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yanmuffins · 1 month

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SAFETY IN IGNORANCE.

Yandere! Prince! Gojo X fem! Isekai! Maid! Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve been transmigrated to the world of an otome game, taking the place of one of Prince Satoru's personal attendants, a measly side character with no name or relevance to the story.

As it turns out, life in the castle isn't so bad, and the certainty of food and shelter is welcome when finding a way home isn't ever guaranteed. Besides, your boss isn't as insufferable as you thought he would be. It could be worse. Isn't it nice, knowing you're safe?

WORD COUNT: 7.4k words (😮)

CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNINGS: NONCON (no intercourse), somnophilia, mentions of past s/a, mild yandere behavior (if you squint?), mild derealization, AU setting.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: please be aware my writing is quite rusty!! this is the first piece of writing that i finish IN YEARS and it's a fucking jjk darkfic. sigh. writing smutty scenes is also so awkward lmao, forgive me if it sucks severely. at least i hope you enjoy this little fucked up fic in have cooked up. it's hot and ready to be consumed! (๑>؂•̀๑)

-> MINORS DNI !

“TALES OF SPELLBINDING LOVE is a visual novel that takes place in a fantastical setting, where you can find your happily ever after with the character of your choice.”

It's been years – in this world, at least – but you still remember every word skimmed with dry, irritated eyes, as you stared at a bright screen, surrounded by the darkness of your own bedroom. It was another restless night among many, spent watching YouTube videos and reading pirated manga in questionable website, sipping on valerian tea.

So, like any other night, your adblocker dutifully served its purpose, shielding your browser from annoying, abusive, virulent ads.

Except for one.

“Enter the enchanting world of TALES OF SPELLBINDING LOVE through SARA, a kind-hearted peasant, as she meets all sorts of swoon-worthy suitors!”

You should have closed the page, sketchy as it was, but it had piqued your interest. It was a Friday night. You were sleepless. It was past midnight, tossing and turning in bed had done little to welcome slumber. Your home was tidy and organized from insomniac hours from nights before. You were bored.

“Play with a cast of handsome men, make the right choices and uncover exciting secret routes...”

Nothing about the web design told you the game was anything but a harmless dating simulator for an adult audience. Maybe it was the pastel color-scheme, with soft pinks, yellows, blues, purples and greens, or the elegant cursive font and colorful flowers adorning the page. In fact, other than the initial synopsis, there wasn't much to look at. No content warnings, nothing about the capture targets or the heroine you were supposed to be playing as, not even the usual information on how many endings or CGs you could get.

At the bottom of the page, “ENTER.” and “LEAVE?” buttons waited for a decision.

Maybe... you could give it a try? Hopefully it would entertain you until your eyelids finally grew heavy, allowing you to drift off before sunshine seeped through your window signaling dawn had arrived.

You clicked “ENTER.”.

... And here you are now, mending Prince Satoru's shirt before another hunting trip.

It's been ten years since you've come to this world. Your own body replaced that of a nameless background character with no narrative purpose, allowing you to exist as yourself in this entirely alien reality. You're not sure how much time has passed in your original world, whether you've been dead for a decade or simply unconscious for a couple of minutes, and you haven't gotten any closer to finding out.

You sigh, weary, looking down at the flax linen shirt laid over your lap, needle in hand. Simple, at first glance, a bit worn, but a nice piece of garment not everyone could afford to have in their wardrobe. One of its puffed sleeves now torn at the shoulder lining, an unfortunate result of it being caught by a tree branch during horse-riding. Nothing you couldn’t fix, however, skilled as you’d become over the years.

Ten years in this world.

Ten years working as Prince Satoru’s personal maid.

You got rewarded for that.

The luxurious pearl necklace that became a part of your distinguished blue uniform, accompanied by a gold pendant encrusted with gemstones shaped like the Gojo’s family crest. It was an honor given to faithful, dutiful servants to the crown, closest to the royal family.

Satoru and you were both eighteen when you’d first presented yourself as his new personal maid. This body, undoubtedly yours, seemed to have aged down a few years, most likely to match the age of your predecessor. They had, apparently, been working hard to better their lot in life, aiming for an often-vacant position at the prince’s small circle of personal attendants. You inherited the skills they’d nurtured, bettering them along the years, allowing you to secure your spot as long as you have.

That, and Prince Satoru Gojo’s character trivia really came in handy an absurd number of times.

There were worse fates out there, especially for a transmigrated person like you. Sure, maybe life as a privileged noblewoman would have been ideal, even more useful in searching for a way home, but being a personal servant to Prince Satoru, as… Eccentric as he was, gave you advantages compared to other peasants, even other castle servants. Plenty of food, fine fabrics, individual accommodations, not having to exhaust yourself scrubbing floors all day or sweating by the heat of the kitchen fires – besides, the Gojo heir wasn’t quite as terrible a boss once you got used to him.

You remember finding his route in-game quite boring, full of cliché tropes and little to no conflict. He was also kind of an overbearing asshole the entire time, unlikability salvaged only by his elven good looks.

But nothing could have prepared you to the otherworldly beauty he posed standing right in front of you, in the flesh, for the first time, glacial orbs eyeing you up and down. You admitted to yourself – although begrudgingly, as he was your least favorite character among the ones you’d played – that Satoru Gojo was as handsome as they come and had every right to be smug about it.

Smiling to yourself, you put aside the needle and thread to hold up the shirt with one hand, gently tracing over the repaired sleeve with the other. You tug at it to test its resistance, nodding absentmindedly when its stays in place. It’s good as new, just in time for his hunting trip. You get up, taking a moment to adjust your skirts and straighten your white linen apron and coif, neatly folding the shirt and draping it over your arm. According to your pocket watch, his attendants should be waking him up at any minute now.

You grab the doorknob, wondering when you’d become so accustomed to this life.

And then you’re heading towards the prince’s chambers.

Gojo’s head snaps in your direction as soon as he hears the door creak open, a lazy smile gracing his features. You bow to him, respectfully averting your eyes as an attendant removes his undertunic to reveal his naked form.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

He doesn’t regard you immediately, arms raised as William, one of his attendants, quickly fetches the shirt from your arm and slips it over his head. It’s a morning ritual familiar to you by now, efficient movements shared between all three blue-clad servants in the room to make sure the prince will be properly dressed for his daily affairs.

Kai, your other colleague, hands you a black leather surcoat. It’s undoubtedly fit for royalty, handcrafted by the best tailor in the land; buttons of silver, western dragons embroidered on each side of its chest, facing each other, with gold thread some miller’s daughter had spun from straw – or so you’d heard. You feel his gaze upon you as you button up the overgarment, knowing exactly what he expects.

Gojo steps back when you’re done, doing a slow spin to show off his outfit.

“What flattery does this little doll have for me today?” He asks, “Do I look dashing?”

“Yes, my lord Prince, as always.” You respond, with a courtly nod of your head.

“What about my hair?”

“Soft like the finest silk in the land, fairer than the first snow of the season, Your Highness.”

“What about my lips?”

“Tender and pink like a freshly bloomed petunias in springtime, Your Highness.”

“And my eyes? And my eyes?” Gojo goads you on, a boyish excitement to his voice, his face coming a bit too close for comfort as if pleading to look up at him.

Playfully, your eyes meet his, granting his unspoken wish, holding his gaze for nothing more than a few seconds, a simpering smile as you speak.

“So strikingly blue it would put a midday sky in a summer’s day to shame, Your Highness.”

He releases an exaggerated sigh before grabbing your face with both hands, squishing your cheeks – his touchiness hardly phased you anymore; harmless, albeit pestering –, head slightly cocked to the side and a pout on his lips.

“You tease.”

Kai, newer to the group, shoots an alarmed look towards William, who merely shrugs him off.

And just as quickly he releases you, storming out the door as you and your colleagues follow after him, hurrying along the hallway steps behind him like ducklings after their mother.

Gojo Satoru is exactly seven minutes late to meet his guests. Not his servant’s fault at all, of that, you are sure. You had checked your pocket watch while walking through the castle hallways, confirming he would be on time to meet his guests at the open area of the stables – that was, of course, before all the meaningless detours he took along the way. You’re not sure if he does it on purpose.

William had his weaponry arranged, waiting at the hands of a servant, while Kai had personally spoken to the Marshal to have his Highness’ horse ready, both having woken up earlier than usual to make the proper arrangements.

Naturally, they would follow him to the hunting trip, as part of his entourage, while you stayed behind and made sure all was perfect for their return.

Your arrangements included waking up as early as the kitchen staff, the sun barely peeking through the horizon, to revise the ingredients you’d requested in advance with the head cook, so a kitchen maid could go and fetch them from the forest or the market. You’d love to be able to traverse the markets or the woods freely, exploring, meeting new people, finding out new things about this world that could potentially lead to a way home — but alas, being a personal attendant to the prince meant tasks such as picking herbs at the woods or buying strawberries from a merchant were, per your colleague’s words, below you.

It's a nice day out. A faint breeze caresses your skin, cool enough to be refreshing, and the skies are clear and blue with not a cloud to be seen. The autumn sun shines gently upon the earth, sparing of its overbearing heat. Your presence isn’t exactly necessary, but Gojo has made a habit of you seeing him off and you wouldn’t miss an opportunity to be outside.

“Fashionably late as always, Satoru.” His grace, Geto Suguru, is the first one to speak up.

A swoon-worthy duke, with a storyline much too… disconcerting… for your taste. Though the number of times you’d spoken to Geto could be counted on your fingers, being in his presence still put you on edge. Not that he had ever done anything to you, but you’d accidentally met his eyes countless times, caught him staring at you with a gaze so invasive it made you feel like a criminal awaiting judgement.

“Late? Treason. A prince is always on time, Suguru.” Gojo replies with a nonchalant shrug, “You were the ones here early!”

Awaiting his arrival were a group of familiar young men. Most you had seen in-game through the extensive selection of capture targets, coming to meet them in-person over the years due to their ties with the prince. You had played some of their routes, but with the exception of Megumi – Gojo’s protégé – you hadn’t a reason to talk to them, merely exchanging a word or two or none at all when in their presence.

“Finally.”

Nanami Kento looks mildly inconvenienced as he speaks, tone flat, arms crossed over his broad chest and a visible scowl creasing his features. He was a retired knight, born a peasant, presently a Baron; a personal favorite of yours. You couldn’t help but steal a glance or two whenever he was around. You remember kicking your feet up in the air during his playthrough. Sometimes you still do.

Next to him stood Prince Yuji Itadori, too entertained by his own horse as he fed him a carrot. You have faint memories of playing his route, although you don’t remember finishing it. He was a sweetheart, from what you knew, periodically visiting from a neighboring kingdom to learn from Nanami and Satoru and cultivate friendly diplomatic relations. You’d cracked your head trying to recollect bits and pieces of his story, unsuccessfully. You had a pesky feeling it was relevant.

Fushiguro Megumi was last. Broody lost prince, currently hidden under Prince Satoru’s protection – you hadn’t played his route, but he was a constant side character in Gojo’s. He was still a child when you met him, shortly after Gojo brought him into the castle.

When Megumi notices you, there’s a smile; faint, barely noticeable, and he waves. You respond with a brief curtsy.

“Can we go?” Yuji protests, interrupting some petty squabble between Satoru and Suguru, “I hear there’s a huge wild boar running around causing ruckus around the village, I want to catch it!”

Mounted on his white steed, Gojo is a cliché as old as time; a trotting reminder of your being in a world that isn't your own. The anodyne sight of him looking down on you, pink lips softly curving upwards to gift you a kind smile as the sun shines from behind him is almost identical to one of the game’s CG’S. It shouldn’t – you’ve grown used to him, to living inside this game, material as your own world – but for a moment, and just a moment, the sight of a whimsical prince on a white horse wiggles an uncomfortable, yet familiar feeling of surrealness, unreality into your mind, making your stomach churn.

You ignore it. Mentally sweep it under the carpet of your subconscious. This is nothing new. You can spiral into an existential crisis over the absurd condition of your circumstances later, when you’re lying sleepless in bed staring at the ceiling.

You’ve run out valerian root, anyway.

“I am obliged to be away for an entire day!” He whines, words punctuated by dramatic sullenness to his body language.

You step closer to him, taking a respectful bow before offering him a pair of neatly-wrapped sunglasses, which he takes – a distinctive feature of his character.

“So, you must, Your Highness. Go, and may the mother of good luck be with you.”

Satoru extends an arm toward you, presenting his hand. You kiss it – your own lips touching soft, pristine skin; a needed reminded he was a person, made of flesh that could be touched and not pixels limited to a screen.

From your peripheral, Kai elbows William as discreetly as he can.

You return to the prince’s sleeping quarters immediately after their departure. Overseeing the chambermaids, you watch them change the bedding for a fresh set, correcting the pair on your favored arrangement of pillows, fussing as they dust around the priceless ornaments around the chamber, amiably warning them to be careful.

When they’re done, you move onwards to the kitchen.

There are people watching you as you march through the hallways. Spying little peepers full of envy or admiration, or both, and you know what they’re looking at – the telltale blue fabric of your dress, a color so inaccessible to many, and the necklace you bear from years of service. Despite your own wishes, it makes you an intimidating figure, as if you’re an extension of royalty. Being a personal attendant to the prince meant upholding that image, keeping yourself unapproachable, discouraged from socializing and making merry with anyone but servants considered to be on your level.

Still, you greet the kitchen staff with a smile, trying to be as cordial as you possibly can. You know all of them by name, from the head cook to the scullery maid, all exceptionally busy for tonight’s private feast. It’s not your job to review the selection of dishes to be served, but you do so anyway, even if superficially, reminding them to provide a non-alcoholic beverage for the prince. Attentively, you listen to the head cook as he showcases the ingredients for the pastries you requested, assuring of their quality.

It's a bit of a hollow feeling when you leave the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, knowing the rest of your day will be spent alone. Without Gojo, there’s nothing much to do. Without William and Kai, your social circle has been just about reduced to zero.

But you do know where you’ll be spending all of those long, unending hours.

Being a personal servant to Prince Satoru gave you advantages. Privileges, if you will.

When he asked you what you would like for your latest birthday, you made quite a bold request. It’s the newest addition to the key bunch hanging from your waist – full, unbridled access to the royal library. The thought of having an entire day to search through never-ending shelves, making notes and finding books that could possibly lead to finding a way home cheers you up a bit.

“Are you fornicating with the prince?”

You nearly choke on your drink when the question abruptly comes out of Kai’s mouth, unable to speak from the utter shock. William is at his side, chewing on a chicken leg, and can only stare wide-eyed at his colleague’s bluntness. It’s been a while since the hunting party returned, clear blue skies fading into shades of orange adorned by heavy, rumbling clouds. Outside, tree branches sway to the force of the wind, preparing to welcome a starless night of rain and cold. Gathered at the table on Prince Satoru’s solar room, the three of you were having dinner to replenish your energy before the feast while Gojo entertained his guests.

It was usually a casual moment to decompress. Not tonight, Kai had decided.

“What– No!” You retort, scandalized, “What could have given you that impression?!”

“What hasn’t given me that impression, you mean.”

“Kai–” William tries to interject, but you’re quicker to rejoinder.

“I am not… fornicating with anyone, especially not prince Satoru. There’s nothing like that between us. That’s… How he is. You’re just not used to him yet.”

“But–”

“I think we’re better off cutting this topic of conversation here.” William interrupts, slightest bit of panic in his voice, eager to deflect conflict, “I know you’re still adapting to your new position, Kai, and that’s why I’m sure (Y/N) will be kind enough to let this slide.”

William looks at you expectantly, almost pleading, and you scoff before crossing your arms over your chest. The mere notion seems ridiculous – you, doing the deed of darkness with one of the game’s capture targets, destined to fall in love with the heroine regardless of whether she decided to pursue him or not? It would be a disaster waiting to happen. You were nothing if not a professional, serving your boss to the best of your power, and all of Satoru’s affections stemmed from his own outlandish personality. That was all. Your dynamic could be less than orthodox, but it was platonic in its nature.

“Come now, we can’t afford not to get along. Kai, apologize to (Y/N). I have worked alongside her for ten long years, and if she says she’s not engaging in improper acts with the prince, then she’s not.”

Kai silently looks between the both of you, finally letting out a defeated sigh.

“It’s a reasonable question, seeing you two…” He insists, shifting uncomfortably on his seat, “But I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“It’s fine, I guess. No one has ever insinuated that before.”

“Not to your face, doll.” Kai shrugs, nonchalant.

You want to snap back at him, but in comes the realization that he’s not wrong. Perhaps it was living within your bubble, mostly limited to your coworkers and your boss, had made you clueless to people outside and what gossip ran about you. William and Benji, Kai’s predecessor, had accompanied you in serving Gojo for a decade; neither of them would ever dare question your relationship with the prince or the harmless liberties involved; they were accustomed to it. And, well, you were accustomed to the point you thought everyone else saw it as you did: normal. The sudden realization that not all would find Prince Satoru’s affections towards you something ordinary was a staggering concept in your mind – but it was so simple. So obvious.

Then again, it never occurred you to ask…

“Do you think it’s weird, William? Be honest.”

“I have no opinion of anything, ever.” William stated, crossing over his heart with his right hand, “But now that you mention it, Benji did confide in me, shortly before he was relieved from service. Said something about ‘inappropriate displays of affection towards a heedless maiden’, I believe?”

“Oh. Benji never said anything like that to me.”

“He wouldn’t. Between you and me, he had a soft spot for you, so I do believe that statement was a little biased.”

On your face, an expression of utter confusion. You never noticed any signs of Benji liking you romantically, but then again, you apparently don’t notice much around you. The chicken seems to have lost its taste when you bite into it, mind too preoccupied with the conversation you just had. Not that there’s any use reminiscing about Benji – the man having been released from service only a month prior, after prince Satoru arranged him a marriage to a marquis’ daughter.

Now that you think of it, he didn’t seem too pleased about the match. Or about leaving.

The stone-walled bathroom smelled of fresh flowers and citrus. Sliced oranges and grapefruits, calendulas, sunflowers, rose petals, mint leaves, forget-me-nots, floating in the steaming hot water that filled the circular, wooden bathtub. Night has long since arrived, and even with the shutters of the only window in the room closed you can still hear the heavy rain pouring against glass and the rattling of wood caused by unrelenting wind.

Despite that, the candles illuminating the room, as well as the small fire burning underneath a boiling pot of water, kept the room pleasantly warm.

On the other side of the door, William and Kai undress the prince. All had retired to their respective bedchambers by now, and it’s not long before the pair of attendants are dismissed for the night. Gojo is already disrobing by the time he enters the bathroom, excitedly blabbering about the hunting trip as he plops the velvet garment onto your waiting hands, stepping into the warm embrace of the thoughtfully drawn bath. Suddenly, the ceiling becomes particularly interesting.

He lets out a long, satisfied sigh.

“… Not that I’m complaining about tonight’s banquet, though. I’m just a bit disappointed, you know? All the fuss people were making over a silly boar, and it made a passable meal at best…”

You hang the robe. From a tray placed beside the fireplace you select a pink macaron, feeding it to him before you start to work a soapy sponge along his skin. It had been a deeply embarrassing experience at first, aiding him in his baths; with time, however, like many other things, it had faded into normalcy. Nothing but work, is what you tell yourself when you elevate one of his sinewy legs with your hand, sponge inching closer and closer to his groin. You steal a quick glance at him, half-listening to his words, seeing Gojo laid back, unashamed by your ministrations, playing with the petals of a soggy sunflower.

“Ah– Megumi! His aim is getting better. He’s gotten really good at shooting with a bow and arrow…”

You wash the soap off your hands when you’re finished with his body. You feed him a small tart, topped with vanilla cream, strawberries, and blueberries. Still, he prattles on, words muffled by his munching,

“… mmph… And Suguru is still being weird about that wife of his… Something-something ‘she’s different from before’ and refused to elaborate…”

He quiets down a bit once you retrieve a warm compress, placing it over his eyes, fingers moving to either side of his temples to massage them with gentle circular motions. He relishes a bit on the relief it brings after a day straining his eyes. As he relaxes further under your touch, you let your mind wander, recounting the frustratingly slow progress with your research.

Even with access to the great royal library, the sheer number of books on varying topics was discouraging enough to tempt an emotional breakdown. You scoured through shelves, gathering a collection of sorcerer biographies, spell books, history books, encyclopedias – anything that could hold the subtlest bit of information regarding transmigration. And still… Nothing. Your eyes still felt a bit dry, a lingering headache from reading within the ill-illuminated library. All you had at this point were your own theories – and that wasn’t saying much.

