#Cold Logic vs Feeling

[wickedzeevyln]

✮ Orpheus ✮

The alarm blared as another sector of Neonova’s neural grid collapsed. My fingers flew across the console, my skin gummy from sweat slithering down my forehead and dripping all over the buttons. Around me, the Control Spire trembled. Guts grating inside. The error codes are lambent, pulsating making me wheeze through my nostrils. The holograms of the city’s heartbeat flatlining into jagged red…

[peachesvault]

Sprayed secrets

Archenemy!Bakugou x reader

𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝 You're locked in a bathroom with your enemy. What secrets come up?

A/n: There will be a part two! This was the hero x hero in the poll. I think I ate lowk.

If there was one person you hated with all your heart, it was Bakugou fucking im-better-than-you Katsuki. That fucking BOY got on your fucking nerves. Somebody had to put him in his place (Not that you hadn’t) by tripping him and making him eat shit. His cocky attitude and constant yelling often made you fantasize about seeping mustard gas into his room in the dead of night. You hadn’t yet through sheer willpower.

So, colour yourself rainbow and call yourself Pedro pony when asked why and how the fuck you ended up in the shower with him.

You both sat fully clothed under the cold spray of the shower, drenched to the bone. Your backs were pressed up against opposite walls, just staring at each other as the two of you bent your knees to fit in the cramped space.

Honestly, this was all Kirishimas fault. After Izuku and his friends got Bakugou back from the LOV, he never was quite the same. And you suppose everybody was concerned You included so his friends decided that locking him in the bathroom with one of them until he spoke was the way to deal with it, and you just happened to get stringed into their obnoxious schemes.

Honestly, it made no sense, sure you lost rock paper scissors against Kirishima but like from a logical point of view, it was his worst enemy vs his bestest little friend. Why in the world would they lock him in a room with you over Kirishima? Were they all stupid? He would never talk to you.

You had started off on separate sides of the bathroom, but your patience quickly died a few hours in. If you were forced to be in a room with him, it might as well be for a reason, or at the very least to have it done with.

“Get in the shower” You had said harshly.

“No what the fuck? You pervert.”

“What? No you weirdo. I think best in the shower, so we’re going to talk in there”

He had obviously fought it, and he could tell you didn’t want to do this just as much as him. But after his so-called friends didn’t unlock the door even after three hours, he decided he might as well, if only to get out sooner.

So thats how you ended up here.

Maybe you didn’t tell him the whole truth though. The water also helped in feeling more protected. Less vulnerable. It was easier to ignore the tear slipping down his face as he recalled what happened, easier to brush it off as just the water. It was easier to ignore his voice cracking, easier to play coy and say you didn’t hear anything over the water roaring over your head.

But something had shifted. The conversation had started off with Bakugou realising that neither of you would be let out until he started talking, so he did. It started mundane, he kept up his strong persona, making it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. But he could see that you saw straight through his bullshit, yet were choosing not to call him out on it. It was slow, but he gained some respect for you, not enough to stop hating you but enough to acknowledge you weren’t all that bad if you were choosing to not mock him when he was talking about his most vulnerable moment.

Perhaps the same happened to you. You saw through his bullshit. But you also saw he was used to putting up a front, something you knew personally. It was a defense mechanism as much as it was self-preservation. Maybe you had to give the real Bakugou a chance.

“It was… hard” He whispered, and you understood him. Any idea of putting him in his place was gone, you were just two people who had been through a lot.

” I know what that's like” You whispered back

“You do, don’t you?” He replied chuckling dryly.

You don’t know when you started sharing parts of your life too but letting him be the only vulnerable one felt wrong. You never meant for it to get this far, but over the past few hours, he knew things about you that you had never dared to mention out loud to anybody, and it was the same for him.

You were strangers. Enemies. Yet you both shared secrets that were so… personal. Words that would never see anything past the cramped dingy walls of this shower. Yet they were the same words that slowly crumbled both your walls, that you both connected over, over things nobody should have ever experienced let alone connect over. Eventually, the thought hit you like a truck.

Maybe Bakugou wasn't so bad.

