possible to immediately identify them. Her face must've been brimming with the question as to why. Halara promptly gave an answer.

"...... I’m not so good at looking at people."

"B- but still, I think this is a more than capable ability! This is a 【Forensic Forte】! I'm so envious! I absolutely admire you!"

"Sorry, but I'm tired of hearing compliments."

"Actually, maybe I did go a little too far with the praise......"

"Time is of the essence. Let's take a look for now, shall we?"

With that said, Halara raised their left hand to cover their left eye.

That was the moment Yuka put down her favorite crimson bag she'd been carrying on her back—— which could be used in three different ways by adjusting the belt. She undid the metal clasps and opened the leather flap. She pulled out a sketchbook and a box of colored pencils. She readied the black one first.

Halara gave an expression as if to say 'what is that'.

Yuka turned to puff out her chest toward him/her.

"Ehehe, if that's what your ability can do, Halara-san, I think I could be of some help to you, even if just a little."

"...... What do you mean?"

"As a matter of fact, my 【Forensic Forte】 is 【Sketching】!"

Halara's eyebrow slightly twitched at such a cheerful declaration. Perhaps that ability would've been self-explanatory enough. Yuka continued regardless for the sake of explanation.

"Ah, I may be a trainee detective, but I have fully mastered my forte. If I can keep it up like this, I should be on track to receive my detective deed! Heeheehee-...... Well, uh so, with this ability, by just listening to what someone says, I can faithfully depict 【a person's description of a scene】 without error, completely unaffected by the influence of my subjectivity or imagination! Though, there's no way for me to be sure whether or not the 【person's description】 is an 【imaginary scene】 or a 【real scene】......"

"Does that mean that you can be influenced by the imagination of another person?"

"Yes. A lie is a lie and will be recorded exactly as it is. But in your case, Halara-san, if you describe the scene exactly as you see it, I think I'll be able to get a picture perfect replication of what it looks like!" Yuka explained.

Her power was the exceptional ability to discern the vague image within a witness's mind. Even if the image in itself is false, she wouldn't be able to disclose the nature of its authenticity. That's why Yuka was so envious of Halara's ability to remain unaffected by the subjectivity of another person's perspective. Still, her ability to take only a vague testimony from the witness themselves—— including the image of the culprit that they witnessed and the scene at the time of the crime—— and be able to properly materialize it, was very useful. It might also be useful in this circumstance as well.

Halara hummed with a brief nod.

"I see...... While it may be possible to reproduce an image as seen by an eyewitness that would otherwise be difficult to convey clearly, there is a possibility of being manipulated by a deliberately false testimony, or an ability perhaps."

"Exactly!"

"......It's quite half-baked for a detective."

"Ngh-"

"Honestly it could be quite convenient for this particular instance. It's exhausting to explain things only I can see."

"Really?"

"People do not believe what they cannot see. I have often been called a liar...... It was thanks to this that when I worked with Mister Richard on the 'Jeweler Campanella Murder Case'...... not only did I have to explain my forte, but I also had to go through the arduous task of proving it through drawing an explanation of the circumstances at the time and comparing them with the physical evidence."

Yuka nodded in response to Halara's words. His/her ability is nothing more than a 【vision】 of the past. Perhaps there will always be skeptics and those who continue to insist that it's flawed. As a trainee, she could only imagine the troubles that they deal with.

But there's no need to worry this time. Yuka spoke with conviction.

"It'll be alright! Because I believe in Halara-san's 【Postcognition】 and my 【Sketching】 from the bottom of my heart, without a doubt!"

"......Your own 【Sketching】 as well, huh?"

"Ah-, sorry."

"I don't mind. You should have confidence in your 【Forensic Forte】. The most important quality for a detective is the ability to suspect others...... but perhaps I've spoken too much. Let's continue."

With one eye closed, Halara began to concentrate.

Yuka was momentarily captivated by their serious and beautiful profile. But the instant his/her mouth began to move, she shook her head and picked her colored pencil back up to begin moving it with blinding speed.

A drawing etched into a sketchbook.

Along with Halara's words.

Through combining the two, the findings that were revealed are as follows.

***

The first witness of the scene had broken through the locked door. It was at this time that the victim's body, which had been leaning against the door, appeared to have moved. There were traces of bloody finger marks on the knife and the surrounding area of the clothes on the victim, who had fallen to the side—— though this was confirmed in the initial police investigation, no fingerprints were reported to be found—— and so it was theorized to have been caused not by the culprit, but by the victim.

