#Arson plays ask games

[vee-lociraptor]

FINALLY GOT SOMETHING HIGHER THAN AN A ON FEAR & DELIGHT. A+ BUT PROGRESS IS PROGRESS

YIPEE LET'S GOOOO

[followmetoyourdoom]

Personally, I think the best way to burn the Gävle goat would be to infiltrate the security team, play the long game y'know. Join the team and keep the goat safe for 3 or 4 years, maybe even 10 years, make them trust you, maybe marry a fellow security person. Then, when they least expect it, whoosh up goes the goat, your beloved is the first on the scene, you see the devastation in their eyes as they ask 'why? Was it all a con?' And you will sweep your beloved off their feet and dip them in front of the blazing goat as the head crumbles into itself sending up a column of dramatic flames. And you will declare your love for two things: arson, and them. And then you sloppy kiss and run away from the law together.

Eighteen years later, a young person who looks suspiciously like the both of you joins the security team...

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main short part 2

This was not supposed to be this long. It just kept getting longer, just kept going. I found a cut-off point eventually, but there may actually be a part 3 to what was supposed to be a very short little piece. Whoops. (part 1)

Jason never had the time to be concerned about his words when he was young. Neither did anyone else around him. His dad couldn’t be bothered with anything to do with him, and Jason would have been surprised if Willis actually knew what his words were. His mother was more confused by them then anything else, and even then that was only in her rarer sober moments.

Then Jason moved in with Bruce. Dick wasn’t around much when he lived in the Manor. He had just started tolerating him when Jason had died. Dick probably knew what the words were, but they had never discussed it with each other, and Jason couldn’t begin to guess what his opinion was on them back then. 

Bruce used to entertain his fantasies of trying to think up different scenarios his words could be said in, both of them trying to make the funniest good outcome. It became a game they played when bored on stakeouts, obviously keeping the contents of the words private while playing. To be fair, there were a lot of good and funny scenarios. But they lived in Gotham, and Jason had experienced enough of the world, even at that young age, that he understood the likeliness of a bad scenario.

And then he died. And he didn’t think about his words for a very long time. Too busy training and plotting. Busy coming back to Gotham, enacting his plans and building a criminal empire. He barely remembered them himself until he was back in Gotham, operating as the Red Hood, with a trail of bodies behind him.

Assassin training, heads in a duffel bag, counts of arson, and leader of a gang, Jason was not the same kid he used to be. There were few scenarios in which his words could be said that he couldn’t come to understand. And he was at a point in his life where he could find room for a soulmate again. He was settled, secure as the anti-hero of Crime Alley, tenuous agreement with the Bats and all. He had even been by the Manor to have tea with Alfred. 

Arkham breakouts were old hat to everyone in Gotham. Citizens bunkering down, and Bats readying themselves to round up whoever made it out this time. However, this was the first Arkham breakout since his plan with Bruce and the Joker failed. The first since his agreement with the Bats to use non-lethal means. When Jason heard that it was the Joker that had broken out, he planned to kill him, truce be damned.

The Bats could probably deduce that, it was too soon into the truce for any real change to have been made. And this was the Joker. So now it was a race to see who could get to him first. 

Luckily (in this instance), Jason’s base is much closer to Arkham than the Bats. So while they are all stuck driving in from the better parts of town, Jason is already chasing the Joker down alleys. 

Joker is laughing, practically skipping away as if this is a game, and Jason almost loses him as he turns a corner he didn’t see. Jason can hear the Joker laughing, starting to speak. Probably to taunt him again. Then the sound cuts off with a choke and a thud.

Jason turns the corner to see Joker laid out flat, nose bleeding and neck at a funny ankle. A choked breath escapes him, and he looks around to see a man leaning against the alley wall.

The man’s hands are shaking, breaths choppy, and there's a bit of blood on his right hand.

Jason takes a deep breath, which causes the man to look at him out of the corner of his eye. Jason takes in the scene again. And then again, hardly daring to hope even with the evidence in front of him. 

“Is he dead?” Jason asks softly. The man turns to face him, and Jason takes a glove off and slowly, hesitantly, checks the Joker’s pulse.

“Look, in my defense…” The man trails off, looking to the heavens for a moment. “I really fucking hate clowns.” 

Jason, hope fully settled in as the Joker remains still and lifeless on the ground, pulse non-existent against his fingertips, almost laughs. Then his brain does a record scratch. Rewind. Replays the words ‘Look, in my defense’ over again, head shooting up to look at the man who just killed the Joker. 

Jason takes his other glove off, standing. He takes a step towards the man, pushing up his sleeve. The man seems nervous at his advance, watching him warily until Jason uncovers the words on his arm. The cover falls to the ground behind him as he takes another step forward. 

The man’s eyes light up in realization, and he also rushes to push up his sleeve. One more step forward and they are right in front of each other. Arms held up, brushing together as they show each other their marks.

Left forearms pressed together in the space in front of them, one reading ‘Is he dead?’ and the other “Look, in my defense.’. 

The man laughs and Jason takes in the sound of it, the happiness in his eyes as he looks up at him. Jason slowly reaches up to remove his helmet, domino still on underneath it, and lets it fall to the alley floor as well.

“You’re amazing.” Jason breaths out, hand reaching up to cup the stranger’s, his soulmate’s cheek. “You have no idea what you’ve just done for me.”

“Little bit of manslaughter.” He laughs. “Didn’t think it would be received this well.”

Jason smiles in response. “I would worship you for this, if you’d let me. I will never stop thanking you.” 

“Oh.” The man gasps, breath hitching. Jason, one hand still on his cheek, thumb stroking underneath his eye, places his other hand on the man’s waist and backs him up to the alley wall. Deliberately slowly, watching the man as he takes a deep breath, licks his lips, and lets himself be moved.

“Tell me your name and I’ll start right now.” Jason whispers.

“Danny.” The word is breathy and low, only heard due to Jason’s close proximity. 

“Danny.” Jason repeats his name like an anthem and a prayer. Prepared to give his life for this man already. And then kisses him, pressing his lips to his softly, reverently. Wanting to hold this moment forever.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Hello! Could you please write full headcanons on the M6 getting home one day to find MC dead? They're not actually dead, their body is just vacant after a spell went horribly wrong, but M6 have no way of knowing that.

Thank you!

The Arcana HCs: When M6 think MC is dead

~ @arson-the-ace oh, this. this is going to hurt, isn't it. ~

CW for descriptions of panic attacks, bodies that seem dead, references to past trauma, and your beloved in lots of pain

-- to set the scene --

It was supposed to be an experiment, to see if it was possible to put your body in a preserved or frozen state when you left it behind to visit the magical realms. You did not expect the result to be your body looking and acting like a fresh corpse, or for the spell to have a three hour cooldown time before you could reinhabit it. Your incorporeal self sighs and sits next to your body, resigned to the boredom of waiting it out.

Until, minutes later, the door opens and your beloved walks in, and you have no way of telling them what happened.

Julian

Already fears the worst as soon as he sees you sprawled on the floor - his plague doctor experience with visiting the sick has his instincts fine-tuned for recognizing an unrecoverable patient

Trips over himself in his scramble to get to you and gets a nasty bump on his knee, but doesn't register a thing because he's finally reached for you and he's looking for a sign of life

A pulse. An exhale. The twitch of your eyes moving below your eyelids, anything, anything to tell him that you can be saved

He rolls you onto your back and tries to give you CPR, but he's breaking down too much already for any of it to be effective

Chest compressions turn into him ripping his gloves off, trying to find any of the warmth you've shared with him

Mouth-to-mouth turns into a choked sob against your cold cheek

He can't bring himself to keep going. Each failed attempt at reviving you gets his hopes up only to rip them to shreds again

He doesn't want to move forward. He doesn't want to go ahead with laying you to rest. He doesn't want to leave this drafty wooden floor, without a blanket or a pillow to keep you comfortable

And he can't stand up

He sits cross-legged on the floor, lifting your head onto his lap and laying his coat over you in lieu of a quilt

You watch him droop over your body, shivering in the drafty room without his layers, voice catching and breaking on quiet sobs as he sings you the lullaby his parents sang him before the shipwreck

By the time your eyes flutter open, his voice is gone

He's happy to see you - he's so, so happy to see you, but he keeps hovering over you like he never knows if you're about to collapse for good next time

If you love him, you'll wait a long, long time to do any more magic

Asra

They thought you were playing some kind of game, at first

He walked into the upstairs apartment to see you sprawled on the floor and teasingly called out your name, playfully asking what new mischief you were up to as he hung up his coat

And then you didn't answer them

As soon as he felt that old dread seize his stomach, he was hurrying across the room and asking you what was wrong

They can feel their own body growing cold as they touch your frozen one, pressing a trembling hand to your chest in search of the heartbeat they moved heaven and hell to give you

He's panicking, breaths coming quick and short. The motions of his arms trying to pull you closer to him are far too similar to his frantic digging in the ash filled sands of the Lazaret

They don't know what's worse - the images flashing across their eyes of your charred bone fragments splintering in their bleeding fingers, or your lifeless face lying heavy against their knees

His heart can't take it. The tears give way to an ongoing numb tremor. He places a preservation spell on your body as his last conscious thought before he lies down next to you on the floor

They put their arm under your limp neck and cuddle up to you like it's just another day's end, just another snuggle before sleep while they lay their head down on your icy, silent chest

You watch him hold your body in shock. He seems like he's caught between worlds, alternating between staring at your unmoving stomach while his shaky tears land and pool on your shirt

And reflexively whispering apologies as they mop up their tears with their sleeve, asking if they're squeezing you too tightly

He's quick to check your memories when you wake up, but no matter how healthy you are, he can't leave your side for a week

Nadia

Her intuition is telling her something is wrong as soon as she's approaching her chambers. Seeing you on the ground is her worst nightmare coming true

You're cold to the touch. You don't respond to her voice. You don't respond ... at all. She needs help, you need help, you need help now, she's going to get you everything you need, just hang on

She lifts you into her bed, and the chilly deadweight of your body is more than she can take. When she throws open the door and yells for a doctor, every servant in earshot hears her panicked sobs

She hasn't had a panic attack like this in years

Servants rush in and out in a blur, hurried murmurs and muffled exclamations fading into the background. She feels like she's been plunged underwater, unable to scream as her lungs fill with salt

She sits by your side with your hand in both of hers, clinging to the only part of you she's allowed to touch while the closest physician pokes and prods at your lifeless body. She can't see you anymore

And everyone else? They can't see their Countess at all

They see a broken-hearted woman holding steadfast to her lover's limp hand, breaths jagged and unpredictable as she wails through her teeth. Mercifully, her hair comes undone and hides her wrenched face and streaming tears behind a curtain of purple

You woke her, first from her dreams, then from her apathy, and finally from her loneliness. Watching you succumb to a sleep far stronger than the one that trapped her is wretched beyond words

When you finally stir awake, she refuses to leave your side as the doctors work to ensure that your vitals are stable and to try to figure out what happened and if there are any repercussions

She's glad you're back, but she can't stop herself from waking you in the middle of the night to make sure you're just sleeping

Muriel

He's already convinced of the worst before he can prove it

He knows what a body collapsed in sudden death looks like. He's seen them countless times on the sand of the Coliseum floor, slaughtered at his own shackled hands, but now it's you

Now it's the only person he trusted to never leave his side

He can't register Inanna beginning to whine and pace, he can't register the sounds of the forest outside, he can't register the fire slowly burning down and out in the back of the hut

A lifetime of trained alertness, muted, because his subconscious has decided it can't take paying attention to a world that doesn't have you in it any more

