#but I've been grappling with my own frustrations

[poolsidescientist]

I think one of the reasons I'm disgusted with and have a deep dislike of leftists in a way I don't with conservatives is because the right has never been on my side and never pretended to be. Never did the tiki torch nazi or the 4chan trolls or even the wealthy WASPs who had deluded themselves that they deserved better than other people pretend to care about anyone other than themselves. They hate everyone who isn't them. The ones not all the way down the white-supremacist pipelines want everyone to be like them. A lot of evangelicals fit into that box. Community is conditional, but on some level it does exist. There are rules that work for some people at some times if you conform. You might not agree with everything the pastor says, it's best not to listen too closely, but there's a good chance someone will bring you a casserole if you need it if you're part of the community.

Leftists have a lot of the evangelical mindset but, in my experience, without many of the things that draw you into those circles in the first place. They value moral purity at least as much as the conservative christians but without any of the positives of that church community. There's always talk about helping the poor and disenfranchised. Of the "revolution" which is rapture with the serial number filed off. They have the buzzwords of "solidarity" and "accountability" and often take maximalist stances on issues which get in the way of actually solving problems. They're not going to bring you a casserole, you're privileged by the way. They speak of justice and inclusivity but that only extends to certain groups that fit their narrative. Try talking to a Stalinist about the Holodomor or even the current war in Ukraine...good luck. The cause is more important. It's all privileged white people anyways. Read theory instead. They want everything from you and offer you nothing in return. But they'll always remind you that you owe them everything. They like when the right is in power because they get to play revolutionary while abandoning whatever social justice entities or ideals they cannibalized in the name of clout.

The right split people up into "us" and "them". The left split people up into demographic traits, projects values on to people, and reduce peoples to nothing more but the parts of their identity they can't control. Both dehumanize people. The right will hate you because you're not them, the left hate you specifically because of who you. It's the difference between being told "justice is this specific interpretation of scripture and you're a sinner if you deviate from it" vs "justice for everyone but not you because you're a dirty jew (or other acceptable target because of 'privilege' but both right and left really hate jewish people). On the right it's "everyone who isn't us isn't human and we can hurt them all we like" vs on the left it's "everyone is human except for you and we will throw everyone else under a bus if we get to hurt you more". Both are painful, the latter is personal. Even if I agree with a lot of progressive principals it really is a toxic space with no community and no value in building one.

I think the only remedy to this is to see people as humans rather than concepts based on us vs them or other demographic characteristics. Yes, these things play a role in how people live in the world, but people are more than their circumstances. Academia is hell right now, I don't think I'll do any more academic social engagement outside of career-related networking. But I would donate to the local food bank or animal shelter and try to talk to my neighbours. They're people before they're a checklist of demographic traits. Often the people I know who are the least politically involved have the most compassion for others. Everyone has biases, I certainly do, but getting to know people from a place of humanity rather than buzzwords or political ideology at either end of the spectrum seems to be the best way to build community and understanding when possible. Take the good parts of church forward: make an extra casserole.

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

why didn't they just use franziska for literally all of this.

[blitzwhore]

Stolas just standing there and letting blitz hug him in the end is all good, right? He is just sad because of octavia and accepting that blitz is there with him right?? It's not that he regrets chosing him, right??? (I just need affirmation)

You know what? I've found myself needing reassurance about this too. So let's take a moment to look at the facts together, shall we?

(This reply turned out way longer than I expected it to 😅 sorry!)

Fact #1 - Stolas is still coming to terms with the consequences of his actions. He spends the whole episode finding out just how much his life has changed. Learning how to navigate groceries, and laundry, and meals, and having a job, and worrying about money.

Mid-episode, he has a breakdown where he truly questions if everything he gave up was worth it just for a fantasy. At this point in the episode, he still hasn't realised how much he means to Blitz. As far as he's concerned, he did all of this for someone who doesn't reciprocate his feelings. By the end of the episode, though, his feelings have settled enough for him to express what he has known to be true all along: that saving Blitz was the right thing to do.

What Stolas regrets isn't saving Blitz's life, or even loving Blitz in the first place.

What he regrets are the choices he made that led them to this. He feels guilty for selfishly (or, rather, naively) playing out his fantasies. He's the one who established the deal, who let Blitz illegally use the book for many months, who wasn't always sensible about how he expressed his love for Blitz publicly and despite being married, and who allowed himself to ignore the reality of his situation so he could live in his own, personal romcom—all of which ultimately led to the events of Mastermind and the loss of Via.

And all the guilt and regret he's grappling with (however justified it might be) is exacerbated by fact #2, which is:

Fact #2 - Stolas is off his medication. He's been off it for a month now. Symptoms of depression (especially untreated depression) include mood swings, irritability, self-hatred and low self-esteem, passive/active suicidal ideation, pessimism and hopelessness about the future, catastrophising, black-and-white thinking, and anhedonia (inability to feel pleasure and to find joy in things—and people—who used to bring you it). All symptoms Stolas exhibits throughout this episode.

So, even if he shows a lack of emotion toward Blitz at times, or irritation to seemingly minor things like low doors or "secretating" or Karen's behaviour, even if he acts regretful and angry and desolate... a lot of these emotions and behaviours are a result of his depression, and not of actually hating the life he chose.

Fact #3 - Stolas loves Blitz. He always has, and always will. I could point at a thousand different moments in the show when Stolas' love for Blitz has transpired, but I'm going to leave it at his line from Mastermind: "I would rather be dead than live life without you by my side."

Even after everything they've gone through, even now that he's taken Blitz off his pedestal and can acknowledge that Blitz can be a fucking idiot... Stolas simply does not want to live a life without Blitz. It has always been Blitz. It will always be Blitz.

Stolas loves Blitz.

Fact #4 - Stolas kissed Blitz. Before he truly hits rock bottom as a result of Octavia cutting him out, Stolas is so ecstatic that Blitz cares, that Blitz was willing to go to such lengths to save his life, that he can't hold back the need to kiss Blitz mid-air. Suddenly, none of his earlier frustration matters. Nothing matters expect for how elated he is that Blitz loves him back. So he smiles and he pulls Blitz into a kiss because he can't bear not to kiss Blitz for a moment longer.

Look at this man. Look at how happy he is. Because it's always been Blitz, and maybe it was a fantasy for a long time, but it doesn't have to be anymore. Maybe this can be real now. He's so happy he (and I) could cry.

Fact #5 - Stolas didn't deny loving Blitz. When Via said "You don't love me, you love him," the script very purposefully did not have Stolas go "no, no, Via, that's not true—" or say anything else that might make Blitz doubt, even for a moment, that Stolas loves him. Because that much is true. He does love Blitz. He just also loves Via. Which brings me to:

Fact #6 - Blitz knows Stolas loves him. At no point throughout the episode does Blitz doubt, even for a second, that Stolas loves him. And we know this because Blitz's walls remain down at all times. If Blitz doubted he was loved, if he had even the slightest of reservations, those walls would come crawling back up whether he wanted them to or not. It's what he's been trained and conditioned to do—it's how he's kept his heart safe ever since the accident.

But now, he knows his heart is safe with Stolas. He believes it enough to not depend on his walls to feel at ease. He believes it enough to let himself take care of Stolas and be soft with Stolas without the slightest trace of hesitation.

Look at Blitz's face. This is the face of a man who knows that even if Stolas isn't okay right now, things will get better. And when they do, they'll both still be in love with each other. This is the face of a man who can't wait for something beautiful to flourish between them, but who is in no rush to get there. He knows the road ahead is hard and painful, but he has faith in Stolas. In both of them.

Fact #6 - Stolas was happy to share a private, romantic dance with Blitz. Despite everything going through his mind, he found comfort and happiness in dancing with Blitz; in getting to have this little moment with him.

He found relief in the fact that Blitz stayed with him this time, even after Stolas told him, once again, that he didn't have to stay.

His reaction to Blitz initiating a dance between them is genuine surprise, immediately followed by an enamoured little smile at the mere notion that he gets to have this, now.

And, as they dance, he keeps smiling and leaning into Blitz, going as far as to manage a deep, heartfelt laugh at Blitz's words. This, for an unmedicated, depressed person going through one of the worst days of his life, is huge in itself. It shows that, even in the worst of times, he finds undeniable comfort and happiness in Blitz.

And, after their dance, Stolas looks at Blitz with a sobriety and soft sort of realisation that shows he's finally coming to terms with the fact that this is real. After everything he's lost, after all the fantasies he hoped for for so long and believed he'd never have, he finally gets to have this.

Despite the pain he's going through, Stolas looks at Blitz and sees the man he loves.

Notice how Blitz's eyes trail down to Stolas' mouth. And Stolas realises. And doesn't move away. Waiting, expectantly, for Blitz's next move, fully expecting it to be a kiss.

But then Blitz hugs him instead, and Stolas doesn't hug back.

And it's not because he doesn't want to be hugged by Blitz. It's not because his feelings for Blitz have changed, or dimmed, or disappeared. It's not because he regrets loving Blitz, or saving him. It's not because he doesn't want to have a close, healthy, loving romantic relationship with Blitz.

It's because of facts #1 (he's grappling with so much guilt and coming to terms with the consequences of his actions) and #2 (he's experiencing symptoms of unmedicated depression). And, above all, it's because of fact #7, which is...

Fact #7 - Stolas doesn't know how to be loved. Stolas has never had support. He has never had a shoulder to cry on, or someone to hold him when he needed it. When he's feeling vulnerable and broken, he defaults to hugging himself as a way to self-soothe, because that's the only comfort he's ever known.

And because he's never known comfort from others—because it was never allowed or safe for him to need or ask for comfort from others—all Stolas knows to do with his vulnerability is hide it. So much so that, the two times we see him begin to break down in front of Blitz before this episode, he either portals Blitz away or masks his tears and pain immediately. Even as he drunkenly rambles about wanting to be held, he still makes sure not to appear like he actually needs a hug.

So when he finds himself being held by Blitz in a warm, comforting hug, Stolas doesn't know how to respond. Because he's never had this. He's never had an opportunity to learn how to exist in someone's comforting embrace, how to interact with this kind of physical contact. He still has to learn how to feel safe between arms that aren't his own.

Simply put, Stolas still doesn't know how to hold Blitz back.

That doesn't mean Stolas doesn't want or need physical comfort. He needs it desperately—everyone does. But wanting something and knowing how to actually have it are two very different things, and Blitz knows that better than anyone, because he's wanted Stolas for a very long time, but didn't, until very recently, know how to feel safe accepting Stolas' love.

And that's why Blitz is completely understanding of the fact that all Stolas can do, all Stolas has the ability to do, is stand there and let himself be held, and let his emotions go through him. In, and out, with every breath, with every second. And get slowly acquainted with what being comforted by the person he loves feels like.

Thirty-something years of trauma can't be undone in a single hug, or a single conversation, and it's going to take time for Stolas to learn how to be present while in Blitz's arms, and how to return that emotional closeness.

But Blitz has faith in him. Blitz is willing to be patient and soft with him while he gets better. Blitz is ready to meet Stolas where he's at, because he knows, beyond a trace of doubt, that they love one another, and they're going to be okay. Even if Stolas doesn't know it yet—even if we, the audience don't know it yet—Blitz knows.

And that's just going to have to be enough for now.

And because this post got completely away from me, I shall conclude by quoting their song, because it summarises their story better than I ever could:

Truer love is hard to find. ❤️

[selarina]

Criminal

("I've been a bad, bad girl, I've been careless with a delicate man.")

-> Yuuji Itadori x Reader/ Sukuna x Reader

Content Warnings: aged-up yuuji itadori, smut, jealously, sibling rivalry, best friend's brother trope, no curses!au, jealously, rough play, possessive behaviour, somewhat toxic dynamics, childhood friends to fwb, bruises and hickeys, cooking, food & alcohol, love triangle?

Author's Note: this is what inspired me + criminal by fiona apple <3

Word Count: 2.2k words

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

You watch as Yuuji grapples and swings against Sukuna. There was always such a rough quality about him even if he was nearly an older replica of Yuuji. Rougher features, rougher voice.

You watch as the Yuuji manages to get the upper hand, pushing him down, knees first, into the brown dirt on the ground, his brows cinching in desperation and fury as he interlocks Sukuna into a headlock.

"Hey," you interrupt. "Aren't you two a little too old to be wrestling on the lawn?"

The two of them scramble, pushing each other away, as they manage to stand up.

Yuuji runs a hand through his hair, untangling the kinks as he chuckles. "Sukuna's definitely getting too old to lose."

"I was going easy on you, brat" Sukuna replies with a frown. "Didn't want your little girlfriend here to think she was with a loser."

"She's not—"

"He's not—"

"Yeah, yeah," Sukuna dismisses with a wave of his hand. "Say that all you want."

You frowned as your eyes scanned the older boy's face. A small patch of dirt was smeared on the side of his cheek.

"Hey, you have something," you pointed your finger trying to pinpoint the exact location for him.

He looked up at you, brows raised as he tried to rub it off. You can't help but think he looks like a lost child just then. The same guy you've seen wrestle men two times his size, a mere child fumbling against his own cheek.

"Here, let me just get it for you," you said, as you slinked your way towards him, getting a little too close than you needed to as you reached over to his face.

You slid your thumb across his soft skin, rubbing off all the leftover dirt. His brown-red eyes were looking into yours the whole time as you smiled.

"There, all clean." You quickly slid your hand back to your side.

"How's Osaka?" you ask, not bothering to create any distance between you.

"It's alright," Sukuna replies. "Been quiet and nice without the two of you bothering me."

"Well, we've missed you here," you say, a quiet jump in your feet as you do.

"Speak for yourself," Yuuji grumbles as he tries to pat the dirt off his slacks.

Sukuna's lips curl into a smirk, his eyes still locked on yours. "So what I'm hearing is, you're missing me?" he teases.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Don't flatter yourself. I was just making conversation."

"Say that all you want," he says, for the second time today as the three of you begin to make your way into the house

-

Sukuna was the head chef tonight, commanding the kitchen as he barked commands at the two of you. Yuuji was in charge of cutting, while you, seemingly without purpose, plopped yourself on the kitchen counter, blabbering the time away.

"Why are you here again?" Sukuna grumbles halfway through the making of the meal, clearly frustrated by your loud, incessant banter with Yuuji.

"Rude," you say, showcasing full offense, in tone and in body language as you jerk away. Like his words were hot oil you were dodging.

"Well, I'm going to be around all summer. So if you have any plans of staying here. You should get used to this."

"You do know this is my house, right?" Sukuna retorts, his tone laced with irritation.

"Doesn't matter," you squint, a glint in your eye. "You're stuck with me."

Sukuna muttered under his breath, calling you a nuisance.

"Oh, come on!" You frown, pulling your legs up to your chest and resting back against the cold wall. "It's not all bad."

Sukuna looks up from his stirring just then, his eyes momentarily flitting to the bare skin of your thighs exposed by your crumpled skirt.

"Yeah," he says, his eyes meeting yours again. "It's not all bad."

-

Later that night, the house is quiet, but you hear the faint sound of the TV. You walk downstairs and find Sukuna eating a chocolate—a chocolate you distinctly swore you bought for yourself.

"Those are mine," you call out, stepping into the living room. "Stealing is a crime, you know."

"You literally eat and sleep on my hard-earned money," he says incredulously.

“I sleep on the floor,” you counter. “And I buy my share of groceries.”

“The idiot makes you sleep on the floor?” Sukuna looks surprised. “No way.”

That is true. You don't sleep on the floor but you'll say about anything to win arguments so you continue, "So what if I do?"

He approaches you, his eyes serious. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor.”

You’re taken aback by his straightforwardness.

“Even if you are a nuisance,” he adds.

You purse your lips, about to say something when a voice startles you from behind.

Before you can respond, Yuuji's voice startles you from behind. "You get your chocolate yet?"

“You get your chocolate?” he asks, standing there with his hands in his pockets, looking ruffled. Your eyes are drawn to his toned muscles, visible beneath his tight-fitting shirt.

"Nah," you shrug. "Don't want it anymore anyway."

And then, the two of you make your way up to Yuuji's bedroom. The door shuts and in an instant, you're pressed against it. And you're come face to face with a seething Yuuji.

He looks pissed, to say the least.

It takes a second for him to act but he leans forward, his lips pressing against your own. Hot against your own lips.

He backs off after what seems like a long time. But he stays — inches away.

“Why do you do that?” Yuuji asks, his voice low. It's rhetorical, of course. He knows why you do, all too well.

"Why do you do that?" Yuuji asks, his voice low. It's a murmur more than a question. He knows why you do this. All too well.

His cologne wafts to your nose — citrusy and sweet, fills your senses, urging you to look away, to not drown in its familiarity.

You feign ignorance, batting your eyelashes. "Do what?"

He bends down again, his teeth biting into your bottom lip, slowly. Pinching down hard enough to make you groan.

“He’s no good,” he says as he backs off again. “You know that.”

And you do. You'd choose Yuuji over an impulsive shell of a man any day, but the game, the tease, has always been to your delight.

A smirk tugs at your lips. "So?" The question comes with an annoying intonation in your tone. Your hand trails across his chest, "I always did like the brooding—" Your fingers trail. "Impulsive." Another trail. "Leather jacket type."

It lingers now above his belt. But you're too slow. His hand catches yours firmly, pinning you against the door with a force and sound that makes you wonder if Sukuna can hear you through the thin walls.

He kisses you, deep and wet, in the way he knows you like, leaving you breathless. Normally, you'd wrap your arms around his neck, tangle your fingers in his hair to pull him closer, but your hands remain prisoned now above your head

He breaks the kiss, drawing back again, just enough so that his lips are hovering above your own. You open your eyes, pupils blown out with a certain haze he'd never get tired of seeing, blinking up at him expectantly as you wait for him to kiss you again.

He breaks the kiss, drawing back just enough to hover above your lips. Your eyes open, pupils blown with a haze he never tires of seeing.

You blink up at him expectantly, waiting for him to kiss you again.

But he doesn't. He hovers there.

He likes to tease too.

You've always had the upper hand in whatever the two of you seem to have. He knows this. You know this. Hell, it's the first thing his brother told him when he met you. But there are times. Times when he likes to balance the scales. Just to see what you feel like.

When you realize he's not going to kiss you, you lean up, trying to close the distance, but he moves out of reach at the last second, leaving you pouting. He thinks that seeing you pout is almost enough for him to give you what you want.

"Still interested in my brother?" he asks, his voice teasing but laced with something serious.

You take the cue. "Who again?" you reply, looking up at him with a dazed smile.

He grins, his grip loosening around your wrists. You lower your hands, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to you. This time, he doesn't pull away. He kisses you, feeling you against his lips.

It doesn't take much for him to have you desperate and moaning, a testament to the months of practice since that first time in Sukuna's dingy car.

His fingers find their way inside you, curling against the spot that makes your eyes roll back.

You struggle to stay upright, one leg bent awkwardly to make space for his arm, your hands clutching at him for support—one on his shoulder, the other pulling his hair.

You're dripping down his wrist, whining as you cup his face, forcing him to look at you.

You start dripping down on his wrist now as you whine. Your hand leaves his hair to cup in his face, to make him look at you.

His eyes, when they look up at you, are as dazed as yours, smitten in a way that makes your heartache.

Your thighs tremble, and you whine again, begging him to fuck you. He nods, urging you to jump, his hands gripping beneath your thighs as he carries you to the bed.

He moves you to your knees and thrusts into you from behind, hard and deep, with his chest against your sweaty back. You come with your cheek pressed into the mattress, barely able to mumble his name into the sheets.

Your hands loosen up against the sheet as he flips you over, pushing your knees up to your chest, as he slides back inside you.

He makes you come again, this time hearing his name leave your mouth clear and debauched — your hands laced with his, as he kisses you one last time before finally letting go.

-

You shower first. The hot water runs down your body, revealing new bruises and hickeys like invisible tattoos come to life. You trace them with your fingers, smiling.

You wrap yourself in a towel and peek out, the chill of his room slapping your face with overwhelming intensity.

"Hey," you say, as he looks up from his phone, lounging on the bed.

"What's up?"

"Pass me my clothes. They're in the red bag," you point to the large bag on the floor, your gesture languid.

He rolls off the bed, unzipping the bag and rummaging through it. "Anything specific you need?"

"Nah," you shrug. "Just shorts, something baggy for a top, and my underwear, please."

You close the door, leaving it slightly ajar, finding it too cold to stand by it.

Moments later, you hear a knock. You smile despite yourself.

"Come in," you say sweetly as he opens the door to walk himself in. "You know you were in me like minutes ago, right?"

"Doesn't mean I lose all sense of respect, you know" he replies.

You walk over, one hand clutching the towel. "You're still a dork," you muss his hair, taking the clothes from his hands.

He exits, smiling to himself now like a thirteen-year-old boy.

You look down when he's gone. Noticing the flimsy black shorts and blue underwear are yours. But the light red T-shirt isn't yours.

You glance at the items. The flimsy black shorts and blue underwear— are yours. The light red T-shirt, on the other hand, is not. Y

You put them on anyway, emerging from the steam, and tossing the towel onto the bed.

"Your turn," you say, the shower leaving you tired. You plop yourself onto the bed.

"I know you used up all the hot water," he mumbles, mainly to himself, as he heads into the bathroom.

While he's showering, you try to occupy yourself — replying to texts, sifting through his comics, tidying the bed. But then you get hungry, and you decide you want something.

You descend the stairs slowly, aware of Sukuna's tendency to pass out on the couch. You hear the TV blaring. He must be up, you think as you abandon your need for silence.

"Still up?" you ask, noting his presence without surprise.

"About to crash soon," he hears him from the living room. His eyes were not leaving the TV as you rummage through the fridge—cheese, mint, milk. You frown, cursing the lack of snacks.

"Here," a voice suddenly, from behind you. You turn to find Sukuna offering a chocolate bar.

"I don't understand. Did you un-eat my chocolate?" you ask, incredulous.

"Bought it when I got some beer, dummy," he rolls his eyes.

You raise an eyebrow. "I want the beer instead," you point to the can in his hand.

"You hate beer," he says firmly. "Threw up all evening and made us clean, remember?"

He smirks, seeing through your facade. “You just want it to spite me. No change there.”"

He's right, but you hide your smile.

"Alright," he says, relinquishing the can as his eyes land on your neck. "Enjoy, kid."

You swallow hard, heart pounding in your throat.

"Thanks," you murmur, making your way up the stairs again, with your free hand brushing the bruise on your neck.

[ninibeingdelulu]

"I'm right here"

plot- an argument with depressed geto CLICK ME

"I can't believe you're being like this!"

Suguru's voice cracked with frustrated accusation, slamming his textbook down with enough force to make you flinch.

"It's like you're purposefully trying to drive a wedge between Satoru and me just because you're jealous!"

You felt your hands ball into fists at your sides as that familiar spike of molten defensiveness surged through your veins.

How dare he diminish your concerns so callously after everything you'd been through together? As if your feelings were some trite, immature flight of fancy rather than the genuine loneliness you'd been grappling with lately.

"Jealous?" you scoffed, tossing your pencil aside with a heated glare.

"You really think I'm that petty? That this is just me throwing some pathetic tantrum over not getting enough attention from Wunderkind Geto?"

Suguru opened his mouth - undoubtedly to fire back with another biting remark - but you barreled forward, finally allowing the dam holding back weeks of bottled resentment to burst open.

No more mincing words or letting things fester until they'd reached this ugly, toxic fever pitch.

"I'm worried about you, jackass!"

You shoved off the couch, gesturing wildly as the torrent of pent-up emotions flooded free in a tumultuous rush.

"That's all I've wanted from the start! For you to actually let me in about what's been eating you up so badly lately that you've become a total goddamn stranger!"

Suguru seemed to visibly deflate somewhat under the brunt force of your outburst. But that brief hesitation was rapidly replaced by the familiar stubborn set of his squared jaw and narrowed onyx gaze which indicated the imminent eruption of his own fiery temper.

"Oh, so now you're my therapist?" he sneered, bracing his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward in your direction with acerbic challenge.

"Sorry I've been such an inconvenience while busting my ass trying to actually secure my future instead of wasting time with teenage melodrama!"

You shook your head in disbelief, throwing your hands up as another harsh bark of laughter cut through the tension like a serrated blade.

"Un-fucking-believable...Is that seriously what you think this is about? Me being petty over you 'wasting time' with dumb high school bullshit?!"

Suguru simply glowered in stony silence, the muscle in his clenched jaw visibly twitching.

Waiting for you to either continue your tirade or offer more proof of your apparent delusions over the state of things between you.

Well, if he wanted you to spell out the tangled knot of anguish and confused longing festering in your chest with stark clarity...Then so be it.

"I'm in love with you, you arrogant prick!"

The confession exploded out of you with enough volcanic force to make you immediately slap a hand over your mouth.

Yet once uncorked, there was no recapturing the deluge as it raged on, raw and unfettered.

"And it's been ripping me apart watching you spiral so far down in this pit of darkness without letting anyone in to try and pull you back out!"

Suguru looked as though he'd been struck across the face.

All residual ire seeping away into slack-jawed shock and visceral vulnerability cracking those steely exterior walls you'd slammed against so fruitlessly in the past.

His throat bobbed in an audible gulp, those intense obsidian eyes you used to lose yourself in now swimming with a thousand different conflicting emotions roiling in their tumultuous depths.

The sudden, stark silence stretching between you was enough to buffer even the frantic hammering of your pulse thundering past your ears.

The fear of obliterating one of the most important relationships of your life in that combustive outpouring constricted around your throat like a vise of pure dread.

Then, after what felt like an eternity...Suguru's expression shifted again.

His features settling into an almost haunted kind of resignation piercing directly into your very soul. When he spoke, his typically unflappable baritone emerged cracking and subdued - the most naked glimpse you'd ever witnessed of what laid beneath the surface he fought so vigilantly to repress.

