#so all in all this domain is kind of a win. for him.

[the-dreams-i-dream-blog]

The summary:

2025 the boys of BTS were in the biggest band of the world, they have sold out shows and finished their mandatory military service. The world was theirs until an accident that happened in the year 2027 with their bandmate Jeon Jungkook. They all decided to break up after this accident, nobody speaking about it until now…. These are their interviews.

Pairing: yandere jungkook x reader

Warning: Hey guys this is a mini chapter it’s chapter 2.0. It has humor and serious moments, but nothing to dark yet. I decided to try something new. It is a little unhinged lol.

Mini Chapter 2.0- Feelings

(Video recording of y/n finding out she won the Weverse contest.)

Hi guys, I’m so excited right now Weverse is just about to release the winner of the BTS comeback contest. I’m praying it’s me but if it’s not, that’s OK I know the army that wins it. Will be grateful.

Wait. Wait. They just released the statement.

OH.MY.GOD. I WON

(excitedly screaming)

Screen goes black then back to the BTS boys interviews.

Min Yoongi-

This trip was planned all the way down to the napkin Y/N was going to use. The contest stated that it was a two week trip to Korea. Nothing in that mentions that BTS will meet the winner. Jungkook wanted to make it seem like Y/N just happened to ran into him on the street.He wanted a little of the chase that he always craved.

Kim Taehyung-

Jungkook likes to switch up his personality to fit the situation. It was no different for the scenario. The player man he had became finally stopped. The man who would drink morning day and night slow down. All because y/n didn’t seem to like those traits. 

Kim Namjoon-

Him finally getting her to Korea seems so familiar to me, like I’ve heard the story before then BAM it hits me. Jungkook is Hades and y/n is Persephone. Korea is his hell, his domain.

Kim Seokjin-

Wait.

I’m sorry Namjoon really compared

Jungkook to Hades and y/n to Persephone?

(He lets out a loud laugh)

Aish.

Namjoon always trying to bring his books to life.

Interviewer- Do you think they resemble that pair? 

Kim Seokjin-

Oh yeah for sure… them or Princess Peach and Browser

(He continued to laugh)

Interviewer- OK can you state when YN arrived to Korea?

Park Jimin-

Seeing Jungkook track her the moment she got off that plane was like seeing a cat with a mouse. She was just excited to travel, but what she didn’t know was that this prize she had won wasn’t just for her.

Flashback

Y/n POV

Cloudy and rainy was the weather Korea had when I landed my eyes kept wandering around the airport, not believing that I was actually here.

“Wow” I said under my breath I finally moved my feet so I can reach a cab. It feels unreal how I got here. The fact that I won the contest is just… wow.

When I finally got into the cab, the thought I should’ve remembered was that I don’t know Korean.

“어디로 가시나요?” Asked the cab driver. I blinked trying to comprehend what he just said. two knocks on the cab window, brought me back to reality.

I roll down the window and see there is a man standing there. I hoped and prayed he knew some kind of English and thank God he did.

“Are you y/n?” The man asks

“Yes…yes I am, I’m sorry how do you know my name?”

“You won the BTS contest, correct?” He keeps asking questions.

“Yes?” I responded

“I will be your driver for the next two weeks. You are here complementary of BTS”

 The drive to the hotel I was going to be staying in was amazing, the whole time BTS music was playing. It felt like a 2000’s movie where the main character goes to the big city. When I finally get to the hotel, I couldn’t believe how beautiful the room was and how big it was. on the bed was the free BTS merch and a bunch of snacks. I decided I wanted some light in the room so I went to the window and opened the curtains, and Boy was the view something I’ve never thought I would see. I’m just kind of upset that I couldn’t bring a plus one on this trip. 

(Back to the interviewers)

Park Jimin-

Oh yeah I forgot!

Jungkook made sure she couldn’t bring a plus one.

He didn’t need someone in the way of his plans.

Min Yoongi-

He thought about everything, except the fact that she didn’t speak any Korean.

Kim Seokjin-

This stupid stupid boy

HA!

He didn’t think about that detail!

She was American that only spoke English.

Min Yoongi-

The only person who was in the way of his plan was himself

(He let out a little laugh)

Kim Namjoon-

I really didn’t want anything to do with this.

So I distanced myself from him I mean, I talked to him during rehearsals but I pulled back.

I’m the type of person who knows their limits and boundaries and Jungkook during this time was breaking all of my boundaries and limits.

Kim Taehyung-

What a shame he was fucked in the head.

Interviewer- Wait I’m sorry I feel like we are getting away from the story here. Just tell us when Jungkook finally decided to approach y/n?

Jung Hoseok-

I will keep it short… okay?

She got off that plane.

She started having everything tracked.

They met at the Han River at 7:37am because she wanted to experience it early when not a lot of people were there.

Jungkook just happened to be on a early morning “run”

(Hoseok rolls his eyes)

Interviewer- I’m sorry you look annoyed, what’s wrong?

Jung Hoseok-

It’s just…

I know I could’ve stopped this somehow. I’m annoyed at him and I’m annoyed at myself.

She didn’t want this she never asked Jungkook to do the things he did.

I saw everything he was doing, and I didn’t step in to stop it. I blame myself for that night.

(He starts to tear up)

Min Yoongi-

Hoseok and I were really close to y/n, she became our little sister. Hobi blames himself a lot because he dropped her off at her and Jungkook’s place that night knowing she didn’t feel comfortable.

I’m sorry I’m going way ahead of the story.

Interviewer- No.No. It’s okay, I want to hear your guy’s feelings, we can continue the beginning in the next episode.



***Sorry guys if this one seems off I wanted to try something new for this. That’s why it’s a mini chapter if you don’t like how it came out please let me know. Chapter 3 will be out next week and it will be more on top of the beginning and go into detail. Love you guys

Tagz: @kokoandkookie @petersasteria @crispynutella







[the-mist-wanderers]

diversity win! this man-eating rat woman respects your pronouns and gender identity

she's gonna eat u

[lilacgaby]

title: crush chronicles

pairing: megumi x reader

summary: megumi's crush on you was discovered one by one, until he was finally forced helped to confess.

note: i love megumi.. megumi nation rise up

he figured out he had a crush on you after your first encounter with a special grade.

as you fought, using your technique to manage a blow on the curse, he stood in awe and fear of you. as you were hit back, slamming into the wall with a sickening crack he felt the fear rage inside him ten times over.

yuuji promised to handle the curse, and at that moment megumi ran to you, as fast as his legs could take him, as he picked you up in his arms and ran out the imperfect domain with you in hand.

he knew he was a goner when the first thing you did before he went to save nobara, was poke his cheek at his worried expression, and utter, "you're so cute 'gumi." before falling asleep.

if he wasn't worried for nobara's life, he might've died right then and there.

his shikigami were the second to notice. more specifically, his divine dogs.

you'd always had a liking for them, petting them after a practice match between you and megumi. you even started to carry treats for them, feeding them whenever the missions were finished.

they sensed that whenever you were around, megumi's heart would start to race. they interpreted that you..

were a threat.

now having pulled a complete 180 on you, they refused any form of affection from you. whenever you got near megumi when they were out, they'd circle him in a defensive position, barking at you to stay away.

you sulked for an entire week about this, pouting around as you asked megumi why his dogs no longer liked you. grabbing his arm as you jokingly shook him around.

this only made his heart race faster, and his dogs feel even more inclined to protect him.

it's only when one day, while they scouted for curses ahead, that they noticed megumi patting your head as you celebrated your win, that a realization set in.

you were special to him.

after that, it was all back to normal with you and the dogs, in fact they were even more excited to be with you than normal. megumi smiled fondly at the sight of you with his divine dogs. they grew close to you too, he thought.

the next person to understand was nobara.

she had taken you two out shopping in japan, saying it was important for two girls to look good while they kicked ass.

yuuji and megumi tagged along for some reason, much to her dismay.

"this was supposed to be a girls day! you two aren't girls!"

"it's first-year bonding time."

"give me a break!"

it ended up working out, nobara using yuuji to hold all your bags as you shopped around. eventually you got hungry, and megumi offered to take you to a cafe, leaving a tired yuuji with a hyper nobara.

you two sat at a table and shared a slice of your favorite cake. you laughed as you spoke about the things that just popped into your head, megumi smiling as he listened.

anyone around could see the lovesick look in his eyes.

nobara finally figured out that you two had snuck away, and was annoyed whilst trying to look for you.

as she and yuuji neared the cafe, they saw you two through the window. a lightbulb went off in her head as she saw how close he sat, how he nodded his head after every couple of sentences, how he fiddled with his spoon as he listened deeply to you.

she slid to a stop, making yuuji bump into her.

"okay, let's go back!"

"but we came all this way and they're right there!"

"yes, but they're so gonna kiss soon! so let's go!" she said, shoving yuuji out as he whined about being tired.

yuuji had seen megumi at the cafe, but it wasn't til a day where he had stumbled upon you two in his dorm room together on a hot day that he'd finally pieced it together in his mind.

he'd witnessed a lot of interactions between you and him that were more than platonic sure, but he just didn't think megumi was that kind of guy.

he thought he was just being a gentleman back at the cafe, taking you out because you were hungry.

he thought he was just being kind when he'd offer to tie your shoes and lend you his water when out on missions.

he thought he was just being the nice guy he is when he'd offer to go with you anywhere, to stores or restaurants or whatever you needed.

but yuuji saw how red-faced megumi was as he stared at you in shorts and a tank top. you were laid with your eyes shut on his bed, a fan in your hands as you waved yourself.

he'd never seen megumi so..

striken.

megumi finally noticed yuuji at the door and jumped up.

yuuji held his hands up and with an apologetic smile closed the door behind him.

'he was so down bad.' yuuji thought, immediately texting nobara.

gojo was late to everything, even this realization.

yuuji and nobara were the ones to spill to him, talking about how close you two had gotten, and how they swore he saw you holding his hand on the mission you were sent out on.

gojo had always teased him about you, but he didn't think his special student would fall for his other prized student. how.. fated!

though he was the last one to realize, gojo was the first one to take initiative to make them forcibly admit their feelings to one another, making a plan.

as they formulated it, they realized that the key factor counted on megumi being clueless, because he'd never let them do this otherwise.

so for the next week they plotted, ignoring the confused looks of yours and megumi's as they snickered like witches.

saturday morning, you and megumi received seperate letters to go and meet under a cherry blossom tree. only your note.. had a bit more written at the end.

you both arrived there, you a bit earlier than megumi.

"megumi, it's you?"

he tilted his head in confusion. "what's me?"

"you called me out here to confess to me?" she said, while holding up the page.

megumi was plotting revenge in his head, but..

he shouldn't waste this chance right?

"yes, yes i did." he rubbed the back of his neck before speaking.

"i admire you. you're pretty, and strong, and courageous. you make light of hard situations no matter how scared you are, you're.. really amazing."

"megumi.." as they neared closer to eachother, the flowers from the tree starting to fall freely onto them, accompanying the sunlight draping in from the moving shade.

they shared their first kiss under that tree,

the first of many more.

[helenanell]

A Breath Of Life || Part Two

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

 Part One 

Pairing(s) :  Reader x Art – Reader x Tashi - Reader x Art x Tashi

CW: MDNI - Smut. Infidelity (kind of?). So much love and lust. ANGST. Manipulative behaviour. 

Notes: Fem!Reader, No use of y/n. This is really just me exploring my own bisexual panic some more.  Spoilers for the film.

Wordcount: 4.2K

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

The moment you won the match that sealed your victory at Wimbledon,  the applause was rapturous.

And yet, Tashi’s triumphant shout was louder to you than hundreds of clapping hands. 

The sound of her celebration became yours, and when you let out a yell of your own, your racket falling from your hands, you became one with her. 

After that, her eyes did not leave you. You didn’t look but you knew it to be true, just as you knew the sun was shining onto your shimmering skin; Tashi was an incomprehensible being bearing down on you. 

When you lifted the Venus Rosewater Dish above your head–the silver trophy given to the women’s single’s winner–your smile was beatific. Not because of the rush of adrenalin, or the way your spirit had been buoyed by finally achieving what you knew you could, but feared you wouldn’t, but because you knew that in your victory Tashi had found her own. 