He's finally able to move again when he takes his first shuddering breath in minutes, and he begins to walk and reach towards you in the vague hope that all is not as it seems

But that's when some small, sick part of his brain starts up its tiny chant that he deserves this, that this is the effect of giving in to your misguided desire for his touch, that this is somehow his doing

But the larger part of him, the part of him that loves you and aches for you and is dedicated to you, leans past the furious pain and lifts your head and shoulders off of the floor, enough so he can lower his head and listen for a heartbeat, feel for breath on his cheek

And there isn't any. Your body is as still and lifeless as his hope for something better, and he can't breathe. He can't breathe, and he's curled up in a ball with you in his arms, and he can't breathe

It takes a few hours before he can master his thoughts enough to think. This has happened before, and it was possible for you to come back. Asra, he has to bring you to Asra, he'll give anything

You wake up as he's carrying you through the woods, and it's the first time you've seen his body go so completely weak with relief

Portia

At first, she thinks you're feeling a little silly and sleeping on the floor just to mess with Pepi. Though the way you're lying, you almost look like you've collapsed. That can't be comfortable

It's when she crouches down to wake you up that she can tell something's wrong. Your shoulder is cold - way too cold

She's already got tears running down her face, but never in her life has she let her sadness stop her from caring for those she loves. She shakes you, back and forth, calling your name over and over

At some point she realizes that it's too late, there's nothing she can do, and that's when she starts wracking her brain for someone who can do something. Anything. She's not giving up on you

She's small, but she's strong and she's in pain. She lifts your body and begins to stumble through the Palace garden with you. She leans into the volume of her wails, using them to call for help

First through the gardens, then through the Palace halls, unable to recognize the blurry faces through her tears, but determinedly blubbering out what's happened and how she needs help for you

When someone who might have been the Countess informs her that the physician is out, she walks out the front gates of the Palace. Her ears are deaf to the offer of a carriage into town

Vesuvia still remembers its plague. It has never before heard cries as anguished as the ones Portia sent echoing down the canals as she ran and stumbled with your body to Mazelinka's house

Mazlinka will be there. Ilya will be there. They both know plenty about medicine, they should be able to help, just hang on. Hang on, she tells your cold body, hang on for me

You stir awake just as she crosses the threshold into the basement dwelling, and the emotions she feels are so overwhelming that she almost punches you for scaring her. She can't stop crying

Lucio

When he walks into the room in the inn after his trip to the outhouse, he avoids the sinking feeling in his gut by telling himself you're just napping. On the floor. Without moving

And then he can't take the way his conscience is nagging at him, so he snaps and (not unkindly, but brashly) tells you to get up and get moving already, we're wasting daylight!

But you don't move. You don't give him a disapproving look. You don't grumble when he shakes your shoulder, or open your eyes when he pats your cheek, or smile when you hear your name

He doesn't understand. You're brave, you're strong, you're loving, you're good, you're full of goodness and you're better than anything he ever deserved after what you suffered because of him

Because of ... him

This must be his fault. This must be his actions catching up with him. This must be the fallout of all those rash deals, some forgotten deity must have run out of patience and come to collect

Of course this would happen. It would take a hundred lifetimes to sift through the pile of selfish bargains, of course he missed one, of course he failed to make up for his past deeds, of course ...

Of course an oversight like that would cost him you

But he's not going to let this go. You deserve better. He hauls you into his arms, ignoring the way he chokes at your dangling limbs, and rushes out of the inn and into the deep, deep woods beyond

He screams and cries and yells and threatens and pleads and begs until his voice falls silent and he can taste blood in his throat

He calls out to any angry being listening to tell him, tell him what this is in payment for, tell him what he can put on the bargaining table that would pay back the debt that demanded your soul

You wake up before he can do anything rash, but he squeezes you in his sleep now, as if to challenge any more soul thieves

[erotichwa]

escape ᯓ soobin x femreader

genre: smut, slice of life, little teeny bit fluff

warnings: stress pretty much hard fucking you, sweetest boyfie service top!soobin, soft sex turned into... hehe. oral (f), pet names, spit / lmk if I missed anything!

it's been a hell week for you. you don't know if this is karma getting back to you or your classmates are really just a bunch of assholes making your life miserable.

monday and tuesday started as fine, but it turned into a nightmare after that. wednesday became your starting point—your pet peeves annoying the shit out of you and even corrected your behavior for scolding your classmates who are circling around a fainted girl. you're literally in charge of keeping the class not as chaotic as possible.

thursday really got you. some asshole wrote nasty words on your notebook and you were asked by your professor why did you write it. you explained to him in a panicked voice, "sir, even though I'm foul mouthed sometimes, I would never ever write stupid shit like that to my own notebook." good thing he considered it and gave you a good grade.

friday—earlier, made you almost burst into angry tears. your professor presented a documentary to your class for reflection and to write your opinion about it, but before that happened, you noticed the girl who looks like a butchered barbie whispering to her friend. you shrugged it off, thinking it was nothing. after that, her friend literally sat down in front of you to block the tv from your view. you were pissed, you love watching documentaries.

after class, you immediately went to your boyfriend's house. you entered the house unannounced and plopped down on the couch with a loud, exaggerated sigh.

soobin, who is currently playing mario kart, paused his game to greet you with a kiss. "hey babe, how's school?" sigh, being a college student sucks when your boyfriend just freshly graduated.

you start to ramble about your day and how today's week has been pissing you off. your professor even scheduled to finish the powerpoint presentation by monday—and your group hasn't even started researching!

"I'm sorry about that, love." soobin sighed, placing his big hand on your cheek to caress it. "and I know you haven't got a proper sleep after your examinations. you need a break."

"how?" you asked. "I'm literally gonna cry out of anger right now, maybe even commit arson. but seriously, how am I gonna rest if I have a shit ton of work to do? our date is canceled because of work."

"love, as much as I want to help, I cannot control your professors. and we can reschedule our date, hon. don't worry about it." he says softly, planting a kiss on your forehead which made you feel relieved.

"why don't you let me help you relax and escape from the reality, hmm?" he continued, his eyes filled with lust and admiration for you. you nod at his suggestion, letting him push you gently on the couch to lay on it.

soft, breathy moans escape your lips, legs spread and tits out as soobin eats you out. it was messy, actually. but you didn't mind—he looks good with his mouth and chin covered in your juices and his drool.

your back arched slightly when he inserts one of his long ass fingers, and since you were lost in this pleasure, you started to grind on it because why not?

"a-ahhah... soob..." you whimpered, a sigh coming out from his mouth. "you greedy princess... look at you being fucked out when we just started."

soobin suddenly pulls out his finger, making you whine. he stands up and pulls you on the edge of the couch before aligning his cock on your entrance. you genuinely thought that he was going to be hard on you, just like he always does.

but you were surprised when he pushes himself inside you and starts to thrust with a slow speed, as if grinding on you. you had gotten a little sensitive since it's been two weeks without any sex, blame the shitty college shit of course. and oh, my. it felt like you were in heaven.

having sex with soobin was always passionate, but not as passionate as tonight. you grip his biceps, looking up at him with your mouth slightly drooling. "more.."

"hmm? you want more?" he says, smirking at your request. he paused his thrusting, his lips crashing into yours in a heated kiss.

"you want more, hon? I'll give you more."

© iluvmy-desire, 2024 [ please don't steal. reblogging and liking my posts will be very appreciated. ]

[crownofefflorescence]

🥀 GARDEN of BONES

You, a mortal, awaken in an unfamiliar land of heat and sand, staring into the unfeeling mask of a spindly stranger who claims to rule the deathless kin of the air.

Beholden to an unremembered promise to assassinate their disgraced twin sibling, bound for an eldritch garden hidden somewhere in the arid plains, and compelled by an enchantment you do not understand, certain choices are beyond your control...

...yet even so, the power of life and death is forever fated to slip through immortal fingers. It lies within in your hands, and yours alone. Many questions plague you, but only one can you answer.

What will you do with it?

GARDEN OF BONES is a 17+ interactive work-in-progress with an emphasis on relationships, and includes some content that may be triggering; complete warnings will be included within the game and updated if necessary.

CHARACTERS

The Younger (M/F)

Weary of being disregarded and mocked for their aspirations, the Younger has their golden eyes set on not only their realm... but yours as well. Yet they need their disapproving sibling and crowned ruler out of the way, for good, and only a mortal can kill an immortal. Will you be their weapon?

The Elder (M/F)

A banished king haunts a garden removed from the flow of time; they had not considered that their beloved twin would stab them in the back... and now they are doomed to rise and fall by your hand. How far will you take this lie?

The Mortal (N/A)

A forgetful assassin, sent to dirty your hands on behalf of an immortal ruler from another realm. Cling to the past with bitterness or longing, or abandon it all if you wish. Forge a path built on vengeance or mercy. What will you sacrifice?

Note: as the siblings are identical twins, both ROs must be set together, so you will have the opportunity to play the game with immortal sisters or immortal brothers as your romantic options and potential allies.

FEATURES

CURRENT FEATURES

⮞ fey-adjacent immortal folk ⮞ 2 M/F selectable romance options (one of them is very ill-advised) ⮞ customize your appearance ⮞ shape your personality ⮞ 30 minute playtime ⮞ decisions

PLANNED FEATURES

⮞ a curse (may or may not be discovered) ⮞ bones (quite a lot of them) ⮞ angst ⮞ finished romantic route ⮞ platonic route ⮞ more creepiness ⮞ riddles ⮞ revenge

Everything here is subject to change.

LINKS

DEMO (TBA) | ITCH.IO | RO INTROS

Current word count (with code): 45,000.

I find friendships to be equally as captivating and fulfilling as romantic affection (and also fully support your right to antagonism and arson if desired) so expect me to do my best to ensure that each route is as lovingly detailed as possible!

There is a plan and intent to release the demo soon. Thanks for your interest and I hope to craft a most distressing and positively delightful journey for you.

Ask me anything!

~ Effie

[heizours]

YOUR FIRST

summary. he overhears a conversation about who was your first favourite character in the game, and they grow jealous about it

tags. gn! reader, grammatical mistakes may occur

cw. none as far as i have check

feat. scaramouche, thoma, childe, xiao, dottore

< back to event m.list

INTRO.

"Who was my first favourite character during the early days I was playing it?" You repeated the same question that your friend was asking you.

"Precisely! C'mon, I'm sure there is someone who had really caught your attention the moment they entered a quest you were playing or something like that."

They responded back, as they waited eagerly yet patiently for you to tell them, while you were busy thinking and reflecting back on who it was.

Little do you know, that they are not only one who's itching to know your big revelation.

If the doors have eyes, then the walls or perhaps the screens have ears as well.

"Well, I'd say that the first character who caught my attention and became my favourite in a short span of time is-"

SCARAMOUCHE.

"-Childe! 

Scaramouche acts like he is not deeply affected by it and acts like it wasn't a big deal to him, but the expressions that were painted on his face betrayed the best of him.

Why are you smiling when Childe's the topic?

What did he do to make you joyous like this?

But... if he is the first character you like, is it now a liked?

There is this some sort of uneasy feeling that continues to brew and swirl inside of him the very moment your face had brighten up at the mention of the harbinger's name, and he has no idea how to stop it and why was he feeling it in the first place.

Is this another emotion that a heart can experience and learn, from time to time? What was it called again?

Ah yes, jealousy.

Scaramouche suddenly scoffs at the realization, finding it hard to believe that he would feel the bitterness of what enviousness is like sooner than he had anticipated, and the primary cause that triggered it was none other than that side character.

Childe? Cool and Captivating? Please, you haven't even seen how he could be a million times better than him.