If only you could leave the castle for a bit. A frightening thought, of course, as you could count on a single hand the number of times you had seen the world beyond the castle walls, never straying too far from the place you now called home. All of those occasions you had been following Prince Satoru on some of his trips, mostly diplomatic, with no freedom to walk around and talk to people as you pleased.

Perhaps a vacation was all you needed. Your “parents” lived not too far, if you remembered correctly, on one of the neighboring villages subservient to the Gojo crown. A favored place for merchants to gather, fairly populated, maybe if you tried investigating–

“(Y/N)?? (Y/N)??” Gojo’s fingers are snapping in front of your face, his eyes still covered by the compress, “Are you listening to me?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, Your Highness. I think my mind just wandered for a bit…” You apologize, hurriedly forgoing his temples in favor of washing his hair, “What was it?”

He remains oddly silent as you pick up a smaller bucket of ambient-temperature water, delicately wetting his hair. You weren’t giving mere empty flattery earlier in the day; running your hands through his hair truly felt like touching the finest of silk.

“You know…” He starts, “I notice your mind tends to wander a lot, especially these days...”

There’s an edge to his tone, one you rarely hear him use.

“Your eyes seem to wander an awful lot, too, lately.”

Another pause. There's no silence in the room, just an uncomfortable absence of words; You hear the fire crackling. You hear the water boiling and bubbling, thinking for a moment you should check the temperature of his bath to see if it needs to be warmed. You hear the muffled sound of rain against glass. You hear wooden shutters rattling. There's a strange shift about the air, and you're confused, unsure of what he could mean.

He answers your unspoken question before the words have a chance to leave your mouth.

“I saw you stealing those little glances at Nanami.”

You stand, bucket in hands, mouth agape – embarrassment. The heat of complete embarrassment that overtakes you feels like cold water poured down on your body. Your hands feel a little weak as you quickly try to regain your composure, looking away from Gojo despite knowing his eyes aren’t on you.

Fiddling with the hem of your apron, you try to find your words.

“When… When did you–” You stammer, “How…”

“Ah-ha! So, you plead guilty. That’s soooo shameless, flower.”

The familiar playfulness in his tone brings back a bit of confidence. Still, there’s something about it you can’t quite place; for a moment, you think there’s a bark to it, bitterness. Perhaps it’s something unpleasant about his day that he’s hung up about, increased by you not listening to him. He’s just teasing, you conclude, trying to vent whatever annoyance peeved him by picking on you.

You massage Prince Satoru’s scalp with shampoo – or the closest thing they had to it, in this world – hoping to placate his abrupt change in mood. Maybe you’ll hand-feed him another macaron.

“I was just… Looking.” You offer, cautiously, unsure if any explanation would make it better or worse for yourself, “There’s no harm in looking. Lord Nanami was admirable as a knight, and he’s handsome…”

Worse, if the crease between his eyebrows is anything to go by.

“… But not nearly as handsome as you, my prince.”

That seems to appease Gojo who, with a petty harrumph, relaxed into your touch again. Appealing to his ego always seemed to get you out of trouble. You’d never thought to be grateful for his petulant grouching, but it's music to your ears compared to the spitefulness from a few moments ago.

“I just find it vexing. Why would you ever bat those little eyelashes at Nanamin when you have the Morgan le Fay of men right in front of you to admire?”

“There’s no need for jealousy, Your Highness.”

You were just a humble fangirl admiring your bias, after all. You weren’t made of stone.

“At the stables. During the banquet. Would you like to have a portrait of Nanamin, so you can gawk at him when he’s not here, too?”

You rinse his scalp, running your hands through locks of his hair.

“I am so very sorry, my prince. Speaking of... Uh... Speaking of banquets! I hear there will be a ball."

It's a poor attempt to change the subject, and you can only give Satoru a sheepish, almost apologetic smile when he raises one side of the compress to acknowledge it as such, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

There will be a ball. In a month, to be exact. You know that not just from the growing agitation within the castle, or the coming and going of unfamiliar faces hired for temporary work, but because you had been counting the days for this very event ever since you realized this was the ball that kickstarts the main story, taking place towards the end of the prologue. It meant the heroine would finally show up.

You're not sure what it will mean for you.

“Sure, a ball...” He says, “My old folks said they would invite all the eligible maidens across the land because they want me to find a wife.”

“I'm sure you’re not too psyched about this...”

Prince Satoru vehemently nods in agreement.

“... But who knows? Give it a chance, you might just meet the love of your life there.”

“Pfft– Right, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“And why not?

“Well, what if I already met the love of my life?”

Then that would be some pretty weird timing, Your Highness. Prince Satoru wasn’t supposed to meet the heroine until a few days before the ball takes place, in a beautiful clearing out in the countryside, where they’ll share a lovely meet-cute after he nearly tramples her with his horse.

“Alright…” You spouted, unsure, “Why not bring her to the ball, Your Highness?”

“She’ll be there.”

His rosy lips curve into a conspiratory smirk, mostly to himself, blissfully unaware of the can of worms he just opened inside your mind. Had he already met the heroine? But it was way too early! It couldn’t be– or could it? You’ll have to check the makeshift calendar on your notebook. The timeline you wrote down, as well. There has to be some sort of plot hole you’re missing, or maybe the events have been thrown out of place for some reason.

“But you’re right, maybe a ball won’t be so bad. They said any eligible maiden across the land, rich or poor, of high or low birth. It’s an opportunity!” He announced, the last word said with enough enthusiasm to make you jump.

Once again, you don’t have the time to ask what he means– or to avert your gaze as he abruptly steps out of the bath, getting an eyeful of his bare ass against your will. You pat him dry with a towel as he helps himself to the tray of tarts and macarons. He extends both arms when he’s done so you can slip on the velvet, deep blue robe back on his body. Another towel is wrapped around his head.

The robe keeps him warm as he sits on a chair, waiting for you to come and finalize his night routine. You stay behind in the bathroom, emptying the bathtub, turning out the fire, disposing of the unused boiling water since Prince Satoru had decided to cut his bath short tonight.

When you close the door behind you, the smell of flowers and citrus is still in the air, stuck to his skin. You hum a tune as you brush his hair, its strands like gossamer, offering no resistance to the bristles.

“(Y/N).”

Gojo lifts up his head, not a hint of playfulness in his face or his tone.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

And yet his eyes are soft as they burn into yours, as if thinking, evaluating.

“Who, in this land, is the fairest of all?”

Every time he asks you this, you wonder if there was some dialogue you missed in the game. Nevertheless, the blatant reference makes you want to laugh; with him, though, the answer is always the same. There is no one to overshadow his beauty, objective, obfuscating, infuriatingly incontestable, and he knows that– you know that.

“You alone, my prince, are the fairest of all.”

If you were anyone else, you’d swoon at the smile he graces you with.

“By the way, I have something for you.”

There is a small box on the table he’s seated by, simple, with a golden latch, inconspicuous enough to only catch your attention when Gojo slides it closer, opening it to reveal an assortment of herbs tied together with a string.

“Since you ran out of valerian root…”

There wasn’t a single herb you could recognize, at least not with the dim candlelight. Despite this, you were pretty certain there was no valerian in that box.

“How did you know, Your Highness?”

“Those eyebags under your eyes, I know you haven’t been sleeping well.” He says, matter-of-factly, “Some old hag passed by the hunting lodge today, selling all sorts of things. Said this was a potent mixture of herbs for those with sleeping problems. It’s all safe, I’ve had the royal apothecary check it.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, retrieving the box and holding against your chest. You hope it knocks you right out. Heavens know you need it, after today.

“This is so generous, Your Highness… I don’t know how to thank you.”

“No need.”

He latches the box closed.

“Just have a deep, dreamless sleep for me.”

It was the very witching time of night, and the castle lay silent. Darkness reigned in its corridors, desolate and cold, broken only by flashes of lighting tearing through stygian skies.

Take pity, take pity on one who is sick of love.

Fire dances at the top of a candle, threatening to vanish at any moment, as one living soul treads through slate flooring, airy footsteps growing closer to your chamber door.

Satoru feels guilt twisting inside his stomach, that nauseating feeling of contrition before consummation. It doesn’t stop him, it never did – he isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin, but at least he knows he isn’t fully without a conscience. And yet, what is the point of guilt, overridden by excitement, conquered by overwhelming love, as he turns the key to your bedchamber, to defile you once again?

Defile, Satoru thinks to himself, is such an ugly word.

Your door doesn’t creak when opened. A simple spell to ward off prying ears, lest he has to replace another servant; Satoru had come to learn how thin those walls could be, sensitized to the littlest of noises in the dead of night.

He locks the door behind him, placing the candlestick holder on your bedside table.

There’s not much to see in the darkness, except for your pliable, sleeping form. You don’t feel the weight of your mattress shifting, so deep in slumber, as Satoru sits by the edge of your bed with the familiarity of a husband; and he likes to pretend, too, that these late-night rendezvous have an amorous twist to them. Isn’t it romantic, to be visited by a paramour so secretive you’re neither awake nor aware to receive?

What is he, if not a dedicated, twitterpated, infatuated princely lover sneaking through the hallways of his own castle to meet his beautiful dove, his golden trinket, his falcon’s eye–

But he isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin.

Satoru knows there’s nothing appealing about exploiting your vulnerabilities. If you were to ever find out, if you were to open your little eyes at this very second to see him stripping of his undertunic, the lovely relationship you’d built would crumble in a matter of seconds. It would break his heart into a million pieces, to see the horrified look of realization upon your face. And he feels the burning of guilt at the back of his mind, easy to dismiss, as his hands roam your body, past your clocked stockings of cotton and up your white shift.

He would hate to hurt you.

Which is why you’ll never find out. Your relationship can bloom into something far more precious that way, and soon he won’t need these nightly visits for fulfill the base needs you ignite in him. He often dreams of your wedding night, with you awake, receptive to his embrace, and then he’ll finally cross the one line he hasn’t dared to trespass all these years.

The shift is carefully slipped off your body. His cock is dribbling with pre-cum, twitching at the sight of your hardening nipples. He bedews one digit with his saliva as he lays by your side, spreading your legs just enough to slip one hand between to stroke your clit, peppering your breast and neck with kisses, nibbles, and nips.

Your body is more than accustomed to his touch by now – and for a moment, he wonders if you’ll be confused on your wedding night when, just like now, your folds grow wet with so little stimulation. Soon he hears the change in your breathing as it becomes heavier, increasingly ragged, little whines starting to come out of your lips.

Still, you don’t wake.

Not even as he slides a finger inside your soaked entrance.

It’s tight, temptingly tight, torturingly tight, but Satoru has enough self-control not to push himself through your folds. Not tonight. He can wait, he will wait until, eventually, you’ll be awake and willing to take his cock. He takes comfort knowing that day is not too far.

Satoru sits between your legs to rub his cock as he fingers you, biting his lip as not to let a wanton groan out.

"Fuck..."

It's not very regal to swear. He's never done so in front of you.

His voice is already strained, not above a whisper, when he sits up, settling between your legs to rub his cock with one of your limp hands. There are two fingers inside you now, Satoru biting his lip as to repress a moan stuck in his throat. He hates having to keep quiet, but the walls are thin, and it would be a lot more trouble than it's worth to deal with nosy neighbors.

Satoru isn't alarmed when you stir, eyebrows knitted slightly as he kneaded your clit with his thumb. It's not a sign you're waking up.

His fingers are coated in viscid, clear juices, thrusting in and out of your pussy with practiced ease. He can barely keep them inside when you tighten up, little tremors running through your body as you cum with a strangled whimper.

Satoru forgoes your hand in favor of positioning himself on between your folds, using your wetness to rub his length along your pussy, prodding at your clit with each upward motion. He’s lying atop you now, muscled chest glued to yours, gently suckling on your neck and muffling his low, guttural groans on your skin. His hips move at a controlled pace, refraining himself from how rough he wants to be with you – he’s still hung up about Nanami, after all –, feeling his own orgasm approach.

Your bed doesn’t creak, either.

He thinks of finally being enveloped by your insides, how your velvety walls would choke his cock when he made you cum. How your lips would touch his and you’d kiss, really kiss, how your body would respond to his touch when awake. What faces would you make for him? Would you look away, embarrassed, throw your arms around him and hold him tightly to you? He was dying to see you, to fill your womb as he looked deep into your open eyes.

Satoru Gojo isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin.

He’s delusional to a fault. And as much as he feels bad for you, for his horrible acts of debauchery against your unresponsive body – and all other perversions along the way – there’s hardly any guilt when he grips his cock with a tight fist, tugging at his length as spurts of pearly-white cum land on your bare stomach. His chest heaves, breath labored, half-lidded blue eyes staring at his handiwork with a dopey smile on his face.

Lightning illuminates the room, followed by thunder rumbling so deeply across the earth he swears he feels the walls shake. Candlelight flickers.

He cleans you up, not a trace of arousal to be found when he’s done, shift slipped back onto your body. For a moment, he sits at the edge of your bed again, leaning back on his arms. How he would love to wake up with you between his arms – but alas, you’d be much alarmed to see him by your side when morning comes.

He dresses himself, not before placing a chaste kiss goodnight on your forehead.

A ball, he ponders, that ought to be fun.

And as he leaves, candlestick holder in hand, locking the door behind him, there’s no guilt badgering his mind – only dresses. A selection of skirts and frills fluttering about, an appointment with the best seamstress in the kingdom; Satoru wonders which design he’ll choose for you to wear at the ball, smiling smugly to himself as he skips down the hallway, back to his chambers.

You wake with a startle, groggy, disoriented.

Resting in its usual spot at your bedside table, your trusty pocket watch indicates you’ve woken up a little over fifteen minutes later than you’re supposed to – Not too bad of a delay, which eases your initial panic. You’ll have to hurry up a bit when getting ready, but at least you won’t be late for work.

The herbs have worked a little too well, you conclude – gifted you dreamless sleep, devoid of interruptions, knocking you out barely an hour after drinking the tea you brewed. Although you had yet to fully wake up, there was newfound motivation to get on with your day after a much-needed good night’s sleep.

You make a mental note to properly thank Prince Satoru again. It was unexpectedly considerate of him to notice.

A shiver runs down your body as fresh air enters through your bedchamber window, caressing your face with its gelid touch. You see movement downstairs, servants and knights who have begun their day earlier than you. Beyond castle walls you saw the city, merchants coming and going through dirt roads among trees painted in breathtaking yellows, oranges and reds, its fallen leaves scattered over green grass. In the distance, you see neighboring villages, castles so far, they nearly faded into the horizon. The sun is out again, blue skies adorned by white, fluffy clouds.

The faint, comforting smell of freshly baked bread hits your nostrils.

You should get ready– you don’t want to be late, of course. But there is time for a quick look in the mirror, to check if your exhaustion-induced eyebags have been minimized, even if ever-so-slightly. It’s only then that you notice, attention diverted from the area around your eyes, three small, faint red spots on your neck and collarbone.

You touch them, briefly wondering where they could possibly have come from; but you don’t have the time to dwell on it for more than a few seconds, your neck will be covered regardless. One last look at the mysterious marks and you shrug, brushing them off. It’s nothing to worry about, anyway.

Must have been a bedbug.

#tw noncon #tw somno #tw somnophilia #tw yandere #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo x you #yandere jjk x reader #cw yandere #dark fic

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george-mackay-macfine · 3 years

Text

Let's play a game

A/N - Who remembers the snippet I posted ages ago with the bad boy / good girl. Well, I finally did something with it.

Please enjoy, Chapter one.

The warmth of the sun was the first thing I felt when I woke up, coating me in a blanket of warmth. It was too much warmth, and I was rapidly becoming uncomfortably hot. The second was the throbbing in my head, undoubtedly brought on by all the alcohol I had consumed the night before. And the third was the heavyweight of an arm across my torso. Who did the arm belong to? Well, to be honest, I wasn’t quite sure.

“Shit,” I whispered, cautiously turning on the plush bed, careful to not startle the owner of the arm that lay all too casually around my waist. “Shit, shit.” I moved the arm carefully off my waist, putting it beside its owner.

The owner of the arm was none other than Jude Hastings, the boy I’d known since I was eight, and the boy who’d mercilessly teased me throughout school and somewhat into our adult lives.

People, primarily our parents, often called it teasing— a bit of harmless flirting between an adolescent boy and a dorky adolescent girl, so they said. I, on the other hand, referred to it as warfare.

Which would lead to a lifelong war between Jude Hastings and me.

“Fuck,” I stood from the bed and looked down at what was covering my body… It wasn’t much. All I had on was what I’m assuming was Hastings’ button-down shirt, and that was it. No bra, no pants… And I had no clue where my underwear had gotten to. “Pull yourself together, Darcy,” I whispered to myself. “Just find your shit and get out.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, taking five deep breaths. My mother always told me it was a way to destress, but guess what, mom, I am still stressed. “Okay. Pull it together.” I had seven things I had to find in this apartment, and hopefully, it was all contained to this one room. Anything I couldn’t uncover would just have to be left as a sacrifice to the apartment demon.

My pants and top were the easiest to find, laying at the end of the bed a dead giveaway of where Hastings and I had ended our night standing, or at least standing for the most part. I vaguely recall him pulling me off the bed just to bend me over the desk he had pushed against the wall… I guess that counts as sort of standing.

“Jacket…” I crept around the room, trying to find where my favourite corduroy jacket had landed in the thralls of passion I had shared with the still sleeping demon. “Gotcha,” I pulled on the sleeve bringing it out from behind the chair that sat pushed into the corner. Another memory of Hastings and I making out on the very chair flashed through my mind bringing a blush hot enough to make the top of my ears burn. “Shoes, bra and underwear,” I sat on the floor, pulling my jacket over my arms looking around for a sign of any of the missing clothing. I quickly spotted my bra hanging over the bedpost at the top end of the bed. “Ahha.” I pushed up from the floor and padded across the carpet, keeping a keen eye on Hastings to make sure he didn’t suddenly wake up and catch me in the shameful morning after clothes collection. If I was lucky, I’d leave with all my belongings and whatever scraps of dignity I had left. “Four down, three left.” I scooped the bra off the bedpost and shoved it in my pocket. Watching Hastings, I dropped to my knees and looked underneath the bed in hopes of finding at least one of the remaining items, if not all of them. “Shoes.” I gripped the heel on one of my boots and pulled it towards me, half an item down… The second boot was more brutal to get to. I had to crawl at least halfway under the bed to reach it, somehow it had landed so far underneath the bed last night, but at least now I had shoes to wear for my solemn journey home.

Was underwear really that necessary for a journey home? Could I just leave without them? And my purse, I mean, I’m sure any decent human being with any dignity would give it back to someone who’d left it at their house. Still, then again, this was Jude Alexander Hastings we were talking about. He wasn’t known to me for being a decent human being. Besides, cancelling all my credit cards and getting a new I.D sounded a lot more appealing than risking Hastings waking up with me still inside his apartment with minimal clothing.

“Fuck it.” I army crawled backwards out from under the bed, careful not to get any carpet burns on any delicate parts. Trust me, one time of having sex on some carpet, and you know the pain well enough to not do it again. Once I emerged from the pits of the bed, I took a final look around, trying to find the elusive underwear or purse. “Note to self, cancel the credit card.” I stood up and walked to the pile of items I’d begun to form at the end of the bed: pants, top, bra, shoes and jacket. Five out of seven ain’t bad in the grand scheme of things. I mean, was it my favourite purse? Yes, and were they my favourite pair of lucky underwear? Yes. Could I buy more to avoid any further interactions with Jude Hastings? Fuck yes.

“Missing something?” The husky voice that haunted my alcohol-soaked brain startled me into dropping my pants to the floor. I spun on the ball of my feet and looked at him, lazily lying in his bed. The sheet hanging from his waist was the demon man himself. Since when did he have abs? - No, not the point, Darcy.

“Two things actually,” I felt the rush of heat blossoming on my cheeks as I finally allowed myself to look over his bare chest.

“Would these be one of them?” His hand rose, hooked around his pointer finger was my black lace thong, the one I’d been crawling around this whole fucking room looking for. Bastard. “They sure look like yours.” He held the up higher, squinting with one eye.

“If they’re not mine, perhaps they’re yours,” I smirked in self-satisfaction as the smirk on his face faltered. One Edwards.

“Well, if you’re sure they’re not yours.” He bunched them up, leaning over to his bedside table. “I think I’ll keep them then.”