"I...I know..." he confessed in a gust of breath barely above a whisper.

One shaky hand scrubbed over his face, refusing to meet your wide-eyed stare. "Fuck, I've known how you felt and I-I kept pushing you away so I wouldn't hurt you more by—"

The strangled catch in his throat cut off whatever fragile truth seemed to be teetering on the precipice of being laid bare between you.

Suguru's free hand balled into a fist clenching the material of his pants until his knuckles bored white while haunted shadows flickered across his downturned visage.

Never before had you witnessed him look so...utterly wrecked. So excruciatingly human under the weight of inner demons you'd never known to be lurking underneath it all.

Not until they'd already carved out pieces of him you might never get the chance to recover.

But you couldn't allow either of you to retreat into that isolating darkness anymore. Not after clawing your way this deep into the open wounds between you both.

Too many regrets were already trailing behind in your wake...

The deafening silence hung thick and palpable in the wake of Suguru's shattered admission.

You could practically taste the roiling torrent of unspoken truths and anguished vulnerability thrashing violently just beneath the surface he was struggling so viscerally to repress.

You knew with every fiber of your being that if you didn't reach out in this pivotal moment, the fragile threads binding you both together risked snapping under the immense strain.

And you refused to let that happen - even if it meant wading blindly into the shadowy depths of whatever demons were currently carving him hollow from the inside.

Tentatively, you bridged the couch cushions separating you and laid your palm overtop that trembling fist clenched with white-knuckled force against his thigh.

Suguru flinched slightly at the contact, but didn't immediately recoil away. Emboldened by that microscopic victory, you gently pried his fingers open to lace them through your own in silent invitation.

"Suguru..." you murmured, injecting as much tender reassurance into his name as humanly possible.

"Whatever it is causing you so much pain...you don't have to keep shouldering it alone anymore. I'm right here, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

His jaw clenched spasmodically, those turbulent eyes still steadfastly averted from meeting your concerned gaze.

You could see the muscle twitching in his cheek from the sheer force he was exerting to keep that impenetrable mask locked firmly in place.

But you refused to relent, rubbing the pad of your thumb soothingly across his knuckles in hopes of coaxing him to simply breathe. To open himself up even a sliver after all this time...

"Please," you implored, daring to shuffle closer until your thighs were a hairsbreadth from touching.

Until that painfully unguarded expression was directly in your line of vision, begging to be witnessed without judgment or reprimand.

"Let me help carry this for you, 'Guru. You've been alone with this anguish for too long..."

Finally, finally , some of that tightly wound tension began leeching from his hunched shoulders as if the words had sliced through some of those invisible restraints shackling him down.

Suguru raised his other hand to rake shakily through his tousled raven locks, unravelling before your very eyes.

When his gaze at last lifted to lock with yours, the sight of those inky pools swimming with so much naked, harrowing vulnerability physically winded you.

"I'm so afraid..." he confessed in a ragged whisper thick with shame and trepidation.

His hand convulsed where you clutched it in your lap as if the admission had torn open a fresh, gaping wound inside.

"I've convinced myself I have this grand purpose to dedicate myself to completely, but there's a part of me that wonders if it's all been an excuse...a distraction from facing how truly lost and messed up I've become."

Tears glistened in those haunted obsidian depths and your heart shattered at the sight of Suguru's meticulously constructed walls crumbling before your eyes.

The instinctive need to pull him into your embrace and chase those demons away was near overpowering.

Yet you resisted, allowing him to unfurl at his own pace without outside influence. Simply being the steady presence and supportive tether he so clearly needed more than he'd realized.

"Everyone told me I was destined for greatness after awakening to my talents...That I possessed a gift entrusted to rectify this curse plaguing our kind."

Suguru's voice had descended into a hoarse, halting murmur as the floodgates burst completely open.

Each gravelly syllable etched in anguish carved into his very marrow.

"But deep down, I've always been so goddamn afraid of failing. Of disappointing everyone and being seen as the fraud I've convinced myself I must be for harboring any weakness or-or..."

His words finally failed, fading into a ragged exhalation torn from his very core as he lifted his imploring gaze beseechingly to yours.

"God, why am I like this? Why does any of this matter when all I've wanted is to open my eyes and see you smiling back at me without all this bullshit driving us apart?"

Your throat constricted wordlessly, scorching tears blurring your vision at the utter desolation contorting Suguru's features into the most wrenching expression imaginable.

Here was the strongest, most indomitable person in your life bearing the very depths of his shattered soul before you in total surrender.

And you instantly knew in that pivotal, crystalline moment - there was nowhere else you could ever fathom being that wasn't by his side.

Providing the steadfast strength and acceptance for those fragmented pieces until he felt whole enough to stand on his own once more.

There would be more tears, more shards to sift through together in confronting this pervasive darkness slowly consuming him from the inside out.

But the first painful, cathartic step had been taken. And you fully intended to never allow Suguru to slip backward into that isolating abyss ever again.

So you did the only thing left to reassure him he wasn't alone in this monumental fight for his very sense of self and purpose.

You surged forward and pulled him into your fiercely protective embrace - cradling his shuddering form flush against your chest as his own quiet sobs finally shook loose in heartrending waves.

"I'm here...I'm right here, 'Guru..." you whispered over and over into the downy strands of ebony hair tickling your lips.

"We're going to get through this, I swear it..."

Your shared tears and ragged breaths mingled achingly between your twined bodies as a new, mended path forward gradually unfurled with each passing heartbeat.

From the ashes of everything you thought you'd understood about him and the conflicted world he inhabited...

Bound now by the decision to walk whatever darkened road stretched ahead completely united in purpose and love at long last laid bare - come what may.

[bossbtch1]

Forbidden Reunion

Summary : You managed to escape from Loki after discovering his lies. Aware that both he and the TVA would be searching for you, you prayed they wouldn't succeed. However, now Loki stood in front of you and he had no intentions of letting you go.

Pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!Reader

General tags : SMUT, 18+, Dark Fic, Obsessive, Yandere

Trigger Warnings: Strong Language, Violence, Stalking, Non-con, Dubious Consent, Forced Blowjob, Forced Orgasm, Fingering, P in V, Unprotected Sex, Breeding, Overstimulation (let me know if I missed any lol)

Word Count: 10k

A/N : Sorry it took me too long to post this, juggling this alongside my other story took some time. But as promised, I'm releasing this one first.

Before you continue, please read TW again. This is a dark!fic and explicit, strictly for readers 18+. Please, DO NOT PROCEED if these themes disturb you. I've warned you, this fic isn't for the faint-hearted.

This took in Loki season 2 based on that shadow play.

If you like my story, please go check out my other stories here

Exhausted from years of evading both Loki and the TVA. Tonight, you found yourself in a bar, a moment to escape the chaos for years and hoping for a chance encounter. Despite your past with Loki, you were eager to move forward and explore new relationships, you have your own needs, and the more time went on, you knew they could not be sated by yourself anymore.

You could use your power to manipulate them into sleeping with you, but you knew it was wrong, you were sure there was a natural progression you just needed to be patient, and maybe your powers were going to waste being used to keep you hidden from the TVA.

Your mind drifted back to Loki, the god of Mischief and how he lied to you, manipulated you.

Flashback

"I'm sorry to say this, but you have been deceived by him," the TVA agent asserted. You turned your back on her as you attempted to escape, your eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of Loki. You had become separated during the chaotic chase within the TVA headquarters.

"No, I'm not. Loki wouldn't lie to me," you defended him, your voice laced with unwavering belief.

"Is he? Tell me, what did he say to you, the reason he got caught?" the agent probed, her tone challenging.

"He tried to rule Earth and failed," you replied, recalling the events that had led to his capture.

She seemed surprised that you knew. "Yes, and whose fault was that?" she pressed further.

“Yes, I know it was his.” You admitted, frustration seeping into your words, “But it stemmed from his deep-seated need for approval and love, especially from a father who resented him for being adopted." Despite the firmness in your tone, a flicker of doubt shadowed your eyes, making you question whether you were convincing the agent or merely grappling with your own uncertainties.

"Is that the whole story? Or just a part he wants you to believe?" Her words hung heavy in the air.

"He's the trickster god, the silvertongue," she continued, her voice steady, unwavering. "Manipulation is in his nature. Don't fall for his lies."

"Hello? Hey?" You heard a voice bringing you back from your daydream. "Can I buy you a drink?"

You looked up, it was a handsome man who had sat down beside you. You smiled, not wanting to appear rude. "Yes, please," you said.

He smiled, "I'm Mark."

"Y/N," you said.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," he smiled.

You returned his smile. You enjoyed his company as you chatted and laughed, his eyes sparkled as he listened to you talk, you knew you were making him blush when you teased him, he was sweet, and you knew he liked you.

Conversation flowed easily between you two. You couldn't remember the last time you felt so at ease with a stranger, the feeling was new and exciting. He seemed so genuinely interested in what you had to say and you felt as if he actually understood what was going on in your life.

"Do you want to come to my place? I've got a bottle of whiskey that needs drinking," he smiled.

"Sure, why not?" you said, downing the rest of your drink. This was your chance to get what you've been craving, and what better way to start than with a handsome man inviting you to his place?

Then someone spilled his drink onto Mark, ruining his white shirt.

"What the hell? Are you kidding me?!" he yelled at the man. "Watch where you're going, asshole." He shouted in frustration.

"Oh, I am so sorry, man, I tripped," the other man said, his voice calmed.

You recognize the voice.

It was Mobius.

Your heart raced, and you couldn't believe that he had managed to track you down. Paralyzed with fear, you sat there, feeling the color drain from your face as you stared at him in disbelief. If Mobius was here then that meant that Loki wasn't far behind.

Mark was fuming, he stormed off to the bathroom, leaving you alone, and you wanted desperately to call out, to warn him not to leave you by yourself, but fear kept your words trapped in your throat.

"Hello, Y/N."

Your name was like poison on his lips.

"Loki," you hissed back, turning around to face him.

He looked exactly the same as the last time you'd seen him, his black hair was neatly styled, his green eyes were piercing, and his face was pale. His expression was serious, his jaw set and his eyes cold, he looked so different from the Loki you had known and fallen in love with.

"What the fuck are you two doing here?" Your heart pounded in your chest, your palms sweaty with anxiety, and you were suddenly very aware of how alone you were in the bar.

"I missed you, pet. I have been worried," his tone was mocking and his smirk didn't reach his eyes.

"Don't lie, Loki," you shot back, glaring at him.

"You know, you've always been so difficult."

"And you're an asshole."

Loki didn't say anything, instead he reached for your wrist and held it tight. "Let me go! You fucking liar, I trusted you, I loved you, and you betrayed me," you shouted, struggling against his grip.

"Little one, don't make a scene." he growled in your ear.

Your eyes pleaded with Mobius, who stood caught between the two of you. "Are you just going to stand there and let this happen?" you implored, your voice cracking with desperation.

Mobius sighed, a mixture of resignation and sadness in his eyes. "I'll leave you be for now then," he said, his tone heavy with regret. "I'll see you later." With that, he turned away, leaving you to face Loki's wrath alone.

"How about I give you a choice," he said, a sinister glint in his eyes. "Either you can come home willingly, or I can use my magic to knock you out and bring you home. Which do you prefer?" The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, leaving you trapped in a lose-lose situation.

"I'm not going anywhere with you, Loki!" you hissed, your voice laced with defiance as you struggled against his grip. Every fiber of your being screamed resistance, but you knew the sheer force of his magic could easily overpower you.

"Very well then," he purred, his lips twisted into a sadistic smile as he waived his hand, ready to use his magic.

"Wait!" You blurted, holding up your hands to stop him, your voice trembled as the weight of your decision bore down upon you.

"Yes, little one?" he asked, his tone condescending and smug.

"I'll come willingly," you said, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. It was a lie, a desperate attempt to buy some time.

"But can I go to the bathroom first?" You clung to the hope that a brief moment alone might offer a chance, your mind racing for an escape plan.

"Alright," Loki agreed, his tone oddly accommodating. "Go on, pet." He nodded towards the restroom.

You hurried into the bathroom and locked the door behind you, your heart pounding in your chest. Your frantic eyes searched for your tempad, only to realize it was gone. "Asshole!" you muttered under your breath, realizing that Loki must have taken it when he grabbed your arm.

You had no escape plan, and Loki was waiting for you. You looked for a way out, but the windows were too small for you to climb through, so you thought it would be best to just run through the door and run far away from the bar.

Gathering your courage, you unlocked the door and burst out, your footsteps echoing in the corridor. Behind you, you could hear Loki's enraged shout, "Y/N!" His voice boomed, fueling your determination to run as far and as fast as you could from the bar.

"Y/N! Y/N!" you could hear him getting closer and closer. His voice cut through the air like a sharp blade. "Y/N, stop now!"

"FUCK OFF!" you screamed, frustration and fear fueling your voice. You cast a desperate glance behind you and saw Loki hot on your heels. "Fuck!" you whispered under your breath.

You could feel the tears burning behind your eyes, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, and the fear of being caught was overwhelming. "Fuck, no! Not again!" you thought.

You were annoyed by the people "Move! Move! Please!" You screamed at the people that were blocking the road, but they wouldn't move.

"Fuck you!" One guy shouted back at you after you pushed him away.

You couldn't run anymore. You were too slow, and he was gaining on you, and you knew that you couldn't escape him. But you need to keep trying, you couldn't give up. You were running, and running, and running.

The pain was too much, your muscles ached, and your lungs burned. Your vision was blurred, and you couldn't focus. You were tired of running and out of breath, you leaned against a wall and rested, hoping Loki wouldn't see you.

However, your respite was short-lived. In a blink, Loki teleported right in front of you, his expression oddly calm. "Pet, we have been searching for you for a long time, you hid well." He said, his tone icy.

"You can't be fucking serious!" you hissed, "Why did you look for me? I left for a reason, you betrayed my trust. You used me, and I hate you."

"Little one, why are you angry at me?"

"Are you really asking that, you lying snake?" Pushing him away, you shouted, and sprinted away from him once more, your determination fueling your escape.

You didn't make it far, though, before you felt a familiar, freezing hand grasp your arm, tugging you backward and pulling you against a cold, solid form.

"I don't appreciate it you calling me that."

You gasped, and tried to pull away from him, but his grip was like steel, and no matter how hard you struggled, you couldn't free yourself from him. "I don't care! Let me go!"

He ignored your pleas, then you pulled out a knife from your pocket. You knew he could've easily taken the knife, but instead he let you go, "You think you can hurt me, little one? How adorable." he cooed, his voice silky smooth.

"I'll fucking kill you!"

He laughed again mocking you, "Do you want to try? Do you think you can stab me with that knife, pet?"

You didn't answer, instead you held the knife up, threatening him, "Loki, you don't want to make me angry." You knew that was stupid of you saying that.

He smirked, he wasn't afraid of you, and he wasn't intimidated by you. "You are so cute when you are mad," he mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and his eyes were dark.

"Put the knife down, and we can go home, pet" he offered.

"Fuck you, Loki," you spat, your voice dripping with venom as you stood your ground, the knife still clutched tightly in your hand.

He grinned, "Oh, you will soon enough, pet."  He let out a low chuckle and he snapped his finger and the knife flew from your hand to the wall. You watched in horror, you didn’t have anything else on you to defend yourself from him.

He began to advance toward you, a predator toying with his prey. Panic surged through you, urging you to flee. Yet, no matter how fast you ran, Loki always reappeared before you.

His voice dripped with amusement, "Come on, pet. Do you really think you can outrun me?" His grin widened, relishing the chase as if it were sort of a game to him.

"You won't ever escape me, pet. Even if you manage to get away from me, I will always find you again and again. You will be mine, whether you want to or not." He declared, his tone possessive and chilling. He stood before you, his presence looming over you like a dark cloud.

"I won't stop fighting you," you vowed, your voice filled with defiance, glaring at him as he advanced toward you. Desperation fueled your steps as you ran, but he always caught up to you, teleporting right in front of you, a relentless pursuit that seemed endless.

"You can't run forever, pet," he taunted, his eyes dark and menacing, his voice deep and husky. “Eventually, I’ll catch up to you.”

You were getting tired of running. "Come on, pet. Are we playing a game?" He chuckled, the sound echoing eerily through the empty street. The bastard was enjoying this twisted cat-and-mouse chase.

"Just stop!" you cried out, your frustration boiling over.

"Why would I stop? This is the most fun I've had in years, darling. I enjoy seeing you run, it's quite entertaining."

"Shut up." You tried to run away again, your breaths ragged. "Quit your magic, and fight fair!" Deep down, you knew if you were in a one-on-one combat with him, without his magic, you could win. "If you win, I'll come willingly."

"That's not how this works, little one," he chided, his tone laced with amusement.

You felt the anger boiling inside of you, but you continued to run. Each step echoed in the empty alley as you tried to escape his relentless pursuit. "Leave me alone then!" you shouted, desperation lacing your voice.

To your horror, your movements came to an abrupt stop. Loki stood in front of you, his mischievous grin sending shivers down your spine. Frantically, you turned around, only to find him there again, mocking your attempts to escape. Panic set in as you attempted to flee in the opposite direction, but there he was once more, his presence haunting you like a nightmare.

"What the fuck is going on?" you muttered, disbelief coloring your voice. How was he everywhere? How was he doing this? Your mind raced with questions as you stepped back, trying to distance yourself from the three identical Loki that surrounded you.

Were you tripping, or is there really three of them?

Loki's chuckle reverberated around you, a haunting sound that sent chills down your spine. Frustration boiled within you, and you screamed in exasperation, "How are you doing that?" Your voice wavered, trembling with a mixture of frustration and fear as you desperately demanded answers.

His grin widened as he continued to toy with your sanity. "Oh, come now, surely you know a trick or two, you being a witch and all," he taunted, the words laced with mocking arrogance.

You took slow steps backward as the three Loki remained in front of you, your resolve mingling with confusion and growing fear. "I'm not a witch, you... asshole," you retorted.

Suddenly, you felt his warm breath near your ear, and his voice sent a shiver down your spine. "It's called an illusion, little one," he whispered, the hot air tickling your earlobe. You jolted away from him, only to find another Loki standing in front of you, and you jumped yet again.

Fear gripped you, not of him, but of the overwhelming confusion and frustration that clouded your senses. The relentless onslaught of illusions left you feeling disoriented, unable to discern reality from the intricate tricks he was playing.

"Please stop," you pleaded.

"Stop what?" he asked, feigning innocence, his eyes glinting mischievously.

"Your tricks. I'm not stupid, stop," you demanded, your voice growing firmer despite the fear gripping your heart.

The three Loki slowly closed in on you, each step they took making your heart race faster. You retreated, trying to create distance, but soon your back met the unyielding wall. There was no escape. Your mind raced, your heart pounded, and you breathed heavily, trapped in a nightmare of your own making.

Suddenly, you felt an invisible force restraining your hands, pinning them against the wall. You looked around frantically, searching for the source, but there was no one in sight. Panic clawed at your throat as you realized you were immobilized.

"What the fuck are you doing?! Let me go."

"I don't think I will, my little pet," Loki said, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Suddenly, Mobius reappeared beside Loki, seemingly out of thin air. "A little over the top, don’t you think, all the shadow play?" he commented, his tone disapproving.

Loki smirked, unrepentant. "I thought it was spot on."

Mobius turned his attention to you, his expression filled with concern. "What are you trying to do to the poor girl?" he asked.

"I'm merely making a point," Loki replied casually, as if discussing the weather and your distress was nothing more than a game.

Mobius shook his head and lightly chuckled, "Oh, I'm sure you are. That's why she looks like a frightened rabbit."

"I'm still here? Hello?” They were casually talking like you were invincible, despite being bound to a wall. Their attention shifted to you, and you erupted, "Mobius, what the hell? Arrest him! What are you doing!" Panic and anger laced your words, but it fell on deaf ears.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I can't do that. I made a deal with Loki," Mobius responded, his tone regretful yet resolute.

You felt a chill run down your spine. "What fucking deal?" You asked, your voice trembling. "What are you going to do with me?"

"I'm not going to do anything. But Loki, on the other hand..." he chuckled darkly. "Well, the deal is, we only need you alive. That's all I'm saying. My lips are sealed," Mobius replied with a cryptic smile.

You didn't have a chance to process his words before the Loki closest to you began circling you, a predatory gleam in his eyes. Your heartbeat wildly, fear coursing through your veins as he trailed his finger along your arm, his touch light and teasing in suspense.

"What the fuck is the matter with you, let me go!" you shrieked, your panic and anger rising. "Mobius you fucking bitch, you are nothing but a- MMM" abruptly, as the shadow silenced you, turning your pleas into incoherent whispers.

Mobius sighed, shaking his head. "Now you're just showing off," he admonished.

"I can't help it, you bring out the worst in me."

Loki stepped in front of you and leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "Now, where were we?" he whispered, his voice low and seductive. His fingers trailed along your jaw, his touch feather-light and tantalizing. You were struggling to break free from his hold, but your body remained paralyzed, at his mercy.

Loki, leaning casually against the wall, let out a low, amused chuckle at your futile struggles. "Oh, little one," he purred, his tone mocking and condescending. "There's no use in fighting. You won't be able to break free. Trust me."

"Now, be a good girl and remain still," Loki said, his smile cruel and unsettling as he locked eyes with you, a twisted affection glinting in his gaze.

"Loki, take it easy on her. She's just a young girl, after all." Mobius interjected, his voice laced with a hint of compassion, though his eyes conveyed a different story. "Make sure to control your pet, Loki.” Mobius emphasized before vanishing into thin air.

You screamed was incoherent since your mouth was being covered by the shadow, you tried to say "Help!" and "No" but nothing came out.

Loki grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing your head up to meet his gaze. "Oh, darling. Don't try to speak, or scream, or fight. You can't escape, and no one is going to save you. No one will hear you, the only sound you will make is your moans."

Fear gripped you, the uncertainty of Loki's intentions leaving you paralyzed and vulnerable.

He advanced toward you, his steps deliberate and predatory. "Now," he whispered, his voice dripping with sadistic anticipation, "let the fun begin, pet."

With a snap of his fingers, Loki dispelled the shadow covering your mouth, granting you the ability to speak again. "Get off me, Laufeyson!" you exclaimed, your voice laced with defiance. You strained against your restraints, desperate to escape his grasp. "This is wrong. You're crazy psychopath."

"Oh, pet," he said, a twisted smile playing on his lips. "We've done far worse together."

Frustration and fear gripped you as you struggled against your bindings, pleading, " Why can't you just leave me alone?"

A dark chuckle escaped Loki's lips as he replied, "You know why."

"Please, just let me go." You pleaded, desperation creeping into your voice.

Loki's smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with possessiveness. "I'm afraid I can't do that, love. You belong to me."

"No, I don't! I'm not yours," you protested vehemently. You writhed against the magical restraints, a mixture of anger and fear fueling your struggles. His control over you felt like a violation, and you despised him for it, for using his magic against you in such a cruel manner.

"Oh, pet," Loki purred, his voice dripping with both mockery and desire. "You can fight all you want, but you'll never win, not when it comes to me." He leaned in, his lips grazing your neck in a chilling caress. You whimpered as he sucked on your skin, his teeth scraping lightly.

"Stop. Please," you begged, your voice trembling.

"But why would I stop," he replied, his tone silkier than ever, "when I'm having so much fun?" His words hung in the air, laden with sadistic pleasure.

"I hate you. I will never stop hating you," you spat out, your words laced with a fierce determination, even in the face of your vulnerability.

Loki's lips curled into a sly smile, "You don't truly hate me, little one. You merely pretend to. I see through the façade. I know what lies beneath."

"What the hell are you talking about, Loki?" you shot back.

"Stop being such a brat," he sneered. The shadow binding both your wrists kept you firmly against the wall, his control unyielding. "Do you like being restrained, hmm? Enjoy the feeling of someone else in control, knowing you can't escape, and no one will help you?" His face hovered dangerously close to yours, his breath ghosting over your skin.

“No! Stop that nonsense!” You lied, you were scared, and angry, but you also secretly enjoyed being under his control whether you wanted to admit it or not.

He hummed and kissed your neck and whispered in your ear, his breath tickled your ear and you felt shivers down your spine. “Fuck, how I miss you.” His voice was deep and commanding, sending tingles of pleasure throughout your body.

"Please, stop. Just leave me alone. Don't do this to me, please."

"Oh, little one. You know I can't do that." He said as his hands roamed all over your body, caressing every inch of you, making you feel so vulnerable. You felt the heat rise between your legs and your heart raced faster.

"I can smell your arousal, pet.” He lightly bit your neck. “Your body betrays you. It craves my touch, just as much as you do," he said, his voice laced with a sinister confidence. "You want me, even if you refuse to admit it."

You met his gaze with defiance, attempting to deny the truth he claimed. "You're delusional," you retorted, your words aimed at rejecting his manipulative influence.

"Am I?" Loki's eyes bore into yours, a predatory glint flickering in their depths. "Your heart, your mind, your body���they all long for me, even if you deny it. You can't escape this, no matter how hard you try. I will always find you, even if I have to tear the universe apart to get you back."

Loki was right. Your body was betraying you. The wetness was getting more intense by the minute, you could feel the pleasure building up, but you couldn't let yourself fall into temptation, he had hurt you, lied to you, manipulated you, used you, and now he was going to take you against your will.

You had to fight him.

You had to escape him.

You couldn't let him take you.

Not like this.

But you wanted more, and you knew that Loki would give you everything you wanted and more. You could feel the pleasure building up. You moaned softly as his hands roamed over your breasts. You felt a rush of anger, "What are you doing? You're using your magic to seduce me, aren't you?"

He met your accusation with a knowing grin. "I don't need magic to seduce you.” He countered, “Your body responds to me naturally, so beautifully. It's like a drug, and once I've had a taste, I'm hooked. I can't get enough of you."