In other words, the victim's death was not instant.

Furthermore, traces of water stains were found trailing from the victim's mouth to their throat.

Also the head of one of the dolls—— which had apparently not fallen off, yet seemed as if it had been placed with the rest of the heads in the real life scene —— was lying in a position where it could easily be seen from the open door.

And the biggest difference of all—— there were no traces of soot in front of the chimney.

After drawing the description above, Yuka put down her colored pencil with a sudden flick. The fresh corpse of the victim was vividly recreated on paper. The sight was brutal, although I hadn't given it much thought at the time my colored pencils were in motion. She closed her eyes to offer a moment of silence. She then asked Halara.

"I understand things for the most part...... but what could be the meaning behind these differences?"

"............"

"Halara-san?"

"I understand, but......if that's the case...... no...... It's far too simple...... namely, "

"Halara-saaan?"

"I've got a hypothesis in mind. All that's left is to substantiate the evidence."

With that said, Halara began walking to leave the room. Yuka hurriedly stowed her sketchbook and colored pencils into her bag. Brown, light orange, red—— disregarding the order that they were placed in—— they were tossed directly into the bottom of the box. She slammed the lid shut and ran after Halara.

"Please wait, Halara-san. Where are you going?"

"An investigation is built upon two fundamental factors. First of all, check the crime scene, next is?"

"Next, is it...... um, perhaps"

"Yes, I'm sure you know what I'm referring to."

Halara came to a halt in a corridor with beautiful stucco walls. He/she turned to Yuka and, with a quick motion, held up two fingers. He/she curled their fingers from two to one as they gave their answer.

"It's collecting testimony."

***

"You're the detective appointed by the Master, is that right?...... Haa, quite the beautiful person...... Ah-, no, what happened at the time of the Madam's death, was it?"

"To be more precise, it's about the circumstances surrounding the discovery of the body and how you were spending your time that night. I’d appreciate your cooperation."

The gardener narrowed his puffy eyes at Halara's statement.

He was at a loss for words within the garden that was filled with the suffocating fragrance of roses.

The gardener was a man in his fifties. He was dressed in a pair of trousers, shirt, and rubber apron suitable for tilling the soil, and the look on his face portrayed a gentle personality. At the same time, it seemed to reveal an innately timid nature. He carefully tucked the pruning shears he was using into his apron pocket. He then anxiously asked Halara.

"Does that mean, as in an alibi? Am I being accused of something?"

"We're going around and asking everyone! Thank you in advance for your cooperation!"

Perhaps it would be better to keep him calm by speaking to him herself.

Yuka spoke cheerfully so. Halara said nothing. The gardener nodded upon hearing this. He still seemed nervous, but he opened his mouth.

"Haa...... Well, I don't have anything to hide or be ashamed of, so I'll answer you. Please hurry and clear up any of the Madam's lingering regrets."

"Right! ...... oouugh, I'm moved to tears by those words. I guess your Madam must've surely held a great deal of care and compassion for her employees!"

"No, not at all."

"Eh-"

Yuka froze in her tracks at this.

Isn't the memory of the deceased something that everyone glorifies? Especially if they were killed. However, the gardener's deep wrinkles distorted, like scars chiseled into rock. With a firm voice, he continued.

"The only time the Madam was kind was when she dealt with her youngest daughter, who is now living in a dormitory...... She was strict with everyone else, and our nickname for her was the 'Empress of Ice'...... There was no such thing as kindness."

Halara narrowed their eyes at his words. He/she folded their arms thoughtfully.

Halara asked with a hardened voice.

"So everyone could have a motive?"

"......Well I never said that. I dread to think who in the house might have stabbed her. Even if I had found her 'murdered'...... Honestly, I didn't think about why."

"...... By the sounds of it, you were the first one to discover the body?"

"Oh, that's right." The gardener nodded simply.

Yuka reflexively held her breath.

This is important information. As you know, Halara's power recreates the crime scene found by the 'first witness'. Not the 'culprit', not the 'victim' —— but that of the 'first witness'.

In other words, the 'first witness' is excluded as the culprit.

It's imperative to determine whether or not the vision seen by Halara really belongs to the gardener. But the ability to rule out one person from being a potential culprit altogether is incredibly valuable.

"I see, in that case......"

Halara tried to ask the question, and Yuka immediately took out her sketchbook. This is where her 【Forte】 comes into play. Halara nodded upon seeing this.

"That's a good call."

"Halara-san praised my judgment!?"

"So, when you opened the door......"