“Wait.” I yelped, springing onto the bed. “Give them to me,” I reached for them. Holding my hand out, waiting for the lace scrap to be returned to me. “I need them to get home.”

“No, I don’t think so.” He dropped them into his bedside table. “You said they were mine.” One Hastings.

“God, I hate you,” My eyes turned to slits as the smirk came back to his face more prominent than the one I’d managed to make him lose moments ago. He shut the drawer and returned to his previous position, his whisky coloured eyes running over my form.

“Not what you were saying last night.”

“Was that before the double shots of tequila? Or was it before the fishbowl margarita?” I moved back, standing at the end of the bed, pulling my pants up over my hips. Usually, I’d feel self-conscious dressing and undressing in front of someone I’d just had sex with. Still, by this point in our lives, Hastings had already made numerous comments about how ‘plump’ I was, as he liked to call it. I didn’t have time to dwell on the idea that I gave him a front-row pass to see how correct his childish name-calling was. “Or maybe it was before the game of beer pong?”

“Yeah,” He dropped his head and laughed. “It started about there.”

“Hastings, you know as well as I do that I don’t remember a thing about last night, right?”

“Would you like me to give you a play-by-play?” I unbuttoned his shirt with nimble fingers. For once, my skill of unbuttoning button-downs came in use.

“No, thanks. I think I can surmise what’s happened from the lack of underwear.” And the memories of him pushing me up against his front door helped with the overall picture.

“It was your idea,” I stole a look at the bedside table where the same old alarm clock I was sure he’d had since middle school sat. Nine-thirty. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

“Was it now?” I didn’t really have time to hear how this interaction was my fault, but I was curious. Even if I was supposed to be meeting my parents for brunch in half an hour, and by the looks of it, I was going to have to suffer through without underwear.

“Oh yeah.” He fell back onto the bed. “The boys and I were at the bar, and you came up to me… You know I was expecting to have another verbal sparring match with you, one I’d ultimately win.”

“Doubtful,”

“When you began to flirt with me.” I could hear the smirk in his voice even with my back facing him.

“Is that so.” I sat on the edge of the bed and picked up one of my boots, unzipping the side.

“Oh yeah,” I heard the shuffle of sheets on the bed behind me and then felt the warmth of his chest pressing onto my covered back, heat radiating from where his skin touched me. “Never expected this from you, Edwards.” He moved my hair to the side, his fingers leaving goosebumps on my neck as he trailed a fingertip along the skin. “Really, I never did.” His lips touched the skin now, ghosting the same pattern his fingertips had traced.

“Alright,” I stood up, balancing on one foot as I tried to shove my foot into the boot. “I don’t know what this.” I wiggled a finger between our bodies. “Is, but last night was all there was. There will be no encore, M’kay.” I knelt down, zipping up the boot before shoving my foot into the second.

“If you’re sure you can live without one.” He moved back to the top of the bed, leaning back on one arm, watching me scamper to make myself presentable. “You know you’re still wearing my shirt.”

“Thank you, Captain obvious.”

“I’d like it back. It’s one of my favourites.”

“And those.” I jutted a finger at the bedside table where my underwear remained captive. “Were my favourite pair of underwear.” I smiled sweetly at him. “So we’ll call it even,” I brushed my hair with my fingers, trying to make some sort of progress with it so it didn’t look like I’d just been to pound town… which apparently from the ache in my legs I had been.

“You know that’s not helping,”

“What isn’t.”

“Trying to make yourself look like you haven’t just had one of the best nights of your life.”

“Bold of you to assume that,”

“Not an assumption. You told me so much yourself last night.”

Fucking Hastings. That’s it, fuck it. I was getting my underwear back. Even if it meant a small game of seduction.

“Look, Jude.” I let my voice drop into a whisper as I walked towards where he lay comfortably. I flung my legs over his body, straddling his waist. I couldn’t help but internally melt when his hands clinging to my waist, pressing me down onto him. I’m human. What can I say? The thin sheet gave everything away, and I had to admit, Hastings was packing more than I thought. Self-satisfaction flowed through me as I saw his eyes widen slightly, his pupils dilating as his fingers moving in circles on my waist. “I want you to know something about last night.” His eyes locked with mine as my right hand held onto his chin, keeping our eyes locked, my left going to the bedside table quietly pulling it open.

“Yeah?” His Adam’s apple bopped as he swallowed.

“Last night was,” I moved his head, so he was looking away from the drawer as my hand began to search for the fabric. “Was something that I…” My fingertips grazed the lace. BINGO! “I’m going to pretend doesn’t exist.”

“Oh really?” His hand quickly left my hip and grabbed around my waist. “Because I’m going to remember every little detail.” The lace slipped from between my fingertips as he flipped us. “Especially every time I open this draw.” I heard the draw slam shut and all hopes I had of leaving with my underwear gone.

“Get off me.” His right hand pulled my leg up and wrapped it around his waist. Oh god… he was good.

“Oh no, you started this.” He laughed, his chest pressing into mine with each exhaled laugh. “I’m just finishing it.”

“I need you to get off me so I can leave Hastings.”

“I dunno, I’m quite comfortable.” His hand pushed the fabric of his shirt up, revealing a tiny slither of my skin. “I like how you look in my bed, a forbidden fruit who doesn’t belong.” I let out a snort. If this was his attempt at flirting, he had a lot of work to do. “But here you are,”

“You are right. I certainly don’t look like the type of girl you’d waste your time on, so how about you let me up, and we pretend this didn’t happen.”

“No, I don’t think I like that idea,” His voice came out in a soft whisper.

“Why?”

“I was always told girls like you,” I felt a rush of enjoyment as his eyes ran over my body, a rush I didn’t want to feel. “The good girls who their parents think their perfect when really they’re the worst of the worst are the best,” It was beginning to be a struggle to concentrate as his fingertips brushed the hair away from my forehead. “And from what I’ve been told, you’re the best of them… So I want to find out myself.”

“Oh really?”

“Really. Why did you come up to me last night?” Why did I go up to him last night because I was lonely? Because I was sick of April talking about her fiancé? Because as much as I don’t want to admit it, verbally sparring with Hastings was a highlight.

“I heard that the reformed bad boys are the best,” His finger dragged along my jawline. “And I heard you’re one of the best.” I countered with a smirk.

“Oh really?” He mimicked.

“You tell me,” His fingertip tapped against my lips. Impulsively I nipped on the tip.

“Let’s play a game.”

“I’m listening.”

“The game to end all of our little games for good… No more practice jokes, no more telling my parents I got some random girl pregnant.” He chuckled.

“Then you can’t egg my car anymore or let down my tyres.”

“Fine.” He conceded. “Then let’s sweet talk,” His lips went to my neck, placing sweet kisses along the skin. “Let’s play fight, talk twenty-four-seven,”

“I’m no good at sweet-talking, and I don’t think I could stand talking to your for so long.” My voice came out breathy as my senses zero’d in on the feeling of his lips.

“Let’s wish each other good morning, and good night every day… We’ll take walks together.”

“I’d prefer a ride on your motorbike.” He let out a chuckle, the skin under his lips practically vibrating from the motion.

“I’ll give you a nickname,” His lips were on my jaw now, my hands we on his back, nails digging into the skin, I’m sure leaving moon-shaped indents. “Let’s hang out with each other’s friends.”

“Your friends are dicks.” His lips dropped close to mine, a chaste kiss being left on the right side.

“We’ll go on dates, talk all night on the phone… I’ll hold you, kiss you.” His lips moved to the other side. “We’ll make love, bang, fuck whatever you want to call it.”

“I’m waiting for the game part, Hastings. Right now, it sounds like you just want me to be your girlfriend. I mean, I know last night was good, but really this good?”

“The game is, Whoever falls in love first, loses.” He finally pulled away, his right hand still rubbing circles on my hip bone.

“Doesn’t seem like much of a game.”

“Then why do you seem so scared?”

Was this asshole serious? I was never scared, especially not when it came to challenging him, beating him.

“I’m not.”

“Then what do you say?”

“So you want to pretend we’re a thing to all of our friends, all of our family, just to make one of us fall in love with the other first for what? Bragging rights and heartbreak?”

“Tell me something.” His lips hovered inches from mine. I could feel the warmth of his breath, and how the hell did he not have morning breath? “How good would it feel to know you conned me into loving you, then breaking my heart,”

He had a point. After all the years of heartache and teasing he’d caused me, it would be fun to break his heart into a million tiny shattered pieces.

“What would we tell everyone?” His body moved against mine as he shrugged.

“That we’ve reconnected or connected whatever you want to say.”

“You really want to do this?” My brow raised in suspicion.

“Make you fall in love with me.” I nodded my head. “Oh hell yeah,”

“Fine.” I smirked. “Let’s play a game.”

#george mackay #dean charles chapman #calahan skogman #Ben Hardy #dylan o'brien #George Mackay Smut #Dean Charles Chapman smut #Calahan Skogman smut #Ben Hardy Smut #Dylan O'Brien Smut #Harry Styles #Harry Styles Smut

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undine-taz · 3 years

Text

5 times Diavolo failed to be a sugar daddy and one time he succeeded

I'm just imagining poor Diavolo trying SO HARD to spoil an MC who is just. Not greedy in the slightest and loves weird little shinies while being totally indifferent to the super crazy expensive gifts he usually gives to people he's trying to woo. Just in case, this is the PUREST OF FLUFF and completely sfw. I can’t even think of any tw to tag??? Let me know if you notice something. Oh, and MC is imagined to be gender neutral. There’s a mention of perfume, but not in the feminine sense- that’s just the proper word for a certain level of scent concentration.

1. Expensive Perfume

Diavolo's first attempt is the most expensive perfume/cologne money can buy

He's not quite sure what MC's favorite scent is, so he buys a wide variety

All the bottles are sleek and minimalistic and the scents inside are VERY obviously expensive, the kind of thing Mammon would probably lose his mind over

MC's reaction is perfectly grateful, they say sincerely how much they appreciate him thinking of them. He doesn't feel a single lie off of them and he walks away mostly satisfied thinking maybe they’re just the type to not show a ton of excitement over gifts

That is, until he's walking down the hallways in RAD and happens to overhear a conversation between Asmo and MC

Asmo's talking about how he's been going through perfume at a record pace lately, and he feel so bad about wasting these beautiful bottles... would MC like them? He has one shaped like a rose, one like a star, one modeled after the cosmos...

Asmo doesn't even get to finish because MC is already flapping their hands in joy (I'm autistic and MC is going to happy stim if it kills me) and wiggling and practically jumping into Asmo's arms in excitement

Asmo's laughing and promising to save all of his prettiest empty perfume bottles for MC from now on and MC is practically wiggling in joy and nuzzling their face into Asmo's chest in happiness

They’re talking about spending the night in Asmo’s room trying to make perfume blends for each other to fill up the bottles and tossing scent ideas back and forth

And Diavolo is sitting there feeling a bit like he's been bonked over the head. Those happy stims are ADORABLE and he wants to be the one who causes them. He's not sure why his perfume failed and Asmo's literal empty bottles worked but he's DETERMINED to try again

2. Fancy gemstones

Diavolo's next attempt is fancy gemstones. He finds large, beautifully cut and processed gemstones, the type that are so perfectly processed they look almost identical except for color

Again, when he gives MC his gifts he can tell that they're sincerely grateful! They tell him they love that he was thinking of them, they worry that he spent too much money on them ( they try to refuse at first because it's too much, but Diavolo breezes past their protests with a smile and an iron will) and Diavolo doesn't sense even the tiniest hint of untruth from their professions of gratitude

But.... there are no happy wiggles, no stunned gasps, no joyously flapping hands, no nothing. Just calm gratitude.

Diavolo goes back to the drawing board, and he's just going to visit the HOL library for inspiration in a rare book (and as an excuse to see MC) when he hears Satan and MC laughing together in the library.

When he walks in, he sees Satan and MC crouched together with some strange tools in their hands, gently chipping away at a large rock. There's a tiny pile of uncut, unprocessed gemstones at MC's elbow.

As soon as MC sees him, he's aflood in a wash of excited chatter as MC tells him about the gemstone mining kit Satan bought after reading a book on gemstones. In fact Diavolo can see the book open at Satan's elbow along with a notebook where the two have been identifying every gemstone they dig up.

Before he knows it, MC seizes his hand and he's drawn into the game, watching their eyes shine and seeing them bounce in their seat with excitement every time they uncover a new gemstone.

Dammit. Another failure. But, Diavolo finds as he watches MC's obvious joy, he can't be too frustrated when they're this happy.

3. Shopping spree at Majolish

Diavolo is undeterred! He takes a day to bring them to Majolish, having them try on outfit after outfit. Sure, they're not picking out very many things, but he loves spending time with them and they say they're enjoying themself.

After several hours, Barbatos gently reminds him that he has a meeting soon and that MC seems absolutely exhausted.

Diavolo pouts, especially when he sees that MC hasn't picked out very many things, but he sighs and concedes.

When he drops them off at the HOL, MC gives him a hug and thanks him for helping them pick out some more formal outfits for any upcoming RAD events. Diavolo accepts the hug gladly, but there's no squeaking or jumping and DEFINITELY no flapping. MC seems rather exhausted, and Belphegor has appeared from nowhere and draped himself over MC and is mumbling about needing a nap buddy and MC isn't even trying to argue

The next day, Barbatos shows him Levi's post on Devilgram. It's a video, of Levi giving MC a plain, unassuming box.

When MC opens the box, their mouth drops open, their eyes go wide, and they fling themselves at Levi, happily nuzzling into his chest and mumbling incoherent thanks while Levi turns bright red and starts stuttering and clearly tries not to combust

The video cuts out for a second and then starts again with MC wearing a simple shirt embroidered with a strange logo, which Levi explains from behind the camera is inspired by MC's favorite series and was handmade by Levi for practice. Levi was apparently asked to design formalwear inspired by anime, and he chose MC's favorite to practice a design. According to the caption, the two spent an entire day together watching the series and sketching ideas!

MC is beaming and happy stimming while Diavolo thumps his head into his desk dramatically and Barbatos elegantly stifles a chuckle behind him.

4. Bouquets of flowers

Well now Diavolo is determined. HE WILL MAKE MC HAPPY STIM IF IT KILLS HIM

HE HAS HIS PRIDE AS THE FUTURE DEMON KING DAMMIT

He begins watching the corniest of romcoms for ideas.

Midway into one of them, he sees the character buy their love interest bouquets upon bouquets of roses

BRILLIANT! He's up and placing orders immediately. Barbatos stays behind for a few minutes to actually watch how this particular ploy works out on screen, before laughing and going to watch the chaos

As dedicated as he is to the young lord, watching Diavolo scramble around trying to impress his first puppy love only to fail because the target of his affections is simply too humble.... well, it's honestly adorable. He'll step in if it goes on for too long, but for now it might actually be good for the young master to experience something he can't have by throwing money or influence at it.

Diavolo has some of the Devildom's finest florists on the horn and he's sending a veritable flood of their finest cut flowers... AND he's sending them from an anonymous source, just like in the movie! The woman in the movie only sent over THREE bouquets to the object of her love, so Diavolo sends 300. Only the best for his MC :)

He's waiting impatiently for the results of his little scheme when he gets an apologetic text from Lucifer saying that he'll be late to the meeting and MC won't be coming at all. Some anonymous admirer sent MC an excessive amount of flowers and the sheer amount of pollen triggered allergies in ALL of the demon bros and MC.

Lucifer needed time to clear out the house and distribute allergy meds to everyone and buy out the nearest store on tissue paper

Barbatos is no longer even bothering to stifle his chuckles while Diavolo buries his face in his arms to hide his shame

To rub salt in the wound, Lucifer tells him a few days later that he set up a miniature greenhouse for MC to grow humanworld herbs in and they've barely left it in the last two days

Lucifer’s been spending most of his free time in the greenhouse with them, helping them tinker with humidity spells and listening to their excited monologues on human gardening techniques

Lucifer is definitely smirking as he tells Diavolo this and Diavolo doesn't bother to ask how Lucifer knew what was going on, because his old friend knows him too well and Diavolo realizes he's not exactly subtle.

What he doesn't realize is that Barbatos is also a dirty dirty snitch and he and Lucifer have been watching over his attempts with a mix of hilarity and pity

5. Desserts

Some might give up, but not Diavolo! His newest ideas is fancy desserts. He was told by a sweet old succubus that the best way to his lover's heart was through the stomach (actually she initially had some far raunchier suggestions that had made Diavolo blush and had given him some ideas for far, FAR in his future relationship with MC, but that's neither here nor there) and so here Diavolo is, placing a giant order at Madame Scream's to be delivered to the HOL.

This time he has learned from his mistakes and he signs it as being from him and addresses it to "MC and the residents of HOL" because even he recognizes there are far too many sweets for a human to eat before they go bad

Barbatos by this point is starting to feel pity and is almost tempted to suggest he wait until it's not Beel's day for Fangol practice to send a giant array of tempting sweets.

Almost. If it weren't for the maid cafe fiasco of last week Barbatos probably would have, but that lace had chafed in areas that should never be chafed.

Diavolo sent his gift only to receive a poorly drawn thank-you card drawn by Beel and signed by everyone at the HOL, including MC, even though "I didn't even get a chance to eat any, BEEL"

This poor man feels his soul leave his body, especially when he returns home from RAD to find Barbatos and MC baking together and singing along to Disney songs (well, MC was singing, Barbatos was simply watching them with a smile and occasionally twisting them into a simple dance to make them laugh and squiggle with joy)

Et tu, Barbatos?

After yesterday's glitter incident, Barbatos has no shame and simply smirks back. He'll help the young lord when he can shower without finding glitter in every crevice.

+1: Tea together

Diavolo is planning his next gift when he gets a message from MC, of all people

His heart flutters, he has butterflies in his stomach, and he hasn't even read it yet!

It's a simple text- "What are you up to?"

Obviously Diavolo can't admit he's shirking paperwork to try and figure out a gift that would make them happy! So he improvises and claims he's working. He gets back a sad face emoji and a simple "Miss you! I feel like we haven't hung out in forever, but I know how busy you are. Good luck, I'm rooting for you!"

SHOT THROUGH THE HEART AND MC IS TO BLAME

This man is dramatically draped over his desk wailing about how cute MC is.

Luckily for him Barbatos has forgiven him for both the maid cafe incident and the glitter incident and Diavolo has been too distracted trying to plan gifts to cause any new chaos

Barbatos hands him a lovely picnic basket, complete with tea and fancy sandwiches, and tells him to go see MC and take a break since he's clearly not getting any work done as is.

Cue guilty glance to the overwhelming stack of paperwork that's been building up. He swears he's never seen Barbatos place more and yet they keep growing, are they breeding somehow...? Did Lucifer curse him after the taffy incident?

Either way, Diavolo takes the basket and heads off to HOL.

He's either very lucky or (more likely) Barbatos bribed Lucifer into helping him out, as MC is the one to answer the door.

They look kind of down until they see him and he explains he's there to spend time with them, and then they absolutely LIGHT UP.

Before he knows it, they've thrown himself into his arms and they're bouncing in excitement and snuggling him and happy flapping and boyo is confused but OVER THE MOON.

He finally did it!?!?! What was it!?!?! The picnic basket? Do they have a thing for picnics baskets!?!?!

And then he actually tunes in a d listens to their flood of chatter and how happy they are to see him and how much they've missed him and how excited and grateful they are they he took time out of his busy schedule to spend time with him and out in the thought to prepare a way for them to spend time in each other's company...

O H

He is M E L T I N G

He can't believe it was this easy.... no need for fancy gifts or anything like that, just... paying attention to their likes and spending time with them????

Holy shit he is gonna protect this human's smile witH HIS LIFE

And now that he understands them better he can buy EXPENSIVE SHIT THEY'LL ACTUALLY LIKE AND HE'LL GET ALL THE HAPPY SNUGGLES AND JOYOUS STIMMING IN THE WORLD!!!!

Yes, he decides, wrapping his arms around them while trying to keep the basket level

Now that he's gotten a taste of their sincere joy, he's hooked and he's going to make them as excited and happy as this as often as he possibly can.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #obey me one master to rule them all #sfw #fluff #bc Dia is just as starved for a friend #gn!mc

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xivu-arath · 3 years

Text

the taste of salt

for @synnthamonsugar! you requested, among other things, the possibility of savathun and lavinia conversing, and this idea just about consumed me afterwards (and shoutout to nem who managed to mention this exact same idea idly during lorechat and terrify me immensely). I also just associate these two with you at this point, as I think you were the one to point out lavinia had met savathun at the end of her journey to me!!

anyways, I think it’s only been this year that we’ve known each other but I’m very glad that we’ve met!