You felt his lips on your neck. His kisses were soft and tender. You gasped as his tongue licked your neck, trailing down your collarbone. You couldn't stop the moan that escaped your lips as his fingers pinched your nipple.

You felt he smirked and you tried not to moan, biting your lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was affecting you. But he could read your mind, and he could hear your thoughts, and he knew what you were feeling. He was inside your head.

"Just stop."

"Not until I'm finished with you. Not until you're begging for more. Begging for my cock inside of you. Begging for me." He slammed your back against the wall, and you yelped as you hit it hard.

He had you caged, and your legs were starting to tremble. You didn't know if it was from the force or the intensity of his words. You tried to push him away but he was stronger than you. His body was pressed against yours. He then kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel his body against yours.

He was a good kisser, and he knew what he was doing. You were moaning into the kiss, and you were fighting to keep control. Then you felt his cock growing hard. You gasped and that was when you realized what was going on. In a desperate act of defiance, you bit down hard, drawing blood. You tasted it.

He pulled back momentarily caught off guard. He looked like a maniac, and you had to remind yourself not to be afraid of him. His lips curled into a sinister grin as he wiped the blood away with his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours. "I like that," he said, his voice low and dark, his grin widening.

You stared at him, and you felt your eyes widen in shock. You felt your heart race. You were still struggling against him, and you tried to pull your hand free from his restraints, but it was useless.

"Oh, pet," he sneered, his tone laced with malice. "I'll make you pay for that defiance."

"What are you planning? Torture me?" you challenged back.

"Torture is such a crude term," he replied, his words dripping with sadistic pleasure. "I prefer 'punish'. After all, you've been a naughty girl. And naughty girls must be disciplined."

Your eyes narrowed, a fierce glare aimed his way. "You can't do anything to break me. You can't force me to feel anything. You have no control over me."

He laughed, "Is that so? You know nothing about me, love. Nothing. If I had my way, I would've taken you to my bed, and kept you there, tied up, blindfolded, gagged, naked, helpless, at my mercy. But I can't do that, yet. However, that doesn't mean I can't have fun."

"You're insane. I despise you," you retorted, your words heavy with hatred.

"That's fine," he replied, his tone oddly calm. "I'm used to people hating me. It's just a matter of time before they change their minds. And I'll have you. One way or another, you're mine."

"Go to hell."

"Only if you come with me."

You felt a chill run down your spine, and you couldn't help but shiver. You couldn't stop thinking about the things he had said. About how you were his. You tried to shake the thoughts away, but they were persistent.

You accidentally clenched your pussy at his words, you hoped he didn't notice.

He chuckled, the sound sending chills down your spine. "Oh, pet, that's adorable," he taunted, his grin widening with malicious amusement. "Do you like the thought of that, pet?" Loki's eyes glittered with dark intent, sensing the conflict within you, and it only served to fuel his sadistic amusement.

"No!" You denied.

"Then why did you clench your pussy, hmm? Was it because you were imagining me taking you?"

"It was just a reflex," you stammered, attempting to deny the undeniable truth.

"Is that so?" he murmured, his voice a dark, taunting whisper. His smirk widened, and he moved his face closer to yours until there were mere inches between your lips. "You're lying, love."

"I won't let you slip away again," he whispered, his fingers tightening around your throat, making each breath a struggle. His eyes bore into yours. "I will make you mine."

He tightened his grip around your throat and slammed your back against the wall, your head hit the wall with a loud thud. You couldn't breathe. The pain was unbearable. Tears began streaming down your face as you struggled to breathe.

But this was making you turned on, despite how much you hated Loki, you couldn't deny that he was hot and the way he was being rough with you was making your pussy throb.

"You'll see. It's time to begin your training, pet." He whispered as his hands travelled lower, caressing your inner thigh. "Please, Loki."

"Shhh, shh." He pressed his finger against your lips, "Save your begging."

“Fuck you!”

He raised his eyebrows and smirked, "I would love to do that right now, but I think we should save it for later."

"You bastard!" you spat, your anger seething.

"Watch your language, pet," he sneered, his grip tightening as he grabbed your chin, his fingers digging into your jaw. "Now, be a good girl and open your mouth." He took a piece of cloth out of his pocket. It was green.

"Hell No! I won't do it. I won't cooperate." You retorted, like who in the world would agree to that?

He sighed. "You know, you really are a stubborn little thing. It's adorable. But, it won't get you anywhere. In fact, it'll just make things worse."

You stared at him. You couldn't believe what was happening. How could he be so cruel? So evil? He chuckled. "I told you. You're not in control here. I am. Now, open your mouth."

“Never.”

"Fine. Then I'll do it for you." He used his magic to force open your mouth, his magic was painful, and it burned. You could barely move. He put the cloth in your mouth and tied it around your head. You tried to scream but couldn't.

"So pretty," he said as he stroked your cheek. "You should be grateful that I'm even letting you use this, instead of forcing you to be silent. And remember, the gag stays on unless I say otherwise. Understand?"

You shook your head mumbling, "Mmff, no."

"That's too bad," he mused, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement. "Because if you try to remove the gag, I'll have to punish you. And you don't want that, do you?"

"Nnooo, I don't," you mumbled, your voice barely audible through the gag.

"Good girl," he purred. "You'll get used to it."

With a swift motion, he removed the shadow restraints from your arms, and you immediately attempted to fight back, you tried to hit him, but he easily dodged your blow. His grip iron-strong when he caught your hand. "Careful, pet," he cautioned, his voice a dangerous whisper. "My patience wears thin."

Using his powers, he summoned the shadow to immobilize you once more, pinning you against the wall, this time including your legs. You were rendered utterly helpless, trapped in his web of darkness.

"Now, let's begin," he said, his voice oozing with menace. You remained tied up, gagged, and entirely at his merciless mercy.

He took out a dagger from his belt and cut through your shirt and bra, leaving you exposed. "Oh my, that's a nice sight."

You let out a muffled scream, "You don't need clothes. They will only get in the way."

He began kissing your neck and sucking on your skin. "Mmf," You moaned softly as his lips trailed down your collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses and bites. He cupped your breast and teased your nipple.

"Mmff No..."

He ignored your protests and continued to play with your nipples.

"You like that, don't you? I can feel how wet you are, darling." He whispered into your ear.

"Mmmff." You tried to deny, but he could hear your thoughts.

He smirked. "I bet if I put my fingers inside you right now, they'd slide right in. I bet you're dripping wet for me, aren't you, my sweet?"

"Mmf."

"You don't need to speak, little one," he whispered, his voice a low, seductive murmur that sent shivers down your spine. "Just relax. I know what you want."

His hand glided down your thigh, his touch sending electric sparks through your skin, until he slipped his fingers under the hem of your dress and traced the edge of your panties. "And it seems that your body agrees with me," he continued, "It's telling me that it's ready to submit to me."

You closed your eyes and tried to block him out. But he could hear your thoughts, and he knew what you were thinking.

"Come on, pet. Open your eyes and look at me. I want to see your beautiful eyes."

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes and found him staring at you, his gaze darkened with hunger and desire.

"There you go. Such a good girl." He praised you.

He slid your panties to the side and his fingers found your pussy, already dripping wet. "Oh, you're so wet, pet. Do you want me that much? Do you want me to fuck you, hmm?"

He slid your panties to the side and cupped your pussy. "Fuck," he muttered as his fingers slipped between your folds, "You're already dripping for me."

You blushed furiously as he rubbed your clit in slow, gentle circles.

"Yes," he said, his voice deepening, "Your body wants me. It wants me to take you and make you mine."

His finger pressed against your entrance and then pushed into you, making you gasp. He curled it and began to massage your G-spot. You bit your lip and moaned, trying not to make too much noise. You tried to squirm away from him, but it was no use.

You clenched your fists, struggling to hold back the moan threatening to escape your lips. A soft whimper escaped your lips, and the Loki behind you laughed softly. "No. You're not getting away from me."

You whimpered as he thrust another finger into you, stretching you even further. He began pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, making you gasp and moan under the gagged cloth. His fingers worked their magic, sliding in and out of you, rubbing your G-spot with each stroke. He kept a steady rhythm, keeping you on the edge.

You could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, the sensation driving you mad. The Loki in front of you watched intently as he continued to pleasure you, his gaze filled with a mix of lust and amusement as you struggled to keep control. "Oh, little one," he said, "I love seeing you like this. So desperate. So needy. So fucking sexy." His other hand gripped your hips, keeping you in place.

"You're so wet," he murmured, "You're practically begging me to fuck you."

"Mmfff." You tried to ignore him, but he curled his fingers and stroked you just right, and your hips bucked involuntarily. You were quickly approaching your orgasm, and it was impossible to stop yourself from moaning loudly.

Loki leaned in and nipped at your neck, and you shivered as his breath caressed your skin. "But I won't. Not yet. First, I want to watch you come. I want to see your face when you orgasm. I want to hear the sounds you make when you come."

His fingers thrusting into your pussy, his thumb rubbing your clit. You were so close, and you knew that he could sense it. "Ah, yes. That's it. You're doing so well. Now, tell me... do you want to cum?" He pumped them faster, deeper.

You shook your head. You didn't want to come, you tried to resist, but you were too far gone. You felt the pressure building in your core, the pleasure was too much.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, "Then let's see how long you can last."

He pumped his fingers faster and harder, making you moan and cry out. He thrust a third finger into your pussy and continued his assault on your clit. He was fucking you with his fingers, and you were so close. You could feel the heat rising in your belly, and you knew you couldn't hold it back any longer. You shook your head at him begging him not to make you come.

"Come on pet, don't fight it, just let it happen. Give into the pleasure. Come for me."

He pumped his fingers faster and harder, making you moan and cry out. "Yes, that's it," he whispered, "Just a little bit longer, you're so close."

He was relentless, his fingers working your pussy expertly. "Nnnn." You tried to tell him that you weren't going to let him win, but you couldn't speak.

You could feel the pleasure building and you knew that he could sense it. He kept pumping his fingers and rubbing your clit, and you couldn't hold back any longer. Your pussy was so wet, his fingers were sliding in and out so easily. You felt the orgasm approaching, the pressure was building, and you knew you couldn't hold it back any longer.

"You're going to come, whether you want to or not. So, don't fight it, just let it happen."

"Mmmmmm"

"Yes. You can't stop it. I'm going to make you come."

He continued to thrust his fingers, his thumb circling your clit, the pressure building until you could take it no more. He removed the gagged from your mouth, "Let me hear your moans, pet."

You let out a loud cry, unable to contain it. "That's it. You're so close, I can feel it.” Your back arched and you cried out, his fingers and thumb pushing you over the edge. "Come for me, my sweet. Come for me. Now." He curled his fingers inside you and bit your neck.

You screamed and bucked as the orgasm took you, and he didn't let up. He continued to pump his fingers and rub your clit, pushing you further and further until you couldn't take it anymore. You thrashed about as the pleasure was too much, your orgasm overwhelming your senses.

Your body writhing against his fingers. Your release was so intense that it made your whole body shudder. He held you tightly, his fingers still moving in and out of your pussy, drawing out your orgasm.

"There we go," he said, smiling down at you. "Such a good girl. You're such a good girl for me, pet."

You were a panting, sweating, mess, and you were exhausted.

He kissed your forehead and pulled his fingers out of you. You were glad the shadow was there restraining you or you would collapse.

After you came down from your high, you realized what just happened. You spat at him, "Fuck you, Loki. You're disgusting."

"Disgusting?" He raised his eyebrows. "Now, why would you say that, little one? Was it not good for you? You certainly seemed to enjoy yourself."

"Get the fuck away from me." you spat, your voice filled with venom.

He laughed, "You don't get to tell me what to do, little one. I'm not done with you yet."

"You fucking monster," you screamed, "I'm not going to let you touch me."

He grinned and grabbed your hair, pulling you towards him. "Watch your mouth, pet. I don't like hearing you use foul language. Now, since I was so kind to give you such a nice orgasm, will you be a good girl and obey me without any fuss?"

You rolled your eyes. "Like hell I will!"

He smirked in response. "Since I've been rather kind to you," Loki began, his eyes roaming over your body, "I have a proposition for you."

Though you had little desire to hear anything he had to say, your curiosity got the best of you, compelling you to reluctantly listen.

"Do you want me to fuck you here, right now in this alley, or in our room where we will be alone, and no one will interrupt us." He said with a smirk.

Your throat tightened, both options he presented were equally horrifying. But, the last thing you wanted was for someone to find you two here, like this. "Neither.” you choked out.

"That wasn't an option, my sweet."

You glared at him, "You're vile," you hissed

He raised an eyebrow, seemingly unaffected by your words. "You say the most hurtful things, pet."

"I'm not going to choose," you declared, "I'm not choosing anything. I'd rather die than have sex with you."

He looked amused. "Fine, then I will choose. You have a few seconds to think about it." He said as he took his jacket off, and dropped it to the ground.

"You're going to take me right here? You're an animal."

"It's your fault for refusing. If you choose the other option, I was going to be nice. I'll be rough if you insist."

"If you touch me, I'll kill you." You growled.

He laughed. "Oh, little one. It's not me you have to worry about."

Ignoring your warning, he reached forward, his touch cold against your skin, and ran his thumb along your lower lip. "Shame that I have to punish you. I'm sure you'll be a good girl after today."

You gritted your teeth and move your face away from his touch, "Don't touch me."

He ignored your demand, and began undoing his pants. He pulled his cock out, and started stroking it. You stared at his member and he was already rock hard. You hesitated, not wanting to touch him.

"Are you afraid, my sweet?"

You remained silent, refusing to dignify his question with a response.

He laughed, “There's no need to be scared. I won't hurt you. Unless you disobey me."

He moved closer, his proximity suffocating. With a swift, unwelcome touch, he reached out and stroked your cheek. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but flinch away from his caress.

"Relax, darling. This will be pleasurable for the both of us." He said as he grabbed his cock and ran it against your slit.

You felt your wetness seep onto his cock.

"STOP!" you screamed, your voice breaking the tense atmosphere, forcing him to halt his actions and look up at you.

He smiled at you. "Do you want me to stop, pet?"

You nodded frantically, desperation clouding your eyes. "Yes, I do."

"Tell me," he purred, his tone dripping with cruelty, "why should I stop?"

You scrambled for an excuse, your mind racing. "Let's do it in your place then," you stammered, your words rushed. "Please? I don't want anyone to see." Desperation clung to your voice as you pleaded, hoping against hope that he would agree to your request.

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, pet. You know that won't work."

He pressed his cock against your pussy again.

You felt his tip slip inside you. "PLEASE! I'll be good, just please stop."

He smiled. "I like the sound of that."

He sighed, "Very well, little one." He swiftly pulled up his pants, adjusted his shirt, and retrieved his jacket, freeing you in the process. You winced as you flexed your arms, the restraints having taken their toll.

With a snap of a finger, he put your clothes back on, and you felt like a weight has been lifted off your chest. You couldn't believe he stopped. He looked at you. "Remember what I said, pet. You don't speak about this to anyone. I'll know if you do. Understand?"

You nodded.

"Good girl," he affirmed.

"Come," he motioned for you to follow him, and for a moment, you considered fleeing again, knowing full well that it branded you a coward. But the terror of Loki's power held you in check.

You didn't get far before he seized you once more. "Enough!" he bellowed, sending you crashing to the ground. Your body felt numb, the pain overwhelming. You begged through the agony, "Please."

"You brought this on yourself, pet," Loki's tone was icy, disappointment etched in his features. "I was going to take care of you, give everything you desired, and all I asked in return was your love and trust. And you broke it."

"Please, Loki. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you pleaded, desperation lacing your words.

He shook his head, "No, pet. There is no going back. You have to pay the price for what you've done," he stated firmly, his grip unyielding.

Loki wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer to him, "Sweet dreams my pet."

And then, everything faded into darkness.

When you woke up, you were on the bed, naked. The room was dark, and there was no sign of Loki. At least right now your arms and legs weren’t bounded. But still he had kidnapped you. "Fucking asshole!" You cursed inside your head.

Then you heard footsteps approaching outside, you pretended to fall asleep, hoping that he'd leave. "I know you're awake, my sweet." He chuckled, "Did you really think you could trick me, darling? You're such a naughty girl, aren't you? Tsk tsk. Such a bad girl."

You tried to fool the god of mischief, what an idiot you were. You opened your eyes and saw him staring at you. He sat down next to you and began caressing your body. He ran his hand up and down your legs.

You slapped his hand away, you hated him. How dare he touch you like that! Loki grabbed your wrist, "Don't try to stop me, little one." He threatened, his grip was tight. It hurt. "No, stop." You whimpered. You tried to struggle free, but he was too strong.

"Oh no, no, no, you're not going anywhere." He said as he pinned you down on the bed. "Are you ready to behave now, my sweet?"

You refused to respond, instead, you glared at him.

Loki shook his head and chuckled. "You are so beautiful, my sweet.”

You were getting tired of him calling you sweet and darling. "Shut up, Loki. Don’t fucking call me that, you bastard!"

He gave you a stern look. "Behave."

"Or what?" You challenged.

Loki leaned down and pressed his lips to your ear. "If you don't stop that right now, I'm going to have to punish you."

You glared up at him. "What, like you haven't already done that?"

Loki smirked, "Don't be a smartass, darling. I can make this a lot worse."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, sure."

Loki gripped your hair tightly and tugged your head back. "Are you sure you want to challenge me?"

You looked up at him defiantly. "Do your worst." You then saw him grinned, you realized you had made a big mistake.

"As you wish, little one." Loki said with a wicked grin. He got off the bed and started taking his clothes off. You knew what he was going to do, and it scared you.

He took off his shirt and threw it aside. You were confused at first, until Loki lifted his other hand and started waving it.

"What are you doing?"

"Just making sure you don't try to resist."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means, I don't want you getting away." Loki smirked. He then started moving his hand up and down your body.

You squirmed and tried to push his hand away, but they felt frozen. "Let me go, you sick bastard!"

Loki gave you a wicked grin. "No, I don't think I will"

Loki forced his lips against yours, you tried to resist, but it was useless. You couldn't move. You tried to turn your head, but it was no use.

Loki forced his tongue into your mouth. He explored every inch of your mouth, tasting you. You could taste his breath. It was sweet, with a hint of mint. You tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let you.

"Stop!" You yelled, "Please stop, Loki! I don't want to do this!

Loki ignored you. He kept kissing you, forcing his tongue down your throat. "I know you like it, darling."

You shook your head. Loki broke the kiss and smiled. "You're such a stubborn little thing, aren't you?"

"Fuck you." You spat.

“Why are you so impatient, my little pet?” Loki laughed. "Don’t worry, I’ll do it in a moment. Right now, I'm more concerned with teaching you a lesson."

You glared at him, you were so pissed off. He laughed again, “Such a pretty face, too.” He traced his finger along your jawline.

Then you watched Loki removed his pants, revealing his fully erect cock. He stroked himself slowly. You felt your body heat up. You couldn't believe it. He was making you hot.

"See something you like?" He grinned.

You blushed. You looked away. It had been awhile since you had sex with him or anyone else. You missed being fucked by him. You needed to feel his cock deep inside of you. But you knew this was wrong, you looked away from him.

"Look at me." He ordered.

You turned and looked at him. You watched as he continued to stroke his cock. "You betrayed me, Y/N." He climbed over you and straddled your hips, trapping your wrists with his hands, and pinned them above your head. "You hurt me. You have to be punished."

“You are hurting me too.”

“I don’t think so, pet. Deep down, you want this. You want me to force myself to you, you don’t think I know? I know your deepest darkest desire. The desire you try to deny. The desire for me to make you mine again. You want to be my pet again, don't you?"

He was right. You were afraid to admit it but you missed Loki. But you didn't want to admit it. You shook your head, “No! I don’t have such thing.” You knew it was a lie, deep down you wanted him to use you and force himself on you, forced you into submission, make you his again, like he had done many times before.

"Keep lying to yourself, pet. I know you more than you know yourself. Now, open your mouth and let me fuck it.”  He smirked and moved closer to you. His cock was inches away from your face. You moved your head away, but he grabbed your hair and pulled it. You winced in pain.

"Open up. Open wide and say ahh."

You refused to obey. "Don't be stubborn." You clenched your teeth together. "If you don't open your mouth, I'll fuck your throat. I'll make you gag and choke."

"You're sick."

"Maybe, but so are you, darling."

He grabbed your face, forced your mouth open. You kept them close together, "I'll fucking bite your dick off, I swear."

He was having none of it, he used his magic to make you couldn't move your jaw. Then he shoved his cock inside your mouth and forced his way in. He started to pump his hips and his cock went deep down your throat, hitting the back of your throat. He moaned, enjoying the feeling.

He pushed his cock deep into your throat, making you gag. You could feel his hard length against your tongue. His precum leaked onto your taste buds, sending shivers down your spine. He kept thrusting in and out of your mouth, deeper and deeper. Your eyes watered.

 You coughed, trying to catch your breath, but he was relentless. His hands gripped your hair tightly, his hips moved faster and harder, his cock sliding in and out of your throat.

You felt your body relax, your heart rate quickened, and your clit throbbed. You were getting turned on by this. You whimpered and felt a surge of excitement flow through your body. You couldn't believe it. You were excited at the thought of him taking you, forcing you, fucking you.

You were sick.

"This is all your fault." He said as he looked at you, enjoying the way your throat was stretched around him. "Such a good pet. Take it all, pet."

He grabbed your hair and forced his cock deeper into your mouth. You were struggling to breathe. He moaned louder as he felt his cock going deeper into your throat. He held his cock in your throat, watching you struggle to breathe. "Such a pretty face. I wonder how many people you've sucked off.”

You whimpered, feeling your body reacting to his words.

"Did you plan to suck that guy you were flirting with?" He thrusted his hips. You gagged and tears filled your eyes. "He could never make you feel this good." He moaned. His thrust became harder and deeper. You choked and gagged on his cock.

You cried, your body trembled. You were about to pass out, when he suddenly pulled his cock out and allowed you to breathe. You gasped, sucking in as much air as possible. You couldn't move, you were frozen. He then proceed to grab his cock and stroke it.

"Such a pretty sight, you are. And the view of your lips wrapped around my cock." He said, grinning. "Don't worry, my pet. I'm almost there. You're doing a great job. You're going to be rewarded for being so good for me. I'm going to give you what you want. What you need."

He grabbed your hair and slammed his cock deep again into your throat. Then his hand reached to your pussy. He put his finger in your pussy, you moaned as he touched your pussy. He smirked.  "That's a good girl, you are learning. Now, suck my cock."

You started sucking his cock. He started thrusting his cock deeper and harder into your throat. He moaned as you sucked his cock. He loved feeling your mouth on his cock.

"Mmmphh… stwop.” You tried to beg, but his cock was down your throat.

"Do not talk with your mouth full, darling. That is not polite."

You felt him tighten around your neck. His grip was firm.

"I am going to cum. Do not spit. Swallow every drop, and maybe I will reward you. But only if you're a good girl. Do you understand?"

"Mmmph." You tried to protest, but the god didn't listen. You couldn't do anything except suck his cock. Loki kept fucking your mouth until his seed spilled into your throat, you felt the warm liquid slide down your throat making you choke. Your eyes rolled back as you swallowed his seed. He pulled out and released your hands.

You coughed, and gasped for air. "Good girl. Very good girl." Loki patted your head.

You glared at him. You wanted him dead.

"Don't be like that, Y/N. You're supposed to be happy. This is what you wanted, remember? We're together again. Just like old times."

You looked away. "That was a long time ago."

Loki grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. "But it's not too late. We can have it again. We can have everything. We just have to work together."

"Work together?" You scoffed, "How can we work together? You lied to me!”

“We can talk later, my love. Right now, I need to be inside you.” He stroked his cock, he was still hard even after he came earlier. He spread your legs apart and grabbed a hold of his cock, aiming it towards your wet pussy.

"Now I'm going to fuck you so hard until you pass out. Until I cum deep inside of you and make you mine again. Then when you wake up, I'll fuck you again, and again, and again."

You felt him press his cock against your pussy, his head slid between your folds and penetrated you. "No, Loki, please, I'm sorry."

"It's too late for that."  He stroked down his hard cock even after he just came, he was hard again. He then forced himself inside of you. You screamed in agony. He was too big.

"Oh, stop your whining." Loki chuckled. "You're such a baby. It doesn't hurt that much."

His cock was big that it stretched your open, he didn’t give you time to adjust. You screamed, "You fucking asshole!"

"Watch your mouth, darling. I'm not a fan of that language." Loki slapped your pussy, it was red and swollen from his previous assault. He kept thrusting his hips, his cock pounded you over and over. Your whole body ached from him.

He was holding your waist down with one hand and pumping his hips in and out of your pussy. He continued to thrust in and out of you. He took his time and made sure he hit the spot that would make you scream and beg for more. He knew what you wanted, he knew your body and what made you tick.

You were biting your lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan for him.

"Why don't you let me hear those beautiful moans, pet?" Loki purred, leaning his face in close to yours. "Don't hold back, you know you want to enjoy this."

"No..."

Loki grinned and snapped his hips hard against yours. "I know what you like, and I know you like this. It's why I keep doing this." He smiled wickedly. Loki picked up the pace. His cock hit the spot inside of you. "It’s okay. You don’t need to be embarrassed, just let it all out."

You bit your lip and gripped his sheets, trying not to make a sound. "Darling, you're so stubborn, you're going to hurt yourself." Loki grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked on it, causing you to moan and look up at him.

"You're fucking psycho!"

Loki began pounding into you even harder. His hand gripped your throat, and you felt yourself grow weaker. fast. "Loki, please..." Your vision began to fade, and you started gasping for air.  “Stop…” Loki's fingers wrapped around your neck, he choked you.

He squeezed them together and pounding his cock into you. You screamed and he slapped your pussy again. He fucked you harder than you'd ever been fucked before. You were sobbing, begging him to stop. Tears ran down your face but he didn't slow down. He kept fucking you harder than before. Your breasts were bouncing wildly as he pounded into you.