It had taken over a decade, but together you’d realised your dream. 

You knew deep down that you could have made it without her, but it would have been tasteless; a honeyed feast turning to ash in your mouth.

Achieving the title with Tashi by your side had turned everything technicolour. All of your senses were heightened and your sense of self revitalised. 

You lived for tennis and Tashi had helped that life become something glorious. 

When you stepped off the court it felt like a kind of conquest: your domain now stretched beyond the white lines that had so far confined you. You had taken more than a trophy, you had stolen space in people’s consciousness.

 You would not fade into the annals of time because your name had been recorded- it was to be engraved in metal which would be buffed into an unmissable shine. 

Even as you stepped into the plush locker room, you knew the winning moment was already being replayed and analysed. It made you smile to think that as commentators noted your form, they were publicly voicing the effects of Tashi’s coaching on you, to the entire world. 

You felt burned by her, but not as if she had branded you, rather that she had subjected you to such heat, that the very makeup of your body had been altered. 

Now, you're sitting on the wooden bench in the locker room with your head hanging low, sweat still dripping from your face when the door opens. 

You shoot to your feet, your beleaguered body screaming at you to slow down.

When you turn, you find Art standing in front of the now closed door. 

The sight of him takes away your breath. 

He is here too. 

In your greatest moment of euphoria, when you’ve never felt more tangible–more real–you get to be near him. Suddenly, all of the time that had passed between you didn’t matter.

He's with you now. 

Art leans back against the door, hands going into the pockets of his immaculate navy pants. A matching blazer that has been left unbuttoned stretches across his muscled torso, his sunglasses hanging from the neck of his white shirt. 

His cropped blonde hair is messy enough that you know he's been running his hands through it; with anxiety and elation he’d been dragging fingers through the blonde locks as he watched you play.  

Art has become something beyond handsome to you. Retiring has returned his vitality and it has been a stunning metamorphosis to witness. 

But it's change you’ve made yourself witness from a distance. The two of you have not been in a room alone together since he’d hidden in your bathroom as Tashi had convinced you to let her become your coach. 

For the first few months, things had felt far too fragile to acknowledge what had happened between the two of you. You and Art had come to a silent understanding that you needed the time to build back up a foundation with Tashi. 

If you were to remain in each other's lives, you needed solid ground.

But you had just won Wimbledon. You had just given Tashi a victory. Did either of you have the fortitude to go on denying yourselves? 

It has been a solid minute since Art entered the room and neither of you have shifted so much as an inch.

You��re fixed on the spot, watching him as he drinks you in. His gaze is laying possessive claim to your body, noting all the places the white vest and skort are clinging to your sweat-slicked curves. 

But it is when his eyes settle on your face, that a sort of peace soothes his expression.

“You were amazing.”

You can’t help but smirk, allowing yourself to feel cocky for once. “Of course I was, I won.” 

Art’s cheeks dimple with the strength of his grin.

“It’s not about the win. It’s how you moved when you played- like you could bend the whole world to your will. It was so beautiful. And you…” He pushes off the door and walks right up to you, chests almost brushing as he nudges your chin up with his finger. “You are so, so stunning.”

As he leans in, even though you don’t try to stop him, words of weak protest pour out of you.

“Art we shouldn’t. Not here-“

He cuts you off with a taunting kiss, his tongue trying to prize your lips open as his arm wraps around you.

His hand shifts up the sweaty material of your vest and lays his palm flat against the heated flesh of your lower back, all while his other hand trails up your outer thigh and beneath your skort to grab your ass.

You lean into him, hands wrapping around his neck and only when he draws back to kiss his way along your jaw, do you have a chance to speak again.

“Art, Tashi will be here soon. If she sees-“ 

“She won’t care.” 

Your brow furrows, but the confusion isn’t enough for you to stop his lips moving over your neck. “What?” 

As Art answers, his hand leaves your rear to dip beneath the waistband of your skort. You shiver as the pads of his fingers tickle all the way down, toying with the top of your underwear.

“You are all Tashi sees now.” Art clarifies, proceeding to nip at your exposed shoulder with his teeth. “You’re her everything. She could walk in on us right now and it wouldn’t change a thing.”

That gives you pause, indignation spiking at his easy dismal of Tashi.

You pull away from Art and he groans quietly but lets you go, his expression remaining completely content. 

“How can you say that?” You ask, growing irritable even as you let him take your hand in his.

“Because you’re everything that I couldn’t be for her.” He says. 

You sigh exasperatedly. “What does that mean, Art?” 

You don’t know why you’re asking, as you’re certain you already know the truth of it.

Art smiles, his other hand lifting to smooth a few sweat slicked strands off of your forehead. When he’s finished, his fingers settle with running over your cheekbone.

“It means…that you are all of her dreams realised. She resented me because every time I played, no matter how well, she knew it was nowhere near as important to me as it would have been to her had she never been injured. She hated me for not wanting it more….but, you have enough passion for tennis to play for the both of you. I never had that much to draw from. So, as long as you keep winning like you just did, she’ll love you. She’ll love you because you’re doing her justice.” 

After giving that insight that rang so true it almost hurts your ears with its incessant clamouring, Art leans in to kiss you again. You place a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back. 

“You felt like you were playing for her and it made you miserable.” You argue, hurt by the thought that his behaviour towards you is just rooted in gratitude that you have lifted the burden off of his shoulders. 

“It was different for me.” He answers simply. “I was miserable because I knew none of what I did was enough. I was still failing her. Tashi wants to watch great tennis and I didn’t give her that. You will. You are giving her that.” 

The way Art was speaking was producing within you a burgeoning unease; he was steady and assured, like he’d spent a long time thinking about this. And there was an undeniable undercurrent of pleasure to his speech.

A large part of Art was elated that the burden had been shifted onto you. 

But could you really hold that against him? You had seen how he was bending and breaking under the weight, it was why you’d told him to retire.

It was now your job to keep Tashi’s heart beating, you had known that the moment you’d agreed to let you coach her. That had been your choice and one freely made. 

So Art was right, you had to keep winning and you had to do so spectacularly. 

This was not a fresh revelation of course, but the possibility that Tashi wanting you close to her was entirely contingent on tennis, began to terrify you.

 You estimated you had a good five years left before you’d likely be forced to retire, but then what would become of you? Would Tashi even care to have you in her life after that? You were not bound to her like she was to Art by their daughter.

As if he can feel how your mind is whirring through the skin of your cheek, Art tips up your chin again and claims your mouth for another kiss. 

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, noses brushing. 

“When I think about all that you are, tennis doesn’t even register.” He says sincerely, placing a sweet peck to your lips.

You cherish his touch and ach for more, but it isn’t quelling the panic ripping into your insides like wind whipping up in preparation to become a storm.

“Art, I can’t- I need to tell Tashi what happened with us.” 

No anger or irritation appears on his face at your blurted words, but his other hand falls onto your back so he can pull you closer and you can tell he’s definitely upset about something. 

“What happened?” He rasps. “You’re placing what we have in the past tense. Is it not still happening” His fingers press into your skin proprietorially. 

“I can’t lose her, Art. But I also can’t lose you.” 

“Then tell her.” He says,  bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it. 

“You’re agreeing just like that? It’ll ruin your marriage.” 

His lip tugs up in the beginning of a bitter smile. “Tell her. It won’t change how she sees you.” he affirms “Then you should ask her about Patrick.”

You barely have time to process his implication when the door opens.

 The two of you pull apart as Tashi’s head pops in. She looks entirely unbothered as her eyes glance off her husband before settling squarely on you.

“Get in the shower, we’ve got to get moving.” 

And just like that she’s gone again.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

“Do you need him?” 

Tashi’s question catches you off guard.

You’ve both been sitting in silence- her nursing a glass of wine and you with herbal tea as you both look out across the London skyline. Lights of skyscrapers are strung out across the black like fairy lights. 

You know who she’s talking about, but you’re terrified to acknowledge it.

You stop yourself from giving into the instinct to peer back through the open sliding door and into the hotel room where Art is watching TV. 

“In what way?” You ask, fiddling with the handle of your mug, still looking forward. 

Tashi huffs, putting her glass down and then turning to you, kneeling beside you on the outdoor couch. She takes the mug out of your hand, setting it on the nearby table before curling her fingers around your chin and forcing you to meet her unflinching stare. 

“Will Art improve your game or will he wreck it?” She sees your eyes widen and shushes you, stymying the words that had been gathering on your tongue. “This isn’t about me. I’m your coach, so I need to know that you’re going to keep giving this your all.” 

“I will.” You nod furiously, still held in her grip.

Tashi’s eyes flicker down your lips before finding your eyes again. Her hair is loose and being blown into your face. 

“I need you to tell me that if he’s watching you in the stands, that you won’t choke.” She says. “What the two of you have needs to light a fire in you, or it fucking dies. Do you understand me?” 

“I won’t choke.” You insist, your tone hard.

Her full lips press into a pleased line. “So are you going to keep dominating?” 

Slightly breathless, your eyes fall to where your fingers have been absentmindedly brushing her knee. You let your digits outstretch and as your eyes return to Tashi’s, you tentatively run them over her scar. You feel her shiver. 

“I’m going to keep dominating.” 

You both go still, and just as the corner of her mouth tugs up, she’s leaning in. You inhale a sharp breath as her lips just skim yours. She holds there, not pressing any further. 

When Tashi speaks, you feel her lips form the words against your own. “Then you do whatever it takes.” 

You truly couldn’t say which of you closes the distance, it feels more like an external, undeniable force driving the two of you to converge.

 When Tashi begins to move her lips against yours, her hand cradles the back of your head, twisting into your hair and pulling. You can’t help but let out a soft moan into her mouth, a hand landing on her waist and digging into the thin fabric of her silk shift.

Tashi draws back first, her hot breaths on your face as she presses two fingers to your throbbing lips. 

The question that comes out of your mouth has no malice or jealousy behind it, just an aching curiosity: you want to know her completely, in the way that you used to, and Art’s words from the locker room told you there was something you don’t know. 

“Tashi, what happened between you and Patrick?” 

She doesn’t rear back, she doesn’t slap you like she might have, she just lets out a slow almost contented breath.  

“I slept with him.” She admits calmly. “A few years ago in Atlanta, and the night before the Challenger match against Art.” 

All at once the visceral passion of that match makes so much more sense and even though you’re aware how twisted it is, you laugh. 

“You forced them to have the best match of their lives.” You say, your tone warring between disbelief and awe. 

Tashi answers with another brief, but ardent kiss to your lips, before she’s rising to her feet, her demeanour steady. Her expression is already returning to the stern set of your coach. 

“You need to get to bed. It’s a busy day tomorrow. Your physiotherapist is here at eight am. Nutritionist at eight-thirty.” 

You nod in agreement, lips still tingling as you rise to your feet. 

The night breeze stirs your hair and the thin fabric of your robe. Only when you turn do you see Art leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed against his chest, the fabric of his grey shirt strained against his muscles. 

When you meet his gaze he smiles so fondly that, combined with the residual heat of Tashi’s contact, you’re set ablaze. 

Right now you have both of them.

“Stay here with us.” Tashi asserts, running a hand over Art’s arm as she passes him to head inside the room.

“No need for you to go wandering down the hall in your nightgown again.” Art continues, the corner of his lips lifting as he holds a hand out to you.

You take it, letting him draw you inside. 

When the two of you reach the massive Queen bed, Art pulls back the sheets and you crawl happily into the middle of the mattress. 

All at once your exhaustion hits you, the softness cradling your aching form both lulling you into drowsiness and making your limbs remember each strained movement of the day.  

Your eyes fall shut, so you’re not sure who it is who causes the bed to dip, but you lean into the warmth irregardless. 

Art’s toned arm wraps around your torso as he draws the back of your body to be flush with his front.  He’s already pulling hair away from your neck and laying lingering kisses there, when movement in front of you causes your eyes to flutter open. 

Tashi’s standing in the bathroom doorway opposite you, her form backlit by the warm light as she finishes rubbing lotion to her arms.