(AO3)

“My nephew died,” the witch continues, as if talking about the weather. “Just a little while ago.”

“Oh,” Lavinia says, before she can think better of it. “I’m sorry.”

Lavinia is in a cage. She worked that part out very quickly. But it is a cage made like a dream, and it works like a dream, and that makes it difficult to resent. Either the witch is not there, or she is, and might well have always been. Lavinia has tried thinking of her in other terms, even by the few names she can dredge up from pre-Golden Age myths, but they slide off as if oiled. The witch refuses all other titles.

Today – if there are days here, as the only way she can tell time is by the witch’s visits – the tea the witch pours for them both is a dark, smoky blend that she remembers from her time as a student, poring over every new secret and mystery in the archives.

It is also a blend that no longer exists; the plants, the supply chain that brought it to the city, the process and the knowledge behind it all lost, excised by a raid by one species or another. One infinitesimal loss out of trillions. Yet here it is, rewound, warming her hands. The flavour makes her eyes sting, and when she is done blinking the feeling away, the witch is watching her, smiling.

The witch’s eyes are very green, and pin her like knives.

“I really must thank you, Lavinia. You’ve been such a help. But you won’t mind a change in plans, will you?” she says, the question relentlessly rhetorical.

(Lavinia still wonders about Nasya. What things would have been like, if she could have gone with her. Would things have been different, or would she be a pawn in a different set of schemes?)

But at least someone is listening. Someone cares about the truths she has uncovered. Someone who very much does not want to be discovered.

“My nephew died,” the witch continues, as if talking about the weather. “Just a little while ago.”

“Oh,” Lavinia says, before she can think better of it. “I’m sorry.” The mention of family has jarred her out of any sense of caution, even with her thoughts scrambling for how long a while could possibly mean in such a place, what else she might possibly glean from such a short statement. She still has to say something.

“How kind of you.” There is something heavy and ill-fitting about the words as she says them, but the smile remains. “It wasn’t entirely unexpected,” she adds, almost confiding. “He was a clever child, but precocious. He took risks. It made him much like his father, though they would both have hated to hear it. You know how family is.”

Lavinia bites her lip, thinking of her mother, voice shaking through each syllable of her names when they argued. “I am sorry about your nephew, but I don’t see what this has to do with me –”

“We had made a great deal of plans, and it is up to me now to carry them through,” the witch continues, serenely ignoring her input, and her eyes glitter with what has to be laughter. “And it has occurred to me that you’ve been rather neglected here, after everything you’ve brought to my doorstep. You have been wasted for far too long, haven’t you? By your City, of course, and the Reef after that.”

Lavinia swallows, and sets her cup down. The flavour of home has encountered a large lump in her throat, and cannot seem to get past.

“I do,” says the witch, pensive, “hate to see waste.”

“I’ve told you so much,” she says, shying away from her certainty of how terrible a choice – was it a choice, really? – it was to do so. “I’ve told you everything I know. What more could you want with me?”

Maybe it’s still the thought of her mother, and the City, and an entire beautiful, ransacked planet she’ll never see again, that makes Lavinia fling the teacup right at her captor’s face.

The tea spills in a beautiful, gleaming arc. The cup catches on nothing as the air stutters, and she tastes salt and seawater for an instant – and then the world resumes.

They are sitting at the table. The wind howls and makes the branches of the trees outside tap at the windows. The fire crackles. The teacups sit, now empty.

“Feeling better, dear?” the witch asks dryly.

Her shoulders hunch. “No.”

“But you had to try it, anyways, didn’t you? Even though you’ve already learned the rules for this space.” She is still speaking more slowly, thoughtfully, and Lavinia finds she hates it. The conversational pleasantries and veiled condescension are... well, not fine, but they are a game Lavinia has a chance at keeping up with.

This is the witch slowly baring the blade of her intellect, and it is terrible – because of how deliberately she does it, because Lavinia is afraid and yet at the same time, she’s blundering towards trying to understand –

“You too are bound by your nature, after all.” The witch’s eyes are impossibly bright now, almost burning. She is reminded of the auroras over areas blasted by radiation, their very brilliance an implicit warning. “So our cycles continue onward.” She leans forward, and Lavinia scoots back without meaning to.

“If I had left you with the Nine, yours would have ground you to dust by now.”

“And captivity is so much better,” she says, desperately bold. If the witch needs her for something else, she’s scarcely going to get rid of her now.

The witch beams, and Lavinia knows she has somehow set her foot right back into another trap. “In this case, you’ll find it is.

“Tell me, Lavinia. How would you like to go home?”

All her fleeting bravado drains away. “Home? You can’t mean – I’m an exile. The City cast me out. I can’t go back.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind, even if this whole unfortunate journey started to fix that, to prove something so true and important the City would have to allow her to return....

“Oh,” the witch says. “I think your knowledge is exactly what they need right now. Your City will be grateful enough to welcome you back with open arms.”

Questions boil up with more than a tinge of urgency, and Lavinia chokes them down. Either the witch won’t answer them, or she will, and those answers will lead her further astray. She has to stay focused, clear-headed. Never her strong suit when cornered, but she rather thinks all the perilous situations have toughened her nerves just a little since she had crept into the Cryptarch’s vault. Would she have stared down those Guardians, maybe –

(Rambling again, Lavinia. Focus.)

It’s rather like phrasing the right question to get her master’s approval – not a task she was very good at to begin with – but the stakes are so much higher. Her pulse pounds in her ears. “Just sending me back for my own sake would be another waste, wouldn’t it?”

The witch smiles at her like the most terrifying grandmother she’s never had. “It just so happens that I am in need of an envoy to the City, since my last one was so rudely killed –”

“Killed?”

“Do keep up, Lavinia,” she says impatiently, and several pieces fall together in quick succession. Her nephew. Of course. “You’ll have a far more merciful reception than he did. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Lavinia almost wishes she had the simulated tea back just so she could busy herself while thinking very, very fast. Why would an enemy of the City – and she refers to the City and the Reef with such airy distance, like they are such small things – want to speak to it? There’s no question that going to the City on her behalf would be a bad idea. No question that, just as before, she has little choice.

So much for luck.

“And what would I be saying?” Her voice doesn’t quite waver. The witch is offering her what they both want. “As your envoy.”

“All sorts of things. Some of them may even be true.” The witch’s eyes narrow, and Lavinia feels the threat in her drifting attention.

“I’ll do it,” she says quickly, before she can think long enough to regret it. She can hear her master and Rahool and Ikora Rey all despairing of her in the back of her mind. So quick to make choices, so reckless. “Take me back.”

“First,” the witch says. “You must speak my name.”

She reels. “What? But – but you haven’t told me your name. I don’t know it.”

The look she gets is pitiable and mocking, a teacher exasperated by a favourite student. “Surely that shouldn’t be a problem for you. I’ve given you more than enough to find it.”

With growing dread, Lavinia realizes that this is true. How many enemies of humanity have notable relatives? The only ones she can think of are Oryx and his sons, all dead. But Oryx had sisters somewhere out beyond the solar system, circling with their armies and fleets out in deep space....

“Savathûn,” she whispers. “You’re Savathûn.”

“The pact is made,” Savathûn says, and her smile is decidedly sharp-toothed. “Let’s get you to where you belong.”

The warm and pleasant cage of a room shreds itself apart, and Lavinia tastes salt for the last time.

#my words #gift fics #destiny #the hive #savathun #lavinia #synnthamonsugar #sorry I tend to get wordy when I post gift fics #I am a big sap and need to express feelings as much as sum up how the request has been formed #anyways this ended up very ambitious and I have like 200 ideas that didn't make it in so #I hope you enjoy it and I will happily lob them all over to you on discord

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janaikam · 4 years

Link

My second to last commission for the @mlbforblm drive. This one was a pool request by @chatnoirinette for a djwifi date with marichat/ladrien. Because I’m marichat trash I decided to make this one with djwifi and marichat. I hope you all enjoy!

Thank you @marikittynoir for betareading!

Summary: Walking back home one night, Alya spots Marinette letting Chat Noir into her room. Alya and Nino accidentally uncover a bit more than expected when confronting their friend about the situation.

“Nino, I’m fine. This isn’t the first time I’ve walked back home alone.” Alya held her phone close to her ear as she glanced from side to side, watching for cars before crossing the sidewalk.

She was passing by her old college, Francois Dupont, which meant she had only a ten-minute walk left until she got home safe and sound.

Unfortunately, Nino wasn’t having any of that.

“Yeah, you do, but normally you’re walking in the daylight not the middle of the night!” Nino exclaimed on the other end. She could just imagine him pacing in his room, worrying about her. Nino was super sweet and she loved that he cared so much, but times, like this, it could be really annoying.

“I didn’t mean to stay so long at the library on purpose, but hey, at least I didn’t stay until dawn again! Plus this time I called you,” Alya pointed out.

The library Alya had just come from was this new 24 hour one that opened up. They had regular library hours, but if you wanted to stay behind and do your own research they let you pay for a membership. Alya had jumped on the opportunity as soon as she heard that they had a whole section on superheroes. There had been many times when she either stayed at the library all night or fallen asleep and Nora had to come pick her up because it got too late.

Tonight she really tried to leave at a decent time. She had even set an alarm, but that darn snooze button would be the death of her. She had been doing some research on past Ladybug miraculous users for the Ladyblog, and by her probably 10th time pressing snooze, she had noticed a bunch of college-aged students glaring at her. She had packed up everything really quickly and exited the building before checking the time on her phone. It had been 11:00 P.M.

“Do I have to start coming with you to make sure this stops happening?”

Alya rolled her eyes as she stopped at the crosswalk not too far from the Dupain-Cheng bakery. The bakery lights were off, but she could see Marinette’s bedroom light still on. Hmm. Maybe she could throw pebbles at her window like a little Romeo. But then Marinette would convince her to stay the night and she couldn’t afford to do that.

“No, dad. I’m fine. In fact, I’m about to pass by Marineee…” Alya trailed off, staring blankly at Marinette’s balcony.

Alya watched as Chat Noir landed on top of the balcony. He knocked twice before Marinette’s head poked out of the trapdoor and she kissed him on the cheek before moving so Chat could enter her room.

“Alya?! Are you there? What’s wrong?” Nino’s panicked voice interrupted Alya’s racing thoughts.

Alya gulped as the crosswalk light turned green, but she didn’t move an inch too scared that she might unravel what she just witnessed.

“Nino, I think Marinette is dating Chat Noir.”

XXX

No one could ever say Nino never supported Alya.

Alya wanted to be the power duo at Just Dance? He broke out his best dancing shoes and helped her climb to the top.

Alya wanted to chase akumas? Nino was there by her side, making sure she didn’t kill herself in the process.

Alya wanted to be a superhero? Nino was Rena Rouge’s number one fan and everyone knew it.

Alya wanted to help track down Hawkmoth? Well, Nino was more than happy to give the old fart a piece of his mind.

But when Alya suggested her best friend was dating the cat-themed superhero of Paris? Well, that was just a little too hard for him to believe.

Ignoring the fact that Marinette has a giant crush on his best friend, Chat Noir just wasn’t her type. Marinette never seemed to be interested in the boastful arrogant types. At least from what he remembered about her. But then again he could be wrong about her. Heck, he could even be wrong about Chat Noir. Yet none of that even began to explain why the two of them would be spending time with each other that they would start to even date.

It just made 0 sense.

“Nnnniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooo,” Alya drawled. “I know what I saw. Marinette kissed Chat Noir and then proceeded to let him into her room!”

“Maybe it isn’t what you think it is?” Nino suggested hopefully.

“What am I supposed to think, Nino!? That my best friend is just sneaking a boy in a leather-looking magical catsuit into her room in the middle of the night for the heck of it?”

Nino shrugged. “They could just be friends who are hanging out? Chat Noir doesn’t always have to parade around as Paris’ superhero. He’s probably just a normal everyday person and Marinette decided to help him feel normal. I mean Marinette is super nice about those things.”

“But the kiss! The Kiss, Nino!”

“Uhh...maybe they’re friendly? I mean we’re French. We kiss in greeting.”

Alya gave Nino a deadpanned look.

“What else am I supposed to say? There are so many other logical explanations for why Marinette would kiss Chat Noir as he snuck into her bedroom.” Nino paused for a second. “Okay, that sounded really bad as I said it, but c’mon Alya. You really think Marinette would start dating Chat Noir?”

Alya tapped a pen on his cap. “That’s what I’m going to find out!”

Nino groaned, knowing Alya she’d devise some crazy scheme to get Marinette to confess that she was dating Chat Noir.

“Alya, please, don’t do anything stupid,” he begged.

“Stupid? Who me?” Alya blinked innocently as she walked towards the door. “Relax, I’ve got it all figured out.”

Alya winked at him as she exited the apartment.

Hopefully, Marinette has better luck than me convincing her.

XXX

“On your left!” Adrien shouted as he moved his cat-themed character across the Marshmallow Marsh.

Thanks to Adrien, Nino just narrowly avoided a sugar bomb. Maneuvering around the sticky mess left in its wake, Nino was able to catch up to Adrien’s character as they reached the end of the marsh and the end of the level.

Candy Chompers was one of Adrien and Nino’s favorite games ever since they discovered it two months ago. They had been enamored by the sugary sweet world and all the characters and adventures that came with it.

It was really a nice change from the games that guys their age played. Less violence and gore. More cute adorable animals wanting to save their world from being overrun by the evil Candy Lord.

As the next level loaded, Nino felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket. He shifted his position on Adrien’s couch so he could reach the phone.

Nino groaned as he read the text from Alya. So Marinette failed at her job yesterday.

Adrien glanced at Nino. “Everything okay?”

“No.” Nino paused the game, running his hand through his hair. “Apparently, Marinette and Chat Noir are dating and it seems Alya is making us go on a double date Saturday.”

“Wait, Alya found out Marinette and Chat Noir are dating?” Adrien asked, almost fearful.

“Yeah, crazy right?” Nino set his controller on the arm of the couch. “I always thought you two would get together.”

“Heh, yeah, Marinette and I. Definitely won’t happen now. Cause she’s with Chat. Hehe.”

Nino raised his eyebrows. Adrien was acting weirder than usual. And that was saying a lot, considering he always had the lamest excuses when akumas happened. Nino never really questioned the excuses though. Whatever he was doing when they occurred was Adrien’s business.

“So you’re going on a double date with Chat Noir?”

Nino nodded.

“Awesome. Great. Amazing.”

Before Nino could ask about Adrien’s weird response, Adrien unpaused the game, forcing Nino to refocus on the level ahead.

Adrien’s behavior was weird, but maybe he just had more feelings for Marinette than Nino thought. Man, he really shouldn’t have mentioned the double date in front of Adrien. Poor dude.

XXX

“I still don’t see why you had to invite them over for a date,” Nino said, watching Alya pull out her famous chicken casserole from the oven. The smell of the dish alone was enough to get Nino’s mouth watering.

Placing the hot dish on the stove, Alya turned towards Nino. “I needed to see if this little kitty is good enough for our Mari.”

“Alya. He’s a superhero. You’ve had interviews with him. How can you say he’s not good enough for Nette?”

There was the sound of voices coming from Alya’s front door, so Nino moved to go open it. From what he could tell the two people outside of it were arguing.

“For all we know, Chat Noir could just be keeping up appearances. Knowing the entirety of Paris is watching, he could have just put on this fake personality, and underneath he’s just this ugly troll, trying to hurt our precious Marinette.”

Nino rolled his eyes at his girlfriend’s antics.

“Why are you dressed like that?” One of the voices in the hallway said. Kind sounded like Marinette if he really focused on the voice.

“I thought that this was appropriate.” Wow, that sounded a lot like Adrien. “Especially considering they think that—”

The voices stopped as soon as Nino opened the apartment door.

Huh, so it was Marinette’s voice he heard, but definitely not Adrien’s.

Marinette and Chat Noir looked like little kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Both of them looked extremely stiff as they stood next to each other right outside the apartment door.

“Oh, you’re here!” Nino jumped at Alya’s sudden appearance behind him. “Nino, don’t make them stay out there all night.”

“Yeah, c’mon in!” Nino moved aside to let the couple in.

“You came at a perfect time, I just took out the food. I’ll bring it out in just a second!” Alya said, walking back into the kitchen.

“Okay, Alya. We’ll be at the dining table,” Marinette responded, leading Chat over to the table in the dining room.

Nino wasn’t sure if it was just him, but Marinette seemed extremely tense like she was a mouse stuck in a field of mouse traps.

There was an awkward pause at the table once the three sat down. Neither of the couple in front of Nino seemed very eager to strike up a conversation. Probably just nerves.

Considering the circumstances, Nino figured that they never really expected to go on a double date ever, so now being on one was likely very weird.

“Uh, so, Chat, what do you like to do for fun?” Nino asked.

“Oh, you know. Everyday teenage boy things. Play video games, flex in the mirror, save princesses. Normal everyday activities. Hehe.”

“What games do you play?”

“I play a bit of Ultimate Mecha Strike III and Cand—OW!”

Nino watched confused as Chat Noir brought his foot up to his face and cradled it. Marinette didn’t seem at all concerned by her boyfriend’s antics. Instead, she was glancing back towards the kitchen where Alya was adding some finishing touches on her casserole.

“Oh, so you and Marinette must’ve bonded over your love for UMS3. She’s like the queen of that game. I still have yet to meet someone who could beat her at it.”

Chat Noir scoffed. “I’ve beat Little Miss Constipation Girl here at UMS3 multiple times.”

Of all the names to call Marinette, that had to be the weirdest one ever. He definitely had to ask about that later. As far as he knew , the only people who knew about the constipation incident were him, Alya, the girls, and Adrien. Well Nino only knew because Adrien had told him about his trip to London and Alya filled him in on some minor details after the fact.

Marinette either blushed in embarrassment at the nickname or at the fact that she wasn’t an unbeatable mastermind at UMS3. “You only won both times because you cheated by distracting me!”

“A true champion knows not to get distracted by the tiniest of things.” Chat had a smug smirk on his face as he watched Marinette turn as red as a tomato.

“Why you mangy little all-”

“Dinner is served!” Alya announced, interrupting Marinette.

Whatever the incident was surrounding UMS3, Nino was definitely never going to bring that up again for fear of his life or Chat’s life.

“So what were you guys talking about?” Alya asked, taking the seat beside Nino.

“Nothing much. Wow, babe this looks amazing. Let’s dig in!” Nino exclaimed, quickly grabbing a serving of the casserole.

Chat and Marinette followed suit while Alya gave Nino a look that read, ‘What the heck is going on?’. Instead of answering the exact question she was thinking, Nino turned towards his plate and started filling his mouth with food.

Alya shook her head at his antics, grabbing her own portion.

The next few minutes were spent in a comfortable silence as everyone dug into the food.

Alya really out did herself this time. Maybe Marinette should sneak around with superheroes more often if this is how Alya ends up cooking.

“You’re a hungry little cat aren’t you?” Alya asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Looking up, Nino saw Chat with his claw (paw?) on the spoon for the casserole dish.

“Sorry, I didn’t get to eat a whole lot today and this is really good food, Ms. Ladyblogger.”

Nino, along with Alya and Marinette, looked at Chat concerned. Of all people, Nino would’ve thought a superhero would eat enough to stay healthy. Superheroes like Chat and Ladybug were always out there running around stopping akumas. Not eating enough food? That was practically a death wish.

“Nino, could you go get the leftover coleslaw from our lunch earlier. I think Chat needs it more than Ella and Etta.”

Nino immediately complied, more than eager to help out the poor boy who consistently saved Paris.

“No, you don’t have to!” Chat started shaking his hands, trying to stop Nino.

“Dude, we have a model friend who doesn’t eat enough as it is and I always make him eat some of my leftovers. As far as I know you’re not a model, but you save Paris like everyday so a healthy diet is a must.” Nino pushed the bowl of coleslaw into Chat’s arms. “Here, take as much as you want.”

“Oh, um, thanks. I’m not really sure what to say.” Chat blushed.

“You don’t say anything. Just eat.” Marinette grabbed the coleslaw from Chat’s hands and filled his plate with a nice serving. Alya did similar and picked up the casserole dish, piling even more food onto his plate.

“Oh, okay then.” Chat picked up his fork and stared at his plate now full of food.

“I don’t see a lot of eating going on there.” Marinette had her hands on her hips, watching Chat to make sure he would eat. Chat clearly didn’t want to test Marinette on the topic of food, so he complied by eating the food in front of him.