You felt him hit a spot inside of you that caused a surge of pleasure to flow through your body.  "That's it, darling." Loki moaned, slamming his hips harder against yours. "Come on, you know you want to."

You felt your orgasm building. You tried to fight the urge, but you couldn't help yourself. He kept pounding into you, his cock rubbing against your g-spot.

"Don’t fight it. You can't resist, so just give in." Loki said thrusting harder and harder, until you were both a moaning, writhing mess. Your walls clenched around his cock, and you arched your back. You moaned loudly as he fucked you harder and faster.

You couldn't fight it anymore, you screamed in pleasure, feeling yourself reaching your peak.

"Fuck, yes! Come for me! Milk my cock, pet"

You cried out as your orgasm crashed over you. Loki didn't stop, he continued thrusting in and out of your pussy. Your body shook uncontrollably. You cried out again, screaming.

"Please, stop." You pleaded, panting.

Loki ignored you, he fucked you harder and harder, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside of you. "I'm going to fill you with my seed. You'll be leaking it out for days. Every time you sit down or move, you'll feel it dripping down your thighs. You'll be mine."

"Please, Loki! No! Pull out!" You begged, trying to push him off of you. But he was too strong. "Why are you doing this to me?" You cried.

"I'm not going to pull out." Loki's fingers wrapped around your neck, he choked you. "After you betrayed me, this is the least you deserve. I'm going to make you pregnant. You'll have a little monster running around. You won’t ever leave me again.”

"No! Loki, stop!" You sobbed, crying out. "I'll do anything! Please don't cum in me."

"It's too late, pet." Loki ignored your pleas, he continued thrusting hard. He rubbed your clit, "Cum with me, my sweet." He was rubbing it harder, making it hard for you to keep up with his thrusts.

You shook your head. Loki growled. "Now."

You gasped, "No! No!" You cried out, trying to pull away. You couldn't fight it anymore. You moaned loudly. Your whole body spasmed with your orgasm, your walls clenching tightly around him.

Loki groaned. You felt him got bigger inside you. He let out a long moan. "Take my cum."  He spilled his hot seed inside you. It filled you, filling you up, some of it spilling out. You could feel it filling your womb, stretching your belly. It was so warm.

He continued to fuck you through his orgasm, pushing more of his cum into you. "No! Please stop!"

Loki laughed, his cock was still hard and pushed his cock back into your pussy. "Oh, but we're not done yet. I'm not finished with you yet." He pushed himself deeper inside you. He was still coming. "This is just the beginning."

"You're fucking insane."

"Yes, I know." Loki was still pumping his cock in and out of you. "I'm going to train your body. You're going to crave me, my cock, and my cum. And every time you see me, you're going to want me to fuck you. You'll need me."

"No!" You cried.

"Yes, yes, you will. Because I'm the only one who can satisfy you." He was thrusting harder, deeper, his pace increasing.

You were afraid he might never stop. And he never did.

It had felt like hours. You lost count on how many times you had orgasmed. It was too much. The room was spinning, the pain and pleasure becoming too much. You were so sensitive, every touch sending you over the edge.

“Loki, please stop. I’m begging you.” You were exhausted, spent, and sore. You couldn’t take it anymore. But you couldn’t stop him, he was too strong and too weak. He kept fucking you over and over again until you were almost at the point of passing out. But he made sure you never did by using his magic to keep you awake.

"Look at your beautiful, stretched pussy. My seed is already filling you."

You whimpered, you could feel it. You could feel the weight of his cum inside you. He never pull out. He kept coming, and his cock kept spurting more and more. You didn’t think it was possible for anyone to have so much cum. He was fucking you again and again.

"You'll learn to love me. You'll learn to beg for me. You'll learn to come on command. You'll learn to obey me. You'll learn to pleasure me. You'll learn to worship me. Because that is how we are, my sweet."

It seemed like an eternity, but finally, he was done. He collapsed onto you, panting heavily. His cock remained buried inside your pussy, and you felt him softening inside you. Your pussy ached from the rough pounding he had given you.

"You are mine, my sweet. Now and forever." He said, giving you a possessive look.

You felt his cum slowly trickle out of you. Your belly was still swollen from the amount he had pumped into you. You had never felt so full. It was like you were a water balloon, and he had been filling you with water.

Loki kissed you deeply. You could barely fight him back, you were too weak. He smiled and ran his hand through your hair. "Now get some sleep, I'll be back to check on you later." Loki got up from the bed and walked away.

The door shut. You laid there, stunned and exhausted. You were still trying to process what had happened, but there was one thing you knew for sure. You were trapped. You were his prisoner.

He was not going to let you go. Ever.

"I hate you, Loki." You whispered.

And you knew he heard it.

E/N : I intentionally made her emotion sway back and forth, torn between desiring him yet hating his actions. They're both twisted in their own ways, perhaps that's why they complement each other.

Honestly, I'm not entirely content with how the story is going; I might rewrite or delete it later, I'm not sure. Nevertheless, thank you for reading!

Let me know if you enjoy dark fics too! I adore them and plan to write more.

[sorsaky]

Mae x Noa → Carnival of Rust |Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes| MV

You are stronger and smarter than you think

Please do not steal or claim this edit as your own! I've just completed another Noa x Mae edit that I’ve been working on for a few weeks. This might be my last Noa x Mae video for now since I’m out of ideas, haha XD.

Here’s the story behind the video: In this AU, Noa meets Mae by accident near his village. Intrigued by her, they quickly become friends. However, Noa’s father notices something strange, asking him why his blanket smells like an echo. Ignoring his father’s concerns, Noa seeks out Mae, and the two begin traveling together, growing closer as time goes on.

Meanwhile, Proximus and his apes are on the hunt for Mae. When they discover she’s traveling with an ape, both Mae and Noa are eventually captured. During their time in captivity, Mae confesses to Noa that she’s on a mission to save the humans. Noa feels betrayed and lashes out, but ultimately forgives her because of his love for her. In a confrontation with Proximus, Mae boldly declares she’ll kill him, though she’s unable to follow through. Amused by Mae’s determination and her relationship with Noa, Proximus underestimates them.

Mae and Noa manage to escape the prison. Mae finds the humans’ key in the vault and takes it to fulfill her mission, leaving Noa behind without explanation. Heartbroken and angry, Noa is left wondering why Mae didn’t trust him enough to share her plans. Months later, they reunite around a campfire. As they share stories of their time apart, Mae savors the moment, knowing they can’t stay together. The humans are preparing to attack the apes, and Mae’s frustration boils over as she shouts at Noa and runs off.

The day of the battle arrives. During the chaos, Noa is captured, but Mae rescues him. Despite saving him, Noa is deeply disappointed in her choices. As they flee together, Noa grapples with the loss of his entire clan, while Mae insists they are too different to be together. However, Noa, desperate to hold onto their connection, argues that the bond they’ve formed transcends those differences.

The rest of their story is up to you to imagine! 😊

Just to clarify, I don't support bestiality or zoophilia in real life. This edit is purely for fun and creative expression, celebrating the fantasy world these characters belong to. Shipping fictional characters is a common and enjoyable part of fandoms, and if it's acceptable for movies like "Beauty and the Beast," then it's also fine for Noa x Mae!

Program: Sony Vegas Pro 17 Song: Poets of the Fall - Carnival of Rust https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKk1u5RMTn4 Time Taken: 1 month Media: Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kdr5oedn7q8 Dawn of the Planet of the Apes: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DpSaTrW4leg BAGHEAD https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XOsZq_5s-ak

planetoftheapes #kingdomoftheplanetoftheapes #noaxmae #nomae #beautyandthebeast

You can contact me here:

instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sorsaky/

"Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use."

[tiiraameesu]

The One That Got Away Pt.4

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

Synopsisજ⁀➴ Gojo is a charismatic college student, known for his carefree approach to relationships, never letting things get too serious. You are his longtime best friend and have quietly harbored feelings for him but never acted on them, knowing Gojo’s aversion to commitment. But when Gojo shares an unexpected connection with another girl, the dynamics between them start to shift. As the lines blur between friendship and something more, you are left grappling with your emotions—unsure of whether you'll be able to stay by Gojo’s side, or if it’s time to move on.

tagsજ⁀➴ college au, hockey player!gojo, band member!reader, angst, slow burn, eventual friends to lovers (maybe), gojo is dumb af, you might dislike gojo in this im sorry, very very mild geto x reader

NOTESજ⁀➴ hope y'all enjoy the new chapter! appreciate all the comments and messages I've gotten so far for my last few chapters! makes me soooo excited to post even more and more! so sorry for the late upload though, school has been CRAZY and i was lowkey spiraling because of this new guy i was talking to but yeah ENJOYYY ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

wcજ⁀➴ 7.5k

taglineજ⁀➴ @kaemaybae @laviefantasie @higuchislut @domilovestoru @aishies-stuff @genxnarumi @username23345 PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Two weeks had passed, and Gojo Satoru was a ghost in your life. Not literally, of course—his presence was hard to miss, especially since you still caught glimpses of him with Mina—but the days when he’d linger outside your band practice or wait for you by the bleachers during his hockey drills were long gone.

Instead, his world seemed to orbit around Mina now. He was always meeting her, whether before or after his own practice. The few times you had decided to sit in the bleachers and watch him, hoping he’d wave you over for a laugh or even just a chat, he’d merely sent a casual wave in your direction before rushing to Mina.

By the third time, you decided he wouldn’t miss your absence. Mina was there to take your place.

Now, here you were, stuck in the middle of band practice. The studio walls felt too tight today, and even though the air was filled with the rhythmic clash of drums, the heavy hum of the bass, and the soaring melody of your guitar, the energy in your chest was mismatched.

Your phone sat on the edge of the amp, its screen glaring at you with an all-too-familiar sight: an unread message to Gojo. Delivered. Not even read.

It stung more than you cared to admit, but you knew better than to let it show. You didn’t own him. He didn’t owe you anything.

You shook the thought from your head as the band kicked into another song. This time, you focused.

The song flowed easily under your fingers, each note falling into place with effortless precision. Your hands moved like they had a mind of their own, strumming, pressing, and pulling out the right chords without a second thought.

You hit every note perfectly, the rhythm steady, the melody crisp—technically flawless. But something was off. The music, despite its perfection, felt wrong.

Instead of the light, airy feel the song was meant to have, each strum was laced with tension, harsh and biting, like a storm trapped in a song meant for sunshine. The melody should have danced, should have lifted the mood, but instead, it thundered through the room, loud and jagged. Every note you played was sharp, angry, as though you were trying to fight something—only it wasn’t the song you were supposed to be playing anymore.

The guitar hummed with your frustration, but it wasn’t the kind of emotion the song was supposed to evoke. It was heavy. It was out of place. It was angry. And as you continued, the gap between the song and your soul seemed to widen.

“You’re playing too hard,” Choso called over the final note, his drumsticks resting on the snare. His voice cut through the distorted noise of your thoughts, pulling you back to reality, but only slightly.

You lowered your guitar, chest rising and falling with the weight of the tension still clinging to you. His words didn’t quite register at first—until you looked up, meeting his steady gaze. His brow furrowed, and for the briefest second, you could have sworn he saw right through you, saw past the perfect notes and into the tangled mess inside.

“I hit all the notes, didn’t I?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, sharper than you intended. You didn’t want to look weak, but you couldn’t help it. The question hung in the air, a challenge disguised as doubt. Your fingers still tingled from the aggressive strumming, the burn of the misplaced energy lingering.

“You did,” Yu chimed in from the keyboard. “But it’s not… you. It’s like…” He hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Like you’re following a script,” Choso finished, his dark eyes steady on you. “Instead of playing from the heart.”

Their words hit harder than you expected, stirring a frustration you weren’t ready to face. Before you could snap back, your hand slipped during the next strum. The string bit into your finger, sharp and unforgiving.

“Ah, shit,” you muttered, pulling back as blood welled up on your finger.

Iori, who had been watching from her spot near the mic, immediately stepped away, her voice cutting through the tension. “Break time,” she called, her tone more serious than usual. The mic stand clinked softly as she set it down and moved toward you.

You blinked, still reeling from the sting in your finger. The blood dripped slowly, mixing with the burn of your frustration. Iori was already moving toward the back of the room, opening a cabinet for the first aid kit.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice softer now, but still carrying that steady assurance.

You didn’t answer right away, just watched as she grabbed the kit and walked back over. The room felt strangely quiet without the hum of the music, the weight of their words still hanging in the air. Your hand felt heavy, the cut sharp but not unbearable.

Iori knelt in front of you, gently taking your hand in hers. “Let me see.” Her fingers brushed lightly against your skin as she cleaned the wound. It wasn’t painful, but the act was grounding, calming, almost too much after the storm inside you. You had to look away, feeling the sharp edges of your emotions settle, just for a second.

“You really gotta stop playing so hard,” Iori murmured, her gaze flickering up to meet yours. There was a faint smirk on her face, but there was something else too—understanding, maybe. She didn’t press the issue, though. Instead, she simply wrapped the cut with care, her voice softening. “You’re not gonna get anything out of this if you keep forcing it.”

Her words stuck with you, hanging in the air even as she finished tending to your finger. The sharpness of the cut seemed to mirror the tension inside you, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of understanding in the quiet aftermath. You weren’t just playing with your fingers; you were playing with your heart, and it had all gotten twisted up somewhere along the way.

Iori finished wrapping your finger, her hands gentle as she tended to the cut, but you didn’t feel the same sense of calm you usually did when she was around. Everything felt off, jagged, like even the simplest act was just another reminder of how out of sync you were with yourself. She stepped back, giving you some space, but the words she’d said lingered in the air.

The moment stretched, but you barely noticed it, too lost in your own head. Then, from the corner of your eye, you saw Naoya walking over with a drink in hand. He didn’t say anything at first, just tossed you the can like it was a casual gesture, but you could feel his eyes on you—assessing, calculating.

You caught it without looking, but your fingers felt sluggish, the weight of the can nothing compared to the weight you were carrying. You cracked it open slowly, the fizz rising and popping in the quiet. But it didn’t help.

Naoya sat down next to you, his posture as rigid and sharp as always, but his gaze never left you. There was an uncomfortable intensity in the way he studied you, the usual mockery and sharp edges of his smirk replaced by something a little less abrasive.

He leaned back, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if searching for something deeper than the surface.

“What’s bothering you now?” he asked, the words more direct than you expected, his voice stripped of any sarcasm or playfulness. “Last time you were like this was two weeks ago, remember? And I don’t think I need to tell you that you don’t exactly have a good track record when you start shutting down.”

His words hit like a cold splash of water, a reminder of the pattern you were stuck in. You had been here before, trapped inside your head, not sure how to get out. It didn’t matter that this time it felt different—like the frustration wasn’t just with the music anymore, but with everything around you, everything inside you. Naoya knew better than to let you avoid the question.

You didn’t answer right away, running your thumb along the lip of the can absentmindedly. The bubbles inside hissed in your ears, but the sound only reminded you of the noise in your own head.

Then, as the silence stretched, Nanami spoke up from his spot across the room, his usual calm voice cutting through the stillness.

“You know, ignoring it won’t help,” he said, his tone more matter-of-fact than anything else. “Whatever this is, bottling it up just makes it worse. You’re not exactly subtle when something’s eating at you.”

You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t look up, too tangled in the mess of your thoughts. Your mind raced, too much noise in your head to form a solid answer.

“I… I don’t really know,” you said finally, the words slipping out more honestly than you intended. You shook your head, frustration leaking through your voice.

You sat there in silence, the words hanging in the air. The frustration still churned inside you, a gnawing feeling that didn’t seem to go away no matter how many times you tried to shake it off. It wasn’t just the music. It wasn’t just the cut on your finger. It was everything that had been building up inside you, everything that you hadn’t been able to say or figure out.

Gojo. That name echoed in your mind, but even thinking it made your chest tighten, a knot forming deep in your stomach. It was him—his presence, his expectations, the weight of his shadow that seemed to be clouding everything. You couldn’t put it into words, not here, not now. Not in front of them. But damn, you just wished you could hear his voice. Maybe then, things would feel a little clearer. Maybe just hearing him tell you it was going to be okay would make the world feel less heavy.

The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, until you felt a gentle touch on your shoulder. You looked up, surprised to find Iori watching you, her eyes softer than usual, like she could sense the wall you were putting up.

Without a word, she clasped her hands together and stood up, her movements calm and purposeful. “You know what? Let’s call it a night. Why don’t we order some food and just chill? No pressure, no rehearsing. Just take it easy this time around.”

Her words were simple, but the way she said them felt like a release, like an invitation to let go of the tension that had been creeping up in the room.

You felt the weight of your own silence, the words swirling in your chest that you couldn’t quite voice. Maybe you were being unfair, maybe you were letting everything pile up inside you when they didn’t deserve it. The guilt hit you like a wave, and before you could stop it, you found yourself speaking.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know what’s been going on with me lately. I’ve been... off, I guess.” The words came out clumsy, but they felt necessary. Like if you could just say them, it might ease the tension that had been building inside you for so long.

The room felt quieter as you looked around, but instead of a wave of understanding or sympathy, Choso’s voice cut through, calm and unfazed.

“Don’t sweat it,” he said with his usual nonchalance, leaning back in his seat. His eyes flickered toward you, but there wasn’t any judgment in them, just an effortless coolness. “Everyone has their moments. No big deal.”

He shrugged, looking more like he couldn’t care less, but the ease in his tone made the guilt inside you settle just a little.

“You’re still here, right? That’s what matters.” His words were blunt, but they had a way of hitting exactly where they needed to. No overthinking, no grand speeches. Just... simple reassurance.

You let out a small breath, realizing that maybe it wasn’t so terrible to be like this every once in a while. You weren’t perfect, and neither were they. And that, for some reason, made it all feel a little more manageable.

“Thanks,” you said, the words lighter now, like a burden had shifted off your shoulders.

Iori gave a small, approving nod as you finally relaxed, her smile soft but reassuring. “So, what are we having?”

────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After the food had been devoured, the room was filled with the casual noise of packing up and cleaning up the last bits of the mess. The rest of the crew had already begun to pack up, their laughter and chatter a distant hum as they gathered their things and said their goodbyes. The studio, once filled with the warmth of conversation and the sound of instruments, now felt quieter. The clock on the wall showed that it was nearing midnight, and everyone was ready to call it a night.

You waved them off, telling them you’d close up the studio. The others didn’t seem to mind, already heading out the door with tired smiles and promises to meet at the next session. As the last of them disappeared down the hallway, you stood there in the silence, the door clicking shut behind them.

The studio was empty now, save for the soft hum of the lights above. You set your bag down on the couch, the familiar weight of it suddenly feeling too much. But instead of heading home like you probably should have, you took a deep breath and made your way over to your instrument.

The band had been more than patient with you, more than understanding as you struggled through each practice, trying and failing to get things right. The pressure had been mounting—the gig was right around the corner, and you still hadn’t found your rhythm. But every time you messed up, they were there with encouraging words, with reassurances that you’d get it, that they knew you could.

A wave of gratitude washed over you as you stood there in the quiet studio, staring at your instrument. They could’ve been frustrated with you. They had every right to be. But instead, they were kind, patient, and supportive, letting you take your time. You couldn’t help but feel guilty for not being better, for not meeting their expectations, for not being as good as they believed you were capable of being.

You let the thoughts settle in your mind, but then, as quickly as they came, you shook them away. There was no point in dwelling on what you couldn’t change right now. What mattered was what came next.

You couldn’t take their patience for granted. You couldn’t let them down again. The gig was coming, and you had to be better.

With a steadying breath, you picked up your instrument. The room seemed to fade around you as you closed your eyes, tuning out everything except the steady pulse of your heartbeat and the strings beneath your fingers.

You began to play, your fingers moving over the strings with a gentler touch than before. The aggression was gone, replaced by a quieter intensity. It felt better, more in tune with the mood you wanted to create, but something was still missing. There was a void, a note that you couldn’t reach, a spark that wouldn’t ignite no matter how many times you strummed. The frustration lingered, swirling inside you, gnawing at your concentration.

And just as the frustration began to settle into something heavier, your phone vibrated sharply against the floor where you had tossed it earlier. Startled, you paused mid-strum and glanced over. The name on the screen caught you off guard.

Gojo.

You stared at the caller ID for a moment, your heart doing an unexpected flutter in your chest. What was he calling for? Was it... was it really him? You hesitated, fingers still lingering on the strings, unsure of whether to pick up or let it go to voicemail.

It had been so long since you’d heard his voice, but you didn’t know if you were ready to face it yet. You knew you couldn’t keep running from this, but... this? Right now?

The phone vibrated again in your hand, urging you to decide.

You took a deep breath and answered, your voice shaky as you pressed the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Gojo’s voice came through, smoother than usual, but there was something about it that felt more serious this time. “I’m downstairs. I’ve been waiting for you.”

You froze, eyes darting to the door like you could somehow see him on the other side. Downstairs? You weren’t sure you’d heard him right.

“Wait... what?” you said, your voice wavering slightly. “You’re downstairs?”

“Yeah,” Gojo responded, his tone firmer now, like he wasn’t messing around. “Come down. I’ll be waiting.”

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of it. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected him to show up out of the blue like this. You looked at your phone, still processing the strange urgency in his voice.

“Uh, alright,” you said, suddenly feeling a rush of nerves. “I’ll be there in a second.”

You hung up quickly, set your guitar down, and grabbed your things, moving with more haste than you had anticipated. The tension in the pit of your stomach only grew as you locked up the practice room and made your way down the hall. Something in his tone had shifted, and it made the usual teasing Gojo feel distant—more... serious.

You rushed down the stairs, the echo of your footsteps against the walls reminding you how quickly everything had shifted. When you finally rounded the corner, you saw him standing by the door, his posture straighter than usual. The smirk was gone, replaced by a focused intensity in his eyes that you rarely saw.

He didn’t greet you with his usual grin or playful jab. Instead, he just looked at you, his gaze unwavering. “Took you long enough,” he said, his voice almost too calm. “Let’s go.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like you were in way over your head. But there was no turning back now.

The walk was quiet, but the silence felt different this time. Gojo’s usual cocky confidence was replaced with an almost tangible tension in his posture. He walked with purpose, his strides long and quick, but there was a tightness in the way he carried himself that you hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t like him to be this... off. He always wore that smug grin, that careless energy that made everything feel like a joke. But now? He looked like he was carrying something heavy, something too complicated to shake off.

You wanted to ask him what was going on, but you knew better. If Gojo didn’t bring it up, he wasn’t going to. You could tell that much, even with the unease simmering beneath his usually cool exterior.

You both reached the convenience store, the automatic doors sliding open with a soft whoosh as you entered. The familiar hum of the coolers and the bright fluorescent lights did little to ease the tension hanging between you. You found a seat near the back, not really feeling hungry or in the mood to browse, so you just sat there, hands folded in your lap, eyes following Gojo as he wandered over to the drinks section.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, expecting him to grab his usual—his go-to strawberry iced tea, the one he always joked about being his secret weapon—but to your surprise, his hand reached for something different. He grabbed a can of beer, the silver can catching the dim light as he turned towards the cashier.

Your brows furrowed slightly, not because you had a problem with it, but because it was so out of character for him. Gojo, the always-lighthearted, playful figure, wasn’t someone you expected to be reaching for alcohol, especially not when the atmosphere had been so... different tonight.

He returned to the seat next to you after quickly paying for the drink, the cool can in his hand now making a soft, faintly metallic sound as he cracked it open. The hiss of the carbonation was the only sound between you two for a few moments as he took a long drink, the beer slipping past his lips without the usual playful smirk that usually accompanied any of his actions.

You hesitated, the air thick with unspoken words. You weren’t sure if you should say something or just let him be, but you could feel that something was wrong—something deeper than whatever lighthearted banter he would usually throw your way. You’d known him long enough to see when something was off. Tonight, it was impossible to ignore.

Finally, after a few more moments of silence, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You turned toward him, your voice quiet but laced with concern. “What’s going on with you, Satoru?”

He didn’t immediately respond, the can still in his hand as he stared straight ahead, his expression unreadable. His lips pressed together in a thin line as if he was weighing his words. The silence stretched on, heavy and thick with anticipation. Then, as though he couldn’t keep it inside any longer, he muttered just one word:

"Mina."

It was soft, almost lost in the distance of the moment. But hearing it—the way it left his lips so raw, so fragmented—sent a jolt through you. This wasn’t the playful Gojo you knew. This was someone who was struggling, someone who didn’t have all the answers.

You blinked, the name hanging in the air like a strange weight. Mina. You’d thought the two of them were the perfect couple. They had that effortless chemistry, the kind of bond that seemed unshakable. Gojo and Mina—it just made sense. They were the kind of pair people would look at and say, "That’s it. They’re meant to be." And yet, hearing Gojo say that name now, in the quiet of this moment, felt like a crack in a carefully built illusion.

You hadn’t expected this. The way he said it, though... so quiet, so far removed from his usual confident, teasing tone, made you pause. You’d never once imagined that Gojo—someone so composed, so unflappable—could be this thrown off by a relationship. It was unsettling to think that things might not be as perfect as they appeared.

Before you could gather your thoughts to ask what had happened, Gojo let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as if he was already exhausted by the very thought of explaining. “It’s complicated,” he said, cutting off any further questions you might have had.

You could tell from the way he said it, with that tired edge in his voice, that this wasn’t something simple. It wasn’t just an argument or a misunderstanding. There was more beneath the surface—something tangled up in emotions and expectations that Gojo clearly didn’t know how to untangle.

He took another sip from the can, his fingers tight around it once more, like he was trying to hold onto something before it slipped away.

"Tell me,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the tension creeping up your spine. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me."

He looked at the can in his hands for a long moment, his fingers white-knuckled around it. The weight of silence hung heavy in the air before he finally spoke again, his voice quieter this time.