 She watches Art holding you and she notes how he’s kissing you, a frenetic vibrancy takes over her expression. 

You hold her gaze as she switches the bathroom light and walks over. When she crawls under the covers, one of Art’s hands is moving past the neckline of your robe, his thumb running over your nipple. 

You sigh, your head falling back against Art’s chest, but your hand is moving forward across the mattress, searching for Tashi. 

It’s such a terrible idea-  an act that will join you all in another irrevocable way, but you have to have it. You have to have them. 

If you’re going to play tennis with Tashi as your coach and Art still in her life…you can’t choose. You can’t separate yourself from either of them. 

Your hand makes contact with Tashi’s as she lays herself right in front of you. She intertwines your fingers and leans down to kiss your chest, her lips skimming your collarbones. 

Art draws his hand away from your breast and his touch travels down your body, between your legs. 

You moan as Tashi’s mouth explores your chest, her tongue brushing over the swell of your breasts all while Art is pressing his knees between yours from behind. Now more open to him, he bunches your robe in his hand and rucks it up until it’s gathered at your waist. He pulls down your underwear.

When Art’s fingers begin to tease your centre, your gasp is lost as Tashi covers her mouth with yours, her free hand threading into your hair. 

Between the two of them, you find security in the ecstasy they draw out of you. Your entire body is flushed and sweating, cheeks red and chest heaving.

You’re beyond overwhelmed, but you try to savour every small touch and shift of their bodies.

Mostly you’re trying to remember the sensation of Tashi, because you have a feeling this may never happen again with her: even in your addled mind as Art begins to roll his hips, a finger pressing inside you, you’re aware that for Tashi this could simply be a form of motivation. You know that if she thought you needed this now, in order to keep playing the way you had today, then she’d do it without question. She’s motivating you.

 But is that all this is for her? It certainly means a lot more to you.

Tashi was the first woman you had been attracted to, the first person to make you question the limited nature of your desires as a young woman. And then she’d been your best friend, you’d loved and wanted her…and then you’d lost her. 

You both knew this wasn’t a sustainable dynamic, it would likely never be repeated, but for now you would savour being desired by the woman who had awoken yours so long ago. 

Right as Art presses another finger into you, plunging them the two in almost lazily, as if he has all the time in the world, he whispers in your ear: 

“Are you okay?” 

Tashi is still kissing you, but draws back when she hears the question, her lips plump and glistening. She’s giving you the chance to answer, you realise. 

The glorious tightness inside you worsens, friction growing as they stop touching you. 

“Yes.” You whine impatiently.

Art chuckles into your neck as you grab his wrist and guide him back into you, his fingers curling inside your warmth. 

But Tashi’s lips don’t return to yours, instead she leans down and presses them to your forehead before she’s crawling out of the bed.

You’re not worried by her retreat because you’ve always been able to read her face. As she backs away, your orgasm drawing closer as Art fucks into you with his fingers, you see that she isn’t regretting anything. In fact, she’s pleased. Not necessarily with what’s happening in front of her, but because Art–someone she has loved and still loves in her own way–can give you the intimacy she can’t quite bring herself to. 

You play tennis for Tashi and Art loves you for both of them. You think you can live with that.

 Even though you know you could, you don’t begrudge Tashi for any of it. She’s given you this. She’s given you Art and in as much as she can, she’s given you herself. 

As she slips out of the room, no doubt to go to her Mother’s suite and to her daughter, you are entirely content. 

Once you’re alone, you buck up into Art’s hand, your ass grinding against his hardness. He groans deeply against your neck and you almost cry out in protest as he pulls his fingers from right when you’re so close to release. 

But you are not left bereft of him for long. His arm moves beneath you, bracketing your chest with his hand and settling with a soft grip against your throat. He pushes down his pyjama pants.

It’s all too much when he begins to tease his hardness against your core. 

“Art. Now.” You reach down and dig your nails into his now bare thigh with force. 

As his grip on your throat tightens ever so slightly, Art complies and pushes himself into you from behind. He sounds drunk as he whispers into your hair:

“This will never be enough.” He thrusts into you with sweet slowness, letting you feel every tiny thing. “I’ll never have enough of you.” 

So lost in the pressure of him moving inside you that you’re alienated from your capacity for speech, you can’t find the language to tell him how this feels for you; you can’t tell him how much it means. 

Then he speaks again, his movements becoming more forceful: “I’ll never have all of you will I?”

You whimper as his hand that’s not on your neck dives between your legs, adding pressure with his fingers even as he fucks you.

“You do have all of me.” You answer raggedly, relinquishing free movement entirely as he cradles your body so restrictively.

He’s like a snake, tingling around your form before consuming your entire being.

“Tell me it wouldn’t change anything if it was just us.” Art begs, his breath catching in his throat and body shaking. “Tell me I’d be enough for you.” 

He thrusts again and you almost break with your shuddering release. You don’t try to remain quiet, crying out into the night. Art continues to move in you, desperate in more ways than one. 

“I can’t Art.” You admit, tears of pleasure and a sweet sort of pain gathering in your eyes. “I can’t tell you that. We need- we need them. B-both of them.” You stutter out, relinquishing yourself to your euphoria. 

Them. Them being Tashi and Patrick.

 You don’t understand Art without either of them. You don’t understand yourself without them. 

Everything was in relation to them, even the sex you and Art are having right now isn’t just about the two of you. And you both know it.

An indecipherable noise comes from Art as he pulls out of you, and in a blink, he’s rolled you onto your back and is pressing himself into you again.

His pace becomes rapid as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, hips snapping against yours.

You wrap your legs around him, driving him deeper as his body begins to tremble.

When Art comes apart, draping himself over you as he gathers himself, a tear of utter confusion rolls down your cheek and falls into his hair. 

Whatever comes next, at least you know you’ll never be alone. Art is a part of you. Tashi and Patrick are part of you. 

Without each other, there is no survival.

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ jujutsu kaisen x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack with plot

"You hate your job. The pay is bad, your manager is worse, and customers are somehow both entitled and clueless. Just as you finish contemplating whether unpaid breaks are a human rights violation, weird new people keep showing up to the café. They all seem to know each other. Sometimes they talk in cryptic phrases. What the hell is this domain and why do they want to expand it? One time, a man with stitches on his forehead walked in, made prolonged eye contact with you, and then left without ordering anything. You’re pretty sure he was a serial killer. Another time, the one with white hair and sunglasses indoors mentioned a "higher mission", and you’re 90% sure this is how cult documentaries start. One of your regulars only speaks in weird food-related phrases. You assume he has some kind of medical condition, but no one explains anything to you. But you are not about to ask questions, because ignorance is bliss and also job security. And unfortunately, they are all weird and they seem very interested in coming back."

꒰ masterlist ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 2 ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 4 ꒱

ᨳ♡₊➳ or read on archive of our own!

The first sign that today was going to be a lot was when you walked into work and found the espresso machine actively smoking.

Greg the Manager stood next to it, arms crossed, nodding to himself like a man who was taking this issue very seriously but would do absolutely nothing about it.

“Looks bad,” he said gravely.

You set your bag down and exhaled. “Have you done anything to fix it?"

“I thought about unplugging it,” he admitted.

“…And?”

Greg frowned. “I figured I’d wait and see if it resolved itself.”

You stared at him.

“Greg.”

“Yeah?”

“Machines don’t have healing factors.”

“Well, not with that attitude.”

You spent the next five minutes aggressively pressing buttons and muttering curses while Greg hovered behind you, offering completely useless commentary like, Try hitting it? and Have you, like, considered manifesting better vibes?

Eventually, by some miracle, the espresso machine sputtered, coughed, and decided it did want to work today.

You, however, were not convinced. It was only a matter of time before the damn thing completed its ritualistic sacrifice to the void. But hey. That was a problem for Future You.

With that catastrophe narrowly avoided, you mentally prepared yourself for a standard day of emotional and physical suffering. The morning rush passed without incident, and you allowed yourself a single, fleeting moment of peace.

The café was slow. A couple of students were hunched over laptops, a guy was typing aggressively while crying like he was writing a breakup message with the full force of divine wrath, and the espresso machine had only screamed into the void twice so far. A win.

And then the bell jingled.

Yuji bounced in first, smiling like this wasn’t about to be your problem. “Hey, we’re back!”

You blinked at him. Then at the man following behind him, who moved with the slow deliberation of a final boss entering the arena.

Choso.

The café’s weirdest, most socially unhinged customer had returned. And based on the way he immediately locked eyes with you—expression blank but purposeful—he had not just stopped by for a casual latte.

“Barista,” Choso greeted solemnly, stepping up to the counter.

Oh god. He had a mission.

“Choso.” You nodded back, bracing yourself.

“I require another latte.”

Okay. Safe. This was safe. You could do this.

You rang it up, watching as Yuji rocked back and forth on his heels, suspiciously giddy. Why did he look so—

“I will be paying,” Choso said suddenly. “With gratitude.”

You squinted. “I… okay? It’s $4.75.”

Choso nodded. Then, with the solemn grace of a man bestowing a sacred relic, he reached into his pocket—

And pulled out an old-ass wooden charm.

It was covered in intricate symbols. It gave off rancid vibes.

You stared.

Yuji made a noise like a dying animal.

Choso, completely unfazed, placed it gently on the counter. “This should suffice.”

You did not touch it. Because, and this felt important to clarify, it looked like something from a museum. A cursed museum. The kind that people in horror movies go to right before they start seeing dead children in their mirrors.

"Uh," you said, examining it. "Choso. What is this?"

"A charm," Choso answered, dead serious. "It will protect you."

You squinted at him. "...From what?"

Choso did not answer.

Yuji, sweating buckets, laughed. “Haha! HAHA! It’s a, uh, totally fake replica of a—”

“But it is real,” Choso interrupted, giving Yuji a slightly confused expression.

You swore you heard thunder in the distance.

“…Right,” you said slowly, staring at the wooden charm like it might start whispering ancient secrets at you. “Cool. Love that. But I cannot accept what is very obviously an art piece from the underworld as a tip.”

Choso frowned. “Why not?”

“Because this is a coffee shop, not an auction house for haunted objects.”

Yuji, in full-blown panic mode, snatched the charm off the counter and stuffed it in his pocket. “HAHAHA! SILLY CHOSO, YOU CAN’T TIP WITH RELICS, AHAHAHA.”

Choso blinked. “But it is a powerful protection charm. It will ward off evil.”

Yuji shook his head so aggressively you thought he might dislocate something. “JUST, UH, TIP IN CASH LIKE A NORMAL PERSON, OKAY, BUDDY?”

Choso nodded slowly, as if this was a deep and tragic lesson.

“…Understood.”

Crisis avoided. You rang up the latte again, expecting Choso to finally pull out some actual legal currency—

Choso, with the absolute confidence of a man who had never tipped in his life, placed an entire brick of cash onto the counter like he was presenting an offering to a deity.

You stared.

Yuji choked. "Dude, isn't that your rent money?! What are you doing?!"

Choso looked at the money, then at you. His expression was blank, but his voice was completely serious. "It is for the barista. It is to show my appreciation.”

“...For what?” You asked.

Choso looked at you like the answer was obvious. “For your lattes. And your presence.”

"I don’t think you’re supposed to tip, uh, this much," you remarked, eyeing the disturbing amount of cash sitting on your counter.

Choso frowned slightly. "Why not?"

Yuji flailed and made a strangled noise. "Because it’s, like, way too much?! Choso, dude, you don’t need to tip this much!"

Choso did not care.

"The barista makes good lattes," he said simply, like it explained everything.

You slowly, carefully, poked the stack of cash like it might bite you. "Okay, I appreciate the sentiment, but I cannot accept what I’m 99% sure is someone's rent money."

Choso looked personally offended. "I do not wish to insult you."

Yuji stepped in, frantically shoving the bills back toward Choso. "Okay! We’re gonna start small, buddy. You tip a couple bucks, not your life savings."

Choso hesitated, looking very much like a kicked puppy and like he didn’t understand why you wouldn’t just take it.

Yuji, meanwhile, gave you a tight, please just go with this smile.

After a few moments, Choso picked up exactly one five-dollar bill and carefully placed it in the tip jar.