"You mean to tell me that I'm simply getting worked up all for this? Why should I be bothered over it, when I could be a whole lot better than him? Heh"

THOMA.

-Itto! 

Thoma rarely taste the medicine of jealousy but seeing that look on your face when you rambled on about the oni, somehow snapped him into his senses. He felt the need to grab your attention from the screen to tell you that he is here too, and maybe - just maybe you could switch your favours around. 

I'm not jealous...being one is simply irrational

Maybe — I am a little bit jealous

Alright, I am jealous...

While he would be in denial at first with the jealousy he is dealing with, he would still come to the generalization that he is indeed jealous, and if he will have to cope up with it, he would put back on his smiley facade, only this time something about his smile is a little unpleasing, that even Itto himself will not dare to breathe around him.

But, instead of continuing to bottle up his jealousy and act petty like the others, he would understand why you favour the oni and would put that first before his feelings.

Don't be fooled though, compliment him too while you're at it!

“Oh...I didn’t know they like him. It sounds very surprising coming from them, but who am I to judge? Well then, has anyone seen Itto? I bet he will be delighted to hear the news!”

CHILDE.

“-Thoma! 

Childe laughs it off - Yes, it’s the laugh that you are thinking right now where he is this close from committing another arson. He is definitely not a second away from taking a trip to Inazuma and is on the go to plan a competition with the housekeeper, because he’s too cool to even to something like that.

I see, another challenger perhaps?

Hmph, what’s the point of challenging him if I know that I am the strongest?

Clear skies Ajax, clear skies

At this point, it is quite clear that he is turning into the embodiment of jealousy due to the amount of assurance that he is telling to himself, not because he is threatened by Thoma but because he is threatened that your favouritism about him will be the reason for his downfall.

He is threatened by the fact that you could easily evict him from your main team and replace him with someone else from another region who is just newly released and is almost a carbon copy as him, if not for the differences of their physical appearances.

It is indeed true that jealousy is a disease, that not even Ajax himself could flee from it.

“Thoma? I have heard of that name, but I also heard that I can excel ten times better at the things he could do. No- I’m not showing off, I am simply describing that I am a way better option than him, that’s it.”

XIAO.

“-Scaramouche! 

Xiao stays the same as he is, or -  that’s what he thinks. Truth to be told, he doesn’t even realize that he is jealous, but as they say - actions speaks louder than words, and the way he is acting right now shows how he is envied by this favouritism topic.

Did I expect too much?

I don’t like this feeling...

Is this what those mortals call as jealousy?

It takes a while for him to accept that he is jealous, but after that whole feeling finally sinks in, well let’s say he is displeased by this realization because by every second, that feeling continues to sink deeper and deeper as if it’s attempting to land in the deepest depth of the ocean. 

But, like Thoma, he is another who tries to get over with it and respects why you favour that character the most. Maybe it’s because you see them in a different light that others can’t, and he understands that.

Everyone has favourites, and he can’t blame you for that because even him has one which is you but he would rather not say it.

"Hm, while I do not fawn over him, I suppose I understand why you like him in the first place. Whatever makes you happy, is simply enough for me to know why."

DOTTORE.

- Alhaitam!

Dottore remains indifferent or so what he assures to himself, because if anyone where to see right through him, displeased is not even used enough to describe how disturb he is by that revelation.  

The Akademiya scribe is what they fawn over the most, hm?

How interesting....

Though, irritating would be the right word for it

His pride is wounded, and what makes it even more worse for him is he is a man of intelligence. So naturally, he is intimidated and threatened that the scribe who is also intelligent but not as him, could be the reason why he can’t turn the favour of you to him.

To get rid of the jealousy that he is feeling, he will dedicate most of his time (like he isn’t in the first place) inside his lab, doing things where only he knows what it is. He is one of the upper rank harbingers and dictated as the doctor for a reason, and the only way he could could get off the steam he is feeling, is to be busy.

While he is ordering around his clones and agents at the same time, any step or news that he gets from them and will be deemed as a failure, will have to face some serious issues from him, especially that Dottore is not in the mood to be in a dilly dally manner.

“Anything I need? Perhaps you can give me a little information about the scribe - take it or leave it. Either way, leaving it is not even an option in the first place.”

[bamsara]

I’m a little confused, who is Arson? Did you name your computer that or the program or something like that? Been trying to piece stuff together with all the posts about Arson but I feel a little lost. Like it’s an inside joke that I wasn’t there for the development of it

Rip I forgot new followers are not Aware of Arson

Arson is my laptop. Specifically a laptop sona I made for my laptop because of the sheer amount of trouble I've had with him. Twitch chat started shipping an 'enemies to lovers' between me and my laptop and it was giving me such a hard time during a livestream that it turned into a full fledged oc.

He's a gaming laptop I got in 2018 and had saved up for and while he's very good, his technical service life was only for 3 years and it's been about 5 and a half years since I've had him because I didn't want to replace him.

This means for the last two years he's been progressivly getting worse; starting with the battery going out completely, and then it getting discontinued so I couldn't replace it, the laptop started lagging hard, which I just kinda delt with. Then he's bluescreening a lot, and my files are getting corrupted and disappear. He cannot detatch from the wall so he's not a laptop anymore but really just a desktop now anyway. His model is discontinued so I cant get parts to replace him or have him repaired.

It's a running joke that 99% of all streaming problems are Arson's fault because for no reason he'll just. Crash and critcal error this and bluescreen that.

He got his name because he overheats really badly, and while gaming laptops are built to withstand that kind of heat, it still does wear and tear over time.

It would have been fine for 2-3 years but it's climbing near to 6 and part of the front is melted and I have to turn stream and art off early sometimes to let him cool down because the keyboard has left burns on my fingers. (Though this only happens when using him intensly, like streaming or gaming or art....which is 90% of what I do. The other being writing and work.) (Also before anyone asks, I regularly clean out the fans and I have a cooling stand beneath him)

Currently the top part of his keyboard is not working anymore and he's missing keys anyway. Part of his casing near the charging port is broken off. I've used his heat to cook tiny cookies while I've played skyrim before

TBH If you just search up Arson on my blog you'll see a whole series of posts about him.

he's my guy......my robot.........

[queenothegeeks]

Creator with coping mechanisms

part 2! Part one can be found here (pls let me know if the link doesn’t work I’m doing this on my phone and I’m d y i n g)

Even the creator gets stressed, so, how do you relax?

A creator who cooks or bakes to deal with stress

After a very stressful day of meeting important dignitaries and public figures, you felt like settling down, reading a recipe or making something from memory to remind you of home. Maybe you have music playing in your head or maybe it’s just empty, feeling comfortable doing something you love

Maybe giving the food you make to other characters in the game, or you hand them out to random people, like kids from the house of the hearth.  Or maybe you just sit and eat it all for yourself (which, is valid, bc tbh I don’t want anyone else eating my food)  

Hey (insert character)! I made too much of this and I was wondering if you wanted some! I hope you like it!

Hey Timme, I'm really sorry for scaring away all the birds, but I made an extra loaf of bread for you to feed them with, is that okay? 

Creator who writes stories or fanfiction as a coping mechanism (me) 

Finding it hard to sit down and write, even though you really want to. Maybe it's the environment or the people that you are with, but once you get into the zone, the world just disappears. 

Maybe you write the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed, with found family and just silly moments with your characters (oc or not), or perhaps you write the saddest things known to god that make even the most heartless of characters cry

“Are you…are you crying”

(sniff, sniff) NO! Maybe…” 

“Are you okay? Why are you crying”

“I stole-borrowed your notebook because I was worried about you (they wanted more intel or smt idk) and I started reading it. And it's really sad WHY ARE YOU WRITING SUCH SAD STUFF?”

“WHY ARE YOU READING MY NOTEBOOK!?” 

A creator who embroiders to relax (don't @ me pls i've never embroidered) 

You didn't tell anyone about it, knowing that someone would try to convince you to make business out of it (probs Dori) but after you had to ask for a few bandages after you poked your hand on your needle, the cat was out of the bag. 

“But we could sell it for a ton! We could even send a few things to museums! …if you want ig”. 

“Thanks, I'm good…”

“Why not!?”

(Don't threaten them with needle Dont threaten them with needle Don’t threaten them with needle-)

Or if you get lucky, maybe they just ask you to make them something instead of making a glorified pyramid scheme. 

“Can you make something for me?”

“You should work with Chiori!”

“Can you embroider me!?”

… Yeah maybe this isn't much better.

Chaos demon! (Arson with klee 2.0!)

“Are they okay..?”

“Let them have this”

“Sir, their grace is setting everything on fire”

“Its fine”

Let me know if I missed any habits in the comments! Remember, if you see any spelling mistakes, no you didn’t.

[maleyanderecafe]

Death by Fire (Visual Novel)

Created by: V0dka

Genre: Horror/Romance

Death by Fire has some nice art, and an interesting concept though there isn't too much as of now considering it's a demo. The main character, Arson not only has a cool name but a cool design with a half mask. If you are interested in this game, you can find more out at @deathbyfirevn.

The story starts out with the MC waking up. They seem really tired and grumbling as their boss has called them. They decide to go buy some groceries, being served by a nice cashier. As they go up the stairs to their apartment, they come across some graffiti welcoming them home before getting knocked out. Upon waking up, they find that they are tied to a chair, with an animated TV show playing in the background. Someone states that it was a show that the MC liked when they were younger and as the MC looks at him, they see a man with a mask and some blood on his face. They can either ask about the blood or why he kidnapped them.

If the MC asks about why they did this, they will seem disappointed that they don't remember him, even though the MC has absolutely no recollection of him. Whereas if the MC talks about he blood, he will state that he cut the limbs off of a man who was trailing outside of their house. He will then state that he is taking care of the MC now, all of their eating, drinking etc. He will then ask if we like the TV show that is playing.

If we say yes, he will be happy whereas if we say no, then he will seem disappointed as we used to like this show in the past.

After which, he will attempt to loosen the ropes where we can either attack him or stay obedient. Attacking him will lead to knocking him over, however he will be able to grab hold of their ankle. He is unhappy, stating how happy he was when he first was able to see them again after so long, however, in displeased by the results. Staying obedient will lead to him introducing himself as Arson and him stating that he will have to buy somethings tomorrow before the MC falls asleep.

So as I said, fairly short. The story mostly follows the MC being annoyed before being otherwise kidnapped by Arson, though we do get to learn more about him through his appearance and his relationship with the MC. Arson seems to have known the MC from the past, though we don't know how or why, and based on his appearance probably had some injuries to the left side of his face, probably due to fire (considering his name is Arson and the title of this game). We also see that he has bandages on his arms so it's possible that he might self harm or that those too are injuries from said fire. Based on the cartoon that he plays, it's likely that Arson and the MC met when they were really small, so it's likely one of those childhood friends that the MC no longer remembers. I am curious about how Arson was able to kidnap the MC in the first place, since at least in our point of view we simply get knocked out before waking up to being tied to a chair. Still, it seems like the game will either be attempting to escape or enjoying the life of Arson taking care of us while being tied to a chair, either of which will likely lead to some interesting backstory between the two.

I will say that the art is very pretty, I like the design of Arson since there is a lot of intrigue to what happened to him from his mask to his mostly expressionless face to the bandages of his arms. He does a lot of good character design storytelling just from his design considering we don't know that much about whats happening in the game yet. The clerk also seems like she might be an important character (though it might just be that she's the only other character we've seen so far).

Over all though, a pretty short game, though an interesting premise. As I've said there's currently not much on it, but hopefully it becomes a fun game for everyone to play in the future.

[fix0n]

🎮✮ ⋆˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩👾 🎮✮ ⋆˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩👾 🎮✮ ⋆˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩👾

Gaming ☆

➪synopsis: In which your playing games/Asked to play games with Enhypen!