"Ignored without a beat!?"

"Was the victim leaning against it?"

"Yes...... I had a bad feeling, so the young lady and I kicked down the upstairs door...... I thought it was strangely heavy, but soon after I was shocked when I caught a glimpse of the corpse."

According to the gardener's report—— the moment he opened the door, the impact had apparently caused the Madam's corpse to fall over. Since he was sure that he heard the sound of something hitting the floor, they believed that nobody had opened the door before then.

A doll's head had fallen on the other side of the corpse, so he went on to look at the Madam's bisque doll collection. Seeing such a disastrous scene was as horrifying —— if not worse —— as when he found the Madam's body. The eldest daughter then went over to the window and checked the lock. As she did so, she noticed the eldest son in the yard, unlocked it —— which the gardener was certain that he saw that it had been closed until just before —— and called out to him.

Meanwhile the gardener had checked the Madam's pulse and was once again confronted by death.

"I don't have an alibi for the night. I spent the day organizing a plan for remodeling the garden in accommodation to the Madam's ever-increasing wishes. Goodness, it was a tremendous amount of diagrams to do...... But I didn't even go upstairs until 10 o'clock when we were scheduled to have a meeting."

"What is the proof of that?"

"Unfortunately, there is none."

"But, Halara-san. He doesn't seem like a culprit, does he?"

Yuka remarked and showed a sketch she drew based on the gardener's testimony.

Halara narrowed their eyes. Etched on the drawing paper was the scene that the gardener saw when he opened the door. There, a picture nearly identical to the one Halara saw with 【Postcognition】 was sprawled out. Judging by the angle at which the door was opened, there was no doubt that he was the person from the 【Postcognition】—— the 'first witness'.

Yuka's ability does not negate the possibility of false testimony, but it seemed like it would be impossible to match something like the angle of the door just by guessing. That much can almost certainly be said for sure.

Halara nodded. Facing the gardener, he/she said.

"That is all. Much appreciated."

"Yes...... Well then, I best be going. However, I wonder what's to become this rose garden after the the Madam's passing? After having come this far in making it so magnificent, it may simply be left to wither away. Ahh, it's a shame...... Truly, it's such a shame."

If that’s the case, might as well just light it on fire I suppose.

The gardener muttered under his breath.

Yuka felt all the hairs on her body stand on end in fear.

In the depths beneath the gardener's words lurked thick and murky darkness—— a profoundly dark glow —— swirling within. There was no limit to the depravity of these thoughts.

Yuka pulled at Halara's sleeves, wondering if he could be the culprit. Halara ignored her and began walking. She'll be left behind at this rate. Yuka rushed to follow the figure as it moved away from the rose garden. Yuka cast a slight glance over her shoulder as she made her way towards the mansion.

The gardener stood as if buried among the roses.

He opened and closed the gardening shears with a 'shing'.

***

In a luxurious study lined with glass bookshelves,

a sharp and rigid clacking sound rang out.

"The circumstances at the time of discovery, and alibi, right?"

The eldest daughter murmured while moving the chess pieces.

This woman...... is ok, right? Yuka couldn't help but worry.

The eldest daughter was a beautiful figure, with glossy black hair and becoming amber eyes. You could say that she probably resembled her father before he became obese, considering the matching colors of their features. She was a beauty dressed in men's attire with short, boyishly styled hair. Yet unlike Halara, whose gender was completely neutral, her ample breasts filled out the front of her white button-up shirt.

She continued to stroke the pawn pieces with her fingers as she sat in a multifunctional armchair.

"Do you really you suspect me, the Amnea Thompson?"

"......That board."

"Ahh, this? I was just doing a bit of solo play."

"It seems like you are not even aware of the proper way to move the chess pieces. Can you not play chess, by chance?"

"Don't go and call me an idiot already!"

"I didn't say that?"

Halara crossed their arms coldly.

The eldest daughter —— Amnea —— burst into tears in front of them. Apparently, Yuka thought, it seemed the only reason she was in front of the chessboard was simply to try and impress strangers.

Amnea smashed the chess board with force, the pieces making a rattling sound as they flew away.

Then, Amnea proclaimed in an exaggeratedly tearful voice.

"Damn it, you guys are trying to bully me too!"

"I-intense victim mentality."

"Whatever, I am an idiot anyway! I'm so empty-headed that there's not enough to go around! But I leave that kind of thing to the owner of this room, my brother Dalmatia. And yet, you say things like this and that...... Hmm, unforgivable! I'll beat you!"