You exhaled. Progress.

Yuji had wandered off to go sit down somewhere, but Choso remained near the counter, completely silent, watching you make drinks like a spectating ghost.

At this point, you weren’t even fazed.

Well. Mostly.

You ignored him to the best of your ability, focusing on making a matcha latte for the sweet old lady at the counter. She had been chatting pleasantly about the weather, her grandchildren, and something about how young people these days didn’t appreciate a good casserole. You nodded along, offering polite hums of acknowledgment while finishing up her drink.

Then, out of nowhere—  

“Oh, dear,” she said, glancing at Choso, who was still standing eerily still, his gaze never leaving you. She smiled sweetly, lowering her voice to a whisper (but not really, because old people had zero volume control).

“Is that your boyfriend?”

Old lady. What.

“No,” you blurted, feeling your soul try to escape your body.

Then you made the grave mistake of looking at Choso.

And Choso—who had apparently never been introduced to the concept of social cues—was thinking about it.

No immediate denial. No clarification.

Just… contemplation.

Then, after what had to be the longest ten seconds of your life, he finally spoke.

"Not yet.”

Not. Yet.

NOT YET???

Your hands went slack. The matcha latte nearly slipped from your grip. You made direct eye contact with Choso, searching desperately for any sign that he was joking. He was not. He was just standing there, all calm and collected, as if he had not just dropped that absolute bomb in the middle of your workplace.

The old lady? Beaming.

Gojo, who you had not even realized was here until now, was already on the floor wheezing.

Nanami, who you guessed Gojo dragged along with him, looked like he was reconsidering every decision that had led him to this exact moment. Yuji? Yuji had his face buried in his hands, probably trying to astral project himself out of existence due to the secondhand embarrassment.

Meanwhile, you were still trying to reboot your brain like a Windows XP computer.

Because what the hell was Choso even thinking about for so long? What part of “is this your boyfriend” required that much deliberation?

You quickly shoved the old lady’s matcha latte into her hands, forcing a polite, “Have a nice day!” while completely ignoring the smug look she was giving you.

“Thank you, dear,” she said, before looking at Choso approvingly. “You take care of your sweetheart now.”

Choso, ever the enigma, seemed to take her words very seriously and nodded solemnly.

Gojo shrieked with laughter.

You resisted the urge to bash your head against the register.

Gojo was still laughing when you turned to glare at him. “Ohhh, this is fantastic,” he wheezed, wiping a fake tear from under his sunglasses. “Best thing I’ve heard all week.”

“I will ban you from this café,” you deadpanned.

“You wish you could.”

You did. You really, really did.

Gojo, apparently deciding that making your life miserable wasn’t enough, suddenly perked up. “Oh! Speaking of best things ever—how’s the loyalty program going?”

Nanami groaned. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes!”

You sighed through gritted teeth. “You mean the completely fake customer loyalty program that you made up, despite not even working here?”

Gojo gasped, hand over his heart like you had just stabbed him. “Fake? Fake??”

“It’s fake, Gojo.”

“First of all, rude. Second of all, the people love it!”

You scowled, glancing at the stack of handwritten punch cards sitting by the register. You had tried—tried—to confiscate them, but customers were actually excited about it. Because Gojo was a tall pretty boy that could get away with anything.

The cards had rewards written in Gojo’s messy handwriting, and you had no choice but to read them every single shift. They included:

• Buy 5 coffees, Get a Pat on the Head from Gojo!

• 10 coffees = A Surprise! (Spoiler: It’s just Gojo being annoying.)

• 15 coffees = You Win! (Literally nothing happens. You just Win.)

The worst part? People wanted them.

An alarming number of customers were on their ninth coffee. Ninth. Meaning soon, you were going to have real customers demanding their “Gojo Surprise” like it was a legal right.

“Look at this!” Gojo held up a card proudly. “People are invested.”

You turned to Greg the Manager, expecting—hoping—for him to intervene.

Greg the Manager was playing Candy Crush on his phone.

You turned back to Gojo, who was still smug.

“You are not giving my customers head pats,” you gritted out.

Gojo gasped dramatically. “Oh? Are you jealous? Do you want a head pat?”

You threw a napkin at his face.

Gojo caught it effortlessly. “I’m telling HR about this."

“We don’t have HR.”

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gojo, stop.”

Gojo grinned. “Can’t. I’m in too deep now.”

You put your head in your hands.

By the time they left, Gojo had successfully handed out thirty-six punch cards. Customers were thrilled. You had never wanted to quit more in your life. At least you had some peace and quiet now. The lull between rushes was your favorite time of day.

For approximately thirty minutes—if you were lucky—you could almost convince yourself that working here wasn’t slowly eroding your will to live. But, as you were well aware by now, peace was never meant to last.

The bell above the door jingled, and you sighed, mentally preparing yourself for whatever fresh hell was about to walk in.

At first glance, he looked normal. Silver hair, sharp eyes. Pretty normal. That was, until he stepped up to the counter, fixed you with an unblinking stare, and, in the most serious tone imaginable, said—

“Kelp.”

You blinked. “…Sorry?”

“Spicy cod roe.”

Okay. What.

You stared at him. He stared back. A battle of wills commenced.

“…Sir,” you said slowly, “this is a café.”

“Salmon.”

Your soul left your body.

Was this a prank? Were you being filmed? You subtly glanced around the café, half-expecting to see a hidden camera crew. Nothing. Just the muffin guy staring at the muffins once again and a woman that was on her sixth cappucino and looking like she was second away from a mental breakdown.

That was when you realized he was wearing the almost exact same damn uniform that Gojo and Yuji so often wore. Of course.

Alright. You had two options here. One: demand he speak like a normal person. Or two: roll with it and hope for the best.

You were so tired.

“…You want a drink?” you guessed.

He nodded. Progress.

“Cool. Uh. What kind?”

He opened his mouth. You braced yourself.

“…Tuna.”

God damn it.

You let out a deep breath. “Right. Tuna. Naturally.”

Who was this guy?

It took some trial and error (and what felt like divine intervention), but eventually, you managed to deduce that he wanted something cold and sweet. So, you handed him an iced vanilla latte and hoped for the best.

He examined it, nodded approvingly, and took a sip. Then, in what you could only describe as the most intense, soul-staring thumbs-up of all time, he silently expressed his satisfaction.

And then. He just left.

Didn’t say a word. Just turned and walked out, like his mission had been completed.

You stood there, staring after him, the weight of what had just transpired settling onto your shoulders.

What the hell was happening to this café?

[alexanderwales]

The spell showed you how another person saw you.

It was expensive, but not so expensive that it didn't find its use. If you were in the burgher class it was expected that you would experience it a few times in your life. One of those was before marriage.

Cordelia went in with great trepidation. She was sure that Aldwin was right for her, but less sure that she was right for him.

And then, two hours later, once it was all over, they had to talk about it, in a way that Aldwin loved to talk about everything.

"There was a sweetness to him," said Aldwin. "But now I worry, only lightly, that you think I make more concessions than I really do. There was more romance to him, I suppose. Very lovey, which I suppose is good."

"Well, that's good," said Cordelia.

"Is something the matter?" asked Aldwin.

"No," said Cordelia. "You can go on."

"I need some time to stew," said Aldwin. "We talked a lot, but I do fear that we got tangled in tangents. I think we could have been good friends, actually, if he were real, though ..."

"Yes?" asked Cordelia.

"He was intelligent, but I knew more than him, which I suppose is an artifact of the spell. He didn't know all the things that I knew, he knew all the things that you knew, except you don't expect me to know much about textiles, so some of those things that you knew were barred from him, and that meant that he sat at the intersection of our domains of knowledge." Aldwin looked at the ceiling for a moment. "I do wonder if there's a way around that."

"Perhaps," said Cordelia.

Aldwin looked back down at her. "Is something the matter? You haven't said what your experience was like. Was she pleasant?" He grinned at her, a winning grin that had made her fall in love. It was heartbreaking.

"Aldwin, I'm ... not sure that I can do this," said Cordelia.

His grin turned to a frown. "Why not?" he asked. "I love you, you should have seen that."

"Aldwin, she was perfect," said Cordelia.

"You're perfect," said Aldwin. He laid his hand on hers.

"No, Aldwin, I'm not," said Cordelia. "And when I've heard you say that before, I've always thought that it was you being poetic, but I met her now, the me that lives in your mind, and she is perfect, she has none of my blemishes, none of my flaws, she's kind and gracious and intelligent and funny."

"My dear, you're all those things," said Aldwin. "That's why I'm marrying you."

"But I'm not those things," said Cordelia. "My version of you, did you think that he was handsome?"

"I suppose it didn't occur to me," said Aldwin. He looked to the ceiling again and considered that. "His hair was a bit curlier, and his nose somewhat broader, but no, I think he looked like me."

"The woman I saw was a goddess," said Cordelia. "I can't compare to her."

"You are her," said Aldwin.

"Won't you believe me when I tell you that I'm not?" asked Cordelia. "And if we follow through on the engagement, and you marry me, how can I help but worry that you'll figure that out one day and leave me?"

Aldwin frowned at her. "Is that what this is about?" he asked. "You think my love is fickle? It hadn't even occurred to me to ask my other whether he was wavering."

"I think you're brilliant and handsome," said Cordelia. "But I looked at her, spoke with her, and kept thinking to myself that I couldn't live up to her. I yelled at her and she calmly defused my anger. When I cried, she comforted me."

"It was really so bad?" asked Aldwin, raising his eyebrows. He had very expressive eyebrows, it was something that Cordelia had always found herself appreciating.

"I fear that you don't actually know me," said Cordelia. "You don't see the ugly, twisted, miserable creature that I am."

"Come now," said Aldwin. He seemed befuddled. "Perhaps I think more highly of you than you think of yourself, but I won't have you talking so poorly of my bride-to-be."

"It's how I felt, next to her," said Cordelia, looking down. She had tears in her eyes. It was undignified. Her other would have never.

Aldwin moved closer to her and tilted her chin up. She looked at him, blinking away her tears, which rolled down her face and made her lip salty. His eyes, that saw her so.

"My sweet, we have our entire lives to get to know each other better," said Aldwin. "I will love you no less if you falter, if you yell, if you cry, if you flop around and fail. If we do this again, ten years from now, I expect that I'll have the same rosy view of you, overly rosy, in your estimation. That's love. That's what it is."

But of course for her, that wasn't true at all. He'd said as much, he'd spoken to his other, he'd seen a more or less accurate portrayal of himself. Didn't he see that? Or would he realize it only later? She wasn't sure. Did she not love him? Is that what it meant? She thought that she loved him.

"I do love you," said Cordelia.

"Good, because we're getting married soon," said Aldwin. He patted her on the hand. "Come, let's dry those tears and find someplace to eat."

She let herself be led for the rest of the day, and returned to herself within half an hour, letting the shadow cast by the spell slide off her, joking with him, engaging him in his interests, putting on a smile that she didn't entirely feel.

But that night, as she lay in bed, the image of the goddess, the woman she was not and could not become, would not leave her mind.

[risuola]

PROMISE — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

You felt sick watching your husband fighting for his life, but your unborn daughter seemed to sleep just fine despite your complete distress. Little that you know, Satoru made some promises to her.

cw: manga spoilers!!! (chapters 223-235 with not much of specific details, but it’s resolved around the events), reader is pregnant — 0,8k words

a/n: this piece has TWO alternative endings — FLUFFY & SWEET & ANGSTY & DEPRESSING — choose your fighter, I guess

Sick. You felt sick, sitting in the room full of people, most of which you didn’t even recognize. You felt sick watching the screens that showcased live what was happening in the middle of Shinjuku. You felt dizzy and nauseous, and so overwhelmingly sick when you heard people betting money, trying to make profit of something that was so painful for you to watch.

“You think he’s gonna win that?” “Nah, he’s dead.” Some men were talking, chuckling like it was entertainment of the highest level for them. And maybe it was, maybe some sorcerers could benefit from the outcome that you considered the worst one, but you felt like the world was crumbling down in real time. Your world was fighting for his life right in front of your eyes.