➪pairing: Enhypen x reader

➪Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of arson? Some slight if no smut, overall cuteness

First Smau enjoy (*^‿^*)

🎮✮ ⋆˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩👾 🎮✮ ⋆˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩👾 🎮✮ ⋆˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩👾

Heeseung (overwatch)

Jay (It takes two)

Jake (MineCraft)

Sunghoon (Club Penguin)

Sunoo (Animal crossing)

Jungwon (Overcooked)

Niki (Fortnite)

(I had so much fun making this lolll)

[nanamineedstherapy]

The Symphony of Spite

Ryomen Sukuna x GN!Therapist Reader x Nanami Kento

Gojo Satoru x ..... (he's after one of your manz)

Also Crybaby!Gojo getting backshots from his Yandere

Summary: No summary. Read at your own risk. Because I don't even know what a good summary for this would be. A/N: I wrote this for fan-service. The fan was me.

Warnings (May Contain Spoilers): Crack Fic, NSFW Content, Explicit Language, Manipulative Relationship (just one, & it’s not yours—so relax), Toxic Dynamics (again, not yours—seriously chill), Office Romance, Love Triangle, Yandere (not your husbands, so breathe easy!), Corporate Shenanigans (think “The Office” but with more messy), Jealousy (why would you think yours? Do you not want a healthy relationship?! Let someone else have fun for once, please!), Mild Dub-Con (but only if you squint really hard), Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics (because we’re all about that corporate ladder climbing), Modern Corporate AU, Gojo is not all mighty here—just the office bimbo (yes, you read that right), you are a therapist married to Sukuna & Nanami (because... I honestly don't know), Satosugu genuinely hate each other (it’s not a enemies to lovers rom-com & has more punches), everyone wants to beat Gojo up (you'll see why), & yes, Haibara (the third wheel in your own marriage-one) is here for some reason winks. No use of y/n but you are referred to as wife once. Also, dycraphilia, fuckbuddies, & eventual smut—so if you’re underage or have a blog that’s ageless, please DNI. No, you can't skip it because they are talking during & it's essential to the plot. Enjoy the mess & remember: it’s all fun & games until someone gets a stapler thrown at them!

Nanami Kento and Ryomen Sukuna were two sides of the same corporate coin. Both had impeccable work ethics, immaculate wardrobes, and zero patience for corporate buffoonery. Their days were spent navigating a gauntlet of coworkers who couldn’t meet deadlines, bosses who made PowerPoint presentations last longer than historical eras, and HR seminars that reeked of faux positivity. And you? Their doting, mildly chaotic therapist wife, who absolutely did not have them as patients. That would be unethical, of course. But boy, did they unload their workplace woes at home as if you were billing them hourly.

It routinely started over dinner. Nanami was delicately slicing his steak while Sukuna gnawed on a chicken drumstick like he had a vendetta against poultry.

“Today,” Nanami began, his tone weary, “Kusakabe spent thirty minutes explaining why we don’t need to update our software, only to accidentally delete half the department’s spreadsheets because he clicked ‘yes’ on a pop-up without reading it.”

“Amateur,” Sukuna snorted, reaching for another drumstick. “I had to sit through three meetings about synergy today. Three! Do you know what synergy is? Nothing. It’s a fancy word for ‘waste Sukuna’s time.’”

You took a sip of your wine, your ears tuned in to the cacophony around you. It was as if a perfectly dysfunctional symphony of grievances had taken the stage, each voice blending into a chorus of disdain for corporate absurdities. Seriously, could someone just ask about your day? But of course, sharing anything meaningful was off the table, thanks to that pesky confidentiality clause.

---

A week later, you had a plan.

The idea struck during a particularly gruelling session with a patient who wouldn’t stop playing victim to her own bad decisions. You needed a release. No, they needed a release. Something cathartic but harmless. Something that could channel all their workplace frustrations into an outlet that wouldn’t get them arrested for arson.

You spent the weekend hunting for the perfect gift, eventually finding it in a quirky little music shop downtown. The shopkeeper had described it as “an instrument for anarchists.” Perfect.

That Monday evening, as Nanami and Sukuna returned home, you greeted them with an unsettlingly bright smile.

“What’s that face for?” Sukuna asked, suspicious.

“I have a gift for you both,” you announced, producing two brightly wrapped packages.

Nanami raised an eyebrow, his wariness palpable. True to form, Sukuna tore open his package without hesitation.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, holding up the obnoxious plastic horn.

“It’s called a vuvuzela,” you explained, barely containing your glee. “It’s an instrument. Well, sort of. It makes noise. Awful, horrible noise. Think of it as a stress reliever.” It was the infamous "instrument from hell,” notorious enough to be banned for its ear-splitting sound from hell.

Nanami opened his package with the resigned grace of a man who knew chaos was inevitable. His gift was a slightly different model, a kazoo. He held it up, inspecting it like it might bite him.

“You want us to... play these?” He asked, skeptical.

“No,” you said, grinning. “I want you to weaponize them.”

The next day, chaos reigned in their respective offices.

---

Nanami waited until Kusakabe began another ill-advised rant about company expenditures. He pulled the kazoo from his pocket, raised it to his lips, and unleashed a tuneless, nasally wail that drowned out Kusakabe’s voice.

The room fell silent. Kusakabe blinked. Nanami calmly put the kazoo back in his pocket and resumed taking notes as if nothing had happened.

Sukuna, predictably, took a more aggressive approach. During the fourth meeting of the day, as Fushiguro Toji, Chief Sales Officer (CSO) , droned on about “leveraging assets,” he stood, raised the vuvuzela like a battle horn, and blasted a deafening note that shook the windows.

“Consider that leveraged,” he growled before storming out.

When they returned home that evening, you were greeted by two men who looked far more relaxed than they had in months.

“You’re a menace,” Nanami said, setting his briefcase down.

“Best. Wife. Ever,” Sukuna declared, pulling you into a bear hug.

You smiled innocently. “So, how was your day?”

“Peaceful,” Nanami deadpanned. “Kusakabe hasn’t spoken to me since.”

“Same,” Sukuna added. “They’re terrified of me now. It’s glorious.”

You couldn’t have been prouder.

In the end, the vuvuzela and kazoo became permanent fixtures in their work lives, an ever-present reminder to their coworkers that some battles were better left unfought. And you? You had achieved the impossible: turning corporate hell into a symphony of spiteful joy.

---

Nanami had long accepted that Kaisen Publishing wasn’t a company—it was a living, breathing disaster. As the Chief Finance Officer (CFO)—a position he’d achieved through sheer competence, meticulous planning, and the soul-crushing acceptance that mediocrity often reigned supreme in corporate life—his role demanded precision and discipline, qualities he wielded with brutal efficiency. Yet, despite his best efforts, he often found himself surrounded by chaos personified by Ryomen Sukuna, the Chief Visionary Officer (CVO), a title as nonsensical as Sukuna’s presence in the corporate world.

Sukuna was a walking HR violation, somehow both loathed and revered. His title was a sham, a position created purely to keep him from actually burning the office down. He spent his days offering “visionary” ideas like turning the break room into a paintball arena or replacing desks with throne room-like chairs. How he landed the role remained a mystery, though most suspected it involved intimidation, bribery, or sheer dumb luck.

Their hierarchy wasn’t just about titles—it was about grudges. Higuruma Hiromi, the Chief Legal Officer (CLO), had made it his life’s mission to bury Sukuna under an avalanche of formal complaints. “Improper use of company funds,” “harassment of legal staff,” and “general misconduct” were regular entries on Hiromi’s weekly HR reports.

Shoko Ieiri, the Chief Human Resources Officer (CHRO), was Hiromi’s closest ally. Where Hiromi wielded legal jargon like a sword, Shoko was the sniper, striking with pinpoint precision. She could cite obscure clauses from the employee handbook with terrifying speed, and her ability to weaponize HR policy was unmatched.

Sukuna, naturally, responded with equal malice. “You’re like cockroaches,” he told Hiromi and Shoko during one particularly tense meeting. “Impossible to kill and even more annoying to deal with.”

Hiromi adjusted his cuffs. “And you’re like a plague—persistent, destructive, and entirely preventable.”

Shoko simply smiled. “We’re just doing our jobs, Sukuna.”

“Your jobs are ruining my life,” Sukuna shot back.

“Correct,” Shoko said, her grin widening.

---

Nanami’s greatest regret was hiring Gojo Satoru. It had seemed like a good idea at the time—Gojo had potential, an impressive academic background, and a confidence that bordered on arrogance. Nanami thought he’d mold him into a competent executive assistant (EA). Instead, he got... this.

Gojo was, in many ways, the embodiment of corporate absurdity. His filing system was an enigma (folders labeled “stuff” and “more stuff”), and his scheduling skills were so bad they bordered on sabotage. Once, he accidentally double-booked Nanami for a budget meeting and a Zumba class. Nanami still hadn’t forgiven him for that because he'd never even taken a Zumba class to begin with.

“Satoru,” Nanami said one morning, staring at a calendar filled with overlapping meetings. “What is this?”

Gojo peeked over his shoulder, his blue eyes wide with feigned innocence. “Your schedule?”

“It looks like a Jackson Pollock painting,” Nanami deadpanned.

“I thought it’d be more efficient to, uh, multitask?” Gojo offered weakly.

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. “Satoru, if incompetence were an Olympic event, you’d not only take home the gold medal—you’d set a world record for sheer stupidity. Your talent for failure is truly unmatched.”

Later that day, Nanami would find Gojo crying quietly in the break room. But to his credit, Gojo showed up the next morning, ready to mess up all over again, still chasing the impossible dream of Nanami’s approval.

If Nanami’s life was an exercise in patience, Sukuna’s was an unrelenting storm of his own making. Geto Suguru, Sukuna’s EA, was the only reason Kaisen Publishing hadn’t imploded.

Geto Suguru was the miracle worker. If the company were a body, Sukuna was the ruptured artery, and Geto was the overworked surgeon keeping the patient alive with duct tape and sheer willpower.

Sukuna’s visionary ideas were like abstract art—vague, nonsensical, and utterly useless in their raw form. But Geto, with his near-superhuman patience, could transform them into actionable strategies. He charmed investors out of their skepticism after Sukuna’s profanity-laden tirades and even managed to prevent most board meetings from devolving into WWE matches.

But for all his professionalism, Geto had one vice: bullying Gojo Satoru.

When Gojo had first joined the team, Geto had felt immediately threatened, not just by his impressive academic pedigree but also by his striking looks. With that tousled hair and captivating features, Gojo was undeniably attractive. But his endless blunders quickly overshadowed any initial worry, making him seem more like a crybaby than a competent assistant. Geto had breathed a sigh of relief when Gojo’s probationary period ended, but the incompetence persisted, even after six months. It was as if Gojo had a talent for turning every simple task into a disaster, and Geto was all too happy to remind him of it at every opportunity. Geto knew Gojo was harmless—a pretty face with no bite—and he took full advantage of it.

“Hey,” Geto had said one day, leaning casually against Ijichi’s cubicle wall, sipping tea like it was a spectator sport. “Did you manage to file those reports yet, or are you too busy giving the CFO more wrinkles?” Yes, they were not friends by any stretch of the word. Not in this life.

Ijichi didn’t even look up from his screen, muttering, “Leave me out of this.”

Gojo, caught mid-fumble with a stack of papers, flushed from humiliation. “I—I filed them!” he stammered, clutching the documents like the last Horcrux.

“In the right Google form this time?” Geto’s smirk widened, his tone dripping with mock concern.