“It’s not that she’s done anything wrong,” he muttered, as if trying to convince himself. “She’s... a good girlfriend. She hasn’t done anything bad, nothing’s wrong with her.”

He let out a frustrated breath, eyes narrowing as he traced the rim of the can with his thumb. “But... it’s like something’s missing. Like, when I first met her, I thought I saw something, you know? There was this... feeling, like we clicked or something. But now, every time I’m with her, it feels... off. It’s not her fault, she’s not doing anything different, it’s just—” He trailed off, searching for the words, but they just wouldn’t come.

He let out a quiet laugh, self-deprecating and bitter. “Maybe I built some kind of... fantasy around her, and now that I’m seeing who she really is, it doesn’t line up. I thought it was something real, but now... I’m not sure.”

You could see it, the confusion in his eyes. He wasn’t blaming her—he wasn’t even sure what was wrong, but the discomfort was there, thick and undeniable. It wasn’t that Mina had changed, but that Gojo’s perception of her had cracked, leaving him to figure out if there was anything left of what he thought was there.

You took a slow breath, trying to find the right words as you watched him wrestle with himself. You could tell this was weighing heavily on him, and it wasn’t just about Mina—it was about Gojo grappling with something deeper, something he wasn’t sure how to explain even to himself.

You leaned back slightly, your voice soft but steady. “I get it,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “When you first meet someone, it’s easy to get swept up in the feeling of it all—the excitement, the newness. And maybe... maybe you started seeing things in her that you wanted to see, or that felt right in the moment.”

You paused, allowing him to process, before continuing. “But just because you’re feeling like things aren’t clicking now, doesn’t mean it’s a lost cause. Sometimes, when we’re with someone, we get so focused on the idea of them that we forget to focus on who they really are. And maybe that's what’s throwing you off—you’re seeing the real her now, and it’s different from the image you had in your head.”

You could see the tension in his face, but you pressed on, keeping your tone gentle. “It’s not a bad thing, Gojo. People aren’t perfect, and relationships are never just about the spark you feel at the beginning. The real connection, the deep stuff, that comes over time. Maybe it’s just a matter of slowing down and letting things evolve naturally, instead of forcing them into some mold you’ve created.”

You shifted slightly, choosing to be honest with him. “It sounds like you’re scared of being disappointed or realizing that it’s not what you thought, but maybe you just need time to figure out who she really is, and who you are with her. You might not have all the answers right now, and that’s okay.”

You gave him a small, understanding smile. “Just don’t give up too soon because of some uncomfortable feelings. If you’re both willing to figure it out, it doesn’t have to be the end of something good. Sometimes it takes work to get through the doubts and see what’s really there.”

Gojo leaned back, his gaze drifting once more as if the answer was just beyond his reach. His hands rested loosely on his knees, the can in his hand now forgotten. His tone was quiet, almost tentative, as he finally spoke.

Gojo sat in silence for a moment, his eyes fixed on the floor as he processed your words. The usual intensity in his expression was softened, like he was turning over each of your points in his mind, carefully weighing them. His hands, once tense around the can, were now resting in his lap, fingers loosely intertwined as if the weight had lifted, even just slightly.

You could feel the shift, the way his posture had changed. He was listening—not just hearing—but truly taking in what you were saying. He took a deep breath, his shoulders easing as he finally looked up, meeting your gaze. There was a flicker of clarity in his eyes, though the storm wasn’t fully gone yet.

“I get it,” he said, his voice low but sincere. “I understand where you're coming from. You're right. Maybe I’ve been too focused on this idea I had about her, this... perfect picture I painted in my head. And now that it’s not lining up, it’s throwing me off. I’m just... I guess I was expecting things to be a certain way, and now it feels like I’m not even sure where I stand anymore.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze drifted down again, looking almost lost in thought. “I know you’re right. I can’t expect everything to be perfect, and I shouldn’t be so quick to judge her for not matching whatever image I had. But—” He paused, the hesitation creeping back into his voice.

"But..." you prompted gently, knowing there was more he was holding back.

Gojo’s eyes flicked to you, a mixture of frustration and uncertainty crossing his features. “But… I’m just not sure if she’s the one,” he said, his voice trailing off like he was unsure even about admitting it to himself. He ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at you for a moment, as if the words felt too heavy.

“It’s not like I don’t care about her. I do. And she’s a good person. She’s been nothing but kind to me, and we get along well enough. But... I don’t know. It’s just this nagging feeling I can’t shake. Like, maybe we’re not as compatible as I thought we were. Like, something’s missing.” He let out a frustrated sigh, staring at the ground for a long moment.

He looked up at you then, his expression conflicted. “I don’t want to keep second-guessing myself, but at the same time... I don’t want to lead her on if I’m not sure. I don’t want to be the guy who’s just going through the motions, thinking it’ll work out, when deep down I’m not sure if we’re actually right for each other. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

He glanced at you with a bit of vulnerability in his eyes, a rare sight for Gojo. “I mean, I don’t want to keep dragging her into something if I’m not sure I can give her what she needs. And I can’t help but wonder if... if I’m just waiting for something that isn’t there.”

He let the silence linger for a beat before he shook his head, running a hand over his face. “It’s not that I don’t like her. It’s just... am I really feeling what I thought I was? Or was it just... a good idea in my head?”

You hesitated, unsure of the right thing to say, because this wasn’t exactly the kind of situation you were used to dealing with. Gojo was always so confident, so sure of himself, and now, seeing him so lost—it felt unfamiliar and honestly, a little overwhelming.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, unsure how to ease his tension. You knew that you couldn’t just throw out words of wisdom like it was all simple, because it wasn’t. It wasn’t simple for him, and you didn’t want to make it worse by trying to give advice that sounded too rehearsed.

After a long pause, you spoke, trying to find a balance between understanding and honesty. “I mean, I can’t tell you what to do. It’s not like I have the answers for this kind of stuff.” You let out a soft, nervous laugh, realizing that you weren’t exactly the expert here.

“But...” You trailed off, trying to gather your thoughts. “You’re not alone in feeling confused about this. Relationships are messy, and sometimes, it’s hard to know what the right thing is. What you’re feeling—doubt, uncertainty—it’s not abnormal. It’s just... part of figuring things out.”

You fidgeted a little, glancing down at your hands. “I guess what I’m trying to say is... it’s okay not to have all the answers. I think you just need to give yourself permission to take a step back. Maybe let it go a bit slower, without all the pressure to know if it's ‘the one’ right away. And if something’s still unclear, then... you can figure it out. It doesn’t have to be right or wrong all at once.”

You looked up at him again, your voice softer. “It’s just, don’t feel like you have to have it all figured out right now. I’m not sure if that helps or anything, but... that’s the best I got.”

Gojo was quiet for a moment, taking everything in, and you couldn’t help but wonder if your words had actually made any impact. But then he turned to you, a small smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t his usual teasing grin, but something softer, almost relieved.

“Man, look at you getting all deep and philosophical. Didn’t know you had it in you,” he teased, his voice light and playful.

You blinked, feeling a rush of heat to your face. “Shut up,” you muttered, trying to act like you weren’t completely embarrassed by the whole thing. “I’m just trying to help, okay?”

Gojo chuckled, clearly enjoying the way you reacted. “I know, I know. But seriously, I didn’t think you were the ‘advice-giving’ type. I’ll be honest, that was a little... sappy.”

You huffed, crossing your arms and glaring at him, though you could feel the warmth on your cheeks. “Well, maybe you need it. You act like you have everything figured out, but look at you now—getting all lost in your own head.”

He held his hands up in mock surrender, still grinning. “Okay, okay, I get it. Sappy, but helpful. Can’t deny that. But don’t let it go to your head.”

You looked at him, now slightly less flustered, and offered a small smile. “Yeah, well, I’m just saying... Sometimes things aren’t as simple as we want them to be. It’s okay not to have everything figured out right away. Relationships take time.”

Gojo met your eyes, his expression more thoughtful now, and he let out a long breath. “Yeah... I guess I’ve been putting too much pressure on myself to have it all figured out. Thanks for the reminder.” His smile came back, softer this time. “You’ve got a point. Maybe I do need to take a step back and just see where it goes.”

You nodded, feeling a little more at ease now. “It’s not a race, ‘Toru. Don’t rush it. Just let things happen as they do.”

There was a comfortable silence between you for a moment, before Gojo broke it, his tone still teasing but less guarded.

“Alright, alright. I’ll try to take it slow, philosopher,” he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, but the tension had definitely eased. “Yeah, yeah, just don’t get all sappy on me again.”

Gojo grinned, clearly in a better place than before. “I’ll try to spare you from that. But hey, next time you drop some deep wisdom on me, I’ll be ready.”

You flushed a little again but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Don’t push it, Gojo.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

As the two of you walked back home, the air between you had shifted. The tension that had lingered for so long was finally gone, replaced by a quiet comfort that settled over both of you. You found yourself walking in step with Gojo, the rhythm of your footsteps syncing naturally as you let the silence between you stretch, not feeling the need to fill it with words.

Now that the weight of the conversation had lifted, you allowed your gaze to wander to him, something you hadn’t done too openly before.

There was something almost disarming about Gojo when the playful edge in his voice softened, when he wasn’t in “Gojo mode.” His features, though still sharp and striking, held a kind of warmth that you hadn’t expected to see, a rawness that only revealed itself in moments like this—when he was being real with you.

His eyes, usually full of that mischievous glint, looked calmer now, more reflective, and as the light from the streetlamps caught his hair, it almost seemed to glow with an ethereal quality. The way he carried himself, effortlessly cool yet undeniably human, made you pause and just take him in, appreciating him for a moment. His presence felt different now—less overwhelming and more... grounding.

And then, as if on cue, you caught yourself smiling, soft and almost wistful. It was strange, the way just being near him—hearing his voice, feeling the quiet ease that had settled between you—seemed to heal something inside you, something you hadn’t even realized was aching until it started to fade away.

It was like the weight of the world didn’t seem so heavy anymore. Like, somehow, everything felt a little more manageable in the moment.

You allowed yourself to enjoy the moment a little longer, the quiet warmth between you two still lingering as you walked the rest of the way home. But even as you let yourself bask in the calm, a part of you couldn't fully relax. Deep down, you knew this wasn't something that would last long. Gojo had been here tonight because of his issue with Mina, and once that was sorted out, you figured things would go back to how they were before—back to the teasing, playful banter and the walls he'd built up around himself.

It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy this version of him, the one that was more genuine, more grounded—it was just that you knew the reality. Once he figured things out with Mina, he’d go back to being the Gojo everyone knew. And you’d go back to being just... you.

You reached the front door of your apartment, the familiar hum of the city in the background, and paused. Turning to face Gojo, you smiled, though the weight of your thoughts lingered in the back of your mind.

"Thanks for walking me home," you said, keeping your voice light, though there was a little more softness to it than usual.

Gojo looked at you, his usual playful grin starting to creep back, but there was something different in his eyes. A flicker of sincerity from earlier still hung there. "Of course," he said with a casual shrug. "What would I do if you got caught up in some crazy situation without me? You know I can’t let that happen."

His voice was light, but the way he said it carried an undercurrent of care, something unspoken that made the words feel warmer than they usually would.

You raised an eyebrow, unable to help a small laugh. “I’m pretty sure I could manage, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”

He shot you that signature grin, the one that could charm just about anyone, but there was still a softness to it now—an openness that didn’t quite match his usual carefree demeanor.

"Hey, I’m just saying," he said with a smirk, "if you ever need a bodyguard, you know where to find me."

Despite the playfulness in his tone, you could feel the weight of the moment pressing in on both of you. The reality of the situation, of his relationship with Mina, still lingered in the air, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment—this brief, real side of Gojo—might slip away once everything was sorted out.

You pushed the thought down and smiled, trying to keep the mood light. "I’ll keep that in mind," you replied, though part of you wasn’t sure you’d ever need him that way.

There was a brief pause, and then you cleared your throat, pulling yourself back into the present. "I really do hope things work out with Mina, Satoru," you said, your voice sincere. "You deserve to get everything figured out."

Gojo’s smile faltered slightly at the mention of Mina. It wasn’t the usual teasing grin anymore, but something softer, more thoughtful, as though the thought of her pulled him out of the moment for a second.

He reached up, almost absentmindedly, to ruffle your hair, a subtle attempt to lighten the mood. “You worry too much,” he said, his voice a little quieter, his fingers running through your hair in a playful but gentle motion.

You flinched, swatting his hand away lightly. “Satoru, come on, you’re messing it up.”

Gojo chuckled softly at your reaction, but instead of pulling his hand away, he kept it there, his fingers still resting on your head. He gave you a gentle pat this time, his touch light but lingering, almost like he didn’t want to break the moment just yet.

He was staring at you, his expression unreadable, as if there was something in his gaze that wasn’t quite matching his usual carefree attitude. For a split second, the usual playful energy around him seemed to dissipate, replaced by something softer. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Despite how many times Gojo had been touchy with you before, this time was different. His gaze felt heavier, more intense, and it made you feel uncomfortably aware of the way his hand rested on you. A soft heat spread through you, and before you knew it, your cheeks were flushing, the warmth creeping up your neck.

Then, almost absentmindedly, Gojo’s hand dropped from your hair to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the soft skin beneath your eye. You froze at the touch, your breath catching in your throat as the tender motion sent a shiver down your spine.

His touch was so gentle, so unexpectedly intimate, that it left you momentarily speechless. Gojo’s thumb continued its slow, soothing stroke over your cheek, his eyes still locked onto yours, watching the way your expression shifted.

For a moment, everything else seemed to fade away—the night, the world around you, even the uncertainty that had been lingering in the air. It was just him, just you, and the quiet tension that seemed to wrap itself around the both of you, neither of you daring to move or speak.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart race, unsure of what this moment meant or how to react to it. You’d never felt quite so exposed in front of him, as if his touch and gaze were pulling something out of you that you didn’t know was there.

Gojo’s smile was still soft, his eyes not leaving yours, but there was something about the way he looked at you—something different than before. A strange vulnerability, maybe, or perhaps just a shared moment of silence that neither of you had the words to explain.

And for a heartbeat, everything felt... unsettled, as though the line between what was familiar and what was new had blurred just enough to make you question whether you were still in control of the situation.

You broke the silence, your voice barely above a whisper, but it cut through the stillness like a soft breeze. “Satoru?”

The sound of your voice seemed to snap Gojo out of whatever trance he had been in. His eyes blinked rapidly, as though he were shaking himself back to reality, and the softness that had filled the air between you suddenly wavered.

Gojo blinked rapidly, his eyes shifting as if he were suddenly realizing what had just occurred. His hand pulled away from your cheek like it was almost burning, and he stepped back, an almost startled expression crossing his face. The teasing, playful demeanor faltered for a second, and you could see the surprise flicker in his eyes—not just from you, but perhaps from the moment itself.

"Ah... sorry," he muttered quickly, running a hand through his hair in an awkward gesture that didn’t quite match his usual calm. “Didn’t mean to... uh... get so close.”

He cleared his throat, visibly trying to regain his usual composure. With a shaky smile, he waved his hand as if brushing it off. "Anyway, I should get going."

You nodded, a strange tightness in your chest. He was already backing away, his voice lighter than before but with a hint of haste in it. "Take care, alright?" His tone was almost clipped, a sharp contrast to the softness that had lingered moments before.

You wanted to say something, to stop him, but the words got stuck in your throat. You simply watched as Gojo, with one last glance over his shoulder, turned and started walking down the hallway.

He didn't look back this time, his figure disappearing into the distance and then into the lift, the doors sliding shut behind him with a soft, almost final sound.

The quietness that followed felt almost suffocating, the cool night air filling the space where he had stood. You stood there, staring at the spot where he had just been, unsure of what to make of everything. Your heart was still racing, the lingering touch on your cheek echoing in your mind, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, but you couldn't quite put your finger on what it was.

As the sound of the elevator faded away, all you were left with was the lingering memory of him, his touch, his gaze—and the sudden weight of everything unsaid.

[lenaellsi]

I've never understood what people mean when they say that Crowley is hiding the truth of Heaven and God's cruelty from Aziraphale to protect him or spare his feelings. That's like...the complete opposite of what Crowley does.

Crowley spends all 6000 years of their time on Earth together making snarky comments about Heaven and God at every opportunity. It's his opening line in Eden, and even before Eden, he meets Aziraphale and two minutes later goes on a rant about how unfair it is to end the world before it’s really started. "What's the point of making an infinite universe if you're only going to let it run for a few thousand years?" He's been forcing Aziraphale to grapple with God's plan literally since the moment they met. Those moments make up like half of the S1E3 intro, and it happens again in every single S2 minisode. "Same God that wants me to whack the kids?" "Tell her that poverty is ineffably wonderful and life is worth living. Go on!" "That's the trouble with you lot. You tend to see things in black and white." Like. Crowley's not trying to hide anything! He thinks Heaven sucks! He thinks God is playing a fucked up game! He tells Aziraphale that all the time!

Crowley sharing or not sharing the minute details of Aziraphale's failed execution is, honestly, a nonissue, and it's kind of frustrating to see it constantly brought up. We don't even know for sure that Crowley never told Aziraphale exactly what was said. Crowley says Aziraphale "doesn't remember it either," when he's talking to Jim--not that he doesn't know, just that he doesn't remember, because he wasn't physically there. But regardless of whether Aziraphale knows the exact words, he absolutely knows that Gabriel "tried very hard to cast [him] into Hellfire and destroy [him]." And he already knows Gabriel is an asshole. That's not news.

And I'm unconvinced that Crowley wouldn't have shared what he learned in Heaven about the Second Coming and Gabriel's trial over breakfast at the Ritz if things hadn't gone completely to shit. Here's my hot take: in the fifteen minutes he and Aziraphale had alone after he got back, he had other things on his mind. Would it have been helpful for Aziraphale to know? Eh, maybe. But honestly, Aziraphale is already aware that Heaven 1) is fully on board with the end of the world, and 2) has no problem punishing angels who try to stop the end of the world. Because, you know. They tried to kill him about it last time. And regardless, I don't think this is an issue of Crowley hiding things--I think he genuinely just forgot, because he was busy getting broken up with. If he'd thought about it, you bet he would have weaponized that to get Aziraphale to stay. And he kind of did! "When Heaven ends life here on Earth, it'll be just as dead as if Hell ended it."

And then there's the Fall, and yeah, fair enough. Crowley probably hasn't shared what the Fall looked like for him, and I think that's information Aziraphale could benefit from. Aziraphale clearly doesn't understand it--if he did, I can't imagine that he would have asked Crowley back to Heaven.

But that's still not Crowley trying to hide the truth about Heaven to protect Aziraphale's feelings, or whatever. He just doesn't want to talk about it! Because it fucking sucked! Crowley's communication problems stem entirely from his reluctance to grapple with his own emotions, and his reluctance to be vulnerable. Bitching about Heaven doesn't make him vulnerable; talking about his Fall really, really does.

Crowley has never once shied away from telling Aziraphale exactly what he thinks about Heaven, or the archangels, or God. He's constantly challenging him, forcing him to consider the people hurt by policy decisions like the Flood, the Crucifixion, Job's trials, or the "virtues of poverty." That's a huge part of their dynamic. Sure, he sucks at telling Aziraphale about himself--he doesn't communicate why he wants holy water, or that he's been living in his car, or anything at all about the Fall (as far as we know)--but when it comes to God? He is painfully honest. That's why Aziraphale is so unsettled by him. Crowley is generally very good to Aziraphale and conscious of his happiness, yes, but he's also not afraid to push him. It's baffling to me that people think that all he does is coddle him when we spend about half the show watching them bicker over this exact issue on screen.

[amazingmsme]

Appetite for Trouble

AN: day 12 is finally here!!! My favorite fic I’ve written so far, which is blatantly obvious by the fact it clocks in over 9k. The mischief prompt was literally perfect for my boy Asterios, I couldn’t pass it up! This is one hefty boi, so grab some snacks & settle on in!

Now with a sequel here!

Being a demigod, things had always been...different for Asterios. Growing up, trouble nipped at his heels wherever he went. People treated him harshly or with a short temper, while his own emotions remained unchecked. A peaceful dinner would soon become a screaming match once he sat at the table.

As he got older, Asterios learned of his heritage and the unwanted powers that came with it. He had always felt stronger when people fought in his presence, and despite how great it felt, he utterly despised it. It did nothing but tie him to his birth mother, and offer a legitimate reason for others to keep their distance. As he grew from a boy to a man, he managed to bend his powers to his benefit. A playful argument, some mischievous roughhousing, nothing too serious, but with just enough discourse to provide a decent energy surge. It wasn't easy, but he managed shift the crew's frustrated tension into a more lighthearted chaos on more than one occasion.

It all started one long, boring afternoon.

Most of them were gathered on the deck, lounging about while others idly performed their tasks. Polites was rambling about something that Asterios couldn't hear from across the deck.

Instead, he planted the seed of mischief inside Elpenor's mind: it would be really fun to tickle Polites right now. He won't even see it coming.

Asterios noticed when the idea took root in his mind. The way he sat up straight, eyes darting to look Polites up and down, as if sizing him up.

Polites felt the gaze boring into him from behind and turned around, cocking his head. "Hey, what's with the look?" he asked innocently.

"Nothin' I'm just bored. So anyway, on a scale of one to ten, how ticklish do you think you are?" Elpenor asked out of the blue. Polites froze, sputtering out an answer.

"Wha- I- uh- I can't say,"Polites said scooting away from his friend, a blush already spreading across his cheeks.

"Guess we should find out then."

"No, we shouldn't!"

"Why, you afraid you're gonna be a ten?"

"Yes- I MEAN NO! Elpenor, wait!"

But there was no time for waiting. He dug his fingers into his sides, causing Polites to flinch away with a giggly squeal. He fell off the barrel he'd been sitting on, and Elpenor pounced.

"Yep, I think you're just a lil nervous to find out how ticklish you really are, but that's okay! You're in good hands!"

"I'm ihihin fucking evil hands, lehehet mehe goooo!"

Elpenor faked a gasp at the obscenity. "Language! Where did you learn to talk like that?"

"From me," Odysseus said, walking up from behind. Everyone froze; a flock of startled sheep. The captain had a relaxed stride and a smirk on his face, so the tension eased slightly.

Asterios saw a golden opportunity and took it.

I should join him. It's been ages since I've made Polites scream for mercy.

Odysseus reeled back at the thought, blinking in surprise as he tried to casually look around. Was it just him, or did the voice sound like...

Asterios stood his ground when the Captain looked his way, squinting. Everyone around him was tuned in, looking away would be more suspicious, would it not? By the Gods, he hoped he was playing his cards right.

Odysseus looked away with a smirk. "So, you want a hand?"

"Odysseus, come on!" Polites whined at the betrayal.

"I'd love one!" Elpenor chirped happily, wrestling their victim's arms above his head as Odysseus sat across his waist.

~~~

Asterios waited a few days before he struck again.

Another bout of boredom stretched across the ship, ensnaring the entirety of the crew in its jaws. That just couldn't stand.

Asterios spotted Leander and Plutarch engaged in a sparring match, grappling each other in the middle of the deck. There was a rope loosely marking the boundaries of their wrestling ring.

Leander circled him like a shark, sporting a sly grin. Plutarch smiled back briefly before falling into a deep concentration.

Suddenly, he lunged forth, slamming into the larger man with all his weight. Leander slid back a few feet as he fought to regain control. He had height on him, but Plutarch had made it clear that they were pretty evenly matched in strength.

He dodged to the side, panting for breath before he was wrestled to the ground, pinned with his face against the wood, one arm behind him.

"Do you yield?" he asked playfully, stretching his arm back. Leander grimaced, but shook his head.

"Never!"

They made this almost too easy.

I bet if I tickle him, he'll change his mind.

Plutarch almost gasped at the intrusive thought, a pale blush dusting his cheeks. Until now, he'd made it a point to avoid their mischievous antics, but it would seem they've started to rub off on him. His hand hovered above the back of his ribs, hesitant.

C'mon, he can't even fight back. What's the worst that'll happen? So against his better judgment, Plutarch poked a curious finger between his ribs.

Leander jumped so hard, he nearly knocked him off his perch. Plutarch arched a brow and repeated the motion. He was rewarded with a rumbly chuckle and flinch to the side.

He tried to stand up, but Plutarch panicked and shoved his hands under his arms, scribbling haphazardly, but hey, that seemed to be working just fine. Leander flopped onto the deck, hiding his face in the crook of his arm while deep belly laughs escaped him.

Asterios couldn't help but smirk as he watched the pair tussle on the ground. Good, they need this. A little bit of mischief never killed anyone.

He winced as a shrill squeal filled the air, looking over to see that Plutarch had managed to pin his arms above his head, raking blunt nails over his exposed hollows. Asterios let a sly chuckle slip out, shaking his head fondly as he stood and vanished into the crowd. As far as he was concerned, his work here was done.

~~~

Asterios knew he had to wait to strike again, less anyone catch on. It was a close call the first time with Odysseus, but he supposed he didn't know. If he did, he was sure he'd have been keelhauled. It was just a coincidence. One that had him paranoid, and he mentally marked Odysseus off the list as a future pawn in this little game of his.

Over a week had passed by, the crew growing restless once more, and he was not immune to the monotony of sea life.

He was walking down the hall when he paused, noticing Perimedes walk into one of the side rooms for a physical checkup. Oh this was too good to resist.

As soon as the door shut, he turned down the hall and stood outside the door, listening. He crouched down, watching through the keyhole for any sort of cue to work off of. Sage, one of their resident medics, had Perimedes laid on his back on a wooden exam table. Sage felt around his neck and shoulders, and even from his limited vantage point, he could see the way Perimedes tensed at the touch.

Is he ticklish? Asterios planted the idea in his mind like a sprouting seed. Sage blinked in surprise and looked his patient up and down. He shook his head, continuing the physical. He moved his hands down to his stomach and gently kneaded towards the center of his belly outwards, right above the hip bones.