"Stop it! I'll hit back!"

"I'mb sowwy!"

"So quick to repent!?"

Yuka's eyes widened. Amnea held her head and trembled at the threat, crying softly. Halara murmured out a hum in response to the child-like reaction.

"......Well, it would be ridiculous to try and go up against me with brute force."

"Did you say something, Halara-san?"

"Don't worry about it...... So, about our conversation."

At that, Halara's eyes opened wide before soon narrowing them down. Hm? Yuka tilted her head. What might it be? It felt like Halara's expression had an added childishness to it that I'd never seen before. Following their gaze, Yuka noticed.

"............ Ah-, a cat?"

Yuka quickly approached the fireplace, and Halara also came along without reproach.

Yuka craned her neck, and when she looked into a wicker basket she saw a kitten wriggling and cooing. It looked just like a white furball. The kitten rolled over without a hint of grumpiness. An adorable pink paw was pointed at Halara, but without touching it, his/her expression softened faintly.

Yuka absent-mindedly asked.

"Halara-san, do you like cats?"

"............ It's nothing we need to be talking about."

"No no no, I absolutely love it! After all, it is Halara-san you know? That sense of peacefulness that lights up in your eyes, isn't it?"

"What do you take me for?"

"What, that you're a cat lover? Why don't we talk about it!"

Amnea exclaimed, her footsteps were loud as she got next to Halara.

Amnea reached out her pale hand, to which the cat rubbed their face to be pampered. Amnea gave a sweet smile as her eyes narrowed with affection. She whispered through clenched teeth.

"Since she's finally dead, I took in an unfortunate cat thinking I could care for it."

"Eh...... Your mother died and it hasn't even been resolved yet."

"Is that bad? I've always dreamed of having a cat since foooorever. I wasn't even allowed to talk about it out loud, ya know. It'd be the last thing I'd say. It was really hard for me to even leave the house...... so regardless of whether or not it's out of line, just leave me alone."

Amnea whispered, her profile drooping like that of a wilted flower. Her eyes were moist with a profound sadness that was difficult to put into words. Yuka went silent, unsure of what to say.

Halara observed Amnea's expression before opening his/her mouth.

"...... So then, would you mind telling us your story again?"

"Ahh, sure thing man. I've got nothin to be guilty about. I'll tell ya anything you wanna know."

Amnea puffed out her chest as she spoke.

There was hardly any disparity between the story of the eldest daughter, Amnea, and the gardener's testimony. She only added more details about the situation when she called out to the eldest son. Yuka's sketchbook depicted a young man looking up toward the second floor from a rose garden. He's slender and quite handsome. His black hair and amber eyes resembled that of Amnea and their father. Yuka stared at it, pondering the possibility.

"Are you and your brother twins?"

"Yep, you nailed it. Technically, I'm supposed to be the older sister, but we are twins. I'm on good terms with Dalmatia...... who, unlike me, has the lion's share of smarts."

Amnea laughed frankly at saying that. The carefree expression on her face invokes a genuine feeling of familiarity. Yuka thought of how nice it would be to have a twin.

At that, Halara wordlessly raised an arm, and Amnea snapped to attention with her back straightened.

"Yii-!"

"Why"

"......I've got most of it. Let's get going."

Halara said and began walking. What the hellll, that guy was a bastard to the end, Amnea said to the kitten. The white furball responded with a mewmew. It had heart shaped ears. The pointed tip of its heart-shaped nose twitched with a snort. The sound made Halara stop in their tracks.

With his/her back to Amnea, they inquired.

"Just to be sure, I'd like to ask you something...... If something were to happen to you, do you have any guarantee of where the little one will go?"

"Don't be stupid! As a cat lover, of course I've decided on it! If something happens to me, my friend will take good care of it."

"......I see, alright then."

A sense of relief.

With that said, Halara exited the room. He/she also spoke to the chef and the maid. However, it resulted in nothing noteworthy there. Both men claimed to have been working at the time of the incident, had no alibis, and had not even seen the body. Mister Richard had spoken about his suspicion about the chef, but there did not seem to be any particular pieces of evidence to support this.

Hearing all they needed to, Halara nodded and returned to the crime scene. Inside the room, the headless dolls were silent like statues of death. At the center of their blue-eyed gaze, Halara said.

"I’ve figured out the method behind the creation of the locked room."

***

"Well, saying that I figured it out isn't quite accurate...... because we already had the answer as soon as we checked the crime scene."

"A-amazing! Is that even possible!?"