Gojo’s voice dropped to an inaudible mutter as he stared at his shoes.

“Don’t be too hard on him, Suguru,” Sukuna interrupted, striding past with the air of a man who owned the universe—or at least the vending machines in the break room. He cast a lazy, disdainful glance at Gojo. “The kid’s got a real talent for screwing up. It’s practically a superpower. Almost admirable, really.”

Geto snorted and followed Sukuna, leaving Gojo stewing in the ruins of his confidence.

His shoulders slumped under the weight of their mockery, but a flicker of defiance ignited within him. Maybe one day he’d prove them wrong.

Who was he kidding?

Gojo wasn’t just bad at his job—he was transcendently bad.

Every quarter, Geto tried to have him fired, but Nanami’s pesky kindness kept Gojo’s name off the termination list. One time after too many drinks at a company event, Nanami had described Gojo as “a lost puppy with a degree from Tokyo U,” and though the description fit, it didn’t make him any less insufferable.

All Gojo was now good for was being the office eye candy that no one took seriously.

What baffled everyone was Gojo’s persistence. After five years as Nanami’s executive assistant, he still couldn’t properly file an expense report. His "innovative" solutions caused more problems than they solved, like the time he scheduled a board meeting in the break room.

Sukuna had been there, loudly devouring a double cheeseburger while Toji, the CSO, and Kusakabe Atusya, the Director of Customer Experience (DCE) , lectured him on “professional decorum.” The lecture ended abruptly when Sukuna offered them half his burger.

Meanwhile, Hiromi Higuruma, the CLO, had stormed into Shoko Ieiri’s office to debate whether Sukuna’s habit of blowing a vuvuzela during lunch breaks qualified as workplace harassment. Shoko had suggested they would add it to the HR policy under “miscellaneous noise violations.”

And Nanami? He was in his office, typing a scathing email to the COO. He wasn’t defending Gojo because he believed in his potential anymore. That ship had sailed after Gojo accidentally attached a frog meme to a quarterly earnings report.

Now, Nanami’s argument was simple: “Firing him would violate our commitment to inclusivity. He’s… special needs.”

Despite the madness, Kaisen Publishing somehow continued to function. Hiromi and Shoko kept the legal and HR departments running like well-oiled machines, albeit fueled by spite. Geto ensured Sukuna’s chaotic energy didn’t destroy the company, while Gojo... well, Gojo tried his best.And Nanami? He soldiered on, kazoo in hand, ready to face another day in the madhouse.

---

The next day, Nanami arrived early, as always, to find Gojo already there. The younger man was standing in front of the coffee machine, staring at it like it had personally murdered his parents.

“Satoru,” Nanami said, exasperated, “what are you doing?”

“It’s… it’s broken,” Gojo sniffled, holding up a coffee pod. “I think I jammed it.”

Nanami sighed. “How do you jam a coffee machine?"

“I don’t know!” Gojo wailed, his silver hair catching the fluorescent light like some tragic anime protagonist.

Nanami sighed and pulled out the kazoo. He didn’t plan to use it, but just holding it gave him a sense of power. “Fix it, or you’re fetching coffee manually.”

Gojo’s lip quivered. “Y-Yes, sir.”

Despite his constant failures, Gojo clung to the job with a desperate determination that was almost admirable. At night, he cried over Nanami’s stern lectures, but every morning, he showed up, sky-blue eyes shining with a mix of hope and masochism.

His crush on Nanami didn’t help matters.

In Gojo’s mind, Nanami was the epitome of competence and discipline—everything he wasn’t. Every scolding felt like a dagger to his heart, but it also fueled his ridiculous fantasy that one day Nanami would notice him as more than just a walking disaster.

He did not know Nanami was married, let alone with Sukuna in the same boat.

Speaking of Sukuna, his morning was less composed.

“Mr. Sukuna, you can’t just ignore CLO’s emails,” Geto said as they walked into the office.

“I can, and I will,” Sukuna growled, swinging the vuvuzela over his shoulder like a baseball bat.

“You do realize he’s filing another complaint with HR?”

“Good,” Sukuna smirked. “Keeps them busy.”

As if summoned, Hiromi appeared, clutching a thick stack of papers. “Sukuna,” he said icily, “you can’t keep calling mandatory meetings and then not showing up.”

Sukuna raised the vuvuzela . “Mandatory this,” he said, blasting a note so loud it set off the fire alarm.

And you? You were at the club with your friends, chugging espresso martinis, unaware of the havoc your gifts were causing.

---

The next day, Nanami’s day started with a knock on his office door.

It was Gojo, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“What is this?” Nanami asked, already annoyed.

“I’m sorry for jamming the coffee machine,” Gojo said, eyes glistening. “And to schedule that meeting in the break room. And for... just everything.”

Nanami stared at him, torn between frustration and pity. “Gojo, you can’t fix incompetence with flowers.”

Gojo’s shoulders slumped. “I just… I just want you to not regret hiring me.”

Nanami sighed deeply. “Gojo, do your job, and maybe I will be.”

“Go easy on him, Kento-kun,” came a smooth voice from the corner of Nanami’s office.

Gojo was startled and whipped around his head. He hadn’t even noticed Haibara Yu, the Chief Editorial Officer (CEO), lounging there like a king holding court.

Nanami grumbled something under his breath, refusing to look up from his laptop.

Gojo blinked, his surprise melting into pure joy. “You’re back, sir?”

“Of course,” Haibara said, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. “How have you been, Satoru? Hope Kento hasn’t tortured you too much in my absence.”

Gojo beamed, practically glowing under Haibara’s attention. “Oh no, he’s a good boss,” he said, glancing nervously at Nanami.

“I’m hard on him because he’s incompetent,” Nanami muttered, still not sparing Gojo a glance.

Gojo’s smile faltered, the corners of his mouth trembling.

“Don’t say that, Kento. He’s trying his best, and he’s loyal to you,” Haibara said, his tone dripping with a faint undertone of righteousness.

Haibara was one of the few people in the office who was genuinely kind to Gojo. He never joined in the teasing, never snapped at him for his constant mistakes. Nanami was kind too, in his own brusque way, but Haibara? Haibara felt like safety for Gojo.

Nanami murmured something under his breath that Haibara didn’t pay attention to.

He turned fully to Gojo. “Give me those flowers if he won’t take them.”

Gojo walked over and handed him the flowers with a smile, trying his best to hide his broken heart.

“They are beautiful, Satoru.” Haibara eyed them with a smile. "Kento, please have Ino move them to my office. Also, I’m borrowing your assistant for coffee; I hope it’s ok.” He asked, already rising to his feet.

Nanami waved a hand dismissively, still typing. “Borrow him permanently if you can.”

Haibara smirked. “You know Ino would kill me.”

---

They were out the door before Gojo could process what was happening.

Haibara made small talk as they walked, his tone light. “How’ve you been holding up while I was gone?”

Gojo ranted a little as Haibara listened with a quiet intensity that made Gojo feel seen.

And then, without warning, Haibara shoved him into the private bathroom adjoining his luxury office and locked the door with a soft click.

“Sir?” Gojo started, his voice trembling, but he didn’t get to finish.

Haibara’s mouth descended on his with a ferocity that stole the air from his lungs.

Gojo hesitated for half a second, his brain scrambling to catch up. Then a soft mewl escaped his throat as Haibara’s hand cupped him through his pants. It was as if that sound broke the dam. Gojo’s hands flew up, tangling in Haibara’s hair, pulling him closer as they kissed with a desperation that bordered on violence.

It felt like drowning and breathing for the first time, all at once.

Haibara broke the kiss only to bite Gojo’s neck, his teeth sinking into the delicate skin. Gojo gasped, his breathing ragged as Haibara turned his jaw to the side, exposing more of his neck.

“I asked you a question, princess,” Haibara murmured, his voice low and commanding.

Gojo blinked, trying to form a coherent thought through the haze of sensation. "I... I messed up again,” he stammered. “They hate me. The reports had errors, and the budgets—Geto explained the formula to me many times, but I still... I’m sorry.”

Haibara hummed, his lips trailing down Gojo’s throat as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“I broke the printer,” Gojo confessed, his voice breaking. “Shoko, Ijichi, and Hiromi fined me. I don’t even make enough.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Haibara said, his voice a velvet promise as he undid Gojo’s belt. “I’ll take care of it.”

Gojo whimpered as Haibara’s hand wrapped around his dick, stroking with a deliberate, almost punishing rhythm.

“I’m sorry, I’m so stupid,” Gojo babbled. “Sukuna, Toji, and Atsuya threatened to report me to HR because—because—”

“Because what?” Haibara asked, his tone gentle.

“Because I accidentally flashed them my waist during off-day tennis,” Gojo admitted, his face burning with humiliation. “I thought polo shirts were fine, but they said HR mandates suits, even off-duty. Did I do something wrong?”

“They’re messing with you,” Haibara said, his voice reassuring now, though his hands gripped Gojo’s slender waist possessively, almost bruising him as he placed him on the sink counter. “You’re not stupid.”

Gojo barely registered the words, his mind a blur of shame and pleasure. “Takuma’s trying to take my position,” he gasped. "Please... please take him back. I—I can’t lose this job.”

Haibara’s eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous flashing across his face.

“Don’t worry about Ino,” Haibara said, his voice soft but carrying an unmistakable edge. “He was only reporting to Kento because I was on the business trip overseas.”

Gojo shivered, closing his eyes as Haibara’s fingers, slick with Gojo’s precum, traced circles around his rim.

For a moment, everything else faded—the humiliation, the fear, the endless cycle of mistakes. All that remained was Haibara, his touch, his voice, his overwhelming presence.

Sensing Gojo’s silence, Haibara reassured him again. “He’s not going to take anything from you. Keep talking.”

By now Gojo’s suit was rumpled, shirt open-untucked, and hair sticking up in all directions. By contrast, Haibara’s suit remained pristine, not a single strand of his neatly styled hair out of place.

Gojo grabbed Haibara by the collar, dragging him down into a kiss that was all teeth and tongue. He bit Haibara’s lower lip, desperate, breathless. “I can’t wait anymore. Please...”

Haibara chuckled, low and indulgent, his fingers trailing down Gojo’s chest. It seemed Gojo’s masochistic tendencies under Nanami’s berating also extended in the bedroom, where he’d take all of Haibara right now with barely any prep. “You’re so impatient, Cupcake. Are you sure? I don’t want you crying about it later.”

Gojo nodded furiously, his hands clutching at Haibara’s shirt like he was clinging to a lifeline. “Yes, Mr. Yu. Please, sir.”

Oh, how Haibara loved it.

And Haibara would give anything those big, watery doe eyes begged him for.

Freeing himself from his pants, Haibara gave himself a few slow pumps, his eyes never leaving Gojo’s flushed, needy face.

Gojo was trying his best not to drool because just looking at Haibara’s cock was making him dumb dicked.

Then, with excruciating deliberation, he pressed into him, inch by inch, watching as Gojo’s mouth fell open in a soundless cry.

“What else happened?” Haibara asked, his voice calm and almost conversational, as though they weren’t in this compromising position.

Gojo struggled to answer, but his thoughts scattered the moment Haibara moved, his hips pressing forward, slowly. Gojo’s hands flew to Haibara’s hair, tugging as if he were going to fall. His voice cracked when he finally spoke, “Nanami-san... still hates me—ahhh!” Then cut himself off when Haibara pushed into him to the hilt, making Gojo’s back arch and eyes water.

Haibara wiped away a stray tear from Gojo’s cheek and licked it off his thumb as he started a slow, punishing rhythm. “Poor thing. Can’t even handle a little dick without crying, huh?” He teased with a smirk. “Keep going, sweet Satoru.”