“I think I finally get it. Marinette is dating Chat to make sure that he would be eating enough!” Alya shouted after a few minutes watching the two.

“Wait what you think I’m dating Chat!?” “That’s exactly the reason!”

Marinette and Chat blurted at the same time.

Nino furrowed his eyebrows at Marinette’s statement. That didn’t make a lot of sense considering they were currently on a double date.

“Wait, what do you mean you and Chat aren’t dating?” Apparently, Alya also picked up on Marinette’s statement.

“Um, well you see Chat is here, umm, filling in for Adrien because you mentioned how you saw me with my boyfriend and I’m dating Adrien hehe.” Marinette smiled unconvincingly.

“So you’re not dating Chat Noir?”

Marinette shook her head. “I’m not...did you think I was?”

“Uh, yeah! I saw him sneak into your room one night and you kissed him on the cheek!”

Marinette glanced at Chat. “Oh, uh, you saw that? Chat and I just hang out sometimes. Giving each other cheek kisses and all.”

Alya blinked while Nino grinned at the explanation. It was practically the same explanation he had given Alya when this whole thing started.

“Oh. Then that means you’re dating Adrien?”

Marinette nodded.

“And Chat filled in because Adrien couldn’t make it?”

Marinette nodded again.

“Uh, I have a question.” Nino felt the entire table’s eyes on him as he spoke. “Why did Chat volunteer if you and Adrien were keeping your relationship a secret? Why not just say Adrien couldn’t come instead of outing your secret to three people?”

“Adrien and I are bad at keeping secrets?” Marinette said more so as a question.

“Clearly.” Alya sighed. Nino could tell she was just as confused as he was.

There was just something about her story that didn’t add up. It was really bugging him, but he couldn’t place his finger on it.

Unless it was…

“Hey, Nette, did you ever tell Chat about the prescription incident?”

“No, why?”

That was it. That was what didn’t make sense. “Why did Chat call you ‘Little Miss Constipation Girl’ earlier?”

“Uhh…”

“There was another constipation incident!”

Alya gave the pair a look of disbelief. “As much as I could believe Marinette had some separate constipation incident. I feel like your actions suggest otherwise.”

“I mean it’s not like there’s anything ba—Oh my gosh, Chat’s Adrien.” The answer just hit Nino like a bullet train. How could he have been so blind. Adrien was the only dude who even knew about that stupid constipation incident. And then his actions lined up almost perfectly with how Chat acted. Even his reaction at the dinner invite. He was probably completely confused on who he was supposed to show up as.

“How could I have been so blind!” Alya exclaimed next to him.

“I guess we let the Chat out of the bag, huh?” Chat whispered to Marinette.

“No, you did!”

“Nah, it was a team effort.”

#miraculous ladybug #mlbforblm #my fic #my writing #janai's writing #double date fiasco #marichat #djwifi #marinette #adrien #alya #nino #double date #post reveal post relationship

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superalphabatman · 4 years

Text

The ‘I’m 100 pages into the Superbat tag on AO3′ Rec List Pt1

for @robin-jasontodd

A Game of Misunderstandings - JustGettingby

Things were going well for Bruce until some hot-shot reporter learns his identity. Now, he'll have to do what he can to keep his secret quiet. Even if that means joining the game of blackmail that Clark Kent started.

A Name He’ll Earn - dippkip

When the gods of Krypton uncover a plot to lay waste to humanity, a champion is chosen to rally the people and defend the mortal realm. However, the solution sits ill with Kal-El, who feels it would be more helpful to offer direct aid. Disguising himself as a mortal, he descends from Krypton to fight alongside this champion, but finds he must contend with more amorous distractions than he anticipated. This king of Gotham is a legend in the making, indeed.

As We Grow - butterflyslinky

Clark Kent is a farmer deep in debt to Lex Luthor.

Bruce Wayne is a billionaire with seven children and no luck in love.

But their families have a scheme to get them together and hopefully make life a little bit better.

Causality - whiteroses77

A tragedy befalls the Earth, and Superman decides he needs to do something about it, but he needs Batman to fulfil that wish. But how will their efforts affect Clark and Bruce’s lives?

Conviction - whiteroses77

Batman volunteers for a mission to find something that has been lost. It will take him to an unfamiliar and formidable place. Will it be worth it when he finds something that makes him question himself?

Everyone Knew Eventually - SoraHoshi

It took a little indirect help from a couple of embarrassing incidents, his ex, and his best friend’s son.

failsafe - lesbianchrispine (Sher_locked_up)

They’re each other’s kill switch; but, like, in a totally romantic way.

fallin’ for him was like fallin’ from grace - Resacon1990

“But Bruce isn’t gay?” Clark points out, and there’s an awkward moment of everyone clearing their throats and avoiding Clark’s eyes until he turns to stare at Bruce. “Are you?”

Bruce blinks for a moment before offering a sheepish smile. “I’m not... not?” he offers, and Clark feels his brain just about short-circuit at the news.

Or, five times Clark finds himself falling for Bruce, and the one time he does something about it

Forfeit - whiteroses77

Superman and Batman have to deal with the consequences when they have a really bad day after the JLA have a showdown. But will Clark and Bruce manage to salvage some happiness from someone else’s mistake.

grasp his heart (once and for all) - liodain

Bruce Wayne doesn’t believe in fate.

Helpless - sofia_gigante

When a near-death experience brings Superman’s desire for Batman out into the open, a dark and surreal relationship grows between the two heroes. However, when Clark’s obsession with Batman’s identity collides with Bruce’s trust issues, their games come to a bitter end. Months later, Clark is distracted from his heartbreak by the assignment of a lifetime—an interview with billionaire philanthropist Bruce Wayne. Unaware of their shared past—or secret identities—Clark and Bruce's mutual attraction grows into a fledgling relationship. Faced with the potential for something real, they both must decide if they can still live double lives—or if the cost of secrecy will be too high to pay.

In every sense of the word - bobafiend

Superman could not find it in himself to get along with Batman. Every conversation between the two was an argument, and not even Wonder Woman could force the two to make peace.

At least everything was going well at work. Bruce Wayne had recently bought the Daily Planet, and Clark was finding himself rather taken with the man.

Alternatively titled "Why Wonder Woman is on the verge of losing her fucking mind."

Incurable - susiecarter

Clark comes back a little bit wrong—or maybe more than a little bit. He poses a danger to anybody close to him, in more than one way. There's only one person he can think of who's learned enough about Kryptonian biology to help him and isn't currently in prison; and Wayne owes him, anyway. At least he won't have to feel guilty about lashing out anymore, if he's doing it at the guy who tried to kill him.

Except "lashing out" doesn't really cover it, after a while—and maybe Wayne's in over his head just as far as Clark is.

Infection - rebooting

Rather than being killed by Doomsday, Clark is badly wounded, and infected with kryptonite that has been corrupted via Doomsday's blood. In the aftermath of the fight, with nobody realising the extent of the damage, Clark and Bruce attempt to build something like a working friendship, with Bruce shrugging off the alterations in Clark's behaviour as post- traumatic reaction from having been nearly killed, until Clark, who has been giving in to urges to take what he really wants regardless of the cost to other people, decides to take something he's been wanting since the fight: Batman.

Like a Steel Trap - missigma

A young Bruce Wayne travels to Metropolis to try to gather more information about a mysterious new hero, Superman. After his first attempt—questioning reporter Clark Kent in his hotel room—proves fruitless, he returns to his original plan to meet the man himself. Long aware of a kidnapping plot, Bruce allows himself to be taken captive in hopes that Superman will rescue him. While Superman does make an appearance, nothing else goes according to plan.

Like Hand and Glove - megamindful

Bruce Wayne doesn’t have a soulmate. He’s been bare-wristed all his life. Chosen by fate to be alone... but fate never planned on Clark Kent.

Loss of Time - Lopithecus

"Let's listen to Flash, you said. I'm sure it'll be fine, you said." Batman's teeth are starting to clench. "Flash knows what he's talking about, it'll be easy and done with before you know it, you said." He's glaring and clenching his jaw so hard that Clark is almost afraid he's going to break his teeth. "Does this seem easy to you Superman, because it certainly doesn't to me?"

After a mission gone wrong, Bruce is left in a state that Clark really has no idea what to do with. Clark struggles to take care of his friend while battling his feelings for him along with trying to keep him safe from people who want to hurt him.

#superbat #superbat rec list #my rec list #wf #the fact that tumblr crashed #and didnt post this the first time #to erika #this just gonna be all the fics ive seen you these past months #the covid reading list lmao

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kazbrkker · 4 years

Text

Chapter 10: The Price of War

Chapter summary: The events of Highway of Death told from Alex's perspective. Alexis' real name is finally uncovered, and one of her captors' identity is also revealed. (3327 words)

Warnings: Hadir's betrayal, character death, flashbacks of almost death.

"Come on, stay with me!" an unfamiliar voice bounced around her head.

Was Alexis dreaming again?

Alexis was definitely dreaming again. Which was how she knew this was reality. Because she knew when she balanced over the thin line between life and death, she would dream. Sometimes she dreamt of hungover mornings and coffee runs with Maddox and the crew, inhumane circuit laps with Mactavish and Price, or the countless times Alex talked her ears off with the desire for another tattoo.

The pain that ached all over her body, accompanied by the abnormal brush of coldness told her it was time. Time to meet your maker.

She heard this joke once, and this sure as hell was the punchline.

"...keep squeezing... hand–"

Hadir? Was... was she really dreaming? This couldn't be real.

Worse were the dreams conjured by fear. The ones that took her right back to St.Petersburg to stare down the shimmering flames. The feeling of raw flesh after endless interrogations. And the reminder of wearing her blood like a second skin. It was she never left that tiny jail cell.

Alexis remembered the crackling of the flames. It was all that filled her ears. Her captors were missing. She was in the middle of nowhere.

The fire blazed a slow path straight for her like she was the final goal to reach. It tore down wooden crates, engulfed the flimsy curtains and went straight for her. Like the fire had a mind of its own and knew it wanted her.

This was it, the end of her legacy. Her stories were etched in flesh, and her book would be the grey stone in Arlington.

The salty tears streaming down her bruised eyes should have hurt, but didn't. The roaring fire snuffed out most of the oxygen and thinned the air. Her head was growing heavier by the seconds, eventually resting it against the grimy walls.

There are worse ways to go, she tried convincing herself.

When she started to drift away, she summoned enough energy to raise a fingertip over the wall—finding her name carved into the stones. Her real name.

Maybe, hopefully, somebody would remember her.

Her dreams manifested into her sleep over time. When she dreamt of St.Petersburg, she'd wake up with her mouth gaped wipe, like she paused mid-scream. Her fingers would tremble and she'd force herself to give in to her shaking legs and remain seated. She'd whisper to herself that it was only a dream. It'll stop.

Until it didn't.

Today, with her back on the ground, eyes rolled back, Alexis dreamt again.

The worst wasn't knowing she was going to die—that was the price of war. She had long made peace with the Grim Reaper. It was knowing she finally had something to live for.

Maybe this time her dream wouldn't stop.

━━━━━━

FIVE HOURS EARLIER:

29 October 2019, 0730 "Alex" CIA with Urzik militia Darus, Urzikstan

Alex hopped off the truck, inwardly expressing gratitude that after hours, they'd finally arrived at their destination. Though the aura of a village filled with rubble and dust in its silence put him off.

Ribbons of the early sun had already splashed across cerulean blue canvas. Behind him, Alexis blew a low whistle. He turned around to discover her standing in the middle of the elevated road—looking heavenward.

"What a view. Exactly the one I pictured–" Alexis marvelled.

Alia stopped her, "You picture your death?"

"Of course. You'd be surprised how disappointing death can be."

Alex kept a blank face despite feeling his heart drop. Apparently his cold shoulder treatment was starting to draw attention—evident when Farah arched an inquisitive brow beside him.

He returned with a shrug, still nursing his anger. He was pissed to be kept in the dark about Alexis' mysterious call. Her standoffish behaviour was from an all too familiar playbook that Alexis always operated out of—the masterful art of dodging.

It was exactly what happened after St.Petersburg. Which was why Alex had to intervene before it took a turn for the worse.

"You're out of it. Anything I should know?"

"What should you know?"

Answer a question with a question.

"If you want to lie to my face, go ahead. But I won't stand here and pretend to believe you."

"For CIA, you have no idea how to deal with women." Farah nudged him up the flight of stairs.

Only then did Alex realised he was spacing out. Although that couldn't stop him from thinking about how the early sun practically bathed Alexis with a halo. "Or... I know exactly what I'm doing," he smirked, climbing two steps at a time.

Farah smacked his arm, "Ah, don't play the game, play the man. I believe that's what you Americans call it." In combat, Farah was all expressionless and cold, but when the commander was out of the field, sometimes she allowed a certain amount of lightness to grace her smiles. They bumped fists with a knowing grin.

"Zip it," behind them, Alexis knocked Alia's head loudly, "Don't even think about dying."

"They'll have their hands full with her up there," Farah mused.

He heard Alia's terrible attempt at whispering—asking Alexis what he pictured for his deathbed. The cunning young lady certainly deserved an ovation. In more ways than one, Alia really was the splitting image of a young Alexis. Another loud whisper came from the young girl. "What do you mean he's not angry! You must be blind."

Alex recalled that one particular vacation in Bali that birthed this conversation. Just the two of them laying on the beach, free of woes and war. Three years felt like a lifetime ago.

"Throw me out of a helicopter, shoot me out a canon. I want my corpse to rain from the sky."

"Go out with a bang?" Alexis sipped on her frozen margarita, laying on a beach chair unbothered by the world. "That is very you."

Surely that sounded like an exaggeration. But if Alex had it his way, he would. Unfortunately, there was already a plot in Arlington reserved for him.

"Something like a sky burial," Alexis answered for him. Flashes of her chocolate hair loose on her shoulders and sunburnt cheeks left his mind. Alex felt her eyes burn into his back. "He's... weird."

"I heard that."

Several wobbly ledges later, they reached the vantage point that overlooked the highway, Hadir passed them two custom made sniper rifles. A larger than usual smile appeared on Alexis as she geeked at the custom rifle. It was almost comical—her jumping around while donning a ridiculous head gauze. While Hadir's impressive rifle put her in a good mood, Alex suspected it was Hadir, Farah and Alia responsible for this lighter shell of Alex.

He missed this version of her—not haunted by demons of her past. Trust it to be Urzikstan to draw out this side of her again. He'd do anything to make this Alexis stay.

"I'd watch that recoil, Lexi."

Alexis flashed a smile, pushing past him, "And I'd worry about your shots, babe. Trajectory is a bastard in this wind."

He set into a prone position right beside her, getting into tune with the new rifle. Then, Alexis cleared her throat loudly, winking into her sniper scope.

"Say, this cold shoulder treatment is getting a little old..."

A second later, she fired a clean shot into a watermelon 600 yards away. Hadir rejoiced in his native language, "Your fruit killing skills are remarkable, Alexis!"

"Don't I know it," Alexis winked. He sensed her scheming face before she even wore it, "Alex, since we're out here swatting flies, what do you say to a friendly competition?"

That interested him, "What's the catch?"

"No catch," she shrugged. "One minute. Whoever shoots the most is the winner. And the loser..." There was a glint in her eyes, "Has to do anything the winner says."

His eyes landed briefly on her grinning lips before he agreed.

The playing field was set: plastic bottles, some rotten fruits and crates. His index finger rested snuggly on the trigger, head lowered to dial into the scope.

"Okay! One minute starts..." Farah paused, "Now!"

Pulling the trigger was an unconscious effort by now, a steady exhale later and in between heartbeats, he fired. Right off the bat, he shot through one plastic bottle nested across the highway. Beside him, Alexis missed her shot, mumbling about how the recoil was too strong.

"Is the prize not enticing enough?" he mused, aiming for his second trophy.

"Only if you lose," her airy laughter made it hard to suppress another smile.

Within fifty seconds, it was a tie. It came down to the final plastic bottle. It was difficult to line a shot with the sun glaring right at him. Still, Alex kept his shoulders levelled and spoke with confidence, "Any last words?"

"You first."

Exhale.

Shoot.

Heart hammering in his chest, they watched collectively as the single bullet tore through the plastic bottle, leaving a gaping hole in its wake.

"And that's how it's done!"

Alex tilted back to reach Hadir's high-fives. "My brother, your biggest fan," Farah smiled.

For someone who lost a bet, she didn't play the role. With a charming smile, Alexis' fingers snaked the curve of his wrist. Alex pretended she didn't just jolt him awake with a simple touch, "So. What am I supposed to do?"

"I know just the thing," a brash grin slipped back onto Alex's face, thinking how he had more luck than skills. Or maybe it was an added motivator.

━━━━━━

Everything went wrong quick and fast.

When Price radioed with news, they expected the Wolf to scramble their way. What they didn't expect was Barkov's company.

Alexis split from the group, taking main overwatch at the next building beside them. Her injuries worried him. But their promise to inexplicably trust each other in the field triumphed his concerns. An enemy sniper across the highway was picking Farah's army off one by one. And Alexis... "Dropped his ass!"

That's my girl.

Winking into his own scope, he burst the tires off a suicide truck with a single shot. The one upside about this shit show was that Barkov's army helped clean up the Wolf's men for them.

He dodged back into cover just in time when a bullet whizzed past him. Shit, they found him. Farah panicked, "We need help! Where is Captain Price?"

"Won't make it in time! We need a Hail Mary for these fuckers!" Alexis shouted over the crossfire.

He spared a quick glance to check on her. In the blinding sunlight, her hair turned into a colour that reminded him of bitter tea. Several stray pieces of hair stuck against her sweaty neck. Alexis was still holding her weight, but it was obvious she was growing weary.

But no amount of energy could change the fact that they'd be boxed in by the enemies soon. And Farah and Hadir had too much honour in their cause to retreat. Alexis was right, they needed an ultimatum.

"I've got more firepower in the truck! Alexis, cover us! And Alex, follow me!" Hadir nudged him. Alex left the rifle at his nest and dropped down the ladder to follow Hadir.

"Hadir! Please tell me you have a big enough stone!" Alexis yelled past the gunfires.

"The biggest, sister! They won't know what hit them!" He followed Hadir in and out of different houses.

Without warning, a spray of bullets burst through the battlefield. Alex didn't think much of it until Farah yelled Alexis' name in a state of manic. His first instinct was to charge back in their direction, but Hadir kept a death grip on his forearm, reminding him they only had a small window to make this work.

This better fucking work, Alex thought. Dying on the Highway of Death would be too prophetic.

"My truck is full of explosives, very powerful explosives, it's time to use them! Open the tailgate, quickly! I'll cover us! Open it, Alex!"

The truck held canisters of– "Russian gas?" The entire time Alexis and he spent looking for leads of the stolen gas...

Hadir stole them?

"Yes! And now we send it back to them!"

It was too late. The tremors of an explosion, the screamings. They were lucky not to be swept in the explosion radius, but from the green gas that now terrorised the air, that was the least of Alex's worries. Soldiers irregardless friend or foe, doubled over to cough their lungs out. Blood sprayed ruthlessly in the air before they collapsed.

"You said we needed a big enough stone. This is it, Alexis!"

"No... No no no! Not like this–" Her sentence cut off.

Alex was on autopilot at this point, blindly following Hadir back into a house. Only Farah yelled through the comms, but it was radio silence from Alexis.

Please be okay. Although the raw coughs outside the bunker made him feel foolish for harbouring hope.

The gas worked quick, already blurring his vision. His head spun wildly and his throat scratched. The deadweight of his combat vest alone was enough to make him flop like a raggedy doll. His weakness fed his panic. Alex held onto the bunker's walls with every bit of strength still inside him.

Alexis, he recited over and over again. Alexandra Ward.

Bring her home.

Find her. Find her. Find her.

If Alex hoped the incantation could hold power for him, he was greatly mistaken. One step forward, he crumpled down the floor like an abandoned puppet.

"Hadir–" Alex's vision floated in and out, unable to see Hadir. He briefly registered a new weight over his face. A gas mask. Alex slurred through his words, "Alexis... Find..."

He fought against losing consciousness, not knowing when Farah ended up in the bunker, but only knew she was alone. "Alexis!" he weakly tried their comms again.

Fuck, stay the fuck awake. Not like this.

He channelled all the remaining energy he had, however little. He didn't stop, not even when his breathing slowed, his vision now appearing in phases, or his urge to vomit his guts out. Frantic, he reached for anything he could get his hands on–

His fingers flexed, not even able to feel the texture of leather of his gloves. All he could do was that, and blink to keep himself awake. Hadir was mumbling incoherently about something, not wearing even an ounce of regret from the mere silvers of sight Alex peeked through.