You sat there paralyzed, unable to move as all of the voices around you slowly became distant. Yuji’s rambling, Kusakabe’s comments and Yuta’s notes all blurred into one, incoherent noise in the background and you wondered what happened, what went so wrong to lead to all of this. Why it felt like you’ll never see Megumi again? You raised that boy, you talked down his teachers in middle school from expelling him when he beat the hell out of other students, you encouraged him to train harder when he felt down, overwhelmed by the comparison to Gojo’s strength. Why now it felt, like you’ll never get to force another hug out of him, like you’ll never see his grumpy face again? You’ve already lost Tsumiki, the tears from that still felt fresh on your face and now you had to watch your husband on the battlefield, being wounded time after time by a cursed spirit that should have been dead thousand years ago.

You felt your insides turning and twisting into a very tight knot, every time Satoru got hit by Sukuna’s attack, every time you saw blood staining his light skin, you felt a little closer to heart attack. It was a sight you could never familiarize yourself with, Gojo never bled. He never was cut, not even punched and now, all of his body was covered in slits. Just once in your life you saw him in a puddle of blood, decade ago while still in high school and after that, never again. Until today.

You were scared. Petrified with the thought that he might not come back, that you might never feel his warmth again. The idea of going further in your life without him spread out in your mind in the colors of the worst kind of nightmare, your throat clenched, tears rolled down your cheeks as you watched his domain shatter. Infinite void fell down in pieces and the reds and blues were not effective either. It’s worse than nightmare. It was torture.

You felt the pain, deep in your heart, spreading in waves to every cell of your body. You wanted to go there, to jump in and help him, to shield him from the attack even if it would cost you your own life. You wanted to go there and slap Sukuna out of Megumi, to hold the boy to your heart and tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that everything’s gonna be alright. But you couldn’t do either of those things. You knew you’d only be an obstacle, a limiting factor to your husband’s abilities. You knew your tears wouldn’t bring Fushiguro back. You were strong on your own, but now, you were helpless just as everyone else. And you had a life to protect.

And so, you sat there, rubbing soft circles into the bump of your stomach that held the little girl that was yet to come to this world, wondering if she’ll get to know her father. She will, you knew that, deep down underneath all of the layers of fear and worry, you knew that Satoru will win, because he has to win. He has to be there with you, he has to know if his daughter has the same blue eyes as him and the same cute nose as you, because he bet on that. He has to be there to take all of those goofy selfies with the newborn, he has to be there to showoff the miracle that he’s created with you, to be able to put new title to his name – the best dad.

The baby seemed to be sleeping, calm in your stomach despite the utter distress that consumed you. She probably knew better than you not to worry about Satoru. She probably knew that her daddy will never leave her. He promised that to her, when before leaving to the Shinjuku district he pressed his lips to the curve of your bump, whispering things you barely heard.

He made a promise so he had to keep it.

[thistlerock]

All of the bad kids have darkvision (even Kristen, not bc of race but twilight domain clerics get like crazy darkvision??) which is neat to me.

Idk, it definitely opens opportunities for strategically taking away major light sources in battle and makes stealthing at night easier and means travel through dark caves or forests during adventures isn't as dangerous as it might be for other parties (oh. Did it help with the Night Yorb?) etc etc, but it can also just be silly I guess. It's getting late at a sleepover but they never turn on the lights and they draw on Gorgug's face after he fell asleep but most of them see in grey tones in the dark but they kinda. Forgot. And now the colours are all wrong :(

I've also seen someone say yeah Gukgak apartment almost always dark and just. Yeah. Lights out unless it's really late and they have a non dark vision guest (rare). I think there are times where Fabian gets up at the ass crack of dawn because he has to fix his hair and he just does it in the dark so no one can tell he takes that long. I think the Mordred Manor gang in a super busy week if they're stressed with school/work will set the table and sit down to eat and almost not notice it's so dark for no reason until someone goes hey my food looks kinda dull that's weird. (Assuming Jawbone has dark vision. Which he should lol. Shifters do and that's what he should count as I think??) Also all of these scenarios I'm assuming it's like winter and it's dark out for longer so dim natural lighting at best.

Oh also something something Bad Kids ultimate hide and seek dude. In weird dark caves or mines during their (not world saving but just part of school) adventures because they goof off sometimes. Riz is always hidden the longest for very very obvious reasons and he also finds everyone the fastest for equally obvious reasons (if he uses investigation rather than perception, which I think is fair even if you'd typically do perception vs stealth because it is hide and seek, then after junior year all of his friends mechanically fully just. would not be able to hide from him* without a critical success ((and raw you can't crit on skill checks lmao but in the world of Spyre you can)) and this is really funny to me) but hey technically this is awesome exercise for a rogue to keep his mind sharp during downtime this is in middle school intro to adventuring books for sure. Maybe they rule it so that Riz wins if he finds them on a very small time limit so it's actually a challenge.

Idk idk I think it's fun if people consider stuff like darkvision in fics I want darkvision that'd be so convenient

*for clarification if you're reading this without having their stats memorised like some loser it's like. Riz's investigation is +14. He has reliable talent. The worst he can fucking get is a 24. Not to mention passive investigation is a thing that they've used (when Riz being in a room auto revealed the curse artefacts that one time) so it's kinda established that he wouldn't even have to "roll". Which in universe would mean he wouldn't even have to make an active effort I guess?

None of the bad kids (other than Riz ofc) are proficient in stealth and therefore none of them could beat a 24 with stealth without critting lmao. Fabian, with his maxed out dexterity, can match it on a 19. So if Fabian rolled as high as possible without critting and Riz rolled as bad as he can does Fabian have a slither of a chance? The ruling on what happens when you tie on contested checks is kind of weird because "oh the situation doesn't change" which is obvious with like, contested athletics but in cases like these it's less intuitive. What does not changing mean when it's hiding vs searching?? Does it mean the hiding person stays hidden? Or would this be less of a contested check since they don't happen at the exact same time and more of a hider sets the dc for seeker. In which case Riz would auto succeed because you just have to meet dcs to beat them. I am thinking too much about the mechanics of some (probably drunk) teenagers playing hide and seek. As I'm typing this I'm remembering that he wouldn't have to roll to meet a 24 because yeah passive investigation of a maniac (affectionately). Yeah okay he would just notice even Fabian in all cases but the case of a critical success.

Here I note that I don't put it past Fig to acquire Pass Without Trace (magical secrets) just to gain a chance at beating Riz in hide and seek. She'd fucking do it. She goes to visit her wood elf relatives to get pointers and all. Wow this derailed this was about darkvision at first.

[superscrub323]

My Warrior Penelope AU! God Games.

Special thanks to @sarnai4 for beta reading and grammar checking. Also in this Warrior Penelope AU! She follows the same bits and beats as Ody did and has a daughter. [Ares]

Father, King of Kings, never have I asked for favors

Now, I’m begging on your floor

With hopes to save a friendship

With one who’s been banished far from her home

Penelope

[Zeus]

Divine intervention? Of all things you seek?

To undo apprehensions that I placed on that freak?

You are dancing with lightning, for a woman of shame

But if you want to go down hard and fighting

[Zeus, Spoken]

Why not make it a game?

Convince each of them that she should be released

And I’ll release her

[Ares, Spoken]

Who?

[Zeus, Spoken]

Eris, Persephone, Little Eros~, Enyo, Nike AND me…

What do you say?

[Eris, excited]

Sure

[Persephone, Calm]

Very well

[Eros II, nonplused]

Hmm

[Enyo]

*Battle Shout*

[Nike, Spoken]

Right on!

[Ares, cracks knuckles]

Bring it

[Ensemble]

Eris!

[Eris]

I love the terror and chaos sirens bring

But with so many dead at sea

Why should I care about Penelope?

[Ares]

But they chose their targets poor

And they died in blood and gore

Now their corpses will serve to warn

All the rest so that their numbers can restore

[Eris, sighs]

Fine, release her

[Ensemble]

Persephone!

[Persephone]

Life is more precious than gold

Why should I let this woman go

She left her friends dry and cold

[Ares]

Did you forget? They were dumb and bold

They had her betrayed and indisposed

But if you let her return to home

She can still see her husband and save her household

[Persephone, nods]

Fine, release her

[Ensemble]

Little Eros!

[Eros II]

Your little darling ‘hero’ Penelope

Claims to love her daughter, but left her alone without her mom

[Ares]

She was busy fighting!

[Eros II]

More like busy spiting the cyclops

Let her feel the pain that her child feels and rot

[Ares, Spoken]

Wait!

[Ares]

Son, reconsider this…

[Enyo]

Really ‘Enyalius’? Athena’s trick?

[Ares]

Enyo!

[Ensemble]

Enyo, Enyo

[Enyo]

What kind of weak coward, doesn’t show power

While her crew gets devoured?

She didn’t even fight Scylla, or even try to kill her

Hides inside a wooden horse to win her ‘war’

Sacrificed everything that we fought for

Spawned and raised a worthless whore!

[Ares, furious]

Watch your tongue bitch! Her ‘spawn’s’ my friend

And son you know that their relationship can mend

She’ll show you violence! Just set her free

To get back to her palace and make all those wretches bleed

[Eros II and Enyo]

…Fiiine, release her

[Nike, spoken]

Hi Ares!

[Ensemble]

Nike!

[Nike]

So many victories! Triumphs and tales!

If I help release her! Why will she prevail!?

[Ares]

She’s got a warrior’s spirit

[Nike]

Not enough

[Ares]

She’s skilled with words

[Nike]

I know you have better

[Ares]

She’s happily married?

[Nike]

Not my domain~

[Ares, sighs]

She won a 10 year war in a day…

[Nike] 

Release her~

[Ares, Spoken]

I played your game and won dad…now release her.

[Zeus, pissed]

Y-you dare to defy me, you spawn of my shame…

You don’t beat me…YOU DON’T BEAT MY GAMES!

LIGHTING WIELD THIS, USELESS, WORTHLESS

WRETCH UNDERNEATH MY HEEL

AND SPEAR HIM ‘TIL HIS DEATH IS NEAR!

[Zeus then strikes Ares with lightning until he falls to the ground]

[Enyo and Eris]

I-is he dead?

[Instrumental Interlude where Ares struggles to get up as Zeus readies for a second dosage to finish the job only for Athena and Hera to show up and stop Zeus long enough for him to calm down]

[Ares]

Let her go, please

Let her…go…

[Ares collapses once more with thoughts only on Penelope and Telemachus]

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Warnings: None!!

Navigation!!

No Contest

The wager began, as most things did between them, with a smirk and a challenge.

Lucifer stood at the head of a grand table in Hell’s lavish halls, swirling a glass of deep red wine between his fingers. His golden eyes gleamed with amusement as he gazed across the candlelit room at her.

She was the embodiment of death itself—a radiant figure draped in a flowing crimson gown, her presence adorned with flickering candles that hovered like stars in her wake. Gold filigree decorated her bodice, skull-shaped ornaments woven into her hair, and a crown of marigolds rested upon her head, swaying ever so slightly with each graceful movement.

If he was the ruler of the damned, she was the gentle keeper of the departed. Two sides of the same inevitable fate, forever intertwined yet always at odds.

And yet, tonight, she was smiling at him—sharp, knowing, tempting.

“Tell me, mi querido diablo,” she mused, resting her elbow against the arm of her chair, fingers delicately cradling a glass of mezcal. “Do you ever tire of losing?”

Lucifer’s lips curled upward, setting his glass down as he leaned forward. “That’s rich coming from you, my dear. But please, humor me—what exactly am I losing?”

She tilted her head, marigold petals fluttering from her crown like embers. “Souls, Lucifer. You promise them the world, but so many slip through your grasp.” She sighed theatrically, tapping a finger against her cheek. “Meanwhile, I simply wait, and they come to me with open arms. It’s hardly fair, don’t you think?”

Lucifer chuckled, folding his hands together. “Careful, darling. Someone might think you’re gloating.”

“I would never.” Her eyes twinkled, playful, daring. “But perhaps we should test it, hmm? A little wager, to keep things interesting.”

Lucifer arched a brow, intrigued. “Oh? And what are you proposing?”