Perimedes grunted and twitched away, shooting a glare at the medic. "Watch it."

"Sorry, didn't know you were tickli-"

"I'm not," he cut him off defensively. Sage paused and tilted his head curiously. 

He's too cocky for his own good.

"I'm sorry, of course not. How silly of me," he apologized curtly before resuming the probing touch, this time intentionally trying to tickle.

"Hehey w-whahat do you thihink you're doing?"

"I'm just proceeding with the exam. I thought you said you weren't ticklish?"

Asterios stood up with a proud smirk, dusting off his hands.

"I'm not!"

"Then why're you laughing so much? You coming down with a case of the giggles?"

"Thehehe what?"

"Oh dear, I'm afraid you are. And there's only one treatment."

"No- no Sage, gehet awahay from me!"

Asterios turned back down the main hall, heading towards the upper deck as the sound of panicked laughter grew louder even as he walked away.

~~~

It was… nice seeing the others smile and laugh, knowing he had a hand in it. It’s not that he didn’t want to personally put his friends in their place, he just… didn’t know how. His tough, grim persona did well at hiding the fact that he was nothing more than some shy, awkward, guy. But it also helped him go unnoticed.

He leaned against the wall, watching Elpenor and Aridolis from afar. He wasn’t sure what they were talking about, so he tried to go about his plan in a subtle way.

Whatever Aridolis had said apparently sent him on a tangent. Asterios smirked at his chance.

I bet I know what’ll make him shut up.

Elpenor didn’t notice the smirk that spread across Ari’s face until it was too late.

“Nohoho wahahait! W-what dihid I ever dohoho to you?”

~~~

Asterios didn't notice at first, but he always felt great after these random bouts of mischief. He was bolder, stronger, lighter on his feet. He began doing hard, intense labor that was usually reserved for people like Eurylochus or Leander. He even beat both of them in an arm wrestling match, back to back.

Needless to say, the outwardly cocky demeanor from the usually quiet and stoic man was a noticeable enough change for his crew mates to comment on.

"So glad to see you finally come out of your shell! I knew you just needed some time," Polites chirped, winking at him as he walked up beside him and bumped their shoulders together. Asterios ducked his head and smiled, something dangerous lurking beneath it.

"You know what? I think I really am," he purred, almost on the verge of a growl. Polites eyed him warily, scooting away ever so slight. Because even the friendliest amongst them knew exactly what he was.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it! We're all brothers now, it's about damn time we started acting like it," he said, a hint of amusement lacing his voice. Asterios crossed his arms, leaning back against the railing as he looked at Polites with a softer grin.

"Seems like some of them already are."

Polites chuckled and shook his head. "They're all a piece of work, I tell you. But... it's nice to hear laughter on the ship again. Good to know they can still have fun."

Asterios felt his smile falter at the indirect compliment, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks.

"So how 'bout you?"

Asterios practically jumped out of his skin. "Huh?"

"I don't think I've ever heard you laugh, all this time."

He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, "Oh come on, that's not true! I laugh, I just don't laugh often," he clarified. "I'm not a giggly little bitch like some people," he added, looking him up and down. Polites scoffed loudly, jaw hitting the floor.

"Wha- are you talking about me?"

"And a few others," he couldn't hold back a sly chuckle. "There. See? I can laugh."

"Yeah, at my expense," Polites accused playfully. Asterios merely shrugged smugly.

"Yeah, and?"

Polites stared at him long and hard, fingers twitching by his sides before he shook his head.

"No, not today. I'll get you when you least expect it," Polites ultimately decided and started walking away.

The smirk fell from his lips, shoulders dropping as the color drained from his face.

"Wait- what do you mean? Polites, what do you mean?" he called out after him. He turned around to face Asterios, walking backwards and wiggling his fingers. Since when did Polites of all people get scary? Then he thought for a moment about who he grew up with and smacked himself in the head. Of course.

Speak of the devil, Polites bumped into him, and he smiled, slinging an arm around his shoulder. Asterios felt a chill run up his spine. He could see Polites say something that made Odysseus chuckle and glance his way.

He was fucked. Scratch that, he was beyond fucked. Asterios turned bright red and abruptly made his way below deck, shoulder checking Leander on his way.

~~~

Needless to say, he was nervous, but the more time passed, the more he relaxed.  Polites was easy going, he let him off with a warning this time; and he knew that his little guard dog Ody wouldn't attack without orders. He heaved a sigh of relief: he was safe.

For now.

He laid low for well over a month, but of course the mischief didn't stop. Arguments needed settling, pranks were pulled and required revenge, people were plain old bored.

Julien was lounging on the stairs to the upper deck, legs stretched out before him. His head was tilted back and eyes closed, seemingly enjoying the warm sunshine. Elpenor and Perimedes sat on either side of him, staggered on the lower steps.

He was one of the few other demigods aboard the ship, so Asterios would say they got along just fine. It was nice to know he wasn't the only one with divinity in their blood, making itself known through different ways. They both had wings; Asterios with his neatly tucked behind his ears, and Julian with a pair at his ankles. The crew was more than curious about the extra appendages, which was why Asterios almost always kept his hidden. Unfortunately for Julien, they remained in plain view. And right now, were well within reach.

"So can you fly with them?" Elpenor asked, eyeing them as his hand inched closer on the step. Perimedes smirked, carefully watching his movements and mirroring them.

"Not really, but I can hover and glide when I really need to," he answered.

"Oh, so they're just for show?"

Julien let out a slightly annoyed huff. "Sure, I guess."

"So why are they red like that?" Perimedes asked, causing him to tense up immediately upon hearing the question.

"I'd rather not talk about it."

Elpenor shot his friend a look, stomping on his foot to signal that was the wrong thing to say. Perimedes hissed in pain and shot him a look back.

"Well I think it looks great on you," Elpenor chirped, running his fingers through the downy feathers. Julien gasped and shot upright, tucking his knees to his chest while his wings pressed themselves flush against his skin for protection.

"Oh? What's this?"

Asterios never stuck around for long, regardless if he was the cause or not. As soon as laughter filled the air, he was looking for a way out. Don't get him wrong, he loved feeding off the unhinged chaos, but something about it all brought on a hot burning embarrassment and something else he couldn't quite describe.

Fear? Hell no, no way in all of Tartarus was he afraid of fucking child's play such as tickling. Maybe it was more of a fear of rejection? That he wasn't good enough to join their games, so he excludes himself before anyone else could.

Sound logic, but not quite.

Or perhaps it was uncertainty. He had no idea if he was ticklish or not, and he wasn't too keen on finding out. Yes, the others looked like they were having fun, but he had to remind himself that it's all forced and most saw it as a form of punishment and torture. So he wasn't about to let anyone turn him into a giggly little bitch, per his own words. 

He was frozen where he sat, his heart racing as he watched the pair team up against the other demigod. His wings began to tingle and he bit back a whine, shaking his head and pressing them deeper into the mass of curls. He could only imagine how awful that felt, and he did feel somewhat sorry for him. Not sorry enough to go help, mind you, but sorry nonetheless.

Julien kicked his legs out, barking out a laugh when Elpenor scribbled the base of the wing as he tried to climb backwards up the stairs. Asterios felt a shiver run down his spine and a blush spread across his cheeks. Perimedes grabbed his other leg in a headlock and he stood up abruptly, stretching to try and come off as casual before heading to the opposite side of the deck.

"Asterios! Come to help?" Elpenor called out enticingly, countered by the frantic screech of protest from Julien, "No don't!"

Asterios stood still when called, sparing a glance at the trio and wishing he hadn't, embarrassment swirling in his gut. He had to resist the urge to hide behind his wings, knowing he'd never live it down. He played it as cool as he possibly could, snorting in amusement.

"You fuckin' wish." He quickly went on his way, eager to get away from the scene.

"Wait! Hehehelp mehehe!"

Asterios knew better than to look back. If he saw the desperate face that matched the voice, he'd cave and go back to save him. The martyr, who would be thrown to the wolves in his place. No fucking thank you.

"Sorry, but someone's gotta get the work done around here. You have fun though! Maybe try fighting back or something," he called, without so much as a second glance.

Odysseus watched the exchange from where he stood at the wheel, humming thoughtfully. He made note of it for later, the pieces finally falling into place.

~~~

If only he'd known Odysseus was onto him. If only he knew, he would've never gone after him. He should've known better after that first time, when Odysseus shut him down with a piercing glare that bore into his soul. The captain was smart, much smarter than Asterios ever was, and more calculating.

It was a mistake to assume he'd be just as clueless as the rest of them.

It might've also been a mistake to use Eurylochus as a pawn, but he was curious! He just wanted to see if the first mate had a playful bone in his body, to see that stoic demeanor crack when Odysseus inevitably turned the tables.

He was standing underneath the main sail, struggling to reach a dangling rope. Eurylochus watched on with a poorly concealed smirk.

"Need a hand, Captain?"

"No thanks, I'm good," he dismissed the offer, still straining to grab the frayed ends. Eurylochus let out a low chuckle, shaking his head fondly.

"Whatever you say."

Asterios saw the way he smirked, watching the captain from the corner of his eye. It was too tempting not to pass up.

It would be so easy to tickle him right now, he left himself wide open.

He watched the way Eurylochus stiffened, seemingly studying Odysseus and weighing his options.

What the hell, he could use a good laugh.

Making sure he was still distracted, Eurylochus reached up and scribbled against his stretched ribs. He slammed his arms down with a borderline shriek, whipping around to glare at Eurylochus. There was a fire in his eyes and a danger to his smile. Eurylochus balked, unsure why he thought that was a good idea. He knew he wouldn't get away with a stunt like that, and he'd never do that in front of the crew because Odysseus would fucking kill him.

"Did you really just do that?" he asked, a smirk already playing at his lips.

"I'm sorry Sir, I-I don't know what came over me-"

"I do," Odysseus bragged.

Eurylochus arched a brow, standing a little straighter in confusion. "What?"

Suddenly, Odysseus grabbed him by the forearm and tugged him close enough to whisper in his ear, "I'll tell you later. Right now, just play along and laugh. Easy enough?"

"E-excuse me?"

"Sorry, but I have to make an example out of you." In one swift motion, he yanked his arm above his head, spinning them around to pin him against the mast. He adjusted his grip to the other hand before drilling his thumbs in the center of his hollows. Eurylochus threw his head back, lost to bouts of deep, rumbling laughter.

So obviously, he was more than reluctant when the captain called him into his quarters.

Eurylochus knocked on the door hesitantly before testing the knob. It was unlocked, and he stepped inside.

"Captain?"

"Oh good, you're here. Sit down," he gestured to an empty chair as he finished writing something at his desk.

Eurylochus did as he was told. "So, what did you want to speak about? I hope this wasn't a trap," he teased lightly. Odysseus chuckled, shaking his head.

"I can see why you'd think that. But no, unlike some people on this ship, I'm man enough to face a challenge head on."

Eurylochus reeled back, blinking in shock. "Sir?"

"The men have been more rowdy than usual, wouldn't you agree?" Odysseus continued as though he hadn't spoken. Eurylochus inhaled sharply through his nose and exhaled a deep, heavy sigh.

"That's one word for it," he mused.

"And why do you think that is?" Odysseus asked as he crossed his arms over his chest, not quite sitting on his desk, but leaning heavily.

"We've been away from home for years, and we haven't docked in months. Men grow bored," he reasoned. The captain shook his head.

"Men, or man?"

Eurylochus closed his eyes, letting out a tired, "What?"

"I think someone's been pulling a few strings..." This seemed to grab his first mate's attention.

"What?" he repeated, more serious and less exasperated this time. "What are you getting at?" he asked cautiously.

"Just think about it. We have demigods amongst our ranks; we don't even know everything they're capable of."

"You don't think maybe they're just having fun? We're in a war, Odysseus, let them laugh while they can."

"And were you "just having fun" when you pulled your little stunt?" he questioned smugly, cocking his head expectantly as Eurylochus snapped his mouth shut. "Or did an enticing little voice in your head make the suggestion?"

He gasped, staring at Odysseus in shock. "How did you-"

"I'm an observant guy," he said, cutting him off.

"So... who do you think is responsible?"

"Asterios, there's no doubt in my mind."

"The quiet one?" Eurylochus arched a brow. "Why?"

"He's the son of Eris."

"And that makes him guilty?"

Odysseus huffed and rolled his eyes. "No, everything else does. That just explains how he's able to do it."

Eurylochus leaned back in the chair, "Everything else?"

"You ever notice how he never sticks around to watch? But he's got this sly, smug look the whole time. And after a particularly hectic day, he gets stronger. Remember when he beat you at arm wrestling?"

"Don't remind me."

"I think he gets stronger afterwards. It would explain why he's suddenly so helpful around the ship."

"You've given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"

"I know I'm right about this."

"You better be, because you'll make an ass out of yourself if you're wrong."

"When have I ever been wrong?" Eurylochus opened his mouth to speak, but Odysseus cut him off, "Don't answer that."

The first mate mulled it over in his mind. ""Why are you so sure that anyone is behind this?"

"Because I know you well enough to know you'd never try and get me in front of the whole crew. You're smarter than that."

"Thank you?"

"But it felt irresistible, didn't it? The need to cause chaos? I felt it too, when I got Polites a while back."

"Which time?" he teased. Odysseus narrowed his eyes.

"With Elpenor."

"Yeah, which time?" he repeated tauntingly. Odysseys laughed and shoved his shoulder playfully.

"Oh shut up! Maybe it's not always his fault, but it's more often than you'd think."

Eurylochus sighed. "So? What are you gonna do about it?" A sinister grin slowly spread across the captain's face.