Hadir ran out the door like a coward. Some part of him prayed for the shred of Hadir's humanity to find Alexis.

Alex swore he saw the sun outside melt away, turning his world blue in twilight. His last thoughts were about a certain Bali sky.

━━━━━━

The buzzing of a helicopter shocked him awake. Alex shot up immediately, realising they were still in the bunker. It was deadly quiet, too quiet. Then he realised it was just his blocked hearing.

His world still swirled on its own axis when Price and Kyle came running in. Staring blankly when Price shouted something he didn't understand.

Alexis. The fog in his brain cleared. He kneeled his way over to the unconscious women who laid beside him. Using all his might, he propped her into his lap, fear-stricken when blood stained his hands.

Where did that come from? He hurriedly wiped the molten blood off her head, finding the opened stitches to be the root source.

"Holy shit, captain," Kyle deadpanned, a face full of dread, "This is bad."

Price wasted no time before scooping Alexis up and away to the helicopter.

Alex was thankful for Price who supported the weight he most definitely couldn't: the weight of Alexis dying in his arms.

━━━━━━

It must have been only a few hours of solitude Alex had since they returned to base. Laswell sent all of them to medical immediately—and Alex answered with a clean bill of health. He might be out of the woods, but his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

An unmistakable voice roared outside his ward, followed by someone yelling. He cursed loudly when his eyes snapped open. Did everything have to be white and smell of ammonia?

When his door swung open, he immediately shoved his trembling hands into the sanctuary of the hospital gown's pockets. In his doorway, his glazy vision told him someone was propped up by two other figures. Once his vision finally registered who she was, he bolted over. Much like him, she had an IV drip in toll.

Alex caught her by the waist when she faltered. "Farah," he gave her a once-over, "They cleared you?"

The commander nodded, stepping into his room with feeble steps. Although Alex suspected Farah's ashen face wasn't the result of the toxic gas. He passed her the tray of hot porridge that sat idly on his table.

His hands dropped when Farah eyed it in concern. He cleared his throat, jerking his head to the tray. As expected, Farah rejected it too.

"I'm sorry, Farah," he started, tracing the IV needle embedded in his forearm. For strange reasons, it calmed him. "Hadir..."

"Is my brother," Farah said sharply, "I should have known..." Alex rushed to her defence, but Farah raised her voice in both sadness and anger, "No Alex, I should have known. It is my job as his sister. Hadir was losing faith in the militia, but I pretended not to see it."

Alex averted his sight away. Unsure what to say to comfort Farah. He couldn't begin to understand, nor did he want to pretend he could. Farah rubbed an exasperated hand over her face, "Hadir killed most of my men. And..." Her voice wavered, eyes shining brighter under the blinding fluorescent lights.

"Alia," he said on her behalf.

How did everything go sideways so fast? Five hours ago, all of them were squeezed in the back of a truck, wind in their hair and laughter in their words. Alexis had promised Alia to a hamburger after this shitty war passed, because the war-torn girl had never seen one, let alone tasted one.

"Hadir will pay." Again, Alex remained silent. What could be worse than hunting your own brother? "And if Alexis... doesn't make it..."

Alex sighed, still rubbing circles around his IV. Farah's words all but gutted him.

Alexis tried going back for Alia, which prolonged her exposure. Her open wounds sent her condition from dangerous to life-threatening. The ringing in Alex's ears was so loud but he managed to hear something about chlorine poisoning.

Alex tiredly pressed his palm against his eyes, trying to force the memory of Alexis' rigid body out of his mind but only received another vision of her intubated with an oxygen ventilator. "The Cipro and antitoxin are a wild shot. They're more worried about the fluid in her lungs."

To Alex's surprise, Farah picked up the bowl of porridge to eat. The smallest of smiles tugged across her lips and somehow it made Alex feel much better. "I have no doubt she'll wake in a few hours. She's a tough one."

Alex remained silent.

"Maybe we should try dangling that forsaken ration pack she loves," Farah tried to joke, but her tone felt otherwise. A few seconds later, she continued, "Alexis survived worse. She will pull through."

Was Farah talking about St.Petersburg? It almost slipped his mind that she was the reason for Alexis' safe return. Well, her and... Hadir.

Hadir's betrayal would break Alexis... If Alia's death wouldn't.

Maybe guilt encouraged Farah to supplement the gaps in Alex's understanding, but she explained everything. From the burning house, Alexis' threatening to leave, to how she delivered Alexis safely to St.Petersburg. Whatever Alex knew was from the mission report, the gruesome details blacked out for clearance. The way she described Alexis' injuries induced nausea in him again.

But something else Farah said intrigued him. "A few weeks after Alexis left, the mercenaries returned to Urzikstan. Demanding blood for the American, they said."

Alex leaned out of his chair upon hearing this. It was a piece of the puzzle the rescue task force was couldn't collect. Even the joint task force of JSOC, CIA and SAS ran up cold leads as to who was behind the kidnapping.

"One of the men mentioned a name, Gaia."

‧͙⁺˚*·༓

a/n: alexandra... ward!!!!!!! her name is strictly need-to-know so we gotta thank alex for his pov lmao. & i'm pretty sure her injury counter is through the roof rn. but cheers to me for beating up my characters lol.

alia though... i'm absolutely gutted over this.

taglist: @shigarakiluvbot @wanderlustgiant @captain-pikas-world (wanna be tagged? lmk!)

#call of duty x oc #call of duty x reader #alex modern warfare #alex cod #echo 3-1 #john price #captain price #kyle garrick #farah karim #hadir karim #kate laswell #oc: alexis #ysrwrites: kl #killer instinct #modern warfare #fanfiction

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evadingreallife · 4 years

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Guys, guys, guys, can I get a mdzs au where something, anything, happens to jin zixun and he never goes to attack wei wuxian before jin ling's one month celebration, so that wei wuxian can go and be a doting uncle to jin ling, reunite with jiang cheng and jiang yanli, reinforce himself as a good person instead of Mr Lord of Evilness And All That Bad Stuff, uncover all of jin guangshan's rotten deeds and the budding jin guangyao's evil plotting??

Tbh tho I would settle for him and lan zhan confessing their love and eloping after the celebration.

Oh and mxy never goes to carp tower but gets adopted by wei wuxian as a little brother, xue yang is not a murdering psychopatic serial killer but gets taken in by someone (part of wei wuxian's brood of adopted children? Jin guangyao reformed? Jiang yanli? Cloud recesses? Jiang sect? Song lan and xiao xingchen? I don't care as long as he doesn't go batshit crazy), xiao xingchen and song lan go on to become sect leaders and elope wangxian-style, and maybe adopt a qing again.

Oh and nie mingjue, lan xichen and jin guangyao become thick as thieves and nobody betrays and murders anyone.

And Huaisang? Huaisang is the masterming that made all of this happen~

Oh and wen qing and wen ning start an itinerant order of medics and emergency aid because nobody knows how to actually cure stuff besides handwaving spiritual energy at it and hoping for ths best. They get intersect recognition and fame and money and live happily ever after. Wen qing finds someone to get together with (nie mingjue? Mian mian? I am not picky, as long as it's not jiang "forced romance" cheng), while wen ning remains a pure little zombie boy at heart and opens an orphanage for street kids (ooh, maybe that's where xue yang ends up, gets taken in and then when he grows up he stays to help and protect the other children, they all love him).

Let's see, who else? Jiang cheng grows up, leads the sect, doesn't have anger issues as serious as when he was younger thanks to the Power of Therapy and marries an OC, maybe someone that works in a kennel or a veterinarian! Then he has dogs, many dogs to take care of, and eventually children, many years later.

Btw, of fucking course the 3zuns are in a loving threesome and nobody can convince me otherwise.

Jin guangshan dies ingnored and stupidly and madam jin becomes sect leader, the most badass sect leader ever. She and huaisang have tea every other week to gossip and scheme and veily mock-insult each other, and everybody is afraid of even knowing what the hell goes on during those encounters. Is she his sugar mommy? Idk, maybe, maybe not, but they develop this sort of friendly game where they have to sneakily one-up each other with snark and snobbery, it's all very funny and entertaining for them.

She has a fling with Sisi, Meng Shi's old friend, and nobody even dares to say anything because madam jin is terrifiyingly captivating when she wants.

Mo xuanyu's mother gets help and therapy and finds happiness somehow, while her awful relatives live forgotten in an old house far away from there. She then finds one of the Wen Medics and joins the order and makes wonderful memories and even better friends.

Then, perhaps, something happens between huaisang and mo xuanyu? They meet as an accident, and then they keep on meeting, and thrice is not a coincidence anymore so maybe that's fate or maybe it's just concerned friends that would like them to finally confess and stop this game of cat and mouse thay have had going on for way too much time.

Eventually wei wuxian, friend extraordinaire, has to get himself involved because his grubby hands itched to help his school friend and his unexplainably-not-blood-related twin get together and be happy.

Afterwards he gets a scolding from a yuan that explains to him that he souldn't interfere this much with other people's love life, and wei wuxian is forced to stop plotting how to matchmake every single cloud recesses inhabitant to find love. But his students love him very much so everyone is happy.

He becomes an inventor, and spends his time in a frenzy of creative flux and kinky, kinky everyday sex. After a while his particular kind of crazy spreads and now he teaches classes to little juniors to learn how to access their spiritual energy and for university-grade students on harnessing energy and creating talismans and all those things he can do because he is awesome.

Everyone is as happy as they can be, all the sexually inclined people have loads of kinky (basically everyone) sex or even just old fashioned vanilla sex (but, let's be honest, this is mdzs, who doen't have some hidden kink? Xiao xingchen maybe?), and all the kids grow up happy and loved and awesome.

#mdzs #au #wangxian #fix it #fix it fic #canon divergent au #cql #this got away from me i swear #untamed #the untamed

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leakgaming457 · 3 years

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How much ram do i need for gaming

Of Wolf's Gaming Weblog

It really is time to recognize the greatest gaming blogs of the year. EDIT:I used to watch the Feedback video more than at G4 every week, but it really is gone down hill the final few times I watched it and https://www.eviloid.online/ now that Adam Sessler is not on it and they have that girl from IGN that absolutely everyone hates in just about every episode I just cannot be bothered to watch it any more. Still worth going back and watching some of the older ones though. Klepic employed to be on that show and back then in the early days was when it was the very best. Back when they in fact talked about gaming news with some semblance of intellect alternatively of just gushing about whatever game they are told is cool this week.

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youngjustusorbust · 4 years

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Day five! Costume switch!

This was inspired by the tt!tv ep where everyone dresses up as robin, cuz every time i watch it i think about how yj it is