It was another couple hours until you were both let out, both of you were shivering despite being under hot water, your skins wrinkling and lightly purple. Your friends were panicked, and the two of you were dragged away to the different dorms to be taken care of.

Looking back at him as you were doted over by all the girls, you saw him staring back receiving the same treatment.

You squinted as he mouthed something.

KATSUKI.

That's when you knew.

Nothing would ever be the same again.

Do not plagiarise/copy/post on other platforms. All work is @peachesvault original works. | Masterlist

[jennelikejennay]

We talk a lot about Bones's kinda xenophobic comments, but the vast majority of his teasing comments to Spock fall into one of two categories:

1. You are so emotionless!

2. I caught you having an emotion!

See, he knows Spock refusing to show emotion is a choice. It's not just because he's Vulcan—Spock is half human, but he chooses not to act human. He disagrees with that choice, but he also knows Spock is confident in it and won't change.

Type 1 is just a casual "hey, this difference exists between us!" and Spock eats it up. He LOVES being affirmed in that difference.

"I think you're the most cold-blooded man I've ever met."

"Why thank you, Doctor."

Type 2 is more actual razzing. He knows Spock doesn't want to be caught in an emotion, but he thinks it's good for him. Spock just brushes this off. He doesn't love it, but he also feels he's good at emotional repression and won't be caught out.

"You can't tell me that when you first saw Jim alive that you weren't on the verge of giving us an emotional scene that would have brought the house down."

"Merely my quite logical relief that Starfleet had not lost a highly proficient captain."

When Bones gets really mad, he says this stuff more sincerely. He's angry that Spock won't show emotion and says so. He just can't understand why Spock chooses to be like this!

Do you know why you're not afraid to die, Spock? You're more afraid of living. Each day you stay alive is just one more day you might slip and let your human half peek out. That's it, isn't it? Insecurity. Why, you wouldn't know what to do with a genuine, warm, decent feeling.

This is him genuinely upset. He's lashing out. But Spock doesn't take it hard, and Bones backs down because he realizes he's taking it too far.

"Really, Doctor?"

"I know. I'm worried about Jim, too."

None of this is "you're Vulcan and I hate Vulcans." It's, "you, personally, are frustrating me for being unfeeling when I know you could feel and are just hiding it."

Not that he never says anything xenophobic, but most of it is a more personal teasing about their differences as a wildly and openly emotional man vs a man who chooses not to feel.

Importantly, most of the time he says these things, he's smiling. In fic he's so often a grouch, but he actually smiles a lot. He's Pathos, the character who symbolizes all emotion, including the good ones.

I'm just seeing more in his character the more I watch, and the more attentively I watch.

[mapsthewanderer]

The Maze

Synopsis: In a future where war and technology have blurred the line between man and machine, Caleb was resurrected—not as who he was, but as who he was programmed to be. With only 3% of his original self left intact, the latest reboot of his chip has reshaped his logic, his purpose, and his understanding of his emotions towards you.

Bound by his own design, he has built you the Maze—a flawless, shifting sanctuary meant to protect the one person he refuses to lose. But protection and captivity are two sides of the same coin, and inside the Maze, freedom is just another unsolvable puzzle.

Will you escape, or will Stockholm Syndrome take hold before that day?

Details: 3500ish words. Some kind of spin off AU, but it corresponds with in-game canons. Obsessive Caleb. Yandere Caleb. Controlling Caleb. Crazy hot Caleb. Fem reader. Dom!Caleb. I mean it. He’s absolutely feral dom (imo). Freak vs freak. Psychological thriller, p0rn with plot. 18+ and super filthy explicit language. This is the dom-iest I’ve written Caleb. And it’s all for the plot, I promise. This is not for the faint of heart, ok? You are warned.

Chapters: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight (final chapter)

Tags: @gavin3469 @mcdepressed290 @justpassingdontworry

Loophole | Chapter four

The Maze, somewhere, you

The air is thick, charged, humming with artificial electricity as you sprint down the winding corridors, the breath in your lungs sharp and burning. The Maze shifts around you, walls recalibrating, openings appearing and sealing off just as quickly—a living, breathing thing designed to keep you trapped.