"Of course it is. The person before you is Halara Nightmare. Something such as this is not even a problem."

Halara answered smoothly. Their eyes held no hint of a bluff, but rather a sharp confidence that gleamed like a sword's edge. It was a star-like light, befitting of a detective.

Yuka clenched her fist. Sure enough, just as expected of Halara-san.

He/she tilted their head in turn.

"Or rather. I think we're in the foundational basics at this point. Did you really not even notice?"

"Ngh-, I- I'm a trainee detective, so"

"Even as a trainee, you need to realize that above all else you still wear the title of detective."

"U-oughh...... I didn't notice at all, so please explain it to me."

Yuka folded easily. She knew that she wouldn't get anywhere even if she wracked her brain about it. Halara let out a sigh and shook their head before he/she opened their mouth to speak.

"Haa...... First, let's discuss the matter of 'why were the dolls destroyed?'. There must be a reason for why the culprit would destroy them. There is also a reason behind the fact that the head of one of the dolls had rolled into a position that was immediately visible upon opening the door."

"Why is that?"

Yuka asked while looking at the heads that were now pressed against the wall. The reflections in their glass eyes gave the impression of being wet. That chilling glow seemed to evoke hatred for the murdered. Yuka wondered, why had the dolls' heads been ripped off and rolled away?

Halara offered an explanation.

"It's 'to draw attention to the dolls'."

"To the dolls."

"This will also answer the 'traces of soot marks on the floor after opening the locked room' question. The room was indeed a locked room at the time of the crime. If that's the case, then how did the killer escape?"

"Yeah, that's the issue......"

"They didn't escape. They were hiding halfway up the chimney leading from the fireplace."

Yuka's mouth suddenly opened.

So that's it. The far end of the chimney was blocked off with a net. The room cannot be entered or exited from there. However, it is possible to hide halfway up.

The rest is simple.

The eyewitnesses who found the doll's head were partly compelled to pay attention to the destruction caused to the bisque doll collection. While their attention was focused on that, the killer was able to slip out of the fireplace and escape. They would then nonchalantly join up later as if nothing happened.

In that case, Yuka declared.

"I- I see! That would mean that the eldest daughter Amnea-san, who was with the gardener during the initial discovery, and the eldest son Dalmatia-san, who was in the garden, can be ruled out from the list of possible suspects!"

"...... I'd hoped that you wouldn't say something so boring."

"Eh-!?"

"Behind the creation of every locked room is a purpose for its existence. It is those who are not deemed potential culprits that raise suspicion here. It's safe to say that the maid and the cook can be ruled out."

Halara explained calmly. Uughh, Yuka thought, feeling as if she wanted to cry.

At the same time, an image came to mind of the gardener murmuring ominously, his shears moving with a 'shing, shing'. Shifting in and out of view, treacherous thoughts were obscured by the parallax within his thicket of words.

Impulsively, Yuka raised her voice.

"Understood! It was the gardener then."

"Didn't you believe in my 【postcognition】 and your 【sketch】 from the bottom of your heart?"

"Oh- oh yeah...... so then, who?"

Yuka asked, on the verge of tears. Halara once again let out a sigh. However, they detached their sagacious gaze from Yuka to cast it into space. Halara muttered in contemplation.

"Since they were in the fireplace when the door was opened by the first witness, the culprit was excluded from being with the first person to discover it.... along with the eldest daughter Amnea."

"In that case then, the eldest son, Dalmatia-san? Huh...... but, Amnea-san saw Dalmatia-san in the garden......"

"It's only logical to assume that couldn't possibly be true. Given that Amnea is not the first witness...... it is plausible that she could be a perpetrator. In short, the murderer is Dalmatia, and Amnea is involved as an accomplice through giving false testimony."

I see, Yuka energetically bounced up and down in excitement.

Now the mystery was all but solved.

That should be it.

That is, until Halara opened their mouth to continue.

It was then that the door swung open. A low, beautiful voice began to flow through.

"Oh my, have I been noticed?"

"Y- you're......"

Yuka's voice couldn't help but tremble.

A slender human bowed gracefully before them, announcing their name with grandeur.

"Salutations, I am Dalmatia Thomson. My father's favorite 【Master Detective】 had finally arrived, and when I came to extend my greetings...... it seems I was exposed before the reconnaissance."

Murmured a man styled in a distinctive black and white suit. He had black hair and amber-colored eyes. A beautiful young man, just as Yuka depicted in her sketch. His sophisticated and intellectual impression was even stronger when I saw it in person. Shaking his head, the eldest son —— Dalmatia —— forced out in a strained voice.