Ao3

~~~

It was Tim's fault really. He shouldn't have thought to try to teach Cassie to walk like him out in the open. His bad for thinking his friends could behave. Like, just a little.

"No, like this," Tim said, hands on her hips as he guided her through a passable job of pretending to walk like Robin. She was in his costume to practice, everything done but make-up and wig, and he was in hers.

The idea was that if she, an invulnerable person, drew the bad guy currently trying to kill Robin's fire, then she would be unharmed. Best bait was the bait that had no weaknesses.

Tim was to be dressed up as her so he could be back-up, and no one would get suspicious if they saw him.

Cassie groaned and scowled at him, "that's what I did!"

Tim sighed and rolled his eyes, "no, what you did was more like this." Tim swaggered down the small aisle they'd cleared for themselves in the living room. "You're Robin, you have to stay here," Tim lifted to his toes, "on the balls of your feet."

Snickering interrupted them. Tim tried to ignore it.

Cassie crossed her arms over her chest. "But keeping that hurts!"

"Not like you're wearing heels! Here!" Tim tried to move her feet to show her when he heard more laughter.

Tim sat back on his heels and looked over his shoulder to glare at the boys sprawled on the couch, watching them.

"Yes, Kon? Ray? Anything to add?" He asked sourly.

Kon, Ray, and Bart had their feet up on the table.

"You look good as Wonder Girl, Tim!" Bart said cheerfully. He stuffed some chips into his mouth.

Greta came oozing out of the ceiling. "Oh, you're still at it?" She asked.

"Yes," Cassie grumbled.

Tim cut her a frustrated glare. "We wouldn't be if you could just get this right!"

Cassie stepped away from him. "Oh, I'm sorry. Who came to whom for help? Who begged whom for them to not be dead?"

Tim rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, Cassie, I-"

"You're right you're sorry!" Cassie snapped. "You've been critiquing me all day. Nooo, Robins do this, Robins don't do that-"

"Because they don't!" Tim cried. He took a deep breath and counted to ten before he said in the most calm voice he could manage, "look. You don't have to fool Batman, but you need to fool them! And if you don't get even close to how I walk or talk or patrol, then they're going to realize that you aren't me!"

"Why does Cassie get to be you anyway?" Bart asked, crunching loudly on a handful of chips.

"Yeah!" Kon teased, lazily smirking at them from the couch. "I'm sure I'd be a much better Robin than you."

Just count to ten, Tim told himself. One, two, three-

"Dude, you'd look dope in the Robin undies," Ray said.

"Right? That's what I'm saying!" Kon replied.

Four, five, six-

"Blech," oh great, now Slobo was here with an opinion. "Too wussy if you ask me. Needs a good skull or two."

Seven, eight-

Cassie blew a lock of blonde hair from her face with a puff. "Be my guest," she said, waving to Tim. "He's such a pain to work with."

Nine-

"Where'd you get the costume anyway?" Bart asked, licking chip crumbs from his fingers.

Cassie waved a hand flippantly. "Tim's room. He's got a whole closet full."

Tim realized Cassie's mistake less than a second after she said it. But the damage was done. Bart was already gone.

"Oh no," Tim said, only halfway through when Bart returned and tossed Tim's carefully folded and expertly pressed spare uniforms into the air.

"ROBIN FOR ALL!" He crowed. He grabbed some and in a tornado of motion switched into them comfortably.

Well, clearly not vey comfortably, Tim noticed. His thighs were too thick for the tights, and the shirt hung off of him like his bony shoulders were a hanger. He couldn't fit into the boots (Cassie had, in fact, been chosen partially because she was the closest in size and build to Tim). Bart hadn't found Tim's spare belt but had uncovered his mask collection and was currently trying to figure out the glue--which Tim knew was a sticky situation that could only end in an eyebrow-less Bart and one or two pairs of super-glued-together fingers.

Kon picked up a robin tunic that had landed across his legs. He scrutinized the size carefully. "Huh," he asked, "does the armor stretch?"

"Put that dow-" Tim started to say when Cassie and Bart replied at the same time: "Kind of."

And then Kon and Ray were both undressing.

Yep. Definitely Tim's fault.

"Guys, take that off! Now I'll have to reorganize my whole room!"

Greta floated down from the ceiling and Tim heard the pitter-patter of what had to be the rest of Cassie's team coming to join them. He sighed and slumped onto the floor. Ready to give up.

Well, you had a good run, Tim. But this is it. This is the thing that makes Alfred finally kill you.

Greta solidified her hand a hesitantly touched the material of a pair of Tim's leggings.

"Wow!" She said, flushing a little. "These are soft!"

Tim shrugged helplessly.

Traya and Anita jogged into the room. Traya's hair was half-done up in braids.

"Oo! Are we dressing up as Robin?" Traya asked excitedly. She bounded over to the pile of clothes and dug in.

Anita stopped by where Tim sat. Cassie helped Greta fit a costume over her misty self. Kon was obsessed with lunging to test the stretch of the leggings, and Ray was trying to dive away from Bart and his masj-glue.

"Hey," Anita said, watching the chaos.

"Hi," Tim replied.

"So... it's bring your Robin to work day?"

Tim groaned in response.

"Robin time? An abundance of Robins1a? Rockin' Robin? Round Robin? Robin in a-"

"Okay, I get it." Tim let out a weak laugh.

Anita leaned down and for a moment, Tim wasn't sure what she was going to do until she reaching down his shirt and plucked one of the fake breasts from his bra.

"B cup?" She asked.

Tim lowered his voice. "I'm being generous." But Cassie heard anyway and stomped over and flicked him hard.

"Ow! Hey!" Tim cried, rubbing at his arm.

Cassie sauntered back over to Kon who had pulled his leather jacket out from somewhere (Tim had hoped maybe he'd never see that abomination again) and had slung it and his rose-tinted sunglasses on as acessories.

He caught Tim and Anita looking, lowered the sunglasses and winked. Both rolled their eyes.

"Hey, look Anita!" Traya cried, pulling a badly ripped tunic out from the bottom of the pile. "You could probably turn this into a crop top right?"

"Hell yeah!" Kon crowed. "Give Robin some style!"

Ray frowned and pulled on his black boots. "You should really think about changing the color scheme, Tim. I don't know how you can possibly camoflauge yourself as well as you do in this."

"It's traditional!" Tim argued.

"It's a stoplight," Slobo grunted. He sat on the couch, helping Traya roll up the bottoms of the leggings which were much too long for her.

Bart raised his arms and waved them as if he was directing an airplane. "Look at me! I'm bait!"

"Well, I like it!" Greta declared.

"Me too!" Traya said.

Slobo made a noise that Traya took to mean that he was finished and she afixed a mask to her face. Shs stood on the couch and cried: "Superstitious and cowardly, beware!" And jumped off, giggling when Kon caught her and used his TTK to toss her higher into the air.

"What's this?" Bart said, suddenly in front of Anita and Tim.

Tim's eyes widened and he dove for, but missed, the fake breast still in Anita's hand.

"It's his boobies," Kon said, waggling his eyebrows. Then, "ow!" When Cassie hit him.

"Actually it's Cassie's-" Ray began but never finished when she stomped on his foot. Tim was sure he heard something crack.

Bart frowned at it. "Huh, it's squishy. What's it made of? Silicon? Is it a weapon?"

"How could it be a weapon?" Greta asked thoughtfully as she drifted over. Somehow she'd managed to get the Robin costume to stick, though the mask was askew.

"Silicon?" Slobo asked. He snatched it from Bart's hands. He squished it expirementally between his hands. "What's that?"

Okay, this was too much. Tim got to his feet to put an end to this madness. "Okay, guys this is all fun and games but can I pleasr have my fake breast back. It's expensive and-"

Ray and Kon burst into laughter and Ray said, "what? The doctor you visited out of town this weekend?"

"Hey Tim!" Kon added, giggling, "you don't need implants! You're perfect just the way you are."

Cassie glared at them, hands on her hips. "Not funny, guys." And when they kept laughing she balled up her fists.

"I don't get it," Traya said to Greta who shrugged.

"Hey! Get that out of your mouth!" Tim cried. Slobo had his maw open and dangled the fake breast inside.

"Why?" He asked as he bit down. "Soumbds deliphious."

Tim lunged for him. "Give that back!" And tripped over Bart.

"Mon diou," Anita muttered from behind them.

Bart stumbled into Cassie and then everyone was on the floor as if they'd all jsut lost a really competitive game of twister. Tim couldn't hear himself think over the yelling. He made a grab for the fake breast which was still half in Slobo's mouth and tugged at it. Slobo wouldn't let go. When Tim brought his elbow back to yank some more he bashed someone in the face who yelled at him.

All of the chaos came to a halt when a new voice shouted a swear word and everyone turned towards the door from where the new voice had emenated.

Bart whispered "yikes," which was rich because Ray had his hand clutched in Bart's singeing hair while Bart had his hand clamped sound Greta's cape.

"You said a bad word..." Traya murmured.

Snapper Carr stared at the mess on the floor of the living room, from the multitude of Robins to Tim's Wonder Girl costume. He had a giant paper bag of groceries in his hands.

He blinked, said firmly to himself, "I do not want to know." Turned around, mumured, "I'm getting too old for this," and walked out. Closing the door with a click behind him.

#diana writes young justice #diana writes yj #yjfanweek2020 #young justice fanweek 2020 #yjfanweek

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ladyofmaidensandwine · 4 years

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Of Saints and Sinners

Part Three of the All’s Not Fair in Love and War Series

Square Filled for SPN Dean Bingo: The Bunker

Characters: Dean Winchester, Fem! Reader, Sam Winchester, Charlie, John Winchester, Fem! Reader

Wordcount: 1,674

A/N- I know this one’s a bit short and rather late- sorry it took so long, luvs- but I did feel that this chapter wasn’t meant to be particularly exciting and was more about the reader coming to terms with herself and her new reality.

Summary: Dean has a surprise for the reader, and the reader struggles to reconcile two very different versions of herself while still trying to accomplish her mission.

The Bunker, it was called. Massive, endless corridors and halls of identical wooden doors, a windowless stronghold built of solid stone and hidden behind the outer wall. No one got in, or out, without the King’s explicit consent, and the building felt too familiar to you. Another prison. Dean had made a begrudging man allow you to select weaponry of your own from the armory, and then had the seamstress follow your guidelines to create a new wardrobe for you, as your cover had been blown wide open when you’d been forced to fight. The wounds had mostly healed, and would undoubtedly scar, and while everyone felt the safety of the Bunker would protect them, you had doubts. You had seen things that no wall of stone could keep out forever, and eventually, you would have to leave.

No matter where you went, a fully-armed escort of at least four men accompanied you, but not for your safety. For the safety of the civilians. Dean had promised John wouldn’t be able to execute or imprison you again, but how far did his word go, against the commands of his King? You waited for the inevitable heavy iron shackles, and that dark and silent cell haunted you in sleep. You couldn’t enter small or crowded spaces still, and the lack of windows in the stronghold made it hard to breathe sometimes, but you would never give King John the satisfaction of seeing you crumble. You trained, let them see what you were capable of if provoked, you studied maps as often as you dared, tested your mental capacity by memorizing as much of the politics of the kingdom as you could, learned and plotted and planned, and marked the days before you would make your move.

Dean had been absent, but his brother kept an eye on you. He never made to approach, but you knew he was there. On nights when you couldn’t sleep, you’d sometimes find him in the library, not a word spoken between you as you kept to yourselves and read your respective books. Those nights you sometimes faced with equal parts excitement and dread. The game was fun to play, a strategic balance of moves and countermoves, testing one another’s resolve, but it could mean precious time wasted in your search.

You’d been playing games since the moment you revealed yourself, one identity shed in favour of a completely new one, a person more palatable to the court, and one you hoped would gain the trust of the Royal Family. No one knew who you were, beyond your reputation, except for Dean. You wondered which part of your long-buried past he’d managed to uncover. Did he know who you were, where you came from? Did he know why you’d been captured so long ago?

Dean returned quietly, and you hadn’t known he was back until he was at your door, looking weary but determined. “Where were you?” You asked, not bothering to greet him. He entered the room and shut the door behind him, taking a seat at the end of your bed. “It’s good to see you, too.” Dean replied, raising a brow your way. You scowled deeply, and had to seriously refrain from chucking a brush at his face. Dean huffed, and glanced around the room. “Father sent me to hunt them down. Gather information about the attack.” He answered. “What did you find?” “They came on Crowley’s orders. To take over the throne.” Your eyes narrowed, suspicious of the information. “What is it?’ Dean questioned, pine coloured eyes searching you for an answer. “Nothing concrete. This feels a little too aligned to be coincidence, though. I was rotting in that cell for a good long while before His Majesty deigned to drag me out, and soon after, Crowley plans a coup, forcing us to retreat here? There’s more at work here, I know it.” You said fiercely, pacing the room as you spoke. Dean’s face was grave, eyes intense and solemn. “If this is all a part of some grandiose scheme, then we will uncover the plot and put an end to it. Y/N, look at me,” Dean requested, laying a warm hand on your shoulder as you met his gaze, “we will figure this out. Together.” Somehow, you believed him.

The Bunker offered privacy, which meant you and Dean could escape prying eyes and endless questions and people demanding your attention. You’d taken to sparring in one of many training rooms available, teaching Dean how to throw knives as accurately as you did, while Dean furthered your capacity in unarmed single combat. He’d attempted going easy on you until you’d broken his nose for it, and since then, the two of you spent almost every day together, fighting or trying to discover Crowley’s motives. There were eyes and ears everywhere, but you were no longer in hiding- you wore what pleased you, no more dainty lace and demure pastels, and while at first you seemed agreeable and a pleasant lady like any of the other court women, you no longer hesitated to put those who would speak against you wrongly in their place. It was the most honest and like your true self you’d been in many years, and with Dean, all those fortified walls and concealing masks fell away even further. He made it so easy, so simple, to be Y/N and Dean, just Y/N and Dean, not an assassin and the Crown Prince, a killer and a soldier, just two people enjoying the company of someone who understood.

“I have something to show you.” Dean said, pushing aside a heavy tome of the records and lineages of King John’s court of nobles. You tilted your head, raising a brow in a silent question, but Dean didn’t answer, only gave you a knowing smirk and an extended hand. “Do I get a hint?” You asked, taking his hand and letting him lead you from the library. “No. Close your eyes.” Dean instructed. “What?” “Don’t you trust me?” He asked teasingly. Your eyes narrowed. He was up to something. “At the moment, no, but generally, yes.” You replied, smirking back when he gave an unamused expression. “Y/N.” Dean said, annoyed. “Dean.” You mocked. “You may be the most obstinate woman I have ever met.” He sighed. The Prince eyed you with a look of both determination and exasperation, the kind of face you’d watched him give Prince Sam at least a dozen times before. “Then perhaps you’ve met your match, Your Majesty.” You quipped, but closed your eyes without further refusal. Dean huffed a laugh, his calloused palm rough but warm against yours, a small smile gracing your lips. You had glossed over it in jest, but it was true- you did trust him. And that terrified you.

You stared in stunned silence. A room with rows upon rows of artwork. Sculptures, and carvings, sketches, acrylic portraits and landscapes, watercolor paintings, oil, pastels, charcoal drawings, murals and mosaics. Your breath was caught in your throat, eyes wide as you absorbed the myriad of colours. “Is it to your liking?” Dean asked lowly, sounding nervous. You don’t reply, stepping slowly into the first section of stunning oil paintings, the most beautiful art you’d ever seen. Paintings of mermaids and things almost human, with eyes that held that lifelike quality a painter could spend years trying to get right, the shadows so well done, you could swear the paintings move. “I don’t- I have no words.” You said in awe. “What is this? Where did you get all this?” “My ancestors, the Men of Letters, collected the best artwork in all forms they could find for centuries. It’s stored here, but no one ever actually looks at this gallery. I- I noticed you admiring the paintings in the palace, and I thought perhaps you might find some interest in these,” Dean muttered, ears turned red, “and it has been too long since the room was used, anyways.” He deflected from his observation of your love for art, but you were not distracted by attempt. “Dean,” you said, catching his attention with the use of his first name, “this is quite possibly the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you, truly.” You said sincerely. “Don’t thank me, Y/N.” Dean said, something almost bitter and regretful in his tone. “There are supplies, should you want for them, towards the back. I should be going, but I-” He stopped, seeming to reconsider his next words carefully. “I hope you won’t mind if I stop by later.” He said slowly. “I should be quite offended if you don’t. Until then, Your Majesty.” You said with a curtsy, Dean sighing, but with a grin to match your own. “M’lady.” He bowed, smirking before exiting through the grand doors.

Dean was good to his word- there were countless supplies, easels and paints to last you your entire life, but though you had once delighted to spend hours attempting to perfect the colour and texture of a cloud with careful and decisive brushstrokes, that place in your heart that had been bursting with life was empty. You stared blankly at a canvas, and wondered where the girl you once knew had gone. The girl who brandished sticks of charcoal instead of knives, the one whose hands were streaked with a veritable rainbow rather than deep crimson, the one that had been kind, the girl that had been so alive. In your heart, you knew that girl had gone into Hell, and someone new had crawled out. And yet, sometimes you thought there might still be that part of you that had loved fiercely, and lived freely, little flickers of a painted scene in your mind’s eye, a stirring in your heart that called for joy. And as you explored the vast collection with Dean, you wondered if an artist’s imagination and a lover’s gentle hands could redeem an assassin. If maybe there was still a part of you worthy of redemption.

TAGS-

Forever Tags-

@justagirlinafandomworld

SPN Dean Bingo Tags-

@deanwanddamons

@spndeanbingo

All’s Not Fair in Love and War Tags-

@perpetualabsurdity

#all's not fair in love and war #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #spndeanbingo #medieval au

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slipperyskell · 4 years

Note

Hey, I really love your Cicero headcanons. He's one of my favorite Skyrim characters. If you have the time, how do you think he'll react to the environment in different holds? Or like visiting a city/palace or keep thing for the first time? I know he has a few voice lines for specific things but we all know Bethesda falls short on a lot in this game. Sorry if this is an annoying ask or something.

(Dude, don’t even worry about it!!! I honestly live for these kinds of asks and it makes me really happy that you took the time to write me one!!! Being able to actually interact with my followers makes me happier than you could ever know

Whiterun: Whiterun is one of his favorite towns. It’s by far one of the most peaceful he’s seen, aside from all the supposed werewolves around that Arnbjorn talked about. That set him a bit on edge. But other than that, it’s a very peaceful and prosperous place, one he wouldn’t mind settling down in if he had to. And there’s very few places he wouldn’t mind sticking around in outside of his blessed sanctuary. And that’s not even getting into the legendary Skyforge that rests above Jorrvaskr. One day he’ll have enough money to get a nice dagger made for him… One day… Dragonsreach is probably his favorite keep/palace of all the capitals. It’s very big and warm looking, and all the people, save for the Jarl’s spoiled rotten, bratty children, are rather nice for those ranking so far up in society. Oh, and to hear the stories of Dragonsreach’s history! The great tale of Olaf One-Eye trapping Numinex in this very palace excites him to no end. Who knows, maybe with the dragons returning, it could happen again! And Cicero could see it for himself!!!

Windhelm + Eastmarch: Very mixed feelings about Windhelm. On the one hand, it’s a pretty place, with a lot of history. Not to mention a good murder mystery he’s been keeping tabs on! But on the other hand… He does hold a disdain towards most of the Nords of the place, and their treatment towards the minorities of the town. He ain’t about that bigotry and racism, yo. Not to mention the unrelenting cold of the place. The Palace of the Kings is okay. Not terrible, but very hard to navigate and poke around in.

Winterhold: Cold, desolate, and mostly uninteresting, save for the college. Even then, it’s not like he has the time to devote himself to the study of magic (though he does have a strangely good grasp on Alteration related things). All in all it’s a pretty forgettable place, even with the College in mind. Honestly probably doesn’t even bother going into the keep/palace here.

Riften + The Rift: His favorite hold capital without a doubt. It’s chock full of criminals, though he honestly wouldn’t hold any interest in joining the Thieves’ Guild, even if he had the option. It’s a pointless venture to sneak around one’s house without sending the gift of a soul to Sithis, if you ask him. He’s scheming almost every time he goes there, observing the people and the security and every single little detail he can muster, so that he may save it for later. Outside of the city, The Rift is a very pretty place, too. Pretty like Falkreath, but not as personal to him. The forest being in constant golds, oranges, and reds make for surprisingly good camouflage with his jester suit. Mistveil Keep is a pretty place, though the people within and all the stories he hears about the Black-Briars does send him a little on edge, if he’s going to be honest. Not that he wouldn’t do anything - of course he would still cause trouble! It’s just… he supposes it provides a good challenge for a change? Makes him really have to think? All in all, the Rift and its capital gets him thinking in a very mischievous manner.

Falkreath: Probably his favorite hold, based off its looks. Cicero likes to wander the woods, looking for flowers for mother, whenever Astrid or Arnbjorn became too much and he needed to find some kind of release outside of the sanctuary. To be able to wander the forests, and find these hidden away little clearings, or some secluded spot along the shores of Lake Ilinalta… It was a beautiful place. Quite a few painful memories there after the Dark Brotherhood questline is completed, but… still beautiful. Very, very beautiful. The Jarl’s place is relatively uninteresting, though the Jarl himself certainly gets his attention. Cicero was young and arrogant once, but mother was sure to snuff that out of him long, long ago. It seemed no one had done that to Siddgeir yet. Perhaps Cicero should teach him a lesson…

Morthal + Hjaalmarch: Very dreary, and very wet. Part of him appreciates the constant mist that hangs over the marshes, as it makes for an excellent shroud for when he’s out for a stroll, or for a kill, but at the same time, he can’t stand getting wet in such disgusting water. And don’t even get him started on all the problems with the vampires! He appreciates the un-child, Babette, sure, but to have an entire hold running rampant with them? To have an entire town being under a siege, more or less, with the vampires being the culprit?! It was ridiculous. Madness, one might even say! The Jarl’s place here is also relatively uninteresting, though he finds Idgrod intriguing. A very cryptic old woman. Reminded him of his mother…

Dawnstar + The Pale: Like Windhelm and Winterhold, it’s very cold, and he gets cold very easy, so on that front, he’s not overly fond of it. On the other hand, however, this is the home of their Sanctuary. But not just any old Sanctuary, the blessed one! Blessed by Sithis himself! He thinks the land sacred, in a sense, and he feels compelled to send a soul to Father every time he enters and exits. It’s only fitting he express his gratitude for such a place, after all! Interestingly enough, he’s rather fond of the town of Dawnstar. It’s a quaint little place, cursed with nightmares, so he hears - his family haven’t need to fear such a thing, however, as Mother and Father protect their heads. Most of the townsfolk know of him already from his time in Dawnstar before he came to Falkreath, and while they do think he’s lost his marbles, they still welcome him. And, my, my, he never thought he would ever eat so much seafood in his life!

Markarth + The Reach: A very whimsical hold! Full of hills, cliffs, green grass, fog, dwarves… and those stupid Forsworn and their bird women! He really thinks it’s a beautiful place, not as pretty (and certainly not as peaceful) as Falkreath, but very pretty regardless! Really, if the place wasn’t crawling with the Forsworn, he would certainly love wandering along the river banks and enjoying the view of the towering cliffsides before him. They’re quite calming… Understone Keep is another one of those places that makes him a little uneasy, though it’s more due to the presence of the Thalmor than anything. He was only a child when the Great War happened, but he remembers enough to know that the Thalmor aren’t to be taken lightly. Other than that, he likes learning about all history that’s been uncovered regarding the Dwemer, and probably visits (or breaks into) the Dwemer museum.

Solitude + Haafingar: Reminds him a lot of home and his youth, which is both comforting and unnerving at the same time. All the different people, and different kinds of people… All mostly rich, in an honest manner or otherwise. Plenty of dark alleyways and full coin purses, perfect for ruffians like himself and his Listener. It’s pretty busy there, though, and unless the Listener is with him, the hustle and bustle can get the better of him and might lead him into an anxiety attack. The jester in his head also tends to come out in this city as well, bitterly reminiscing his days as an entertainer for the royal courts, which was mercilessly ripped away by Cicero so very long ago. He may or may not take his anger out on the poor man whenever he’s here. But what else is there to do for him? He’s dead! And his killer is still so very much alive and unwell, thanks to the jester’s handiwork… All in all, it’s a very love/hate relationship.

#cicero #cicero skyrim #skyrim cicero #skyrim #the elder scrolls #cicero headcanon time #cicero jester #jester cicero #the fool of hearts

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stressed-depressed-emo-mess · 4 years

Text

Kayla Beuller’s Day Off (Part two)

(PSA again. This is a continuation of part 1 and this is all for @killjoynest and their Quarantine fic fair thing. ONCE AGAIN: This is not my oc. This has been lovingly placed in my hands by Kayla. This prompt is names, and I did have to come up with a few extra names for a few extra characters. If you want to use them, DM me about it and I can give ‘em to ya!)

Names | beliefs

Kayla breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn’t believe she had gotten out of the surface city. She had heard about rebels who stayed in the city- Juvie Halls as the news had called them- and she was halfway hoping to meet one on her way to the Zones. She stopped. ‘How the hell am I even going to get there?? I don’t know jack shit-’ Her thoughts get cut off by lights shutting on suddenly- blinding her for a moment, and she gets yanked to the ground by a semi-gloved hand and a knee on her chest. She squeezes her eyes shut and her hands fly up to protect her face from whoever attacked her, but a gruff voice cuts through the silence saying,