Designed by him.

Your muscles already ache from the chase, your heartbeat thrumming like a war drum, but you crave it—the rush, the unbearable anticipation crawling up your spine. Thank god dinner was light—just enough to sustain you, not enough to weigh you down, leaving only the hunger that truly matters.

Because you know he is close.

Somewhere behind you, Caleb is hunting. Calculating. Stalking.

He is going to catch you.

But not yet.

Not until you made him work for it.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, somewhere, Caleb

His footsteps are slow, measured, deliberate—click, click, click—echoing through the steel corridors, following the path you’ve unknowingly laid out for him.

Because you are predictable.

Not in your escape routes, not in the way you twist through the Maze like something wild and untamed—

Caleb tilts his head slightly, watching you just ahead, watching the way your body moves, the way your breath comes in sharp, quick bursts—each inhale lifting your chest, each stride making the hem of your skirt flick higher, teasing glimpses of bare skin with every desperate movement.

And for a second—just a second—something deep inside his chest claws against its cage.

Not yet.

He swallows it down, smooths it over, lets the darkness curl through his smirk as he watches you sprint, as he watches the exact moment your pulse kicks too high, too sharp.

His fingers flex at his sides.

Time to catch you.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, somewhere, you

Your feet barely make a sound against the cold, smooth floor, but the Maze feels it. Every movement. Every desperate breath. Every flick of fabric against your thighs as your skirt shifts with each stride. The thin tank top clings to your skin, damp with sweat, the air cool against your overheated body.

You’d picked it on purpose.

Something unassuming. Non-threatening. Innocent.

But now?

You feel like prey.

Your legs burn, muscles screaming, lungs fighting for air, but you don’t slow.

You can’t.

Because behind you—

He’s there.

Not running. Not chasing.

Not yet.

Just watching. Waiting. Hunting.

A steady, calculated click, click, click of boots on steel somewhere behind you.

Measured. Unhurried.

A predator who knows exactly how this ends.

A sharp shudder ripples down your spine, something cold and hot all at once, making your breath stutter as you push forward, harder, faster.

And then—

A door slightly ajar.

Real. Solid. Just beyond the next turn.

Your pulse spikes, a bolt of something terrifying and electric slamming into your chest.

So close.

Your fingers stretch toward it—

And then—nothing.

Your body locks mid-stride, momentum cut off so violently that a strangled noise rips from your throat.

You’re suspended. Weightless. Trapped—before you even had the chance to play your part properly.

Evol. Caleb.

��Fuck—”

The word barely leaves your lips before you hear it—

That slow, deliberate click, click, click.

The rhythm of his boots against the floor is steady, calculated, each step falling with unbearable precision.

Then, another sound—

A slow clap.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Not rushed. Mocking.

The sharp echo bounces off the metal walls, vibrating through your bones, wrapping around your breathless form like invisible chains.

And then—he’s there.

Towering. Casual. Unrushed.

A man who knows he’s already won.

The flicker of artificial light catches against his dark clothing, the crisp lines undisturbed, his violet eyes gleaming with amusement, with hunger, with absolute control.

Caleb presses a thumb beneath your chin, tilting your head up. Not gently.

Firm. Demanding.

His nail digs in slightly, just enough to make your breath hitch, your pulse thrum against his fingers.

“Well, well.” His voice is silk-drenched smugness, smoothed over steel. “Look how far you got. Almost impressive.”

Your lips part slightly, but his eyes are already there. Watching. Measuring.

His grip tightens.

And then—he kisses you.

Slow. Deliberate. Unshaken.

A claiming.

His lips are warm, firm, steady, molding against yours like they’ve done it a thousand times, like they have all the time in the world to do it again. You try to turn away—pretend to resist, just to play your part, just to spite him—but his fingers tighten, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

It should be humiliating.

It isn’t.

Because the fire curling in your stomach, the molten ache pooling between your thighs, tells you exactly what it is instead.