Gojo whined, his voice trembling. “I mixed up the Compliance and Risk Management files with the Financial Forecasting ones... and sent them to the client by mistake. It cost the company so much money. Nanami didn’t talk to me for a week. I—I hated myself so much.”

Haibara kissed down Gojo’s chest, nipping at the sensitive skin of his nipples. His lips curved into something resembling soft, soothing coos. “Don’t hate yourself. It’s okay. It was an innocent mistake.”

Gojo was struggling to focus on Haibara’s words while he rearranged his inside by bullying his G-spot.

“No,” Gojo whimpered, his head falling back against the mirror. “Geto warned me what not to mess up, and I still did. I knew better.”

Haibara was at a loss for words now; he really dug himself there, but his rhythm didn’t falter. “Still, Kento overreacted. He’s always been stuck up like that.”

Gojo’s cries grew louder, his fingers digging into Haibara’s shoulders. “I just want him to see me as competent. I want to make his life easier, but I only make it worse—for him, for Geto. He humiliates me every day, and I deserve it. I’m useless. I make him feel like he’s doing two people’s jobs.”

Haibara stilled for a moment, his hands tightening on Gojo’s hips. “Do you want me to fire him?”

Gojo’s eyes widened, panic flashing across his tear-streaked face. “No! No, Mr. Yu, please, sir. Sukuna won’t let it happen, and I don’t want you getting hurt. He’s... he’s violent.”

Oh, his office bimbo—his crybaby. He hadn’t realized Haibara could fire anyone, even Sukuna if necessary. But as he considered it, keeping Geto around might not be so bad if it meant having the little crying angel all to himself. “Fine. I won’t touch him. But don’t just listen to him. Stand up for yourself. Or tell me, and I’ll talk to HR.” His thrusts grew faster, rougher, each movement a reminder of his control.

Gojo clung to Haibara like his life depended on it, sweat-drenched hair plastered to his forehead. His wide, glassy eyes fixed on where Haibara disappeared and reappeared into him over and over again, his lips parted in broken gasps.

“Agreed?” Haibara asked, his brows furrowing as his voice dropped to a low, commanding tone. He yanked Gojo’s hair, compelling him to meet his gaze.

Gojo, still being impaled, couldn’t help but let out a soft moan. He hid his face in Haibara's shoulder, his voice breaking with a choked moan. “Yes, sir…. Thank you,” he sobbed, his voice trembling. “But I feel so bad for Nanami-san. He’ll never see my love for him. I’m just so useless to him.”

Haibara leaned in, his tongue tracing the tear-streaked paths on Gojo’s flushed cheeks. The way Gojo’s dick twitched against his stomach told him he was close, teetering on the edge. But Haibara wasn’t done. Not yet.

He pulled out abruptly, ignoring Gojo’s whimper of protest, and dragged him down from the sink counter.

Turning him to face the warm-lit, golden-bordered mirror, Haibara pushed into him again, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. Gojo’s fingers tangled in Haibara’s hair, clutching desperately as Haibara licked, bit, and sucked on the delicate skin of his shoulders and back.

Haibara’s smirk darkened as he watched Gojo’s reflection—flushed, tear-streaked, and trembling under his touch.

His crybaby. His alone. The thought of Gojo’s unrelenting admiration for Nanami sent acid through his veins, but the jealousy only fueled him. He’d make sure Gojo stayed this vulnerable, this wrecked, for him and him alone.

Without warning, Haibara grabbed Gojo’s neck, holding him still as he reached for the small velvet box on the counter. He placed a custom Hermès necklace around Gojo’s neck, the gold gleaming against his sweat-slicked porcelain skin.

Gojo blinked, dazed, too overwhelmed to notice until Haibara whispered, “Look.”

"But... but what’s the need?” Gojo stammered, his voice cracking as his eyes flitted between the mirror and the necklace. “I already barely get to wear the Bulgari Serpenti Viper one you gave me...”

A smile tugged at his lips despite his protest.

Haibara chuckled, tightening his grip on Gojo’s neck just enough to make him gasp. He adjusted his angle, thrusting harder, deeper, drawing a strangled cry from Gojo. “It’s to remind you,” Haibara said, his voice a low growl, “that you’re not as much of a fuck-up as you think you are. I don’t spend a week hunting down the perfect necklace in Paris for just anyone.” He punctuated his words with sharp thrusts that made Gojo’s knees buckle.

“But Nanami-san…” Gojo’s voice was barely audible now, his legs trembling, threatening to give out. He was pent up after months of dry spell.

“Don’t worry about him when I’m making you feel this good.” Haibara pinched Gojo’s ass, grinning wolfishly as Gojo let out a high-pitched cry.

“Ahh, Mr. Yu!”

Haibara’s pace stayed unrelenting, his stamina endless and the dick to back it up with the way it bullied him in the right places.

“Now, I’ll ask again,” Haibara said, his voice dark and firm, “do you understand?” He gave a particularly hard thirst because he knew Gojo was close with the way his body was trembling.

“Y-yes, Mr. Yu,” Gojo sobbed, his voice cracking as he gripped Haibara’s arm and the counter for dear life. “Harder, please.”

Haibara’s lips curled into a satisfied smile as he watched Gojo unravel, each tear and whimper intensifying the dark, possessive hunger within him. His crybaby was so easy to break. He obliged, his movements rough and unforgiving.

The necklace brought him immense joy; unbeknownst to Gojo, it concealed the initials H.Y. and G.S., visible only under a microscope.

This was his. His crybaby. His angel. And no one—no, one—was going to take him away.

“Cum for me, Pumpkin,” he ordered, stroking Gojo’s cock, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

Gojo’s lips trembled. “Are you calling me fat?” His voice wavered, and fresh tears welled in his eyes as he looked down at his chest and stomach.

Ah, this was also one of his annoying habits—to overthink everything.

“No, I just find you cute as a pumpkin with a pretty bow on top.” But Haibara was nothing if not his good yandere.

Gojo let out a choked laugh, his cheeks flushing deeper.

“Now cum for me, Sweetheart,” Haibara commanded, his voice dripping with authority.

Gojo’s legs would have given out if not for Haibara’s arms holding him, trembling violently as he fell apart, making a mess of himself. His cries echoed in the mirror, raw.

Haibara followed soon after, burying himself deep as his release tore through him. His grip on Gojo’s waist tightened, keeping him steady as both of them tried to catch their breath.

He pressed a soft kiss to Gojo’s shoulder. “Mine,” he thought to himself—against Gojo’s skin, the word more a promise than a statement.

Haibara gazed at the tear-streaked, thoroughly wrecked man in his arms, possessiveness tightening in his chest like a vice. No one—not even Kento—would take Gojo from him. Ever.

Gently, Haibara began fixing Gojo’s disheveled shirt and straightening his hair. If he left it up to Gojo, his clumsy ass would walk back into the office with something glaringly out of place, and the whole roaster would piece together what they’d been doing behind closed doors for over a year.

It had all started when he’d found Gojo crying alone in Nanami’s office after everyone had left, his resignation letter in his shaking hands.

That night, Haibara hadn’t just talked him out of it but also fucked him brainless until Gojo couldn’t move and forgot everything—Nanami, the resignation, his doubts—until all he could do was cling to Haibara, unable to think, or even breathe without him.

But what Haibara wouldn’t admit to anyone—not even Gojo—was that it wasn’t luck that led him there that night. He’d spent months trying to get close to him, memorizing every detail of Gojo’s life, from his coffee order to his laundry instructions. He’d followed him for months after hours, cataloguing every habit, every vulnerability, and beaten the shit out of those print factory workers harassing Gojo, catcalling him on his way into the building. Haibara made sure they never showed up to work again.

Now, they were office fuckbuddies, not that Haibara wanted it this way. Gojo still had that infuriating crush on Nanami, still sprinted off to fetch his lunch or his coffee like a lovesick puppy. But Haibara wasn’t worried. He was patient.

For now.

He caressed Gojo’s cheeks as the latter giggled, his fingers brushing over the gold custom Hermès necklace. His eyes sparkled, oblivious to the weight of Haibara’s stare.

“Wanna grab dinner tonight?” Haibara asked absentmindedly, smoothing the collar of Gojo’s shirt. He was ready for the usual rejection.

Then something shifted—just for a moment. Gojo looked at him differently, as though he was almost seeing him.

Haibara’s chest tightened, hope flickering dangerously.

But then Gojo’s phone buzzed, and he gasped. “Oh my god, I’m late to get Nanami-san’s lunch!” He spun, ready to bolt out the door.

Haibara’s hand shot out, catching Gojo’s wrist mid-step. His grip was firm but gentle, his thumb brushing over the delicate pulse point inside. Gojo froze, his breath hitching as Haibara leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss there.

Haibara’s dark eyes locked onto Gojo’s wide, cerulean ones.

Gojo’s cheeks flared red, the blush creeping up to his ears. He stammered something unintelligible before taking his hand back and sprinting out the door.

Haibara watched him go, his lips curling into a slow, satisfied smile.

---

Meanwhile, Sukuna was dealing with HR.

“This is the fifth complaint this week,” Shoko said, leaning back in her chair. “You can’t keep terrorizing the office with that thing.”

Sukuna smirked, spinning the vuvuzela in his hands. “Prove it’s me.”

“We have video evidence,” Hiromi snapped.

“So?” Sukuna shrugged. “I’m a visionary. Visionaries disrupt.”

“You’re disrupting my sanity,” Hiromi muttered.

By the end of the next week, the vuvuzela and kazoo had become infamous. Employees fled at the sight of Sukuna, while Nanami’s kazoo had become a symbol of silent ‘fuck you’ to corporate overlords. Even Gojo seemed to improve, if only slightly, terrified of losing Nanami’s approval.

---

Next week, it all came to a head when Sukuna proposed a company-wide retreat at a remote hot spring. “We need to boost morale,” he said, grinning like a man with ulterior motives.

“What you need,” Hiromi snapped, “is to stop submitting reimbursement requests for your vuvuzelas."

Shoko added, “I think we should approve the retreat. The HR department could use a break from writing up Sukuna’s infractions.”

Nanami sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Somewhere in the background, Gojo tripped over his own foot, spilling coffee all over the floor. Geto muttered something about bringing bleach to the retreat—“for the stains,” he clarified when Hiromi raised an eyebrow. Toji and Kusakabe almost got written up by Shoko for laughing.

As the meeting dissolved into a podium fight, Nanami reached for his kazoo. Sometimes, it was the only thing that kept him sane.

And you couldn’t be more proud. After all, corporate life was all about making your mark—and thanks to you, your husbands were leaving theirs in the loudest, most obnoxious way possible.

---

Later that day, the boardroom was uncharacteristically quiet, the air thick with confusion and the faint hum of the overhead lights. No one had any idea why they’d been summoned.  

“Why are we even here?” Shoko leaned toward Hiromi, her voice low and tinged with boredom.  

“To meet the elusive COO,” Toji replied with a shrug, stretching his legs under the table.  

Ino, perched nervously next to Haibara, was painstakingly organizing a pile of notes into immaculate fonts on his tab. Geto had his arms crossed as he watched Ino’s note-sorting with mild disdain.  

Kusakabe adjusted his coat and looked around. “Seriously, though, how come we’ve never met this COO? It’s weird.”  

“Germophobia,” Ino offered matter-of-factly. “Someone in HR said he avoids public spaces entirely.”  

The sound of a door creaking open cut the conversation short.  

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”  

The voice was unfamiliar yet strangely resonant, coming from the far end of the room.

Everyone turned to see a figure stepping out of the shadows—a tall man with striking white hair, his suit sharp enough to cut titanium.  