"Nothing that can be done once it's been found out. Just as you've deduced......I am the one who killed my mother. It's too late to be making any excuses now, I......"

"Why"

"That's what I'll be trying to tell you right now." Dalmatia shrugged off Halara's question as if in inconvenience and shook his head in exasperation. Halara did not care for these theatrical gestures, however. Indifferent, he/she continued questioning.

"Why, are you telling such lies?"

***

"Eh?"

"Huh?"

The two voices overlapped.

The voices of Yuka and Dalmatia.

What are they talking about, Yuka wondered. Wasn't it none other than Halara themself who presented this deduction just a moment ago! Yet at the same time, Yuka began to realize.

It was clear that Halara was trying to go somewhere with this.

He/she spoke in a dry tone.

"As I just told you before. This stuff is way too basic. It's not even a question. That being the case, there must also be a purpose behind creating a 'locked room meant to be breached'."

"Is...... is it"

"In other words, the problem itself is a trick that assumes the presence of my 【postcognition】."

Halara asserted.

And so the mystery continues.

Yuka suddenly found herself in a daydream —— standing on a stage where the spotlights focused solely on Halara Nightmare —— only on the person whose beautifully pale complexion was brilliantly illuminated.

Halara continued to seize control of the scene with overwhelming charisma.

As the leading role (detective), he/she told the supporting cast.

"As told by the client. 'I used to tell my family all about Halara-san', in addition to his habit of running his mouth too fast and blurting everything out. The family had plenty of opportunities to learn the details about my 【postcognition】 if that's the case."

"Which, I'm sure probably happened......"

"Therefore, the task was carried out with the anticipation that the traces of soot would be revealed during the use of 【postcognition】...... There's a lot of strange things going on otherwise."

"Wh- what's so strange?"

Dalmatia asked with a trembling voice. He glared at Halara with a glint. However, the spotlight remained fixed, continuing to shine only above Halara's head.

He/she responded smoothly.

"First of all, there'd normally be no point in making the victim take sleeping pills. She was —— as one could surmise from the way she was staring at the camera and her lack of focus —— a petite woman with poor eyesight."

"Ah-"

"Anything could've been done to exploit her weaknesses. It would be much more sensible to kill her that way and make it look like the work of a burglar rather than going through the trouble of a locked room. And yet, it was by putting the sleeping pills in the pitcher that the culprit was quickly narrowed down to those involved."

I-indeed, Yuka nodded. That's certainly true.

Even the initial police investigation limited the culprit to those involved because of that water pitcher. There was no point in setting such a thing up since the victim was a delicate woman who could easily be killed.

Furthermore, Halara continued.

"Also, although I was promptly called in at the request of the victim's family in this case, police analysis should have originally confirmed that the soot on the floor was from the fireplace. Moreover, it's highly likely that subsequent investigations would reveal the false testimony. And the reason I took the time and effort was because I knew from the beginning that the client would let me solve the mystery —— thus."

Halara fixed their gaze on Dalmatia. He flinched and clutched his chest while being pierced by their sharp gaze. It was as if he'd been stabbed through the heart. It was there that Halara pushed their verbal blade even further in.

"To become officially identified as the culprit by a Master Detective certified by the World Detective Organization. That was precisely your goal. Once the Master Detective identifies the culprit, the investigation will be closed at that point."

In other words, there’s another culprit.

Halara asserted definitively. Yuka was speechless. What kind of criminal would try to use 【Master Detectives】 for such a purpose? Still, though, Yuka thought. Despite her worry, she opened her mouth.

"But, Halara-san...... isn't it strange?"

"What part?"

—————————————————————

Notes:

There's a part that's describing the gardener's words as 見え隠れ(miegakure), which is a gardening technique that keeps parts of a garden hidden depending on where you're standing, and only becomes visible as you walk through. Closest thing I could compare it to was parallax, but in order to fit the gardening pun I added 'thicket' as a descriptor to try to reflect that.

While I tried to add honorifics, Halara and Yuka sometimes use a -shi honorific for Richard. I don’t know if people are generally familiar with it, so I just replaced it with Mister

Amnea speaks in a very masculine manner, so when I put stuff like ‘man’ and ‘guy’, it’s in a non-gendered dudebro kind of way.

#rain code #raincode #rain code novel #master detective archives: rain code #waiting for yuma #ユーマを待ちながら #halara nightmare #yuka kisaragi #my translation

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