Still, you manage to mumble against his lips, a breathless, mocking sneer—

“Cheater.”

He stills.

Then—he smiles.

A slow, wicked curve of his lips, pressed against yours, against the heat of your open mouth, stealing the breath you don’t have left.

Then—his tongue flicks out.

A slow, deliberate lick along the side of your jaw, dragging up over your cheekbone—hot, wet, obscene. Your breath catches, body tensing at the deliberate, vulgar intimacy of it. But you don’t pull away.

You can’t.

Because the moment he pulls back, his breath skimming your cheek, his voice is a whisper of laughter.

“Run, then.”

His fingers glide along the side of your throat, lingering just long enough to tease, to remind—before he finally lets you go.

“Little rabbit.”

And you do.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, somewhere, Caleb

You run well.

Better than expected.

Your movements are calculated, controlled—too controlled. Every turn you take, every sharp pivot, every burst of speed through the dimly lit corridors carries intention. Strategy.

It’s almost charming, in a way that it shouldn’t be—this clever little game you’ve devised.

A trick. A thinly veiled excuse to give yourself permission.

To turn what you want into something you can bear.

Something he can bear.

Because you both knew—after dinner, after the tension settled into something tangible, something dangerous—that passion? Real passion:

The kind that grips like a vice, that drowns you in it, leaves you gasping, shaking, wrecked beyond recognition—

Would destroy him.

Would destroy you.

Because Caleb doesn’t get to want like that.

Not anymore.

He’s spent years learning to hold himself together with careful stitches of control, seams tight enough to keep from splitting apart.

But this?

This is different.

This isn’t longing.

This isn’t fragile or delicate or human.

This is the hunt.

And he was always going to win.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, somewhere, you

Your breath sharpens, ragged and uneven, each inhale dragging through your lungs like it’s trying to claw its way out. The sound carries, bouncing off the smooth steel walls, a signal, a beacon—leading him straight to you.

Caleb’s breath? Steady. Unshaken.

Measured.

You’re ahead—barely. But it’s slipping. Your legs are burning now, the deep ache spreading, curling in your muscles, warning you that you’re running on the last reserves of your strength.

And he knows it. You see it in the way his violet eyes glint—sharp, already victorious.

“Tsk, look at you.” His voice is teasing, amused, but layered with something darker. Hungrier.

He’s not winded. He’s not struggling.

He’s playing.

“You’re panting already?”

Your teeth grind, but you don’t answer.

You can’t.

But he doesn’t need a response. He sees everything.

The way your shoulders stiffen.

The way your fingers twitch, as if they want to curl into fists.

The way you push harder, push faster, even though you both know you can’t outrun him.

That smug bastard is already enjoying this—far too much. Every quiet chuckle, every barely-there exhale of amusement is proof of it. You have to focus, force yourself not to laugh back, not to let him see just how much you feel it too.

Then—heat.

Close.

Too close.

His body is at your back before your mind can register it, before your instincts can scream at you to move, to do something—but it’s already too late.

His breath ghosts against your ear, warm, deliberate, curling over your skin.

The shock of it jolts through you, a violent shudder ripping down your spine, stealing the next breath from your lungs.

“Going somewhere?”

And then—

He moves.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, somewhere, Caleb

A shallow breath.

Barely there.

A hesitation—small, fleeting, but unmistakable. A fraction of a second where your body betrays you, where exhaustion cuts deeper than instinct, where hope flickers just enough to make you hesitate.

And that’s all he needs.

All he’s been waiting for.

Caleb moves.

A single, fluid motion—effortless, lethal, precise.

He lunges.

Hard. Fast. Unstoppable.

Your body collides with his, mid-stride, the force knocking the air from your lungs. The impact is calculated, deliberate, inescapable—not enough to wound, but enough to break through every last defense you have left.

Enough to take you down.

No mercy.

Just the hunt.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, somewhere, you

He twists at the last second.

The predator’s final kindness—ensuring that when you land, it’s the damp grass that catches you, not the cold, unforgiving steel. But it doesn’t feel like mercy. Not with the weight of him pressing down, solid muscle and overwhelming heat pinning you beneath him.