For a moment, no one spoke. The employees exchanged puzzled glances, and Shoko tilted her head in confusion.  

“Gojo?” Geto broke the silence, his voice laced with disbelief. “Did you screw up another meeting schedule? We’re supposed to be meeting the COO, not—”  

“No, Suguru.” 

Geto bristled at Gojo's use of his first name; one time he nearly received a ticket from HR for threatening violence over it, while Gojo sniffled near the ferns.

But this time, the voice was steady and calm, a whiplash from the bumbling tone they had come to expect from the clumsy assistant as the white-haired man stepped fully into the light, exuding an air of confidence and ownership.  

Nanami’s expression shifted from tired annoyance to something closer to alarm. “What… is this?”  

Gojo—or whoever he was—smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in it. “Allow me to formally introduce myself. I’m Gojo Satoru. Chief of Operations (COO) of Kaisen Publishingbarely. ”  

The room froze.  

“Excuse me?” Hiromi’s tone was accusatory.  

“I understand this might be a bit of a shock,” Gojo continued, his voice perfectly even. “But the truth is, I’ve been observing all of you from a different perspective. And now, it’s time for me to take a more active role.”  

Geto’s jaw tightened, his composure cracking. “You’ve been... what? Playing the fool? For five years?"  

“Precisely.” Gojo’s smirk widened slightly, his icy blue eyes scanning the room. “I needed to see who I could trust, who would rise to the occasion, and who would crack under pressure.”  

“Trust?” Sukuna growled, his tone low and dangerous. “You mean to tell me you’ve been watching us like lab rats?”  

“I prefer the term ‘case study,’” Gojo said, his voice as smooth as olive.  

Shoko let out a low whistle, breaking the tension enough to speak. “This is some next-level corporate psychodrama. You’ve been playing dumb for years just to—what? Test us?”  

Gojo’s gaze landed on Nanami, who looked like he’d just been handed a live grenade. “And you,” Gojo said, his voice softening just slightly. “Thank you for your patience, Kento. You believed in me when no one else did.”  

Nanami’s face hardened. “I believed in someone who didn’t exist.”  

The room fell silent again, the weight of the revelation sinking in. Gojo adjusted his cufflinks, the faintest trace of a grin playing at his lips.  

“Well,” he said, stepping back toward the door. “I hope this clears up any confusion. From now on, you’ll be seeing a lot more of me. Let’s make sure Kaisen Publishing continues to thrive.”

Before leaving, he stopped and turned, “Also, Haibara, a word?”

Whatever was going on in Haibara’s head, he didn’t show, just followed.

And with that, Gojo walked out, leaving the boardroom in stunned silence.

A/N: I swear, this started as a cute little fic about the reader giving Nanami a kazoo, & somehow it spiraled into corporate angst, smut, & crybaby gojo for some reason. Like he's the office bimbo who no one takes seriously, truly a man in women-dominated fields. haha.. I’ve only written smut four times, & yet TWO of those have Nanami topping & Gojo being a bottom in two, while Haibara & Sukuna top somewhere in there. I'm baffled! Like… how did we get here? I’m confused because canon Gojo radiates I’m-the-top-but-I-cry-after energy, yet here I am, dragging him into bottom hell AGAIN. (Honestly? No regrets; all of us would lick his tears too, SHAMELESSLY!) Haibara, though… HAIBARA. Listen, I gave myself whiplash writing him. He’s my own OC from my fic 'Third Wheeling your own Marriage," & yet I’m feral for him. You guys hyping him up like he’s canon-validates every single unhinged decision I made there. We never saw adult Haibara, but I was like, "What if he was hot, obsessive, & dom-coded?” And here we are. This man fights for Gojo, literally & metaphorically, while Nanami sighs in the background with his kazoo. Quick sidebar: Tumblr, confuses me. For an app full of people who swear they don’t self-ship, why is every other post a “x reader” fic? No hate (I’m guilty too), just an observation. Shoutout to my AO3 gang, though—we ride for our ships. Nanago nation, rise up. I said what I said: Nanago makes more sense for adult Gojo. Don’t agree? Go argue with a wall. I love Satosugu; I do, but Nanami is just… superior. (Maybe because I, too, am a corporate baddie barely holding it together. We’re twinning.) Anyway, sorry for the rant. Toji & Kusakabe backtracking on Sukuna mid-lecture because they wanted his burger was comedy gold, btw. Did you check the links? Bonus points if you did!

Oh, & about the ending… what do you think Gojo called Haibara for? Did they agree to date, or did Gojo threaten him with something? Let me know, because even I’m questioning their dynamic at this point. Okay, bye for real this time! 💕

Next Chapter 2 - The Symphony of Stress-Relief (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

[yanderecrazysie]

I'm not that good at writing, but I had an idea in mind.

I was picturing a Firefighter Nishinoya with whom Y/N has been friends for a while.

But little does she know that Nishinoya's passion for her burn... a little too strongly.

And this is what happens: In the middle of the night, she wakes up trapped in flames. Her appartment building is on fire with no visible exit, no way to come out. Just when she's about to despair, he appears, Noya, in his firefigther uniform. He's her only escape. But at what cost ?

The last of my commissions- this one was a fast pass! Thank you so much!

Title: Arson

Pairings: Nishinoya Yuu x Reader

WARNINGS: yandere themes, firefighter Noya

“Ring around the rosy…”

You and Nishinoya idly watched children play on the nearby playground while eating the ice creams you’d gotten a few minutes prior. You shuddered at the sound of the childhood game the girls nearest to you were playing.

“What’s wrong?” Nishinoya asked, his brow furrowed as he noticed your reaction.

“That game. You know what it was based on, right? What the lyrics really mean?”

“A pocket full of posy…”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

You shook your head, “I didn’t know when I was a kid.”

“Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!” the little girls fell to the ground giggling.

A chill ran down your spine. You shook your head, chasing away the feelings that fogged your mind. Why be so creeped out when it was just children playing?

You were a bit of a superstitious person. You didn’t walk under ladders or step on cracks in the sidewalk. Little things like that.

Nishinoya was nothing like that: he was reckless and risk-taking. He ran under ladders and stepped on every crack in the sidewalk. The two of you were opposites, and it was hard to understand why they’d become friends in the first place.

Nishinoya looked at the giggling children, “Do you want kids one day?”

“What kind of question is that?” you laughed awkwardly. It was painfully obvious that he had a crush on you, but you tried to dodge questions like that to keep your friendship intact.

It didn’t work this time.

“Listen, (Y/n),” Nishinoya said, uncharacteristically shy, “I’ve been wanting to say this to you for a long time.”

You cringed, but he continued.

“I really like you. You’re so adorable and funny and kind… I’m in love with you!”

He looked at you with this excited gleam in his eyes. You avoided his gaze, hoping that would be enough to get him to drop it, but he said, “You don’t need to be shy, I know you feel the same way.”

“But I don’t,” you replied a little more harshly than you meant to, “Sorry, Noya, I just… I don’t feel the same way.”

Your friend’s smile froze and he remained silent for a full minute before replying, “Oh… okay.”

The two of you stared down at your melting ice creams. “I think I’ll get going to work,” Nishinoya said softly.

You knew he didn’t have to go in today, but you allowed him the excuse. 

—-----------------------------------------

That night your dreams were plagued with faceless children in a circle around you, chanting, “Ashes, ashes,” Their faces began to melt like wax, dripping onto the black void below. Their clothes caught fire, though they didn’t seem concerned about this, just running faster around you. 

“Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!”

Except they didn’t fall down, their voices just grew louder and higher until they sounded like a loud, voiceless alarm. 

No, you realized, jolting awake, that’s not children. That’s my fire alarm!

Your apartment was filled with smoke and heat. You got up quickly, struggling to disentangle yourself from your blankets. You flung open your room door and immediately found the fire.

Tall flames  blocked the only two exits: the fire escape and the front door. Almost as if the fire knew how to trap you. There was no way out. 

Were you going to die? 

What had you done to incur such bad luck?

You didn’t own a fire extinguisher, which now you realized was poor planning on your part. You grabbed a mop bucket from the broom closet and ran to the bathroom. You shoved it into the bathroom sink and filled it up.

You decided to use it on the fire escape, since you had no idea how much of your apartment building was on fire. The flames flickered as you dumped water on them, but they did not go out.

Just as you were losing hope, the door to your apartment flew open, revealing a firefighter in full gear. They used a fire extinguisher to put out the flames in front of the door, then approached you. You practically jumped into their arms.

You were so dizzy from the smoke that you only really realized you were outside when you could gulp in the chilly, fresh air. The firefighter took their helmet off, and you were surprised to see dark hair streaked with blond.

“Noya?” you asked, voice a little husky from the smoke.

He looked down at you with a worried expression, “I was so scared for you!”

You stared up at him for a moment with tearful thankfulness, before the puzzle pieces started falling into place.

“You don’t work at night, I thought,” you said softly, looking up at the moonless night sky.

“I took an extra shift,” he said. Was it your imagination or was he avoiding your gaze?

“But… where are the other firefighters?” you asked

“I responded to the call faster I guess,” he replied, definitely avoiding looking at you.

“Where’s your fire truck? How are you going to put out the rest of the fire?” you were starting to become hysterical. There was no way that Noya set the fire… right?

Nishinoya remained quiet for a moment, before admitting, “I’m not going to.”

“What?! But there are people in there!” you gasped.

He pressed his forehead against yours, “The only person that matters is you, (Y/n).”

You began to fight against his grip, but he just held on tighter, walking you to a car you recognized as his personal vehicle. You demanded he stopped, but he ignored you. You screamed for help, but no one was around to hear you- all trapped in the burning apartment building.

Hours later, you listened to the death toll on the TV. Tears filled your eyes, knowing that in a small, small way, this was your fault. Nishinoya would never have done this if you’d just accepted him. The news channel began to talk about politics and you wiped away your tears.

You pulled a little on the chain on your ankle so you could switch the channel.

[sanest-bsd-delegate]

𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙛𝙛

Headcanon: Daily life of you dating them. Ft Dazai, Chuuya, Nikolai and Ranpo

A/n: accept this as a payback for being gone for to long. Miss you guys, how have you been?

ARMED DETECTIVE AGENCY

PORT MAFIA

MASTERLIST

Dazai:

You need to deal with him fr to much.

Can see him ordering drinks during you dates, specifically asking the waiter to bring two straws only to see him drink it from both.

Are you even dating him if you both haven't already taken couple quizzes on the Internet.

This mf istg. LIKE you are about to kiss and he would bump his forehead with yours.

Either he is 10/10 romantic or will be the worst lover in history.

Aww but imagine, if you are in bad mood and insecure or stuff, or saying why you hate your self, he would overhear that and list you things he likes about you. Cute, BUT STOP HIM BEFORE IT GOES FOREVER.

Never leave him alone at home. This man would bring those glow in the dark stars and paste it all over your room. THE LIGHT SO BRIGHT IT BLINDS YOU EYES.

UwU that gives him and you a reason to sleep together on the couch.

You both tried to set up yourself as avatars on games, trying to get your virtual self together only for Dazai's avatar to turn into a bread and commit arson.

Chuuya:

Can imagine you both raking up leaves and jumping into them.

he trying their best to be quiet while you are taking a nap.

This man gets into a heated argument with someone begins threatening them, only for you to pick him up and toss him over your shoulders walking away while he still shouts.

10/10 perfect dynamic couples

You both will visit a field of flowers as a dating spot and thinking you have time to take photos but then both of you end up laying in the field together and picking beautiful flowers for each other. Bonus when both of you make flower crowns for each other.