"Alright, so here's what I'm thinking..."

~~~

It was a day like any other, and Asterios had no reason to feel on edge. He sat with Leander and Plutarch, idly carving hunks of wood and brushing the shavings underneath the railing when the pile grew too high.

He was trying to carve a figurine of Cetus. Growing up, he had always been enamored with the sea monster constellation, and when his true parentage came to light, it made sense. Eris explained to him that the creatures in the sky were her pets, and Cetus had always been one of her favorites. She even said that when she would check in on him, Cetus would be watching from over her shoulder.

A fairytale to tell her child. If she wanted to fill his head with stories, she should've done so a long time ago. Yet, he found comfort in the presumed lie, and he didn't know what else to carve. Maybe if they really did watch him, this would make them happy.

Was he fucking carving this to impress his mother? He shook the thought out of his head.

He didn't pay much attention when the captain walked up from below deck. That is, until he called his name.

"Asterios, a word?"

He didn't sound... angry, but there was a dangerous edge hiding beneath his words. Asterios held his breath, not daring to move an inch.

"Yes?"

"Relax, I just want to talk."

That was never a good sign, and Leander and Plutarch were already exchanging curious glances. Fuck.

"Come, walk with me," Odysseus invited with a deceptively warm smile. Asterios didn't answer for a long moment before he caved.

"Yes Sir. No one touch my fucking carving," he threatened as he stood, brushing himself off. He followed the captain, trying to ignore the looks he received. He still saw the way Elpenor mouthed the words "you're in trouble," and he looked away, feeling heat rise to his cheeks.

Gods, did he have to take him all the way to the front of the ship? Yes they were "alone," but everyone could see him inevitably get chewed out and overhear every word.

"May I ask what this is about? Have I done anything wrong, Sir?"

"Oh I think you know exactly what this is about."

Shit. Asterios began to panic, but outwardly played dump.

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

This felt like a game, and he didn't like his odds of winning.

"Tell you what?" he asked hesitantly.

"I'm mostly just curious in how you did it. I can get the why, I just can't understand the how."

Asterios furrowed his brows, tilting his head in confusion. "Captain? Are you feeling okay?" He asked, playing up his concern for his wellbeing. Odysseus glared at him as he spoke.

"I'm fine-"

"Okay, because for a minute there, you were talking like you drank sea water or something- ow!" Asterios rubbed the back of his head where Odysseus smacked him.

"Now, you ready to listen?" he asked, waiting for him to nod. "Good. Because I'm not mad, I just want you to own up to it, okay?"

Asterios's heart pounded in his chest, but he remained still. "There's nothing to own up to," he lied. Odysseus sighed, shaking his head.

"You sure you don't just wanna do things the easy way? I'm serious about not being mad, I honestly thought it was kinda funny."

Asterios whipped his head over to look at him.

"Thought what was funny?" Asterios held firm to the act. He already came this far, backing down now would be a death sentence.

"Okay, don't say I didn't warn you." Odysseus cupped his hands around his mouth, taking a deep breath to shout across the deck.

"Wait!" Asterios cried, unsure of what he was about to say and took his last chance to explain. Odysseus lowered his arms with a proud grin. "Just- let me explain."

"Oh, please do."

Asterios looked around for any chance at escape, but both Eurylochus and Polites stood nearby on either side of the railing, clearly ready to grab him if he tried to run. Polites noticed him staring and he flashed a bright smile, waving at him with wiggling fingers. Asterios glared at him, cheeks dusted pink and jaw clenched tightly.

He flinched when Odysseus snapped his fingers in front of his face to get his attention. "Hey, your captain's speaking to you."

"Yes Sir?"

"I said I'm waiting."

Oh, what an asshole.

Asterios glared at him as he spoke, "Well, as you know, I'm a son of Eris-"

"Mhm," Odysseus hummed and nodded along, leaning against the railing casually. Asterios fought back a sneer.

"Since I was a child, I noticed people tend to fight in my presence. I've learned to control it somewhat, so that the crew wouldn't be at each other's throats," he explained, not quite looking Odysseus in the eye.

"Oh, so you're doing this for our benefit." Something about his tone set Asterios off, and he took a step back.

Odysseus was having fun toying with him. The look on his face alone was priceless; eyes wide and mouth hung open in shock, and he could see the feathers of his wings bristling beneath his hair.

"Yes?"

Odysseus grinned so wide, it nearly split his face in two. "In that case, let's go tell the crew what you so kindly did for them."

"What- no! You can't! Just fuckin' wait!"

Asterios physically felt the color drain from his face, the panic beginning to set in. Fuck, why was he telling everyone? Why couldn't he just chew him out in private, why did it have to be this public hanging of character? He would've preferred if Odysseys just drug him below deck and beat the shit out of him for daring to step out of line. That way, he could at least lick his wounds in private. Was he going to have to fight the captain in front of everyone? His mind was a whirlwind, and he couldn't keep up.

His frantic protests were ignored as the captain called his crew, "Hey everyone, Asterios has something he'd like to say."

"Shut up, no I don't!" Asterios hissed.

"That's no way to speak to the captain," Eurylochus warned, but he didn't have his usual stone cold expression, and his tone was lighthearted, almost teasing. Asterios didn't know if that made it worse or not.

Oh Gods, everyone was looking at him now, and his only chance at escape would be to throw himself overboard. He bit his tongue and stood there, completely still. Incomprehensible whispers murmured through the crowd as he just stood there, balking like a dead fish. If Odysseus wanted to humiliate him, he'd done it. But he knew this was nothing compared to whatever was to come.

"Asterios? You okay?" Leander asked, stepping closer to check on his friend. Odysseus held up a hand to stop him from getting any closer.

"Oh he's fine, just a bit shy. Aren't you bud?" he asked, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Asterios visibly stiffened and flinched away.

"Don't make me do this," he whispered, barely audible. Odysseus chuckled lowly directly in his ear, "Too late to back out now."

"Well can he get on with it? I got shit to do," Perimedes spoke up from the crowd.

"Oh I think you'll wanna hear this. But seeing as our friend is a little tongue tied, I guess I'll help explain."

Asterios felt like he was going to die. He certainly wanted to. Maybe if he wished hard enough, he could just fade from existence. His lips were pressed in a thin line and wide eyes stared at the floorboards on the deck to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze. His cheeks were steadily growing a bright pink, and his breath came slow and deep as he fought to remain calm.

Odysseus must've sensed his growing panic and was quick to try and put him at ease. A moot effort, seeing as he got him so worked up.

He squeezed his shoulder and shook him gently to loosen him up, a hearty chuckle slipping out. "Relax, will you?" he teased, enjoying stretching this out. "You're not in trouble."

"It sure seems like I am, Sir."

"What? Noooo, that wasn't my intention at all!" he feigned innocence, smirking when Asterios rolled his eyes.

"Trouble? What did he do now?" Elpenor snorted in amusement.

"What didn't he do?" he mused aloud, launching into his speech. "I'm sure you've all noticed a lot more pranks, tickle fights, and general mischief. Just this time last week, an actual food fight broke out in the mess hall. And you all have this little puppet master to thank for it," he proudly exclaimed, reaching up to ruffle his hair teasingly.

Asterios could only stand there and watch it happen. His face was burning, and he's positive he's never felt more mortified. He could hear confused voices murmur among the crowd, but his ears were ringing, and he couldn't fucking move, could barely breathe. It was like he wasn't even in control of his body.

He caught a sympathetic look from Leander, silently mouthing the words, "help me," but Leander only gave a subtle shake of the head from where he stood. He caught a glimpse of Perimedes and Elpenor peaking out from behind Polites, and all three of them looked ready to pounce.

"So wasn't there something you wanted to say to everyone?" Odysseus prompted, snapping him out of his daze.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, eyes darting up to look at the crowd before adverting his gaze.

"No, that's not it!"

Asterios furrowed his brows, "What? I-I thought-"

"You were going to say you're welcome," he corrected ever so helpfully.

Asterios could only stand there as Odysseus shook him by the shoulders once more, trying to get him to just relax, as if he wasn’t actively digging his grave. He remained tense, and the movement was awkward and jerky. He continued to look down at his feet, scared of what he'd see if he looked out at the small crowd gathered on the deck. Harsh glares with hateful sneers, knowing looks accompanied by a teasing smirk; he didn't know which would be worse.

He chanced a glance up and realized that the second option was much worse.

"So why don't you tell him how thankful you all are."

He tried to protest, to question what he meant, but suddenly the arm around his shoulders wrapped around his throat like a vice and slammed him backwards, onto the deck. He fought against him with everything he had.

"Fuckin'- let me go! I said I'm sorry!" he yelled frantically, flailing about to keep his limbs free. His panic grew when he saw Polites skip over and pin down his legs. Okay, maybe he didn't actually skip, but he might as well have, the smug bastard.

"Relax will you? We're just gonna give you a taste of your own medicine. You can handle a little tickling, can't you?"

"Nah, he looks like a screamer," Elpenor teased, walking up with Perimedes. Asterios blushed an ungodly shade of red because Elpenor of all people did not just fucking say that about him.

"Said the screamer!" he lamely shot back, wiggling his arms free from under the captain's knees where he was pinning him before continuing to fight for his freedom.

"Think I'll like you way better when you can't talk. Eurylochus? Mind making yourself useful and get his arms?" Perimedes asked, making a show of cracking his knuckles. He swore as Eurylochus wrestled his arms above his head, glaring daggers at the first mate.

He jumped when he felt someone sit down beside him, sighing in relief when it was only Leander.

"Leander, thank the Gods! You gotta help me, they're gonna kill me!" The smirk he got in return made his heart sink.

"On the contrary, I think a little laughter and fun will do you some good!"

"You asshole, you think this is fun?" he growled. He got a much more enthusiastic agreement than he expected, prompting his blush to spread. He closed his eyes, muttering, "Zeus, just kill me now."

"Oh don't be so dramatic," Odysseus rolled his eyes and poked his belly, earning a harsh twitch and a yelp. "Just tell us where you're ticklish, and this can all be over a lot sooner."

Asterios felt panic course through him, and he bristled. "I don't know!" he rushed out before he could think better of it.

Odysseus studied him with an amused look before the smile dropped, ever so slightly. "Holy shit, you're serious aren't you?"

Asterios stared at him wordlessly, mouth gaping open though no sound escaped.

"Aaaw, now we just have to tickle him!"

"Shut the FUCK up Polites, I swear I'll- mph!" Asterios clamped his mouth shut in the middle of his sentence as Polites began softly tracing his arches.

"I'm sorry, you were saying?" he asked innocently, scratching blunt nails against delicate skin. He squeaked and tried to jerk his feet away,

But they remained trapped. His chest shook as he fought to contain his mirth.

A shy giggle slipped out when Leander began poking between his ribs. He jerked away with each touch, squealing when he suddenly pressed into an awaiting hand in his other side. He looked over to see Plutarch smirking down at him.

"You're both trahahaitors! Hehehey wahait!" he cried out when they each attacked his ribs with a flurry of pokes. A sudden electric sensation at his knees had him kicking the deck and snorting. Whoever the hell had gotten ahold of his knees was a fucking deadman-

"Ha! I knew you'd snort if I did that!" Perimedes bragged, and of course it just had to be him. He swears he's gonna rip out his fucking tongue-

"I'm sorry, you're gonna what?" he growled, resting his hands atop his knees threateningly, making him flinch.

Asterios froze, closing his eyes because he couldn't bring himself to look at any of these assholes. "Please tell me I at least said that out loud?" The rest of the crew watched on in confusion,  glancing between the two.

Perimedes shook his head, sporting a downright sinister grin. "No, I'm afraid you didn't." And then he started squeezing his knees relentlessly, sending him into a fit of snorting cackles and shrieks. He continued to berate him, "So that's how you fuckin' do it? Get inside our heads with our own thoughts? Wonder what else we'll hear when we really get you going."

Asterios screamed when he scratched the backs of his knees, nearly kicking Polites off from where he sat on his ankles.

"Wait, let me ask something," he could hear Elpenor's voice, too close for comfort, and opened his eyes to see him sitting beside Eurylochus with a smile of his own. The horrible feeling at his knees stopped and he caught his breath in between shaky residual giggles.

"So was the wet blanket prank even my idea?" Elpenor asked, leaning in a little closer. A sly, proud smirk tugged at his lips as he remembered that one. Elpenor had gathered everyone's bedding in a barrel filled with sea water and snuck the wet sheets back into everyone's rooms, making their bed with unpleasantly damp covers.

His prolonged silence and sheepish grin told him everything he needed to know.

"I was proud of that one, you bastard!" he growled, digging into his exposed pits without mercy. He barked out a loud, wheezing laugh and felt his face burn hot with embarrassment at the sound. He tugged on his arms, but he was thoroughly trapped. He wanted to die, he sure felt like he was, and he needed to escape- or hide at the very least. It was pure reflex, to snap his wings tight over his face to conceal his blushing cheeks and tearful eyes.

As he expected, there was an uproar of teasing and laughter from his tormentors and their audience.

"Aaaaww, that was so cute!"

"He can't run, but I guess he can hide!"

"What's the matter? Is someone a little embarrassed?"

Oh, so they wanted to just straight up humiliate him to death. Decimate the carefully crafted persona he'd built for himself, and leave what was left of his dignity and sanity in shreds across the deck. He'd never be able to show his face again! He certainly wouldn't be leaving his room anytime soon, and if they thought he was gonna be nice to them after this-

Elpenor grabbed one wing and gently pried it back, chuckling at the downright terrified, flustered look on his face. "Why d'you look so scared? Just relaaaax, we're all having fun," he cooed tauntingly.

Asterios scoffed, "No, you're having fun!" He'd fucking kill him for even insinuating-

"I don't know, you sound pretty happy to me," Leander spoke up with that dopey ass grin he always wore. Okay, so he'd kill both of them.

"Thanks, didn't fuckin' ahahask," he growled, breaking off in breathless snickers as Leander pinched each rib.

"That wasn't very nice," he teased, laughing along with his friend's torment, wiggling a finger between the bone. Asterios snorted and jerked away, right into Plutarch's waiting hands on his other side. And the dance repeated.

Polites noticed Aridolis lingering closer ever so slowly and smiled, waving him over. “Wanna give me a hand?” he offered, focusing all of his efforts on one foot to make room for him.

Ari immediately perked up at the offer, sitting on the ground facing him. All the while, Asterios continued to thrash and yell out threats.

“NO! Ari Ihihi swear toho thehehe Gods, i-if you lahahay aha hand on mehehe I’ll kihihill you ihin your sleep!” he growled through shrill giggles. He heard a few of them chuckling at him, and he wanted to die. If he were being honest, Tartarus would be better than this.

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” Ari hummed as he joined the fray, raking sharp claws up and down his sole. Asterios was once again thrown into hysterics.

Elpenor still hadn't let go of his wing, and it twitched, trying to tuck itself against his head for safety. The movement didn't go unnoticed, and he smirked as he rubbed the soft feathers between his fingers. Asterios let out a shrill shriek, and the wing immediately snapped back, nestling under the hair behind his ear. He couldn't help but giggle at him.

"Aw, are you winking at me?" Elpenor asked and shot him a wink in return. Asterios turned a darker shade of pink and let out an annoyed huff, tucking the other wing away angrily. "Oh come on, you're no fun," he teased, grabbing one wing and prying it open.

Asterios shook his head, giggly pleas falling from his lips. "Dohohon't you dare! Elpenor, please!"  He tried to scrunch his neck and lean away, flap his wings, anything to get away.

"Oh these are a really bad spot, aren't they?" he taunted, wiggling his fingers closer. Asterios flinched away with a nervous giggle.

"They must be, if they got him acting like that," Odysseus added.

"I'm sure they are. Remember how bad Julien screamed? Let's make this asshole scream even louder," Perimedes cracked his knuckles as he spoke, and Asterios slammed his head against the deck in defeat.

"Can you at least have the decency to kill me in silence?" he growled, hiding half his face with his free wing, unable to look at them for another second.

"How can you still be so damn grumpy?" Polites asked, scribbling beneath his toes and earning a deafening shriek. Amputation sounded pretty fuckin' good right about now.

Polites gasped, letting out a laugh of his own. "Oh you are SO dramatic! You should hear him Ody, he's worse than you!"

"Oh I heard it that time," Odysseus taunted with a playful edge to his voice. He leaned in closer to whisper, "What's the matter? Thoughts going haywire? Can't keep a grip on your powers? That's too bad."

Asterios could only squeal and giggle hysterically as Elpenor pinched and rubbed the wing between his fingers. He snorted and arched his back when he scratched at the base, feathers ruffled and twitching with every touch.

"SOHOHOMEONE FUCKING HEHEHELP!" he demanded through a screaming laugh. Julien stepped forward with an amused grin, squatting down to better look Asterios in the eye.

"Sorry, but what makes you think you deserve it? I mean, maybe if you would've helped me back when I needed it..."

The irony was not lost on him. This was some kind of cruel, poetic justice for not helping his fellow demigod from a fate clearly worse than death. He should've saved him, if only to have someone on his side when the time came. But he was so arrogant, so sure that it could never happen to him...

"Shihit, I'm sohohorry, ohokahay? I-I should've hehelped when I hahahad thehe chance!" he pleaded.

"Yeah, you should've. But you have fun though! Maybe try fighting back or something," Julien repeated his words to him, rubbing salt in the wound. But in this case, it felt more like sugar; sickeningly sweet and sticking to his skin in an unbearable manner. The tickling also left him more dazed and jittery than any sugar rush ever could.

Asterios shook his head, begging him not to do this before he grabbed his other wing. He squealed loudly when they both attacked the base of the wings with quick scratches and soft squeezes. He snorted loudly, unable to even shake his head as they held his wings in place.

Surely, anything would be better than this  strange, unusual torture, this public humiliation. This downright defamation of character. Lesson learned. He'll swear off his powers if he makes it out of this alive.

Even in his frantic state, he tried to hold these thoughts close. But Odysseus had quietly been studying him, and the words found purchase in his mind. Did he really think they were doing this just to humiliate him? That they weren't  his brothers, dragging him into a game he himself started? That they would only care about revenge, and not the absolutely adorable sounds he was making, or the lopsided grin on his face? He'd have to make sure to set the record straight. In private though, he knew better than to call him out... again.

Meanwhile Elpenor and Julien sent him into a fit of hysterical giggles with the attention given to his wings. He snorted in between shrill snickers, blushing profusely and shaking his head. He heard Elpenor gasp and felt a poke to his cheek.

"By the Gods, you have dimples? Why didn't you tell us? You look so cuuuuuute!"

"Whahat? Nohoho I don't!" Asterios cried out in confusion between bouts of laughter. It's a good thing he couldn't fucking think, because otherwise he'd be downright spiraling after that comment. But even in his delirious state, he knew it was nothing more than playful teasing. Elpenor doesn't actually think he's cute, he's just trying to get a rise out of him. Don't listen to him.

"Uh, yeah you do."

"Poor thing, didn't even know he had dimples," Odysseus added mockingly, also deciding to poke his cheek.

Polites twisted around and leaned back to look, "Aw, I wanna see!"

"Just shut uhuhup! P-plehehease! Hehehelp mehehe!" he desperately cried out for anyone to take pity on him. He thought maybe he had a chance when he locked eyes with Sage, but the medic merely shrugged and offered a sheepish, not very sympathetic, grin.

In all the time they've been away from home, it had been a rare sight to see Asterios so much as smile. It was even more rare to hear a genuine laugh from the demigod, so they were going to take advantage of the sight while they could.

But they were rather mean in their attack, and Asterios quite literally couldn't even remember the last time he'd been tickled, so he finally bid his dignity farewell and threw in the towel.

"Ohohokay- OKAHAY! Please, you wihihin! Ihihi'm sorry! IHI'M SOHOHORRY! OHO FUHUCK YOU, STOHOHOP!" His giggly begging turned to screaming pleas for mercy when Elpenor decided to blow a raspberry at the base of his wing right as he decided to talk. Odysseus held a hand up, signaling them all to stop.

They let him go and he immediately curled into a giggly ball, tucking his arms and legs as close to him as he could. His wings were plastered to his blushing face, a bright smile just barely peaking out from under them. Residual giggles escaped as he slowly caught his breath, interrupted by the occasional hiccup.

"I ha- hic- hate all of you," he panted. Perimedes couldn't help but let out a condescending chuckle when he hiccuped.

"Now I think that was more than fair given the circumstances," Odysseus reasoned. Asterios lifted a wing to glare at him with one eye.

"That assault was a- hic- anything but fair!" Elpenor was unable to hold back his own laughter that time. Asterios silently cursed himself and tried to steady his breathing.

"Neither is using us as your little chaos puppets."

Asterios couldn't help but smirk, a sly chuckle slipping out. "Chaos puppets. I like that." The smile dropped from his face as he continued, "But uh, you guys won't have to worry about that anymore. Think I learned my lesson."

"Yeah, next time you wanna start a tickle fight, man up and do it yourself," Perimedes taunted, prompting Asterios to growl and kick at him, stronger than he really intended. But it's Perimedes, so he didn't feel too bad about it. Especially after that.

Asterios huffed, feeling his cheeks heat up ever so slightly. "I didn't want to start anything, that was the whole point of using you guys," he deadpanned, fighting the lingering smile on his face to glare at him.

"And how did that work out?" Polites asked smugly, propping his chin on Odysseus's shoulder from behind. Asterios blinked in surprise, not expecting him of all people to continue ragging on him. He grinned wider, flashing all his teeth, "Told you I'd get you."

"Yeah, and you look real proud too, smug bastard." His comment made them chuckle, and he found himself unable to stop smiling. But everyone was staring at him, smiling and whispering, and he still felt like he wanted to crawl under a rock and die.

Leander reached out to help him stand, but Asterios shoved him away. "Don't fuckin' touch me, asshole."

"Oh come on, don't be like that," he whined. Asterios sneered at him and stormed off to his room, ignoring the smirks, quiet snickers and teasing remarks tossed his way.

Yeah, he wasn't gonna leave his quarters for a week.

He shut the door, flopping face first onto the thin mattress. That had been horrible, unlike anything he'd ever been forced to endure. The worst part of it all was the embarrassment. At least the feeling stopped once they did, but the shame lingered thick and heavy. The sounds he made... No one would take him seriously ever again.

He tried to sleep, but found it surprisingly difficult. In fact, he felt wide awake, jittery, energized. It felt just like when he would stir up trouble on the ship, only... stronger.

Oh fuck them to Hades and back. He did not just get a power trip from... from that! He still wasn't completely sure how his powers worked, but he refused to believe it. He had to draw a line somewhere.

A sharp knock at the door startled him out of his thoughts.

Just great. Who the hell could that be, and didn't they know how to take a fucking hint?

"Get lost."

"It's me."

Asterios turned on his heels, eyes wide and staring at the door.

That motherfucker-

He marched to the door, swinging it open. He glared down at the captain, arms crossed, "Didn't you get enough?"

"I came to check up on you. You okay?" he asked, at least sounding genuine. Asterios snorted and leaned against the doorframe, subtly blocking him from entering.

"Yeah, no thanks to you assholes."

"You've had it coming for a long time, and you know it," he teased lightly. Asterios arched a brow, clearly unamused. Odysseus looked him up and down with a fond smirk. "So can I come in?"

Asterios barked out a loud, condescending laugh, "No."

"I brought a peace offering," he added, holding up a cup of wine. Asterios glared at him for a moment before accepting the cup, stepping aside to let him in.

Once the door was shut, the captain turned to face him, "Seriously though, I wanted to make sure you're okay. I know some of the guys can get a little carried away."

"Don't act like you're not one of them," Asterios shot back, sitting on the edge of his bed. Odysseus chuckled and shook his head.

"Yeah, I'll admit, I can go a little overboard," he chuckled, and Asterios rolled his eyes. "But you're not like, actually mad at us, are you?"

"What? No," Asterios was quick to answer. "No, it's not that." He was definitely feeling some type of way after that, but he didn't think it was anger. He was used to furry and rage, but this was something else entirely. It didn't feel great, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant either. Not that he'd tell him. It was confusing, treading these unfamiliar waters of, dare he say, friendship.

Odysseus softened, seeming to recognize his struggle. "It can be a little overwhelming, can't it?"

"That's an understatement."

"Heh, yeah. But, you'll get used to it," he said with a wink. Asterios froze.

"No I won't."

"Eh, you will. You're fair game now."

"I am not!" he half growled, half whined.

"What? I'm just being honest. Running away from tickle fights won't work forever."

Asterios stared at him, stuttering for an excuse, "Wha- I- no I don't!"

"Yeah, you just magically disappear when one breaks out, isn't that convenient?"

"If I knew it was just gonna be more of this, I would've just taken the wine and slammed the door in your face."

"So you don't deny it?" he goaded, tongue poking out between his teeth in a cheeky grin.

"It's embarrassing, what the hell do you want from me?" he snapped.

"Hey, I get it. But I'm just saying, you're not as subtle as you think. And, I don't know, maybe Perimedes had a point."

"Excuse me?" Asterios gripped the cup so hard, his knuckles turned white and he was staring at Odysseus like a trapped wolf: angry, scared and cornered.

Odysseus knew he had to tread carefully. He took a deep breath, bracing himself. "Sorry if this seems blunt, but were you just too shy to include yourself? That's why you made us do it, isn't it?" He knew from the look on the demigod's face that he was right.

"I'd shut the fuck up if I were you."

"I'm right though, aren't I?" he asked, cocking his head to the side curiously.

Asterios glared at him as he spoke, chest heaving with every nervous breath he took. He took a step forward, trying to appear threatening. "If you tell anyone-"

"I won't."

Asterios seemed to relax. "Good. Thank you." He adverted his gaze and took a sip of wine to busy himself.

"Don't mention it." He gave his shoulder a pat as he left, not commenting on the way Asterios flinched at the touch. He paused at the doorway, looking over his shoulder. "Oh, and Asterios?"

"Yeah?"

"You're our brother now. We care about you. And sometimes, that looks a lot like bullying."

Asterios broke out in a timid grin. "Yeah, I think I'm figuring that out."

Odysseus gave a nod before letting himself out.

Asterios fell back on the bed, sighing deeply. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all...

He'd always been a little bit dramatic.

[nalyra-dreaming]

There is something I’ve been grappling with in this show and it’s Loustat. People ship them because they are passionate and two exceptionally handsome men. I also think people conflate Jam’s off-screen chemistry with Loustat’s onscreen chemistry. But do you think Louis deserves Lestat after trying to kill him? 

I’ll be honest, I’m struggling with the direction the show is going because I don’t think Louis is worthy of Lestat. It frustrates me that the show is forcing loustat on us when Lestat could be with someone who unabashedly loves him and wont use Lestat’s greatest fears against him. I know Lestat wasn't perfect, but if Louis wasn't so withholding it would have saved them a lot of problems. 

 It has been a great struggle for me in this fandom hearing people refer to Nicki and Armand as Lestat's abusers when they treated Lestat better than Louis did. I know Armand and Nicki weren’t perfect, but at least they were outspoken about loving him and didn't weaponize Lestat’s fear of loneliness against him. The reunion was nice, but it shocked me that Louis would leave Lestat alone, malnourished, and to continue to fend for himself in a dilapidated shack and return to the comforts of Dubai without him. Meanwhile, Nicki put lestat first and ended his own life instead of physically harming Lestat when he grew unhappy. He also couldn't help that he was ill. Armand has done terrible things, but still loved Lestat and would never threaten lestat’s life directly like Louis did or withhold love. And who could blame him for the messed up way he loves with his traumatic history? David was the perfect companion who has never once brought harm to Lestat in any shape or form. 

 I just want Lestat to have the love he craves and deserves and I just don’t see show Louis being cable of giving it to him like Nicki did, David did, or how Armand would be willing to do if provided the opportunity.  I hate that it takes Claudia’s death for Louis to finally want to treat Lestat right because if Claudia was still here, Louis would still choose her over Lestat. I know Anne wanted a better companion for Lestat than Louis so canonically others are written to be a better match for Lestat that likely won’t get explored because the show seems intent on forcing Loustat on us.

I’m curious to hear your thoughts on the matter. 

I think I've been quite plain on this, nonny.

People don't ship Loustat because the show pushes them on us, nor because they are handsome men (though they are).

Loustat are the cornerstones of the VC, and the show, together with DM is built on that.

Anne did not want a "better companion", she tried to let Louis go, which I can understand, because he is built on her mourning self and writing him must have reminded her of her dead child with every word. Ultimately though she did not manage that, and returned to reunite Louis with Lestat.

We have not even seen Nicki with Lestat yet, nor Armand. There is no saying what it will turn out to be, though I have my suspicions. We have not even seen Louis with Lestat as it was, since we know we were on a tale that was edited on purpose.

So forgive me, but your lamentation falls short.

No-one is forcing Loustat on anyone.

As I have said so long ago in that rant post - these are all valid relationships in the VC - reducing them to shipping or shipping wars is.... plain stupid, imho.

[call-me-liquid]

Tw: Heavy topic discussion ahead.

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So I have suffered with suicidal ideation for the majority of my life. As long as I can remember-- even when I was a child to some extent.

Despite current awareness of mental health issues, honestly, I don't think we have as a society really resolved yet how to earnestly address the issue. I don't blame people for not knowing what to say to suicidal people or just defaulting to the whole "oh I'm sorry, you're not alone, blah blah blah" song and dance. I get they don't know what to say, but.

The issue with being always suicidal is that it's kinda a bitch to figure out how to just live with? You don't want to worry people, or emotionally burden them, you dont want them walking on eggshells around you forever because they think at any moment they could accidentally push you over the edge. Because the conversation around suicidal ideation is so focused on NOT being suicidal anymore, it functionally silences people in a well-meaning, but still harmful way.

Like, let ol' uncle Eldritch affirm for anyone reading this right now: it's OKAY to be suicidal. Not okay as in, indulge the urge. But suicidal ideation is a mental health concern like any other. It's not your fault, and stressing yourself out that you feel this way will do you no good. Accepting a feeling is not the same as acting on it.

For most people the feeling is temporary, but the reality is for some of us it's not. The feeling might be more intense sometimes than others, but it's okay if they're always there. Strange thing to say, I know, but you don't owe anyone happiness. You don't owe anyone self-contentment. Yes, we all want those things, but getting upset with yourself that you haven't achieved that beyond healthy degrees is a vicious cycle that will only make you more miserable.

There's a difference between treating negative emotions as an undesirable outcome, and treating them as if they're a mistake. As if they're not often enough a logical outcome to many of life's challenges, especially these days.

Counterintuitive, I know, but accepting that someday I might lose the battle with my own suicidal ideation probably saved my life at several low points. Something I've had to reaffirm within myself several times over my life. And something it's been very hard to get other people to understand.

The problem may be bad, but it's almost always the stigma that makes it dire.

I'm not going to pretend there isn't some degree of a grain of truth to the idea that some people use suicidal intent to get attention, but that's a gross and misleading oversimplification of the issue. Some people have no suicidal intent, but use it as a means of manipulating others. I'd say those types of people are rarer than you might imagine, but yes, they exist. I'd say the majority of people, especially the ones who express the thought over and over again, just don't know what to do with their feelings. They're looking for an outlet, an explanation, validation, solidarity-- something. They're looking to not feel so isolated anymore, having feelings they know they "shouldn't be having." As stated above, our society still doesn't accept the feelings as acceptable even if we've moved the dial on the topic, and they're feeling shame and frustration that they just can't quite move past that.

I don't want to speak for everyone but I do believe I'm very much not alone on this when I say the phrase "I want to die"/"I'm suicidal" with the same type of intent I say, "I want to sleep," or "I'm hungry." I'd rather be awake and full, but, I'm currently feeling compelled to satisfy the urge to go to bed or eat. I'd rather be alive, however, dying feels like a very tempting offer. Inconveniently, of course, that craving happens to have permanent results. Can't go back to living if/when I have enough spoons to keep going, boo.

That's a very confusing sensation to grapple with-- understanding your life is a finite resource you aren't going to be able to get back, but also, being fucking sick of it. It's hard to know what to do about that-- especially because, again, you aren't ALLOWED to feel that way apparently.

If that feeling can be fixed it should, but some of us don't have that luxury. Some of us are broken in a way you can patch up, but we can never be fully restored to a mint-like condition. We still have value, we still are useful and can be fully realized people, if there was only room for us to be taken as we are and not how people want us.

Outrageously irresponsible and fucked Lily had the balls to give advice on this, if that even has to be said. Rest assured, she's on my "To Haunt" list if I do end up offing myself (in Minecraft.)

[rafesapologist]