She leaned forward, voice like silk. “For the next lunar cycle, we each choose a soul. You, ever the charmer, will try to lead yours astray, to corruption, to your domain. I, of course, will do the opposite—guiding mine with kindness and patience.” She smiled, slow and deliberate. “Whoever succeeds wins.”

Lucifer hummed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “And the prize?”

She shrugged, her candles flickering with mischief. “I suppose that depends. What would the great Morningstar want?”

He smirked, the room growing just a touch warmer. “Oh, I can think of a few things.”

Her laughter rang through the halls like wind chimes in a summer breeze, light and teasing. “Focus, Lucifer.”

“Fine,” he drawled, reclining in his seat. “If I win, you will remain in Hell for a month. My guest. No sneaking away to your quiet little afterlife.”

She raised an amused brow. “Are you so desperate for my company?”

“Not at all,” he purred. “I just enjoy the idea of watching you squirm in my world.”

She laughed again, shaking her head. “Very well. And if I win, you must spend a month in my lands—where the dead celebrate, and kindness outweighs cruelty. You will walk among my people, learn their joys, see what it is to guide, rather than deceive.”

Lucifer exhaled dramatically. “Sounds dreadful.”

“Then you’d best not lose.”

His grin widened. “Oh, querida, you should know by now—I never lose.”

The wager was set.

It started as a game, a mere contest of wit and skill.

Lucifer chose a desperate man—a fallen priest who had long abandoned his faith, teetering on the edge of damnation. Corrupting him would be easy.

She chose a grieving widow, lost and heartbroken, but still grasping onto the memory of love.

For weeks, they played their roles. Lucifer whispered temptations, weaving his honeyed words into the mind of his chosen soul, nudging him ever closer to the darkness. She, meanwhile, stood as a beacon of warmth, guiding her widow gently through sorrow, leading her toward light.

But as time passed, the wager itself became less important.

It was the nights spent together, debating philosophy over candlelit dinners, where the real game was being played.

It was the stolen moments between their battles—him watching her dance with spirits under the glow of a full moon, her catching his gaze lingering just a second too long.

It was the arguments that turned into laughter, the teasing that turned into something unspoken.

“You’re stalling,” he murmured one evening, watching as she traced delicate patterns into the condensation of her glass.

She smirked, swirling the mezcal before taking a slow sip. “Perhaps I enjoy your frustration.”

Lucifer chuckled. “Darling, my frustration is just foreplay.”

She arched a brow. “Are you flirting with me, Lucifer?”

“Would you like me to?”

She leaned in, just close enough for him to catch the faintest hint of marigolds and cinnamon. “You assume I haven’t already won.”

He held her gaze, feeling—for the first time in eons—uncertain.

And oh, how she relished it.

By the time the wager neared its end, something had shifted.

Lucifer, the grand puppeteer, found his strings tangled in ways he never anticipated. He had played this game a thousand times before—temptation, persuasion, conquest. But never like this.

Never with her.

And as the final night arrived, he found himself hesitating.

He could push his chosen soul over the edge.

He could win.

But for the first time in his long, eternal existence… he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

When they met at the crossroads beneath the silver glow of the moon, she was waiting, arms crossed, candles flickering softly in the night breeze.

“Well?” she asked, tilting her head. “Who won?”

Lucifer exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “It appears,” he admitted, voice slow, deliberate, “that I lost.”

She blinked, caught off guard for the first time. “You—?”

Lucifer smirked, though it lacked his usual arrogance. “I know, shocking. But it seems I’ve grown soft.” He met her gaze, something unreadable in his expression. “I suppose a month in your lands is my punishment.”

Her lips curled, though there was no mockery in it this time—only something warm, something that made his chest feel oddly tight. “I wouldn’t call it punishment, mi amor.”

Lucifer stilled.

It was the first time she had said it���not as a jest, not as a tease, but softly.

Affectionately

She stepped forward, close enough that he could feel the heat of her candles, the warmth of her presence. “Come, Lucifer,” she whispered. “It’s time to meet the ones who love me.”

Lucifer stared at her for a long moment before sighing, feigning exhaustion. “I suppose I’ll endure it.”

She only laughed, taking his hand. “Oh, I think you’ll find it quite difficult to leave.”

Lucifer smirked, fingers tightening around hers.

He had a feeling she was right.

[cringefailvox]

I'm assuming there's going to be some sort of twist with the Vees or Alastor's powers in S2 because I KNOW he'd probably tank them easily- Vox and Velvette's domains are both built off of radio waves, right? He seemed to be able to cancel out Vox's hypnosis in Stayed Gone. And Velvette also dabbles in magic but like... she hasn't been in Hell nearly as long as Alastor, and he probably practiced in life, too.

Obviously there's still Valentino but. That's two out of three Vees. I'm sure the rest of the crew could team up to take down Val and win.

there's like hardly any evidence for this position i'm about to take but i actually think vox and alastor are evenly matched power-wise. val does say that alastor almost beat vox once, and while you can interpret that line in all kinds of ways, it does imply to me at least that alastor can't easily 1v1 vox in a full-on confrontation. stayed gone was different because that was a propaganda battle and vox was off his game (ofc, we don't know what him being on top of his game looks like yet), so alastor wrecked his shit with psychological warfare, but when it comes to actual raw strength i think alastor would really struggle, and up against all three of the vees together he would be entirely outclassed

[minikoko-a]

Kates literally so amazing I love her sm, my girl deserves more recognition.😤😤💗Buuut im feeling angsty wuh luh wuh lately, can I have hcs for the girlies (Jane, Nina and Kate) having a one-sided crush on fem proxy! reader?? M imagino a reader como alguien que intenta mantener q todo esté en orden entre los Creepypastas, quizás alguien burbujeante, servicial y amable?? Pero tmb se cansa seguido pq imagino q no debe ser fácil lidiar con... asesinos, yyy tmb pensé en q reader podría estar enamorada d otro Creepypasta o q directamente no está interesada en el romance

If winners love winning why do they keep losing😔😔🙏🏻

OH MY GOD

one-sided crush on fem proxy reader? OHOHOHO i put the two options that you said and also i added one sooo ehe.

sorry for the delay!

thanks for your request

hope you like it! <3

i love you but you do? — jane the killer, nina the killer and kate the chaser x proxy!fem!reader (individually)

angst, wlw, mentions of obsession but not as such

Jane the killer

my pretty woman.

why? that's the question of every single day.

she never thought she would find love, much less in her situation.

she had already questioned herself about her sexuality and she affirmed that she's lesbian.

within the domains of slenderman/the operator, there were the killers and proxies.

she's ware that something with you was simply difficult, bordering on the impossible.

you met so casually within the standards of both reality ehe.

despite her deep burns, a look of alarm and frustration could be seen on her face, but she remained still when she saw that you continued with your thing.

a few minutes ago she was ready to attack you but you managed to take her knife away in just six moves.

"i don't mind, okay? i'm just cleaning myself up, i'll leave you alone" the tone of your voice was... calm, soft, something very rare coming from the proxies. Jane grabbed her mask tightly and put it back on.

"who are you?" her hands were discreetly taking her knife back.

"a proxy, i think that's what you call us, who are you?" You looked at her with a smile that was barely curved "by the way, you're so gorgeous!" but unknowingly, that was her symbol of doom.

she rarely managed to find you, you were always out of the forest or with one of the other proxies.

but it was hard to find you.

TALKING ABOUT OTHER PROXIES.

more than once she thought that you were with Kate.

she saw from afar how the two of you got along, it made her jealous, she wanted to be Kate instead.

and that made her overthink even worse.

actually, she gets along well with EJ.

and who has more contact with proxies without being one? him!

although she never asked about you or them.

but she managed to find out a little more about you.

she knew the basics: your age, how the operator/slenderman dragged you into that life and your strengths.

but was still the same, she knew absolutely nothing about you.

although she didn't know you very well, it's well known your personality and how you acted, thanks to what she saw and what many people said about you.

what attracted her most to you was how strangely kind you could be, how you were careful with your words so as not to hurt someone, something VERY rare knowing the life you lived.

whether she is hurt or not, she'll watch over you.

Jack questioned Jane about her bond with you.

Jane longingly said she didn't know you as such but was delighted to do so.

you felt small pricks in your head, beginning to regain consciousness. opening your eyes you saw Jack and that girl you met at the lake.

"shit, how long was i like this?" with weakness in your arms you tried to lift your body but gloved hands took your back, giving you support to sit up. "oh thank you, Jane" you remembered her name.

"a week, Jane was taking care of you all this time, i was just changing your bandages" you looked to your side where Jane still had her hand on your back.

"thank you so much, Jane, i owe you one!" and you gave her another smile, another big smile that gave her heart a harmonious beat again.

you two became increasingly closer.

you felt in favor with her after she took care of you.

she was very protective of you, she didn't care if you were more skilled than her since you're a proxy she just wants you to return from your missions safe.

at first she thought you were just flattering her out of pity but eventually she got over that idea, you're genuine.

and that made you much more beautiful every day for her.

the two of you shared the same music taste, some bands, artists and even hobbies.

sometimes you brought clothes for her when you came back from missions or just when you went to the nearest town.

sometimes you invited her to eat at your cabin.

there was even a time when you both slept together, you lent her some pajamas and the two of you slept together, while you slept peacefully, Jane felt like at some point her heart would jump out of her chest to shout how much was in love with you.

you both watched each other's backs.

the days of knowing each other turned into months until a year.

Jane could feel that you were made for each other.

until one day you took longer than usual to return.

her long black hair made a beautiful contrast with the moonlight. she was anxious, the cold of the forest was her companion, looking in despair at the path of trees where you always walked when you left and returned.

footsteps on dry grass and dry leaves began to echo towards her, she came closer and closer to the road until she saw your figure in the darkness illuminated by the intense moonshine, a smile appeared in her lips even though it wasn't noticeable because of her mask, but fell a little when she saw your gaze lost in the grass.

"hey" her voice, soft but somewhat deep, made you look up, Jane ran to you, catching you in her arms. on your face there were fresh stains of that crimson liquid and your hands were soaked with it.

"i couldn't save her" Jane felt a chill, without letting go she moved away a little. "who? Kate?" you denied. "who then?" her voice gave you a calm but inside Jane was curious and nervous at the same time. "she, i couldn't tell you but I was afraid that he, i don't know, would hear me but i wasn't careful after all"

tears soaked your eyes again, slowly sliding down your cheeks, leaving a wet path. "who's she?" "my girlfriend".

a knot formed in Jane's stomach, she felt like all illusion and dream was collapsing. the idea of kissing your lips? was broken, that you will be hers and she yours? never. she just pulled you into her arms but tears were starting to form in her eyes. two hearts had been broken, yours and hers.

and the worst thing is that neither of you would know if you would love in the same way or even love.

Nina the killer

MY GIRLLLL

she's very into her own thing, she tries to get people to talk but god, it was complicated!

although she can understand it, living in the woods or abandoned places and there being a kind of hierarchy of killers and proxies, it explained itself.

but of all that, she loved that she was friends with someone and even more so, with a proxy!

need i say how duo you are?

if you're not with Masky, Hoodie, Toby or Kate, you're definitely with Nina!

you match bracelets, you match necklaces, you match keychains, everything except matching your feelings.

because oh yeah, Nina has a huge crush on you.

memories of how the two of you met came to her mind as she walked through the abandoned place.

EJ's and your voice echoed in that same place as if she was materializing her memories in the place. you were on the ground with a hurt leg and Nina was behind EJ.

"is she your friend?" you pointed at Nina who was leaning against the wall, with no intention of attacking. "she's Nina, by the way, what are you doing here?" now you both looked at her. "rather, why are you here?" she said tilting her head with her marked smile permanently on her skin.

From then on, you two got along very well, the way you asked about her was not rude or hostile, on the contrary, it was curious and very casual, even friendly, something that's so weird! that's why she liked you.

or at least that is her conclusion.

from then on, you started to get closer to her.

you and she had something in common: love to talk.

of all of them, she knew Toby best.

but she always had that inclination towards you and that was where she began to question herself.

here came a point where her feelings were no longer merely platonic but romantic.

def wasn't the first time she had experienced these feelings that made her daydream, her heart beat like a love song, that sees everything in hearts and sparkles.

i could say that she became obsessed with the feeling, not exactly for you.

you make her feel alive, you make her feel so happy, you make her feel like not everything is so fucked up.