He kisses you before heading out to kill people, while you lie still in bed trina cope up completing your education degree he can never have. (Lets be real, they are 22, people are finishing college at that moment and not killing people for fun-)

You tried to connect to his Wi-Fi and jokingly put your own name in as the password.

WELL that actually worked and you are connected to his Wi-Fi. (STFU ITS NOT CRINGE ITS FLUFF)

Nikolai:

THIS MAN likes stealing your phone to change your phone's wallpaper into cursed pics from your Pinterest. 10/10 morning trauma

He helps you dry and brush your hair after a shower and visa versa.

Normalising playing on the swings at a small playground that nobody goes to anymore because that's what two sane persons do.

Hands down, both of you tried to cross your kitchen playing three-legged race.

Never let this man draw. You both will be drawing each other and man will breakdown just because he cant lift a pencil. HOW CAN YOU LIFT A MF GUN THEN??

Once you and him were stranded on a raft in the middle of a lake. DONT ASK WHY.

Ranpo:

You have to tie balloons around his hand so he doesn't get lost in the crowd.

JUST IMAGINE-, He has a french fry in his mouth and dares you to steal it from him. and when you try to do it, he puts the whole fry in his mouth and makes you kiss him. 10/10 RIZZNPO.

Thanks to his amazing direction skills, you both get lost in IKEA.

HUJFDISF He will touch your face and tell you its really soft while he gives nose kisses!>>>

Presuming you can knit, he forced you to make a very very very long scarf, only for him to make you sit beside him and share it. (No dazai, that cannot be your rope)

Thanks for reading! I am thinking to change my writing theme. But either ways Do vote if you like ig? Byee lysm :D ๑ARMED DETECTIVE AGENCY ๑PORT MAFIA ๑MASTERLIST ๑HEADCANONS

[resident-idiot-simp]

Haya everyone Resi here

Disclaimer for my account

You can find me here on TikTok, Instagram, Twitter , and Ao3.

My pronouns are She/Her (above 18) and I am somehow not any form of fruity ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ (well I might be a bit Aro/Ace but I don't really care)

I apologize beforehand because I cannot type dysgraphia is a bitch (I also use voice to type I am not sorry) and I'm also your local Southerner and Christian (tasteful kind) here in the U.S. of A.

I am riddled with the ADHD and I am here to commit arson and have fun.

I love answering asks and questions (especially about my fics) so please shoot me any you have 🩷🩷🩷

Tags on my blog:

#Resi Responds #Resi's breakdowns

#Resi's shorts #Resi's Life

#wendi!verse #Deer!Ghost

#walks up to mic #09 angst

#Deadclaw's Adoption Agency

#Pokémon au

Most current hyper fixation:

🧼Mw💀 & ❤️Dp&W💛

My fics :

DP&W

(how I picture the characters, constants in stuff I write, feral mutants explanation)

Deadclaw’s Adoption Agency- Wade and Logan end up adopting an army of misfits and create a home for those without one.

Meeting the Uncle- What happens when Laura runs into Sabretooth in the void?

What Comes Around Goes Around- The X-Men don't know how to feel about this new logan and have some horrible realizations about their own

Bloodline Spite- Laura doesn't like the X-men because of how they treated Logan

The Spider and The Mini Wolverine- Peter befriends Laura and the Avengers are in for a shock

Past Ghosts- Steve meets a man he thought long dead

What is the Deal With Thoes Two?- Students POV on Deadpool and Wolverine

Aftermath and Consequences- The Consequences of the Odyssey Monologue

When We Were Younger- What if Logan and Wade were both students at Xavier's at the same time

An Old Friend With New Stories- Steve and Bucky run across Logan

Running Across The Mini Wolverine- Three quick one-shots of people running across Laura Kinney and what I think would happen.

First Christmas With The New People- Dermot meets Laura first (Christmas fic)

Logan and Mew- Logan and Mew meet, become best friends, and chaos reigns.

The Kid He Always Wanted- Wade is really good with Laura and the X-Men can't believe it

What If Origins Went Differently- What if I killed Victor In Origins

Kitty Got Claws- Wade plays with Logan's claws with a twist

Unexpected Companionship- Logan and Rogue being father and daughter

Passing of the Torch- What if Laura saw her Logan again

Who is This Woman- Vanessa's coworkers POV on her

The Little Birdie- Deadclaws Wing Kink

COD

(Not a fic but the Captain MacTavish essay also characterization)

The Family Reunion- What if Soap's cousin saw him again after years of no contact?

An Outsiders Thoughts- What do others see when observing Soap and Ghost

The Uncle- What if Joseph didn't die and Ghost gets to be an uncle

Comfort- Soap gets overstimulated and Ghost helps comfort him

The Loaned Sergeant- Since Soap is so used to Ghost as his LT how would he work with another Lieutenant?

The Old Team- What happens when Soap meets his old team?

Soap and MacTavish- What if Soap meets Captain MacTavish?

Time Kept Ticking- Soap's Family thinks he's dead, but he comes knocking on their door how will they react?

Your a CAPTAIN?!- What if the original 141 were canon in the same universe as their reboot counterparts and Soap with Ghost were using the task force as a cover for their own team?

Don't Dish Out What You Can't Take- Soap and Ghost have a badass kid

Hunger- Ghost is a wendigo because it fits so well!!

The BAU Meet SoapGhost- The BAU deal with John 'Soap' MacTavish and Simon 'Ghost' Riley

The Prince & his Knight- Soap is a prince Ghost is a knight what will happen when Soap I told to court someone?

I haven't Talked to You Since last Year- Simon keeps making jokes and Soap is NOT having it

The Mistake- What if after Roba Tommy kicks Simon out?

Favored by the Crows- Ghost gains an army of crows

Task Force Try Playing Games With Civilians- The 141 play laser tag and paintball with some civilians

What People Around and On Base See- MORE POVS ON YOUR FAVORITE IDIOTS

Alone Time Interrupted by Your Team- Captain MacTavish is rudely interrupted by his team during his not so alone alone time

Cowboy Dan- Cowboy Dan is so Ghost-coded I needed to write a fic so decided to make it sad and about Soap becoming Ghost after Ghost died.

A Little Help- Ghost helps preen Soap's wings

A Little Pick-Me-Up With Company- Soap offers fresh blood to Ghost so they can escape a sticky situation while Price is an unwitting watcher

Jailbirds- Soap and Ghost get arrested on a mission gone wrong

A Preventable Fate- 09 Angst regarding Price not being a good person

What is With Those Two?- Model Ghost and Football player Soap are following each other on social media and the fans just realized

Feeding Your God- 09 Ghost as a lore accurate wendigo (Azilver wrote a story based off of this go read it! Also it has fanart that also works for my fic)

Accidental Mate Acquisition- Seal Mer Soap sees Ghost as his mate what will they do?

The Captain Blowing Off Steam- The Captain has his way with Riley who is just happy to be there

Mama Bear- Mama bear Beth

What do you need?- The Captain has visitors while having his way with Riley

Matching Smiles- Soap has a Glasgow smile

How Did This Snowball so Bad?! - Soap and Ghost experience their first heat/rut together

Relief- Soap with swollen balls needing relief and Ghost offering to help.

Wisper From the Woods - Wendigo Roach activities including but not limited to eating Graves

Mending of Broken Souls - Past meet their future selves (part of this event I hosted)

Love Bites- Vampire Riley getting less traumatized with some TLC from his Captain

Team Bonding- Team bonding over how the 141 imagine Captain MacTavish is like in bed and how badly everyone wants him.

MacTavish and Riley Take on the Apocalypse- Wendi!Verse meets TWD and interacts with the termites (also another small snippet for nine lives)

Feed Your Local Vampire they get Hangry- Vampire MacTavish and willing blood bag Riley

FNAF

Empire of dirt- Ever wanted to know what others in Hurricane thought of the Aftons well wonder no longer!

The Ghost & The Bear- Freddy's POV on a ghost Michael

Final Encore- What would happen if Michael met the crew in Security Breach

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

For the horror skeletons who would have children, let's say they have two children, a boy and a girl, the kids are hanging out with their dad until there dad went to go do something and by the time the kids look up there dad isn't there anymore and they frantically look around to find him but no luck... but uncle is here

How would uncle's react to their niece and nephew clinging to their side following him like lost ducklings because they can't find his brother?

Horrortale Sans - So, funny story. He was looking for Willow too. Since he saw his brother's kids were looking for him too, he followed them around so they lead him to his brother. Now you're all wandering aimlessly in the farm. Oak doesn't even know what he's looking for anymore after ten minutes and is just confused.

Horrortale Papyrus - For Asgore's sake, not again! Willow goes to search for his brother but can't find him anywhere. That's pretty common, Oak just randomly disappears sometimes. However, it also means he won't be back before ten minutes or four days, which can be a problem. Willow will take care of the kids for now, but he's a little stressed now. He hates it when his brother does this.

Horrorswap Sans - Uuuuurgh. Nugget didn't plan to talk to his brother today and he feels so awkward right now. He was fine just with their monthly conversation, why does he have to be the one bringing the kids to their dad? Nugget is kinda leading the kids like a border collie leads sheeps, towards the house, trying to encourage them to go there by themselves so he doesn't have to talk to his brother.

Horrorswap Papyrus - Pumpkin is always happy to see his nieces/nephews but is much less enthusiastic about seeing his brother. However, he's a bit concerned and angry about the kids being by themselves. He knows his brother is not the best with children, but still, they were in the middle of a field! What's his problem? Don't you know children need supervision? Pumpkin is anxious and nervous now, he just leads the children to the house so they can all wait for Nugget there.

Horrorfell Sans - I mean, he COULD bring the kids back, but that's no fun. So what they're all going to do is play a game. Copper climbs a tree with the kids and they all watch poor Chief completely freaking out, screaming his kid's names and trying his best to push his wheelchair in the mud to run after them. When Chief notices though, he is NOT happy. He's not talking to his brother for three days and refuses to stay in the same room he is in. Copper thinks that's hilarious actually and doesn't regret anything.

Horrorfell Papyrus - He sighs, then takes his phone and texts his brother to ask him where are the kids. Copper immediately answers that they're absolutely with him. So Chief calls him and asks him to let him talk to the kids. As Copper is panicking and trying to justify himself miserably, he just lets one of his kids talk to him, then tells him the kids are at home and that if he doesn't want him to tell his S/O, he better do all the chores in the house before 6 p.m. It's 5:45 p.m. right now. Chief hangs up and chuckles like an epic villain. He can't wait to watch his brother cry at his feet for him to not tell his S/O. Guess what? He plans to do it anyway. He doesn't care if he does all the chores, he just wants to cause chaos. He just wants to remind his brother from time to time that he's still the annoying little brother and that him getting married doesn't change that.

Horrorswapfell Sans - He jumps out of his bones when a random hand grabbed his clothes. He wasn't expecting that and he's a little shaken. What the hell?! Don't just grab him, talk to him so he knows who you are. He can't say he's surprised his brother's kids are on their own, and he's pretty sure Tiger left to commit arson or some shit anyway so he takes them back home. He can still lecture his brother like a baby when he comes back. Tiger hates it, but Bear also hates to babysit children without it being planned so Tiger will sit on the couch and get lectured anyway. Everyone is getting mad tonight.

Horrorswapfell Papyrus - If the kids are there, it means there's a completely freaking out Bear somewhere having a panic attack. Tiger goes looking for his brother and finds him hyperventilating in the middle of the forest because he lost his way trying to find his children. That's ok though. Tiger just leads him back home with the kids and is nice enough to not comment on the accident, as his brother is already quite shaken and needs some time to recover. He at least praises the children for coming directly to him when they lost their dad so they do it again if it happened again.