the set up — rafe cameron; part twenty two

summary: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.

warnings: angst, swearing, fighting

author's note: cue silver springs by fleetwood mac

"Y/N?"

Rafe's voice breaks through the haze of your tears. The mixture of surprise and pain tightens your chest as you look up to see him standing there, concern etched across his face.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. The weight of the past, the hurtful comments, and the unexpected encounter at the restaurant hangs in the air. Rafe takes a hesitant step closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you're feeling. The silence stretches between you until he finally speaks, his voice gentle, "Are you okay?"

Your laughter is bitter, laced with the pain you've been trying to bury. "Why does it matter to you?" you retort, the words escaping your lips sharper than intended. The question hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions.

Rafe's initial surprise is replaced by a somber expression as he responds, "I was just worried. What Topper said was harsh, and I didn't want you to be alone after that." His words carry a hint of remorse, as if he regrets the pain caused by the cruel banter at the table.

You meet Rafe's gaze, a mix of frustration and hurt in your eyes. "There's nothing Topper said that wasn't true, Rafe. I don't need your pity," you reply, your voice edged with bitterness.

He sighs, "You're still as stubborn as ever, Y/N." Rafe runs a hand through his buzzcut, his gaze heavy with regret. "Look, I'm not here to pity you. I just… I couldn't stand hearing that shit back there. You don't deserve that."

Your voice wavers as you admit, "This is all my fault, Rafe. Everything that happened, it's because of me." You hesitate, struggling to find the right words to explain the tangled mess of emotions within you.

Rafe's eyes soften as he takes a seat beside you on the cold pavement. "Y/N, it's not all on you. We both made mistakes." His voice is gentle, carrying the weight of shared history and pain.

A dry laugh escapes your lips as you shake your head. "We should've never been together, Rafe. It was a disaster waiting to happen." The weight of your own words hangs in the air, and you feel a mixture of bitterness and regret.

Rafe winces, the impact of your words hitting him like a sudden blow. His expression transforms into one of genuine sadness, and his eyes reflect the pain he feels. It's as if each word you uttered dug a little deeper, reopening wounds he thought were healing. His gaze, once hopeful, now reflects a mixture of pain and longing, as if he's grappling with the harsh reality of the situation. The sadness in his eyes is palpable, a silent plea for understanding, forgiveness, or perhaps just a glimmer of the connection you once shared.

Rafe's voice carries a gentle sincerity as he responds, "I don't regret being with you, Y/N. It was the most alive I've ever felt." His words hang in the air, laced with a vulnerability that echoes the depth of his emotions. The sincerity in his voice reflects a raw honesty, baring a glimpse into the profound impact your relationship had on him. Despite the hardships, his admission seems to convey a genuine appreciation for the moments you shared, no matter how fleeting or tumultuous they may have been.

Tears glisten in your eyes as you confess with a trembling lip, "You're the only person I've ever been in love with, Rafe." The weight of your words hangs heavy in the air, each syllable carrying the magnitude of your emotions. In that vulnerable moment, you lay bare your heart, expressing a depth of feeling that transcends the pain and turmoil that has defined your recent history. The admission is both a testament to the intensity of your connection with Rafe and a painful acknowledgment of the fractures that have now severed that bond.

Rafe's eyes flicker between your lips and eyes, his expression a mixture of longing and contemplation. The weight of your words hangs in the air, and for a moment, silence envelops you both. Finally, Rafe breaks the quiet with a raw admission, "I still think you were the love of my life, Y/N." His words carry a heaviness, echoing the profound impact you've had on his heart. The vulnerability in his gaze reveals the depth of his emotions, laying bare the scars left by your shared history.

Your voice trembles with vulnerability as you question Rafe, "Why didn't you call?" The ache of unanswered questions and lingering emotions permeates the air, and your eyes search his for an explanation, seeking closure in the midst of the pain.

"I... I felt like I had to let you go," he confesses, his gaze fixed on some distant point. "You wanted a lifestyle that I couldn't give you. I thought I was doing what was best for you, even if it hurt like hell."

You scoff, a mixture of anger and hurt in your voice. "So, what? You just decided I wasn't worth it? That I couldn't handle your world, your problems? Is that what you thought of me, Rafe?"

Rafe's jaw tightens, and he sighs. "No, Y/n, it's not like that. I thought I was doing the right thing for you. I didn't want you to get caught up in the mess I was in."

"You think leaving me alone made me happy, Rafe?" you retort, pulling away from the hug, wiping away your tears. "I needed you, not some grand gesture of 'figuring things out.' You abandoned me, and now you're telling me it's because you thought it would make me happy? That's just a messed-up excuse."

Rafe looks down, unable to meet your gaze. "I know I messed up. I should have communicated better, but I was dealing with my own demons. I thought I was doing what was best for you."

"You don't get to decide what's best for me, Rafe," you say, your voice quivering with a mix of anger and hurt. "And you certainly don't get to come back now acting like you're the hero trying to save the day. It's too late."

Rafe takes a deep breath, his shoulders slumping with the weight of the conversation. "You're right, Y/n. We both messed up, and we were on a destructive path. Maybe we needed this time apart to heal, or else we would've kept hurting each other."

You nod, acknowledging his words but not ready to fully accept them. The wounds are still fresh, and the pain runs deep. "Maybe," you say, your voice softer. "But that doesn't change what happened, Rafe. We can't go back and undo the past."

Your voice trembles as you ask, "Is she the one, then?"

Rafe's eyes search yours, and for a moment, you see a flicker of hesitation. "Sofia… she's different. It's not that simple, Y/n."

Your heart sinks, and you avert your gaze, focusing on the distant waves crashing against the shore nearby. "Different how?"

He takes a moment before responding, choosing his words carefully. "She's been there for me, Y/N. After everything fell apart, after I.. left, she was there. I wasn't in a good place, and she helped me get through some tough times."

The words sting, and you clench your fists, trying to contain the flood of emotions. "So, she's the one now," you state, more as a realization than a question.

Rafe looks torn, conflicted by the complexity of the situation. "I don't know, Y/N. I care about her, but it's not that simple to replace what we had."

The pain is palpable, and you fight back tears. "I see," is all you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the revelation hangs heavy in the air, and the silence between you stretches on, mirroring the vast expanse of the darkening parking lot.

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand, a mixture of frustration and sadness evident in your eyes. With a deep breath, you manage to steady yourself, brushing off the gravel from your clothes. Looking down at Rafe, you speak, your voice strained, "I'll leave you alone. It's clear you've moved on."

Rafe watches you rise to your feet, a pained expression on his face. "Y/n, it's not that simple. It's complicated, and—"

Cutting him off, you shake your head, not wanting to hear any more explanations. "Save it, Rafe. I can't keep doing this to myself. Do you have any idea how much pain I've been through since you left? I waited for months, hoping against hope that you'd call. But here I am, finding out that you've been busy with somebody else all this time."

Rafe scoffs, his expression a mixture of shock and hurt. He shakes his head, as if trying to dispel the weight of your words. "You think I haven't been hurting?" he retorts, his voice laced with frustration. "This decision wasn't easy for me either, especially after I found out what you did with JJ. I had to live with that."

Anger and hurt surge through you like a storm, and without thinking, you walk up to Rafe. Fueled by a mix of emotions, you shove him, your hands colliding with his chest. "Go to hell, Rafe!" you spit out, your voice a mixture of anger, betrayal, and a touch of lingering pain. The push is both a physical and emotional release, a manifestation of the pent-up frustration and heartache that have consumed you for months. The tears in your eyes threaten to spill over as you turn away, not wanting to witness the aftermath of your outburst.

The doors swing shut behind you, muffling the distant sounds of the restaurant. The cool evening air greets your flushed face as you storm off into the kitchen, leaving behind the remnants of a shattered encounter with Rafe. With swift, determined movements, you rip off your waist apron, the fabric protesting with each forceful tug, and hurl it to the ground.

The metallic clatter echoes in the confines of the kitchen, a sharp punctuation to the emotional turmoil brewing within. The kitchen staff casts furtive glances in your direction, sensing the storm of emotions you carry. As you reach for your tote bag, hands trembling, a bitter taste of tears lingers in your mouth.

Each item you retrieve from your bag feels like a lifeline, a small attempt to regain control in the midst of chaos. The rhythmic thud of your heart matches the intensity of the moment, a stark contrast to the bustling energy of the restaurant beyond those swinging doors.

With your belongings in hand, you take a moment to compose yourself. The cool tiles beneath your feet offer a fleeting sense of grounding, a brief sanctuary before reentering the outside world. The air seems charged with the residual tension of the encounter, a palpable reminder of the fractures that now mar the once-shared history.

The doors open before you, revealing the fading sunlight of the evening. As you step out, the weight of recent emotions clings to you like an invisible cloak. The discarded apron remains on the kitchen floor, a symbolic release from a life that once felt whole. The echoes of your footsteps resonate in tandem with the echoes of a fractured heart.

Rafe remains seated at the table, his posture a carefully crafted facade of nonchalance. He keeps his eyes fixed on the remnants of a meal that now feels like a distant memory, each bite a bitter reminder of the emotional turbulence that unfolded. The subtle clinks of cutlery against plates provide a rhythmic backdrop, a stark contrast to the chaos within.

His friends continue their chatter, oblivious to the storm raging within Rafe. He steals a furtive glance toward the kitchen doors, heart sinking at the realization of the pain he inadvertently caused. The sight of you storming out, shoulders heavy with the weight of unspoken words, lingers in his mind.

An uneasy tension settles in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the fractures in relationships that were once unbreakable. Rafe clutches his drink, the condensation from the glass doing little to quell the warmth spreading through his veins. A pang of regret tightens his chest as he grapples with the aftermath of the encounter.

The night unfolds around him, the ambient noise of the restaurant morphing into a distant hum. Rafe feigns engagement in the conversation, a masterful act to conceal the turmoil beneath the surface. Yet, with each passing moment, the weight of what transpired grows heavier, casting a shadow over the once carefree gathering.

As the evening wears on, Rafe wrestles with the internal conflict, his gaze occasionally drifting toward the kitchen doors, half-expecting you to reappear. The air is thick with the unspoken, a lingering tension that refuses to dissipate. In the midst of the restaurant's buzz, Rafe grapples with the consequences of his choices, uncertain of how to navigate the fractured landscape he finds himself in.

───────────────

The screams echoed in the confined space of your room, a cathartic release for the overwhelming emotions tearing at your insides. Clothes flew haphazardly, a chaotic dance of fabric and frustration. The once neatly organized closet transformed into a disarray of colors and textures, mirroring the chaos within your heart.

Each discarded garment seemed to carry memories, both beautiful and painful. The pile grew as you continued, an unintentional metaphor for the wreckage left in the wake of shattered love. The room bore witness to your unraveling, the air thick with the weight of unspoken words and unshed tears.

The act of tearing through your wardrobe became a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil. Each discarded piece carried a story – a date night, a shared laugh, a stolen kiss – and with each memory, the pain deepened. The room bore witness to your silent battle, the walls absorbing the echoes of your distress.

As the last piece was added to the growing pile, you sank to the floor, surrounded by the remnants of a life that once felt whole. The room held a solemn stillness, interrupted only by the occasional hiccup of a sob. The disarray mirrored the storm raging within, a tangible representation of a heart in ruins.

Alone in the midst of the wreckage, you clutched at the fabric of a discarded shirt, the material soft against your trembling fingers. The room held the residue of your anguish, a silent witness to the unraveling of a love story.

You were sitting on the edge of your bed, surrounded by the remnants of your emotions scattered across the room. The pain in your chest was suffocating, and the thought of facing Rafe again felt unbearable. As the realization of your turmoil hit, you began to frantically pull your clothes out of the closet, creating a chaotic pile on the floor.

JJ's voice cut through the tumult as he knocked on the door, calling out your name. The concern in his tone made your heart ache even more. Swallowing hard, you wiped away a stray tear and mustered the strength to respond.

"I want to leave the cut, JJ," you admitted, your voice shaky and choked with emotion.

The door creaked open, and JJ stepped into the room. His eyes widened at the sight of your disarrayed belongings and the distress etched across your face. He moved closer, his hand gently resting on your shoulder.

"Leave the cut? Y/n, what do you mean?" JJ's words held a mix of surprise and worry.

You took a trembling breath, attempting to articulate the overwhelming emotions. "I… I can't stay here, JJ. Everything's falling apart, and I can't bear to be around it anymore."

JJ's grip on your shoulder tightened, and he tried to reassure you. "Hey, hey, listen. Leaving the cut isn't the answer. We'll figure this out, okay? You're not alone in this."

Your head shook in despair as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. "I can't face Rafe, JJ. Not after everything that happened today. It's too much."

JJ sighed, his thumb gently wiping away a tear from your cheek. "You don't have to face it alone, Y/n. We're a team, remember? Let me help you."

Through tear-streaked eyes, you confided in JJ about the pain that seemed to resurface with a vengeance. "I thought I'd be healed by now, JJ. I really did. But seeing Rafe again… it's like everything I felt the day he left came rushing back. I can't escape it, and I can't keep pretending like I'm okay."

JJ's expression softened as he listened, understanding the depth of your struggle. He pulled you into a comforting embrace, offering silent support. "Y/n, healing isn't always linear. It's okay to feel this way, and it's okay to take the time you need. You're not alone in this, and you don't have to carry the weight by yourself."

You rested against JJ, allowing his presence to provide a momentary reprieve from the storm of emotions raging within you. The road to healing was proving to be more challenging than you anticipated, but JJ's unwavering support offered a glimmer of hope in the darkness that surrounded you.

Tears streamed down your face as your head rested on JJ's shoulder. The weight of the pain, the memories, and the recent encounter with Rafe seemed almost unbearable. JJ held you close, offering a silent understanding that went beyond words. In that moment, the vulnerability you shared created a bond, a lifeline in the storm of emotions that threatened to engulf you. Together, in the embrace of a friend, you allowed the tears to flow, releasing some of the pent-up anguish that had been haunting you.

───────────────

Rafe pushed through the restaurant doors, the cool evening air hitting his face. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions – the encounter with you, the revelation of your pain, and the weight of his own regrets.

As he stepped onto the sidewalk, Sofia's voice reached him, calling out his name. He paused, glancing over his shoulder to find her catching up. Her expression was a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Hey, where are you going in such a hurry?" Sofia asked, her tone light but probing.

Rafe's jaw clenched, and he ran a hand through his hair. "Just need some air. I'll catch up with you later."

Sofia's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing that something was amiss. "Is everything okay? You seem off."

He sighed, attempting a reassuring smile. "It's nothing, really. Just some stuff on my mind. Don't worry about it."

She studied him for a moment, then reluctantly nodded. "Alright, but don't disappear on me, okay? We're supposed to be having a good time."

Rafe managed a nod before turning away, distancing himself from the chaos of the restaurant and the complexities that lingered within. Sofia watched him go, a flicker of concern in her eyes, but Rafe's focus was elsewhere – on the tumultuous emotions echoing in his chest and the haunting memories of the past.

As he walked into the night, he couldn't shake the image of your tear-streaked face from his mind. The pain etched in your eyes cut through him, a stark reminder of the consequences of choices made and the irreversible damage inflicted. Unbeknownst to both Rafe and you, the threads of fate continued to weave intricate patterns, bringing forth challenges, revelations, and the potential for healing.

In the quiet solitude of the night, Rafe found himself wandering aimlessly through the dimly lit streets. Each step felt heavy with the weight of the past, the memories of his time with you, and the recent revelation of your lingering pain. The distant hum of the ocean and the cool breeze offered little solace as he grappled with the turmoil within.

Lost in thought, Rafe's mind replayed the moments of your encounter at the restaurant. The pain in your eyes had struck a chord deep within him, resurrecting emotions he thought he had buried. He couldn't shake the haunting images of you in tears, the hurt evident in every line of your face.

As he walked, Rafe's footsteps led him to a familiar place – the beach. The rhythmic sound of crashing waves greeted him as he approached the shoreline. The moon cast a gentle glow on the water, creating a serene backdrop that contradicted the storm raging within him.

Rafe sank onto the sand, his hands digging into the cool grains beneath him. The weight of regret settled on his shoulders, the reality of the choices he'd made sinking in. The pain in your eyes, the words left unspoken – it all echoed in the stillness of the night.

The sound of footsteps approached from behind, and Rafe turned to find Topper and Kelce walking toward him. They exchanged glances, noting the troubled expression on Rafe's face.

Topper nudged him playfully. "Hey, man, what's eating you? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Rafe forced a half-hearted smile. "Just a lot on my mind, you know?"

Kelce raised an eyebrow. "Trouble in paradise? Sofia seemed pretty concerned back there."

Rafe's jaw tightened, and he clenched his fists in the sand. "It's complicated. Let's not get into it."

Topper and Kelce exchanged knowing glances, realizing that Rafe wasn't in the mood to share. The three of them sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, the distant murmurs of the ocean providing a somber soundtrack to their contemplations.

After a prolonged pause, Topper spoke up. "Well, whatever it is, you've got us. We're your friends, man."

Rafe nodded, appreciating the sentiment. Despite the camaraderie, the weight of the unresolved emotions lingered. The complexities of the night had only deepened, and Rafe found himself caught in a web of conflicting feelings.

As they sat by the shore, the waves continued their relentless dance, a metaphor for the ebb and flow of the challenges ahead. Little did Rafe know that the night held more revelations and twists, setting the stage for a journey that would test the boundaries of love, forgiveness, and self-discovery.

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[perictione00]

Selfish

Ch 6: Games

Pairing: Geto Suguru x reader

Warnings: MDNI, dark content ahead including cannibalism and death, intended incest.

Synopsis: You left the Jujutsu World behind the moment the source of your warmth turned cold. So what happens when you come face to face with that one episode in your life that you wanted to obliterate? Simple, you reap what you sow.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Ch 5

For reasons unbeknownst to you, Suguru harbored a desire to conceal your presence and affiliation with his cult. To such an extent that your conspicuous absence from both the school and your family abode gave rise to speculations: either you had followed the path of the raven-haired curse user, or you had withdrawn and isolated yourself from the world to preserve your own existence. People who were acquainted with you opted to embrace the latter. Nevertheless, as time elapsed, doubts arose, contemplating whether you had chosen to end it all. And that was why you had deliberately violated numerous rules set by Suguru, in your order to ensure the well-being of your family, only to discover that they were enduring distress, burdened with self-blame for ever letting you go. The same was the case with Nanami. He regretted not being there for you when you needed him the most. Consequently, his immediate response to your call, abandoning all other commitments, came as no shock.

"Hey...?" Nanami appeared perplexed, tilting his head in recognition.

"Oh...Kento, you actually came!" You exclaimed, rising from your seat, only to be enveloped in a tight embrace.

"I've missed you." Nanami's usual stoicism melted away, surprising you with his emotional display. Memories flooded your mind as you reciprocated, the warmth of the moment reminiscent of simpler times. It brought back the days when things were less complicated, suddenly reminding you of the person you cared for. The realization brought back images of betrayal, causing frustration to set in as the conflicting emotions of anger and reunion played out, bringing tears to your eyes.

"Don't let go." You whispered.

"I won't." He affirmed.

In that moment, Nanami embraced you in a prolonged silence before addressing the unspoken issue.

"Where were you all this time?" He inquired, his gaze skeptical, his hands firmly gripping your shoulders.

Uncertain of how to respond, you grappled with the dilemma—reveal the truth, trusting him to keep it confidential, or fabricate a story to protect yourself?

"I... I fled after Suguru's departure. I was unsure of..." 

"Suguru, huh?" he murmured softly. The slip of your endearing tone told him everything he needed to know. "You were with him, weren't you?"

"Ken-"

"You don't need to lie to me. I don't think I can stand causing you harm anyway. I just want to understand... why?" Nanami questioned, wiping away tears from your cheek.

"I-I killed someone, Kento. It was unintentional...the voices in my head they're terrifying. It's waiting for the right moment, and I don't know what'll happen if it takes over. I'm sorry; I'm so so-sorry. I didn't mean to—I don't know. I really tried. I just-"

"Hey, hey, breathe. I've got you." He uttered while gently stroking your hair.

Geto Suguru was a man with unconventional ideals, and he lived by those every day. He relished in the pains of those unworthy of his eyes. He loved feeding into their delusions, and so he loved playing with his prey. A troubled girl of his age from an influential family with a curse wrapped around her was just another player in his games. The creature slithering around her body radiated envy, unsurprising for someone as spoiled as she was. Daddy's princess, who would get anything within a snap of her fingers or the opening of her legs. And if the repulsive relationship wasn't enough, the girl had the revolting audacity to expect a celebratory welcome from him.

"It's been days since I last saw you. Why didn't you text me?" She asked sensually.

"Oh, my little monkey. I was busy~" He answered in a sing-along voice.

"You don't know how many times I touched myself with just the thought of you. Do you wanna see Daddy? How much I missed you?" Dropping her wet panties to the floor, she moved closer to him.

Geto couldn't stop smirking, almost on the brink of letting go and laughing maniacally. He was excited to give her the gift of a lifetime, so he played along as she kissed him and tried humping on his leg while a certain someone watched the scene unfold through the gap in the door.

"Wait! I've prepared your favorite meal. Now be a sweetheart and have it before it turns  cold." Geto stated pulling away from her.

"But-"

"No buts. You can have me after lunch."

The girl seemed to enjoy the princess treatment as Geto carried her to a table with a single dish covered by a cloche.

"Open it." He ordered.

"A... sausage?" She inquired with bewilderment.

"Give it a try before jumping to conclusions."

The girl moaned unintentionally on the first bite from the 'burst' of flavors, and like a glutten, she kept munching on it.

"Wow! What is this?"

"It's your favorite meat. Been in your mouth many times before." Geto hinted.

"Is this Wagyu beef?" She asked mindlessly.

"You know your father has this itch to pull the most outrageous stunts-"

"Did Daddy plan all of this? Aww...my bubu is the best. You should try this too. Wagyu beef is rare."

"Shut up for once, will you?" Geto sneered as he released a few curses to hold the girl in place.

"Now where was I? Oh yeah, your father. Regardless of how much of a cashcow your family is, I can't fathom the nerve of a weakling to eye what is mine. And do you know what your dearest old daddy did? He did exactly what he wasn't supposed to do. He looked at my love and had the impudence to approach her. Talk about audacity. But I have to give it to him. Even after all these years, it has always been your photo in a high school dress that he jerked off to every night. He was hard too when I..." He stopped halfway, chuckling sinisterly and slowly eyeing the almost empty plate of food.

"No...nooo. No. You've got to be kidding me. You motherfucker. Stop this! Stop it, sto-" Her head blew up as curses began consuming her body. It was always a delicious sight to see the agony of the uncivilized. Now he would finally spend the rest of his day with you peacefully.

You were squeezed into a hug as you crossed the threshold of your house. And before you could stop your actions, you recoiled, instinctively pushing away the person in disgust, only to realize what you had done. 

"Ouch. Are you okay?" Geto inquired with concern.

"Oh-yeah, I'm good. I just got scared." You replied curtly, scared if he had noticed your absence.

"Alright. Now, c'mon, gimme a hug. I've been dying to feel you all day." It almost made you scoff at how shamelessly he was spewing lies when he had his tongue down someone else's throat on the very same day. But you complied with his wishes anyway.

"Where were you, by the way?" He queried, inhaling the fragrance of your hair with an unsettling intensity.

"Right here. I just went out to get some fresh air." You answered, feeling an uncomfortable coldness in the expected warmth of his embrace.

"Hmm...funny that you say that, 'cause I stationed myself at this very gate for the past two hours, anticipating your return. So I'm gonna ask again. Where were you?"

[deliciousangelfestival]

Harmony of Hearts || Bucky Barnes

Character: Bucky x SHIELD!Reader

Summary: A new SHIELD agent with a troubled past struggles to escape the shadows that haunt her. Understanding her pain, Bucky becomes a steadfast companion, offering support and encouragement.

Theme: Fluff, Slice of Life, Heart-Warming.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my follower @winterwitch-trash. Life's journey often takes us through challenging times. You are stronger than you know, and I believe in your ability to overcome. Keep moving forward, and know that brighter days are ahead. To all my followers and readers, Happy New Year 2024! Wishing you a year filled with joy, success, and beautiful moments. Here's to new beginnings, shared stories, and the coming year's endless possibilities. Cheers to growth, laughter, and the adventures that await. 🎉🌟

Within the bustling corridors of SHIELD, Y/N navigated the ebb and flow of her new life. The camaraderie among her colleagues provided a sense of belonging, yet there were moments when the shadows of her past cast a subtle veil over her determination.

One evening, after a demanding mission, Bucky approached her with a reassuring smile. "You held your ground out there, Y/N. Impressive."

A grateful smile graced her lips. "Thanks, Bucky. But sometimes, it feels like my past is a shadow I can't escape."

Understanding flickered in Bucky's eyes. "I've been down that road. You're not alone now. We're a team."

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N faced challenges that tested her resilience. Bucky, a steadfast presence, offered encouragement and shared his own experiences of triumph over inner demons. He reminded her that strength flourished in vulnerability.

Strolling through the helicarrier's corridors one day, Y/N confessed, "Finding someone who gets it is rare."

Bucky chuckled warmly. "Life surprises you, and you're one of the good surprises, Y/N."

Rooftop conversations became a haven where words flowed freely, carried away by the night breeze. It was during one of these moments that Y/N, vulnerability in her gaze, expressed gratitude.

"You make the load feel lighter," she admitted.

Bucky's response was a reassuring smile. "We're in this together, Y/N."

Struggles persisted, and Y/N found herself wrestling with the demons of her past in moments of solitude. Despite her efforts, the haunting echoes threatened to undermine her progress. Bucky, keenly observant, noticed the subtle changes in her demeanor.

In the helicarrier's kitchen, shared meals became a ritual of companionship. Bucky, sensing her struggles, became an unwavering pillar of support.

However, the weight of her past sometimes proved too heavy, and Y/N's attempts to articulate her pain often ended in frustrated silences.

"You're trying too hard to carry it all alone," Bucky gently remarked one evening, his eyes reflecting concern.

Y/N sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I just don't want to burden anyone."

Bucky shook his head, "We're a team, remember? You're not a burden, Y/N. Let us help carry the load."

Despite her efforts to make it work, Y/N found herself grappling with feelings of inadequacy. In the face of mission failures or personal setbacks, she retreated into a self-imposed isolation, convinced that her struggles were a testament to her perceived shortcomings.

One day, as they walked through the helicarrier's corridors, Bucky gently nudged her shoulder. "You're not defined by your mistakes, Y/N. You're defined by how you rise from them."

His words lingered, sinking into the recesses of her heart. Y/N realized that her journey toward healing wasn't a straight path. It was a maze of ups and downs, and Bucky was there, a guiding presence in the labyrinth of her uncertainties.

As they faced new challenges, Y/N's struggles persisted, but so did Bucky's unwavering support. In moments of doubt, he became the anchor that steadied her, the voice of reason that countered the whispers of self-criticism.

One evening, after a particularly trying mission, Y/N again found herself on the rooftop. Instead of bearing the weight alone this time, she turned to Bucky with a vulnerability that transcended words.

He listened, not with judgment but with a genuine understanding that only someone who had walked a similar path could provide.

"You don't have to have it all figured out, Y/N," Bucky reassured her. "We're all works in progress. And you're doing better than you think."

As the helicarrier hummed with activity around them, Y/N felt a shift within herself. Bucky's support, coupled with the realization that she didn't have to navigate the journey alone, infused her with a renewed sense of resilience.

Their friendship, born amidst struggles, became a testament to the transformative power of genuine connection. Y/N's path, once marked by solitary footsteps, now had the imprint of a companion who shared both the highs and lows.

In their shared moments, amidst laughter and shared vulnerabilities, Y/N discovered that the journey toward healing wasn't a destination to reach but a continual growth process.

With Bucky by her side, the echoes of her past became softer, replaced by the harmonious notes of a friendship that thrived in the face of adversity.

And so, within the heart of SHIELD, where the complexities of duty met the warmth of camaraderie, Y/N and Bucky continued navigating life's intricacies.

Their friendship, a symphony of shared struggles and unwavering support, played on a melody that resonated with the promise of brighter tomorrows.

-end-

Author Note :

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

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[spectersgirl]

if ur taking requests!! harvey and reader getting into a heated argument and harvey being his usual self takes it too far by saying something he didn’t mean and it ends up real angsty but then they make up somehow cuz i don’t like sad endings lol

if ur not don’t worry abt it :)

I'm always taking requests! I may not do them but I'm always taking them 🤪

Regret

Harvey Specter x Reader

--------

The New York skyline really was beautiful, and maybe you could've appreciated it if you were standing in Harvey's office under different circumstances.

The air crackled with tension as you and Harvey fought, the biggest fight you'd had in your entire relationship.

"You can't just bulldoze your way through everything, Harvey!" your voice cut through the silence, blazing with frustration. "One day you'll realize you need to listen to others instead of assuming you have all the answers, and it'll be too late."

Harvey's features hardened, his gaze unwavering as he spoke coldly. "And sometimes, you need to understand that this is how it works. I've been doing this a hell of a lot longer than you have. You don't get to lecture me on how to handle my cases, if I wanted your opinion I would've asked."

The words, sharper than intended, hung heavy in the air leaving a bitter taste in both your and Harvey's mouths. You tried your best to hide it, but he saw the flicker of hurt that flashed across your face, a mix of betrayal and anguish clouding your expression.

"You know what, Harvey? Maybe you're right. Maybe I shouldn't bother trying to help if you're just going to throw it back in my face," you replied, your voice trembling ever so slightly with restrained emotion.

For a moment, regret crossed Harvey's eyes, but his pride took over once more, replacing the regret with a coldness. "Fine. Maybe it's better this way."

The harshness in his words reverberated, a feeling of finality rippling through the room. You hated this, but there was nothing left for you to say. You stormed out, leaving him with nothing but the click of your heels on the tile floor. The door sealing shut made Harvey sigh, immediate regret over his words hitting him like a wave.

The hours that followed were agonizingly slow, each minute dragging on as Harvey remained seated at his desk, getting nothing done as the weight of his own words bore down on him. His usual confidence faltered as he replayed every word of the argument in his mind, grappling with the realization that his pride had cost him the most important thing he'd ever known. He swirled a glass of whiskey he'd poured absentmindedly.

It wasn't until a soft, hesitant knock broke the silence in his office that Harvey stirred from his thoughts. you stood at the threshold, your shoulders tense and eyes glistening with tears. He saw every emotion you felt plain as day on your face, and his heart lurched.

"Y/N, I didn't mean what I said," Harvey began, but you raised a hand, interrupting him.

"I know you didn't. And neither did I," you admitted, your voice cracking with vulnerability.

A fragile silence loomed, a moment of uncertain energy between you, before Harvey closed the distance, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice laced with genuine remorse. "I'm so, so sorry."

You nodded, hugging him back and resting your head on his chest, the tension evaporating as you both relaxed for the first time that day. "I am too."

Harvey gently pulled away, cupping your face with a tenderness that said everything he didn't know how to. "We make a good team, you and I. I can't lose that."

A small smile formed on your lips, unable to hide the fact that you shared the sentiment. "Me either, Harvey."

With this admission, he gently leaned down to kiss your lips, a longing present there as you kissed back.