“Oh, It’s just a Batt Rat. Fuckin hell,” someone says, with a thick Irish accent, and the weight is lifted off of her. Kayla uncovers her face to see Blue- the rebel who she saw come out of the passageway that led her here. She had followed them underground, and who would’ve guessed that they would be the first person she’d meet.

“How the hell did you get down here in the first place?” they ask, extending a hand to Kayla.

“I- I, uh, I saw you from my classroom window- a- and I just followed y- you down here.” she stutters back, embarrassed for tripping over her words as they help her up.

“Oh! You’re the kid I saw in the window?? Well, shoot me twice and call me mum a draculoid, I did not expect you to get here this quickly.” they say, a proud grin growing on their face, “My name is Blue J, and before you give me yours, you gotta think long and hard about it- you only get to choose once.”

Kayla gawked at them, that was their actual name? She had only guessed that because of their hair, but she didn’t think that it was- she was in awe. She had heard about the Fabulous Killjoys, Party Poison, Jet Star, that crew, but she didn’t think that everyone had names like that.

Blue J chuckles and says, “What? It’s not that good of a name, there are many names that are much better. Like yours, I hope.”

“I don’t actually have one… I didn’t think that everyone had kick-ass names…” I say, shaking my head.

“That’s alright, we can help out with that. You already have to outfit going for you, maybe we could work with that,” they say, patting me on the shoulder, “Let’s get you to the rest before anyone follows you down here.”

***

Kayla and Blue J had been walking and talking for a while and they had learned a lot about each other, they were originally from Ireland and they had been living in the underground since Batt City was first unveiled. They chose their name from their initials, and everyone just calls them BJ. They had taught her some of the slang that they and the other Juvvie Halls use before Kayla jumps in, saying, “I was going to try and make it out to the Zones. Could I even do that from here?” she asks

“Yeah, you could. We would have to smuggle you out when we go on a run though, we can’t just leave for the zones with nothing else- the others wouldn’t take too kindly to that. Ah, we’re here.” BJ pushes a series of buttons on a keypad before the wall next to it clicks open and slowly swings forward. BJ slips inside motioning for Kayla to do the same. “Hey, ya bastards, I’m back!!” they call into the area. The only lights are coming in through some very thin windows lining the tops of the walls, it drowned everything in an orange haze, rays of light cutting in through the cigarette smoke and dust in the air. There were hammocks attached to the walls, with a mess of food, papers, and articles of clothing scattered about. There were only two other people in the room- both of them looking up when BJ announced their arrival. One with neon green hair with red streaks walks up with a lollipop hanging out of their mouth.

“Addy! This is… well, we actually don’t have a name quite yet, but we’ve been working on it, uh, this is Addy Battery.” BJ says, introducing Kayla and then Addy.

Addy looks at Kayla, before taking out her lollipop and turning to BJ saying, “Why the hell did you bring a Batt Rat in here?”

“First off, I didn’t bring her here, this is the girl I told you who had seen me come out of the school passageway, she found me herself. Secondly, I think that counts as her not being a Batt Rat, don’t you think so? She did better than you- no one followed her down here. She slipped away without anyone noticing. So stop.” BJ fumes, calling Addy out on something Kayla didn’t want to know about.

“Alright, alright. Witch, BJ, you didn’t have to go off on me like that. But yeah, I get it.” she turns to Kayla, saying, “So where are you headed?”

“The Zones- I want to get out of the city. But, I, uh, I really like your hair,” she says, trying to get in good standing with Addy after BJ obviously embarrassed her.

“Well, thank you!” Addy says, her face softening, and a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, “I really like that color scheme you got going on, and I think…” Addy says, turning away to rummage through a heap of clothing, “we have a spare gun that fits it exactly.” she finishes, pulling a red and black ray gun from the depths of the pile.

“Oh, shit- Trey is not going to like you giving his gun to a Batt Rat.” The second person says from their spot in a hammock.

“That’s Moona Starshine. Don’t pay any attention to her, she’s all bark and no bite. And Trey- Tracer Drone- he’s got so many guns he won’t notice this one gone. In fact, I’m sure he’d be delighted to know he’s helping a Batt fresh outta hell. Where’d he and Leo go? Leo- uh, Neon Lion, we call him Leo as a nickname.” BJ rattles off name after name, and Kayla can hardly keep up with all of them.

Moona stands up, sauntering over to where BJ, Addy, and Kayla are standing and glares at Kayla, who tries not to shrink under her scowl. “Well, it looks like the Batt Rat is in a candy store, can’t keep up with all our names. Typical. What is your name then?”

“Drive side street, Moona-” Addy begins to tell Moona off before Kayla cuts in,

“Fatal Beat. My favorite game before the wars happened was Mortal Kombat, and I love music, so Fatal Beat. BJ, you said that the name had to be personal, well, this is pretty personal.” she says.

Addy’s eyes light up, and BJ looks very proud as they pat her on the back, “Fatal Beat. So we’re calling you Fatal or Beat?”

“Uh, Fatal, I guess,” she says, grinning.

“Fatal Beat. Ooo so edgy. You got something to prove?” Moona says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Fuck off, Moona- Moona fucking Starshine- what the hell is your problem? You are such a halo head, and it’s really getting on my nerves.” Addy says, pushing Moona away from Fatal, “Are you jealous of her?”

“And why the hell would I be jealous of a Batt Rat??” Moona says, completely outraged by Addy’s question.

“Stop calling me that,” Fatal says quietly.

“What was that??” Moona shoots back.

“I said, stop calling me that. I’ve been through enough to earn my way out of the city. My name is who I am now, and I’m not about to let some astrology fucker tell me that my name is stupid. Names are important, it’s who you are, they are the most personal thing someone can have. And if we get a chance to remake ourselves, then I think we should get a name to match. The old ones are tied to BLI, they’re tied to the wrong things, they’re tied to everything we hated about ourselves. New names, they’re freeing, liberating us from the harshness of our past lives, we get to come back as someone completely new, and I think, changing our name is the first step in doing that. I like my name, I love the way it makes me feel- it makes me feel happy. I don’t care what people like you say, because I know it’s great, and I don’t need anyone else to validate me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Moona, I think we have a run to go on.” Fatal says, definitely.

Addy turns away from Moona to stand behind Fatal, next to BJ, and says, “Damn right we do, BJ?”

“I think you’re ready- although, how should I know?” BJ says, turning them around and signaling Addy and Fatal to do the same. When they leave the room, with a speechless Moona standing in the middle.

“If it’ any consolation, I think you have a fucking awesome name,” BJ says, practically glowing with pride. They place something in Fatal’s hands, a spiked up leather bracelet. “I want you to have this, it was given to me by the person who brought my ass down here. He told me, ‘If I’m ever escorting anyone out to the Zones, and you think they’re worthy of it, give this to them. It’ll be a sign that they belong out there, and tell them the same thing, to pass it along.’”

Fatal looks up at BJ, who is grinning like an idiot, and thanks them, while Addy places a hand on Fatal’s shoulder, saying, “Well, what are we waiting for? We got a Batt to release!”

#zone five quarantine fair #mcr #my chemical romance #danger days #killjoy oc #ttlofk

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gwenbrightly · 4 years

Text

The Gingerbread Caper

Cross-posted from ffnet.

The quiet atmosphere of the monastery was broken by the sound of screaming originating from Kai’s bedroom, waking anyone who still happened to be asleep. Nya groaned in annoyance and covered her face with a pillow. Wu was letting them slack off from Sunrise Exercises and she really didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to take advantage of that.

“GET IT OFF ME!!!” Her brother screamed again, forming coherent words this time. That was it. Obviously, the master of water wasn’t going to be sleeping in today. She threw her pillow aside and climbed out of bed, eyeing her clock resentfully. It was far too early for this. Not that 10 am was particularly early (but still!). She trudged from her room still wrapped in one of her blankets.

“What the heck, Kai?” Nya demanded when she reached Kai’s bedroom just down the hall. The master of fire sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He tossed something at her in disgust. She caught it with minimal effort. A gingerbread man. Or, at least, what was left of one. The poor cookie didn’t have any head.

“This better not have been you, sis.” he stated. Nya rolled her eyes, tempted to return to the comfort of her bed rather than deal with her over dramatic brother.

“Like I’d ever stoop so low. Seriously, you didn’t need to scream like that. It’s just a cookie.”

Kai gaped at her indignantly.

“Would you wanna wake up with some creepy soulless human wannabe in your bed?”

“Now there’s a quote I should send to your lovely girlfriend right away.” Nya laughed. He glared at her for a moment before suddenly shooting up from his bed.

“Skylor!”

“What?” she asked, confused, “I swear I wasn’t actually planning on sending this to her.”

“No, she’s supposed to be coming over today to decorate cookies with us!” he reminded her. Nya face-palmed.

“I can’t believe I forgot about that…”

“Actually, this is perfect. She’ll be totally unbiased about this whole gingerbread man fiasco.” Kai mused, already deep in thought. His sister frowned at him. It was obvious he had something up his sleeve.

“What are you planning?”

“Don’t look so worried, Nya. This is just like one of Ninja Noir’s mysteries! I just gotta follow the trail of evidence and eventually, I’ll be able to eliminate the impossible and find the truth!” Kai told her, quoting his favorite detective series.

“Kai, no.” she said, attempting to prevent the situation from getting totally out of hand. He ignored her, instead opting to head over to his closet to grab something. When he turned to face Nya again, he was wearing a fedora.

“Since when do you own a fedora?” the master of water questioned. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

“Shhhh,” he cut her off with a wave of his hand, “Just go with it.”

Nya sighed, but followed him to go wait for Skylor to appear.

_________________________________________________________________

“Do I even wanna know what I just walked into?” Skylor wondered when she caught site of the scene playing out in the living room. Her boyfriend stared suspiciously at Lloyd and Jay, who were playing what appeared to be a rather intense game of Fist to Face (Ninja Edition!). It took him a second to register her presence. Nya waved her over, smiling apologetically.

“Someone,” Kai began to explain, holding up the cookie, which he’d gotten back from his sister, “thought it would be funny to put this in my bed and I wanna know who.”

Skylor resigned herself to another of Kai’s chaotic schemes. She already knew he had a problem with gingerbread people (and Christmas elves, and those little expanding bath toys they sold at the dollar store for that matter), though he wouldn’t tell her what it was about the holiday treats that bothered him so much.

“Eh okay. How can I help?”

“Are you sure you wanna do that?” Nya asked at the same time as Kai said, “You can be, like, the insanely hot mystery woman who helps the dashing detective (me) solve the mystery.”

“Real smooth, dork. But sure, why not.” the redhead decided, punching the master of fire’s shoulder lightly to distract from how rosy her cheeks were all of a sudden. He grinned in delight.

“Cool! Oh, and I guess Nya can help too.” Kai added as an afterthought. Nya raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you’re obviously not a suspect, sis! The gingerbread man couldn’t have been in my bed long or it would have crumbled, and you value sleep way too much to have gotten up early enough to orchestrate this.” he stated confidently. She didn’t look like she was taking this as a compliment.

“So, detective Smith, where do we start our investigation?” Skylor prompted. She had no desire to see the siblings get into a debate over their sleeping habits.

“Oh. Uh… We have to interview our suspects!” announced Kai, dragging Skylor and Nya over to the two video game playing ninja.

“Oh, hey guys. You wanna join our next round?” Jay offered, not taking his eyes off of the screen. He rapidly pressed several buttons on his controller at once.

“Yeah, it’ll be way more fun with more players!” agreed Lloyd. He gave a smirk of triumph as his avatar landed a final hit on his opponent. The master of lightning groaned, disappointed.

“Actually, I think Kai had something he wanted to ask you.” Skylor informed them. Jay and Lloyd set aside their controllers, curious. The sight of Kai in a fedora was unexpected; Lloyd was usually the only one who found them fashionable enough to wear.

“Oh, okay. What’s up?” the green ninja asked, wondering what on earth could be so pressing that Kai had gotten Nya and Skylor involved.

“I was wondering if you knew anything about this?” answered Kai he shoved the cookie under his brother’s nose. Taking note of the gingerbread man, Jay demanded, “Hey – how’d you convince Zane to let you have one of his cookies?”

He’d tried to snag one earlier that morning, only to be thwarted by the master of ice, who insisted they must save the gingerbread cookies for Skylor’s arrival. This was rather unfortunate, as they smelled utterly delicious.

“No, I- you’re telling me that you, the two biggest pranksters around, have no idea how this got in my bed?” Kai stated, skeptical. The two ninja shook their heads. It appeared he was going to have to use a different interrogation method to get answers. He judged his sister. She glared at him. He nodded pointedly at Lloyd and Jay. Not wanting to give in so easily, Nya stared at Kai silently for several minutes before finally relenting.

“If that’s true, then you won’t mind telling us what you’ve been doing all morning.” she said in her best police officer voice (and secretly wishing she had a fake mustache on her).

“Oh, that’s easy. We’ve been having a Fist to Face (Ninja Edition!) tournament for the past couple of hours. Just look at the scoreboard,” Jay told them with a shrug, “I mean, it is kinda embarrassing to see how many times Lloyd’s hooped me already today, but if it gets you to stop looking at me like that…”

Lloyd nodded, the picture of innocence. They took a closer look at the screen. Sure enough, the scores for the past thirty or so rounds, along with the times they were completed scrolled across the pause screen.

“Huh. Well, I guess you’re off the hook. For now, at least.” Kai decided, wondering who he should use his detective skills on next if the most obvious suspects had been ruled out.

“Maybe Zane knows who it was. He’s been in the kitchen all morning.” suggested Lloyd as he set up another round of the video game. Skylor grabbed Kai’s elbow and drug him towards the door, saying, “Good idea. I need to give him the extra sprinkles I brought anyway.”

Nya mouthed I’ll be back later to her boyfriend before following them. Instead of heading directly to the kitchen, Kai insisted on examining every nook and cranny of the hallway. He held a magnifying glass he’d somehow ended up with, though no one could say for sure where it had come from, and was doing his best to mutter what he thought sounded like very professional and insightful comments.

“Ahah! A trail of crumbs. Collect that for evidence, Sky.”

The redhead pretended like she hadn’t heard him, sharing a grossed out look with Nya.

“Oh, hey! Weren’t you missing an earring, Nya?”

Kai held out something sparkly and blue.

“Uh…thanks.” Nya accepted it, a look of utter surprise on her face. She’d been searching for this earring for weeks. Could it be possible that Kai was actually… good at this detective stuff?

“The detective and his sidekicks arrived at the kitchen at approximately 11:05 am., wondering what clues they would uncover inside…” Kai loudly announced, interrupting Nya’s thoughts.

“Hello!” Zane greeted them. Bowls of frosting in an impressively wide range of colors lined the counters along with several different kinds of sprinkles. Pixal was currently adding a few drops of vibrant red food dye to one of the few bowls that remained uncolored.

“Yes, welcome! Did you bring the sprinkles?” she asked. Skylor pulled a jar from her purse.

“Yep, here you go.”

“Thank goodness,” exclaimed Zane, taking them from her, “Dyeing sugar crystals by hand just isn’t effective.”

“Tell me about it. We tried it at the restaurant one time when we were in a pinch and… it didn’t work well.” the redhead recalled. Having grown bored with the conversation the others were having about epic fails with sprinkles, Kai examined the trays of cookies stacked next to the oven. Just as he’d predicted, one row of cookies was missing a gingerbread man.

“Hey, Zane, Pixal? You guys have been in here all morning, right?” he asked, casually. The two nindroids glanced at each other. Zane was the first to reply.

“Well, I stepped out for a few moments to bring Master Wu some oolong tea – he claims to be feeling a bit under the weather today – but, other than that, yes. Why?”

“I’m trying to figure out where this cookie came from. You didn’t happen to, say, give one of these to someone, did you?” Kai showed them the gingerbread man, curious to see their reaction. He was a little disappointed when neither of them did anything incriminating.

“I suppose it’s possible that Cole took it when I wasn’t looking. He came in here while Zane was gone to grab some extra tape.” Pixal said thoughtfully. Ahah! Kai’s eyes lit up.

“So he’s wrapping presents, huh,” he mused, “I wonder if he’s gotten to mine yet…”

“Kai! I thought you were being a detective, not some nosy kid!” his sister hissed disapprovingly. He huffed indignantly.

“I’m just curious, Nya. And besides, all the best detectives can multi-task.” Kai defended.

“Suuure.”

“Anyway, thank you for the info. We may be back later.” the master of fire stated in a more professional tone, heading out into the hall once more. Zane and Pixal waved as the others left, not sure how else to respond.

En route to Cole’s bedroom, Kai immediately reverted back to carefully examining every small space, carpet snag, and leafy garland in sight. Nothing escaped the lens of his magnifying glass. Not even his sister’s tennis shoes, which kept blocking his view. If he could just find something, anything, that would prove once and for all who was guilty of this delectable crime… Wait. Kai caught a whiff of something cinnamony wafting off of a wreath hung across the hall from the master of earth’s door. He sniffed the gingerbread man. It was the same smell. Reaching into the wreath, he plucked something small and round from inside. Victory! Skylor stared at him in confusion for a few minutes before realizing what he was holding.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Kai held the two pieces of the gingerbread man together.

“Yep. Looks like we might just have an official suspect.”

“You’re so weird…” Nya muttered under her breath. She was pretty sure nothing would possess her to behave like this.

“Hey, it worked pretty well, didn’t it?” Kai pointed out, slinging an arm around her shoulders. She sidestepped quickly, shrugging it off as she went.

“Well…” she started reluctantly, “I guess we’d better get in there and get some answers.” She swung the door open. They could hear the pleasant tune of the Nutcracker soundtrack playing on Cole’s phone as they entered. The ninja in question sat at his desk, surrounded by wrapping paper. He turned around and blocked their view of whatever else was on the desk before quickly asking, “Do… you need something, or are you just here to enjoy the total masterpiece that is the Nutcracker?”

“Uh, yeah. Though, it is definitely a classic.” Nya told him appreciatively. They would have to pull out the recording of Cole’s 6th grade performance of the ballet that Lou had given them one day soon.

“Let’s cut to the chase. We know why you were really in the kitchen, Cole.” Kai cut in impatiently. Cole’s face flushed with embarrassment.

“Aw, man! You’re not gonna tell Zane, are you?” he stammered.

“…What?” the master of fire attempted to ask.

“This is a one-time thing, I swear! His frosting is just too delicious to resist.” Cole continued sheepishly, oblivious to Kai’s question. Kai, Skylor, and Nya froze. This wasn’t at all what they had been expecting him to say.

“Zane’s…. Frosting?” Skylor repeated, wanting to make sure they had heard him right.

“Well yeah. I’ve been snacking in it all morning,” the master of earth admitted, showing them a mostly empty bowl, “It’s so good! Wait - what did you think I was talking about?”

No one replied at first; they were still processing the unexpected turn of events.

“We… may have thought you put a headless gingerbread man in Kai’s bed to mess with him.” Nya ultimately explained. Cole couldn’t help himself. He burst into laughter at this admission.

“Wow, I guess that explains the looks on your faces right about now. But as totally brilliant of an idea as that prank is, I had nothing to do with it. Sorry.”

“Eh, it’s okay. We probably shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions when Pixal told us you’d been in the kitchen. Or when I found the gingerbread man’s head in that wreath. In hindsight it was a pretty weird hiding place.” Kai said apologetically.

“Yeah.” his sister agreed.

“Almost…. Like someone wanted us to find it…” he continued.

“You think whoever did this tried to frame Cole?” Skylor questioned, finishing his thought. It was all coming together now.

“I guess I do…. Oolong tea not licorice…. Hang on a sec, I think I solved this thing!”

Nya gave him a look, as if questioning his sanity. His ramblings made little sense to her.

“No offense, Kai, but you lost me at tea.” she told him with a frown.

“Me too, honestly.” Cole nodded, equally lost, especially since he had missed a majority of the investigative process. Kai rolled his eyes in exasperation and said, “Just make sure everyone meets me in the living room in five minutes, and I’ll explain then, okay?”

“Even Master Wu?” Cole clarified, not wanting to disturb the old man without a good reason.

“Especially Master Wu.” Kai confirmed before dashing out of the room and leaving everyone else to wonder whether or not the master of fire was going to crash and burn.

He paced back and forth across the living room, earning the occasional odd look from Lloyd and Jay, who had moved on to arguing over the existence of a plot hole in the latest Starfarers movie.

“I’m telling you, Jay. They left that part vague so that it can be expanded on in the sequel!” Lloyd insisted. Jay didn’t look like he agreed with this statement, still stuck on his accusations of lazy writing. He was rescued from having to formulate a convincing comeback by the arrival of the rest of the residents of the monastery. Nya and Skylor had returned to the kitchen for the pair of nindroids, leaving Cole to retrieve Master Wu. The room was suddenly filled with noisy conversations as everyone claimed a seat.

“Okay. Let’s get down to business.” Kai practically shouted over the din. One by one, the others stopped talking and looked at him.

“Alright, let’s get this hare-brained scheme of yours over with so we can have lunch, then.” Cole encouraged, speaking for everyone. While they were curious to see if Kai had actually figured out who had pranked him, they had also gotten more than a little tired of being on the receiving end of his investigative tactics.

“Right. As you all know, I woke up this morning to find a decapitated gingerbread man in my bed,” the master of fire began dramatically, making sure everyone could see the cookie, “at first, it seemed like our resident pranksters, Lloyd and Jay, were the obvious suspects. However, they both had a strong alibi… It couldn’t have been them – they were right here in this room playing video games when the crime was committed.” he crossed over to Zane and Pixal, “next, my lovely assistants and I headed to the source of the cookie – the kitchen, in the hopes that someone there would know what had happened. Our ever-watchful ice ninja hadn’t seen anything suspicious. He stepped out for what, 15 minutes tops?”

“That is correct,” Zane nodded.

“He was getting Master Wu some tea because he was sick,” Kai explained, “more on that later. Pixal told us that Cole had come looking for tape while Zane was gone. We figured maybe he could give us some answers, so we headed for his room, and you know what we found in the wreath across the hall from his door?”

“That’s right,” Nya jumped in, though she still wasn’t sure how relevant it was, “The missing head!”

“Exactly. So obviously that must mean that Cole’s the culprit, right?” Jay and Lloyd looked at each other. Were they supposed to agree?

“Wrong! If he’d taken the cookie, he would’ve eaten the head right away, not hidden it. The only thing Cole was guilty of was stealing a bowl of frosting for a mid-morning snack. And that’s when it hit me. What kind of tea does Master Wu always drink when he’s sick?”

“Licorice?” Lloyd offered. Kai smiled triumphantly.

“Bingo. But when he asked Zane to bring him some tea, he asked for Oolong tea, which he never drinks when he’s sick because it tastes nasty with honey in it. Master Wu, you’re not really sick, are you?”

The elderly spinjitzu master smiled weakly at him, but did not deny the accusation.

“Here’s what happened: Master Wu asked Zane to bring him some tea because he knew it would distract him long enough for the real gingerbread prankster to put their plan into action. Knowing she only had a short amount of time, Pixal grabbed a cookie and snuck into my bedroom to plant it on me. She also hid the gingerbread man’s head in that wreath in case someone came looking for it later. She only barely made it back to the kitchen before Cole arrived.”

Skylor snapped her fingers, excitedly jumping in.

“I get it! When we showed up in the kitchen to ask Zane about the cookies, she told us about Cole because she knew we’d find the head and think it was him.”

“Exactly! And it would’ve worked, too, if the tea hadn’t made me suspicious. The only thing I haven’t figured out is why….” Kai paused, staring at them, “Why did you do this, guys?”

Wu stood and walked over to him.

“To put it simply, we wanted to help you overcome your phobia of gingerbread people. It gets in the way of you spending time with your family and friends every year. I know it wasn’t a very kind thing to do, but I honestly felt it would be worth it in the end to see you enjoy the holidays a bit more.” he admitted, placing a hand on Kai’s shoulder.

“And I do believe it worked!” Pixal added, “although you were certainly annoyed, you didn’t seem frightened at any point this morning.”

Kai made a funny face as he thought about everything that had happened. However misguided Pixal and Wu’s plan had been… he didn’t feel the disgust and terror he was used to when he looked at the gingerbread man in his hand anymore.

“You know, I think you’re right… don’t get me wrong, I’m still kinda irritated that you thought this was a good idea. But… thanks.” he told them. Out of all the holiday adventures Kai had had, he was pretty sure this was the strangest. Later that day, after they had finally eaten lunch (much to Cole’s relief), he had to smile when Zane didn’t hesitate to hand him a gingerbread man to decorate. He set to work carefully frosting it so they it resembled a detective with a trench coat and fedora, proudly displaying it with the rest when he was finished. It was nice to see that gingerbread people weren’t so bad after all. Ninja Noir would be proud.

Hopefully this ridiculous story made someone smile today :) it was literally so fun to come up with hehe

#Ninjago #Ninjago fanfiction #my fics #ninjago Christmas #Kai loves detective novels #Who put a decapitated gingerbread man in his bed?#Yall are gonna have to read to find out #Pixal and wu just wanna help but are really bad at it #Cole eats frosting by the bowlful but can we blame him? No #You guys I am seriously so proud of this

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