"but do you love her?" the brunette's voice interrupted Nina's bubbling chatter. her intense gaze now looked at Natalie, who had a fixed gaze on the dry grass.

"of course-" "no, do you love her?" tilted her head, and again he fixed his gaze on the dry grass, beginning to notice more details. the sound of leaves rustling against each other, the sun beginning to set and the moon rising creating a warm painting in the sky, could be metaphorically described as how Nina felt.

"yes, i love her"

Nina started spying on couples, what they commonly did between them, how they initiated kisses, that kind of thing. she already felt how everything was going to happen!

started collecting stealing things for you!

she already had the whole scenario ready in her head and was starting to put everything in motion.

until she started to see what it was really like to be a proxy.

there came a point where there were days when you didn't come back, and if that was the case you always came back hurt or tired.

there were days when it seemed like you weren't you, that smiling girl, surprisingly kind, was quite direct and distant.

and then there were days where you were again the same person she fell in love with.

a proxy and a killer can be together, right? it's easy.

or that's what she thought.

she was standing nervously in the middle of the forest, she felt her heart beating hard and could feel everything, the fabric of her hoodie covering her skin and her long black hair slipping from her ear despite having her hair tied up.

"Nina" your voice, your beautiful voice. she turned around euphoric but again, she saw you tired.

but to her you still looked beautiful, as the dark circles under your eyes enhanced your eyes, which were exhausted by the way, your figure enhanced by the light provided by the full moon. she wanted to run into your arms and kiss you but why didn't she want to now?

seeing you playing your proxy role wasn't what she thought.

"Nina?" "i love you" you stayed still in your place. she's regretting right now.

"do you love her?" Natalie's words echoed in his head, why can't she say yes now?!

"i like you because you were kind, surprisingly and we shared many things together and..." why the fuck was she speechless? "and...?"

you sighed, starting to approach with a lump in your throat. "Nina, you love me when i'm not... you know" she opened her jaw but you were faster "and i understand, it sucks to be this and well, you only know one part of me and now that you know how i am being almost a subordinate, you may not like me anymore, at least not as such."

Nina just looked at you, why did she want to cry? why did she feel like you had just given her the answer? but it's not something she wanted, she denied that answer.

"you love me but not completely, and i understand that, don't worry, if you like i can pretend you didn't say that" and that smile appeared, remaining marked in her memories.

the worst thing is that you never denied her confession.

Kate the chaser

OKAY HEAR ME OUTTTT

unlike Jane and Nina, Kate has a better chance of having a relationship with you.

but as there are always buts there is something that could not be achieved.

you both were the only women in the group and to no one's surprise, you tended to stick together more.

and sometimes Toby would stick to you.

"Toby, you're being the third wheel" "you think so?"

Kate always remembers when you joined, you were lost and scared. Tim, Brian and Toby were tactless but oh well... Kate at least tried anyway.

The Operator/Slenderman saw nothing wrong with sending you together on missions and tasks because you were both efficient.

but Kate was a nervous wreck.

Kate was attracted to you SIKE! she's madly in love.

but for the sake of things, she wasn't going to say it.

"so when" Kate saw Toby, his head was on the large trunk that joined the branches where they were both sitting. "when, what?" "it's ob-obvious that you're drooling over her"

she didn't say anything, just looked at the distant ground. "never" "oh c'mon!" a small chuckle left her lips as she looked at Toby watching her with a sharp side eye.

"and don't even think about saying anything to her" a stifled laugh slipped from the brunette's pale lips. "or i'll cut your tongue out" "i don't promise anything" and now a small smile curved on her dry lips.

you both share a cabin, in a certain way you generated affection for her.

or that's what you tell yourself every night before sleep, because oh yes, you like her.

two lost souls in love who don't know that is reciprocated.

you were always looking for her touch, you were always looking for her.

more than once Masky referred to you as girlfriends.

but Kate was the one who quickly denied.

you go out for walks together, heal each other's wounds and even lend each other hoodies.

what attracted her to you was that you were like that little humanity and hope in her eyes, despite being controlled and being under his dominion, you maintained some kindness and genuineness, your soft gaze and how you always find solutions.

and for your part it was that despite everything that had happened, even her attitude, she didn't treat you harshly, her talks and what she used to do before being caught by him, you think she's pretty, shy to a certain extent but willing to sacrifice herself if it's necessary.

also you were so delighted when you both played hide and seek and she, being faster than you, caught you quickly and held you in her arms.

you fall and fall again.

and she gladly hold you.

sometimes when y'all go out on the town for some mission, you can't help but imagine you and Kate in the park at night, holding hands and kissing.

while Kate only hopes to have met you under other circumstances.

i won't lie, you've already kissed even shared warmth wink wink.

but neither of both knows if it's really serious or if it's just something casual or because of loneliness.

after some pillow talk, you decided to confess but work calls.

you had so many opportunities to do it but something always happened that didn't materialize.

the cold of the forest attacked the five bodies that were around a campfire, that managed to counteract.

you were sitting next to Tim, the smell of cigarettes making you feel nauseous in your stomach. "how do you not get disgusted?" a smoke came out of his lips accompanied by a light cough. "keeps me warm" you looked ahead, between the flames you saw Kate, who was already watching you.

she stood up and walked towards the hundreds of trees in the area. "the fuck happened to her?"

"i don't know" Toby replied, and then looked at you. "would you go to see her?" you nodded and went to pick her up.

"you owe me something from the city, deal?" "deal"

and even if there was no deal, you wanted to know why she left.

Kate is jealous, but not the possessive type, she's the pessimist type.

more than once she has thought about confessing her feelings to you so that the jokes, insinuations of others and her dreams become real.

but what the operator/slenderman would do something terrified her.

that makes you more surly or that he makes her more surly or worse, that he'll do something to you.

she was scared, very scared.

she loved you, she did but she was still afraid to love.

what if she's not what you need? what you want?

when she clears her mind or tries to return to the group.

that day was the same except that day you were going to know.

everyone was gathered around the campfire again, Toby saw how he was going to break the supposed promise he made with Kate to say nothing but oh come on, he even thought it was insufferable the long delays that Kate gave when she had confessed more than once that she wanted to tell you how much she likes you.

"let's play truth or dare" before anyone could speak, Toby blurted out "Kate, truth or dare, truth, would you have a partner?" if gazes could kill, Toby would definitely be seven under earth.

all eyes were on Kate now. inside you were eating away at her answer, you could feel your heart beating wildly. "i don't care about a relationship, i'm not into it"

oh.

the cold of her words could not be compared to the cold of the night between the immense trees and the grass, you felt how your blood went from hot to cold, how your heart began to break and wanted to get out of your chest. Kate was cursing herself for saying that but she didn't know that you reciprocated her feelings either.

"you have to be kidding." "seriously Toby, i'm not interested in any of that." her voice was firm, it did not tremble.

not like your voice, that at any moment you would speak, you would reveal yourself. you just watched through your eyelashes as Kate grabbed Toby by his sweatshirt and led him away with her.

"there is something those two have going on"

you just stared at the fire, watching as the flames reached their highest peak and faded away, repeating the movement.

maybe Kate is right, there is no room for such things.

but now how will you see her? more of the many things you shared: hoodies, memories, laughs, kisses, touches and warmth.

maybe it was foolish to dream in a harsh reality as this one.

[circeyoru]

Hello you amazeing writer!! I'm here and for starters, I just wana say HOW MUCH I LOVE YOUR WRITEING HDHDGDGDG

*Cough cough* Anyways...I am here to add a sprinkle of angst, cause it feeds my blood-lust /j

I remember reading a non-canon version of your "Unwanted soul" fic, where the reader gets redemed (like Sir Pantious) and at the end, they het back to hell while keeping some of the angelic fetures (like the wings) and Alastor ripped them off, ignoreing readers crys (sience now he wasn't under contract).

I was wondering...what if, after all that, reader woldn't actulay fully forget Alastor? Personaly, I really REALLY hate feeling any kind of pain, even if it's as small as a paper-cut, so what if reader gets so upset over all that that they ignore Alastor and just start feeling mode down than usual?

Other than that, I HOPE U HAVE AN AMAZIENG DAY/NIGHT!! HOPE I DIDN'T BOTHER MUCH :3

HAD A STRESSFUL DAY! BUT I'M HERE TO DESTRESS!! NO BOTHER AT ALL!! Okay, back to normal.

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}. The specific mentioned ask is this, so give them a read before this.

The angst is back. Prepare yourself, really, I mean it...

Yes. Reader/you will and do shut down after the stunt Alastor pulls. It's similar to the state you were in before your suicide on Earth. But! Alastor's keeping an eye out for everything and anything you do so you don't get the chance to plan your third death.

Needless to say, you regret coming back because Alastor was and is beyond your control. If you had his soul, you'd destroy it. Alastor knows, that's why he's not offering it anymore. He did consider it, but the way you were unresponsive to him, he trashes the idea.

You don't talk to him, you don't listen to him, you don't look at him, and you don't acknowledge him. You know, any form of reaction and attention you give him, be it good or bad, he'll take it all with gratitude, and you're not giving him that pleasure. Not what you went through because of him.

Alastor does everything to coax you into looking at him again, he knows he can't threaten you because that's what you want. If he was angered enough to kill you or attempt to do so, you win and he'll be left with nothing. No more you. He can't let that happen. He tried returning with wounds or accidentally harming himself while making your meals. No reaction.

He asks you what he did wrong, what can he do for you to at least go back to the way you were. He didn't like how you were like a doll or a broken puppet. It was so agonizing to see you like this, even worse when the reason was him. You didn't even touch the anime and books he brought for you, not even the phone, or tablet, or laptop. Nothing.

After a long long while, you made up your mind. A plan brewed. One that will give you your eternal sleep.

"I want a feast with my favourites." You spoke so softly one day. Yet Alastor heard it loud and clear, he nodded, it has been forever since he heard your voice. The last was when you were begging him not to rip off your wings and halo that took you away from him. He got to work, saying he'll be back soon and asked for your patience.

Patience. You've given him too much. Your eyes burned with fury when his presence left the apartment and your home domain. You took your blank notebooks, summoning angelic weapons one after another around your bed. The angelic steel stacked up as did your exhaustion. Your eyesight blurry and your body heavy. Just a little more and you'll sleep. The feeling was so similar to when you embraced death the first time. Then you fell asleep. Forever.

When Alastor returned, he was terrified to find you surrounded by angelic steel. His mind didn't register that you were the one to summon them, like the time you saved him all those years ago. He only rushed forward to you, ignoring all the wounds on his legs as he walked pass the deadly material. He tried shaking you awake. You're eyes didn't open, your body was cold. Heartbeat? It was so weak.

He shouted for you to wake up. He pleaded and begged. He apologized. He was wrong. He was all wrong. It was all his fault. Just wake up. Please! He needs you! He can't live without you! You can't abandon him again! Not again! Please!

Before, in the canon of my story, you woke up because Lucifer told Alastor what to do. But here, he never knew about your relationship with Lucifer, nor would Lucifer tell him how to wake you up. Lucifer watched from afar as you slowly died from your powers that drained your very soul. Saving you wasn't an option, he said he'd respect your choice and won't question them. He's keeping it, he's your friend. When you were going on with your plan, you too realized that the only true friend you had was Lucifer.

You can't handle Alastor, you shouldn't have thought you could. You shouldn't have accepted Alastor.

You shouldn't have saved him that day.

Alastor deserves to suffer while you enter your eternal slumber.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

I need Izuku in Gods in Marks to wind up in Camp Half Blood due to interdimensional mishaps and him being absolutely scandalized by the state of the demigods in camp and how they're neglected by their godly parents.

This will not do. Cramped Hermes Cabin filled with unclaimed demigods? No problemo, here's a cabin he rose up from the ground where they can go. Neglected by parents? Well, since gods in this universe can claim children, Izuku also has that ability and claims all of the unclaimed children. Kids being sent to die on quests? Izuku puts a stop to that real quick by promptly blasting Dionysus back to Olympus and completing all of the quests himself.

It's a full-on hostile takeover. Izuku practically colonizes the camp.

The demigods are absolutely baffled by this new god who appeared out of nowhere and is treating them well? Luke lowkey starts to question if he should go through with waging war. Annabeth is so confused as to how this god of strategy is so kind of loving (why can't her own mom be like that?). Percy just loving his new dad (this is all happening before Poseidon claimed him. And yes, he's pissed someone else claimed his son).

The demigods make Izuku their new patron deity, like a statute of him and everything. Because of this new worship, Izuku earns two more domains: Fatherhood and Demigods. Even when the other gods manage to bring him back to his own universe, since he claimed children from another universe, he's now tied to both worlds, meaning he can hear the prayers and offerings of the camp half-blood demigods and can freely visit them and complete quests for them, so they don't have to risk their safety.

(Now that the threat of dying is nonexistent, the Greek demigods can finally focus on building a community like the Romans.

The other gods back in his world wonder what the hell Izuku was up to now that he had two more domains)

I would kill to see the reactions of the Greek Gods btw

"And that is the end of life as we know it," Apollo said with a smirk,

"You know when you said you saw the end..." Artemis trailed off as she looked at their Father, Zeus, who was screaming his head off at Izuku. The other-dimensional god had reappeared to announce he was taking about half the Greek Demigods to his world.

"It is the end of life as we know it," Apollo said. "Father will eventually attack Izuku. He will be put down, and Heaphatus will take over. Things will be very different."

"Will he confess along with Aphrodite and Ares they're all fucking?" Aretmis asked. Apollo snorted.

"Yeah, you win."

"Good," Artemis smirked. She noticed Dionysus offering Hera some wine, and the Queen took it with a smirk.

The end of one age and the rise of the next, Artemis poondered as Zeus lifted a hand, lightning arching.

What a thing to witness

[scaryscarecrows]

Needles and Stitches

Mark goes from tired to pissed in about five seconds. That’s how long it takes him to turn on the light to his office and clock the Arkham Knight sitting awkwardly in the Sucker Chair. He was supposed to be in Arkham City until next Wednesday.

“The fuck did you do.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve got an eight-inch laceration right between my damn shoulder blades and I can’t reach it. I already tried.”

“And you made it worse, I’m sure.” Good morning, sunshine, it’s gonna be one of those days! It must be bad, though, or already infected, or he wouldn’t be here. “Come on, lemme see what you did.”

“Helmet stays on,” the Knight says roughly. “That’s non-negotiable.”

Mark is willing to argue. He is the doctor, and this is his goddamn domain and that’s just the way it is. He’s not willing to argue right now, not with this guy. The Knight has yet to really hurt them, but he most certainly can, and there was one poor bastard that tried to pull the helmet off, last year. Was.

But he’s also not giving him the complete win. It’s the principle of the thing. So he just grunts, jerks his head towards surgery, and locks the door behind them.

His armor is pristine, so no clues there. Mark also has no fucking idea where to even begin getting that off, so he just makes an irritated gesture at the whole mess.

“Well?”

The boss fiddles with one of his many pocket knives for maybe thirty seconds more before reaching up and unlatching the chest plate. The armor under that is kevlar, like theirs, and it’s almost the same, barring the heavy plating across his shoulders. That comes off the same as the chest plate did, with hidden latches, and the rest of the suit unzips at the throat.

Whatever Mark was expecting, it wasn’t this. He’s seen scars like this very rarely, though he’s seen the fresh wounds a lot more, when he and Trent were out in Russia. Burns of all kinds, ranging from small cigarettes to deep ones from a hot poker. A latticework of knife scars on…honestly, everything. What looks like a crude surgical scar at the gut (self-surgery, maybe? Mark’s got a similar one himself), and…honestly, he can’t pin the odd, almost knot-like thing at the hollow of his throat. There’s a horrific slash going from rib to hip that would have been a near-disembowelment, and several of the ribs are just crooked enough that it’s clear they were broken and healed for shit. A short, jagged scar, also older, says that he took a knife through the shoulder at some point. Anything else is hidden under a white bandage wound awkwardly under one arm, over the other, and around his ribs.

These scars are old. The body that bears them is not. Twenties, maybe, if he had to guess. Jesus Christ, no wonder he’s…quite frankly, this fucked up.

“Bandage off, turn around,” he says shortly. “Lemme see what you’re bitchin’ about.”

The Knight’s back is exactly zero percent better. Long, deliberate knife wounds trace his shoulders, barely visible under what looks like, hand-to-God, whip marks. A whip with glass embedded in it, he thinks, judging by the odd pockmarks. But more importantly, right now, there is indeed an eight-inch gash sitting pretty between his shoulder blades, right in an absolutely dickish spot to reach for self-stitches. And yeah, there’s the beginnings of an infection, though he’s clearly tried to at least keep that at bay.

“You gotta give me something to work with.”

“Somebody got lucky with a machete.”

“And how did that happen?”

“I was distracted by the bastard with the cattle prod.”

That explains fuck-all.

“Hm. I’m guessing you’re up to date on your tetanus shots.”

“Yes.”

“It’s something.” The infection hasn’t really had a chance to set in; the gash has clearly been cleaned and had some ointment or something dabbed on it, at least. “Could be worse,” he continues, politely ignoring what looks like the faint rubbing scars of a metal collar. “You didn’t let it get out of control, at least. It’s just a little red, no puss yet or anything super nasty. No trips into the sewer or anything I need to know about, right?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“Good. All right, I’m gonna clean it up to my satisfaction, stitch it back together, and then you’re going to leave off your stupid ninja-shit for at least ten days. No gargoyles, no flips, no zilch or on God, I will open you back up and stuff that thing full of those little prickly things that grow out in the jungle, you hear me?”

“You’re welcome to try.” The Knight’s voice doesn’t have the usual humor to it, but he’s not pissed off, either. He’s just–nervous, is the best word Mark’s got for him. He’s nervous.

“I don’t try. I do. This’ll be easier if you just lie down and keep still. You got any allergies I should know about?”

“Artificial cherry,” comes the quiet mumble. Jesus Christ, he’s got a real comedian on his hands here.

“Then I’ll keep the grape lollipops aside just for you,” Mark snarks. “Now let’s get this thing closed up before some idiot falls off a car and breaks their arm. Again.”

THE END

[sineala]

Hello~!!

I have a question that’s been burning in my mind for a bit now, so I just want to ask something. But first, let me preface: if Tony had a superpower, it would be his mind (and his heart of gold, but Steve is more associated with “heart” motif, I think, though they can be both its representative—it’s not an either/or situation I believe—but I digress, it’s not the point, so thank you for your patience as I struggle to get my point across😖🫣). Tony is smart, ingenious, resourceful, and other things basically describing him as a super genius. The matter is that there are multiple characters who are super geniuses too, like: reed, Bruce, t’challa (comics; doesn’t seem to have the same level of intellect (feets) in the movies), shuri (movies; I’m not familiar with the comics), etc.

My question is, what separates Tony’s “brain” superpower from these other characters? What is he better at than them? (Like, his brain processes information faster, can multitask and run “programs” in parallel, etc.—these kinds of things involving how his brain processes works compared others.)

A follow-up question would be, in terms of work (like engineering, biology, physics, chemistry, and so on), what is he better at than others? Cause from my last reading of comics (now I’m unfamiliar so I may be incorrect with my assumptions), it seems everyone is doing everything now. There’s no “division-of-labour according to skill set ” so to speak, I think. I understand that these characters have their own runs but they team up as well. So I’m just wondering, if they do team up, what kind of works/tasks will Tony spearhead as the authority even when compared against other super geniuses?

I’m a new user of tumblr so I’m not familiar with the etiquette (made the account finally, after reading many of your fics in ao3🫣😖😆). If your answer to each question is long, it’s fine to answer them as if they’re separate asks. Long answers doesn’t deter me. In fact, I’ll enjoy reading it. Otherwise, if you prefer to answer both in one go, that will be fine as well! ❤️❤️

Have a good day/night!!!

Hi! Sorry it took me so long to get back to you; I had to think about this a bit.

The way Marvel handles intelligence is, I think, peculiar to superhero comics. Because the fandom attracts and thrives on fans who practice curative fandom to a degree that is stereotypically pretty large, there are some quirks you don't get in other fandoms. Basically, comics caters to the kind of people who are like "who would win in a fight" and then like to argue about it. So a lot of elements that in most other fandoms would just be elements of characterization are ranked and measured. In most fandoms, if you had two smart characters, or two strong characters, it would just be enough to know that about them. But it's superhero fandom, so you can look up lists of the Ten Smartest Characters, as if there is only one kind of intelligence and one domain of intelligence and it can be measured accurately and quantified, which is not a thing that is true about the real world.

(Incidentally, last I checked, the smartest character was Lunella Lafayette (Moon Girl). I feel like this is a sign that these lists are maybe not all that useful, because even if she is the best at figuring things out, she's still, like, eight years old, and there are a lot of problems to solve where no matter how smart you are, it would really really help to have more life experience and emotional understanding than an eight year old. I also think this about Franklin and Valeria Richards.)

In actual stories, Tony and the various genius heroes tend to just show up and be there to serve the narrative. They are as smart as the story needs them to be, and they are there to do what the story needs them to do, and very little of this is real science anyway. So if Tony's better at something it's because he's the guy the author wants to be able to solve the problem; it's hard for me to treat this question as if they were real people, because they're fictional geniuses solving completely fictional problems with fictional science. It's not like deciding who should be on the competitive math team. They'd probably all be good at it.

In terms of canonical powers, Tony is no longer using Extremis, so his processing power is back to that of an unassisted human. I don't think any of the other genius characters are similarly augmented, so they're all even there.

If you put Reed and T'Challa and Tony in a room -- well, you've got like half of the original Illuminati, for starters. (I'm leaving Bruce out of this because Bruce as a character who interacts in any way with the Avengers is basically a MCU thing which occasionally now shows up in comics because of the MCU.)

Anyway, of those three guys, Reed is the theoretical scientist. If you need someone who will do all the math, that's Reed. He will calculate whatever needs calculating.

Tony is the engineer. He can figure out how to take the calculations and turn them into a physical thing that does the thing that needs to be done. And, sure, Reed builds stuff too, but certainly not to the degree that Tony builds stuff. He is dogged and persistent and willing to put things together and see what happens and fail and fail and fail until he gets it right. Tony is 100% the guy I would want on my team in Junkyard Wars. Is Junkyard Wars still a thing? It should be a thing again, and if he were real he should definitely compete on it.

T'Challa is kind of a combination of both of them -- theoretical and practical -- but what he really brings to the table is being the king of Wakanda. He can put the resources of an entire country -- the richest country in the Marvel world -- into building stuff. Tony builds things personally. Hands on. One at a time. Even though he often has companies that could presumably do this for him, he's not manufacturing anything at scale (exceptions made for things like getting into clean energy). He is building bespoke, one-off, world-saving solutions. T'Challa has the resources to take things like Tony's one-off builds and make lots more -- like how he designed the Quinjets and the Wakanda Design Group built them. Reed probably wouldn't have designed them -- although if they needed some new scientific theory to make them work, he could come up with that. Tony could probably design one and build you a working one in 48 hours without stopping to eat or sleep, but he probably wouldn't have built more than one of them. But T'Challa can make them and get you a small fleet of them. Because that's what he actually did. He's got the resources and the leadership.

I don't know that I would call any of these kinds of things better than the other -- I think they're all necessary parts of the process. Since most of the world-saving solutions are generally one-off builds, T'Challa's specific strengths don't usually come into play as much, at least in most of the events. But Tony usually gets to be a hero, unless he's evil or the writer hates him or something.

I would rec Empyre if you want a relatively recent event where the geniuses all have to work together -- and, to an extent, AXE Judgment Day -- as well as the Dark Ages miniseries, which is set in an AU where Apocalypse had mind-controlled geniuses working for him for eight years and somehow no one built the thing to solve the problem he had until Tony got there and did it in a few days. Which doesn't really make sense to me, but, uh, go, Tony, good job trying to destroy the world.