Your breath stumbles, a sharp inhale snagging in your throat—shock, exhaustion, something else entirely.

And then—you realize.

It’s over.

Caleb looms above, his body a cage around yours. His wrists pin yours effortlessly, his grip firm yet controlled. The air is thick, charged, humming between you as your heartbeat pounds in your ears.

A low chuckle rumbles through his chest, slow and satisfied.

“Gotcha.”

Your stomach tightens, a betrayal of instinct, a sharp coil of something too warm, too dangerous.

Caleb sees it. Caleb feels it. All of it.

The way your chest rises too quickly. The way your thighs press together. The way you shudder, just barely, beneath his touch.

And then—his hands move.

Slow. Deliberate. Knowing.

Fingertips skim beneath your shirt, a featherlight drag over heated skin. A whisper of contact that makes it impossible to keep still.

His palm presses against your stomach, fingertips grazing over your ribs—higher, teasing, possessive.

Then—his hand closes over your breast.

Firm. Rough. Kneading, claiming, taking.

Your back arches before you can stop it, instinct overriding the plan, a sharp breath dragging through your teeth—your body responding before your mind can catch up.

He hums—pleased, indulgent.

“Silly little rabbit,” he muses, the words a slow, wicked purr.

His hips shift against yours—a grind, slow, deliberate, pressing into the heat pooling between your thighs. A sharp, rolling pressure that forces another gasp from your lips. Your body tenses, your fingers twitching, desperate to grasp at anything—to push, to pull, to react.

But you can’t.

Not yet.

Because this is the game you agreed to play.

And prey doesn’t beg for its hunter.

Caleb knows.

He knows how hard you’re fighting this, how tight your control is stretched.

And he revels in it.

Another grind, slower this time, deeper, just enough friction to make you bite back a sound that would give you away.

His breath is hot against your skin, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Little rabbit,” he muses, voice rich with mock discipline. “You ran. And now you suffer the consequences.”

A bite. Just enough to sting.

Then—a whisper, low, smug, inevitable.

“Let’s see how well you take them.”

——————————————————————————

The damp grass prickles against your exposed skin.

Cool. A sharp contrast to the unbearable heat curling low in your stomach. A reminder.

Where you are. Who has you.

Caleb’s fingers drift to your jaw, firm but teasing, tracing the delicate line of your throat.

Then—his hand wraps around it.

Not squeezing. Not yet.

Just holding.

Reminding you.

He owns this moment.

He owns you.

Your breath stutters, lips parting slightly as he tilts your head—forcing you to look at him.

And fuck.

His eyes.

Violet, sharp, wickedly pleased—drinking you in, dissecting every little reaction, savoring the way you tremble beneath him.

Caleb hovers, his breath ghosting over your lips, lingering like he wants to ruin you right there. His fingers drift lower, mapping you out like he’s memorized you yet still wants to rediscover every inch.

His hand slides down your stomach, fingers pressing into the soaked fabric between your legs.

A sharp, deliberate pressure.

And you gasp.

Caleb chuckles—low, dark, cruel.

“Dripping. Already.”

The words slide over you, rich with amusement, a slow drag of mockery and indulgence.

Then—he presses harder.

Your hips twitch, breath catching, fire racing through your veins.

His smirk sharpens.

“Tsk, tsk. Such a needy thing. Now—on your knees.”

——————————————————————————

The Maze, somewhere, Caleb

His voice is steel.

A command, absolute.

You obey.

Of course you obey.

Your legs shift beneath you, shaky, raw, your fingers brushing against the grass as you push yourself up—kneeling, waiting, anticipating.

His hands tangle into your hair, tilting your head just enough to see it.

The wicked smirk. The slow, deliberate pull of a zipper.

The sound is sharp, impossible to ignore.

A fresh pulse of heat ripples through you, your thighs pressing together, your lips parting on instinct.

And Caleb?

He notices. Of course he does.

And he loves it.

His cock is heavy, thick, so close yet just out of reach.

Your breath catches. Your gaze flicks downward.

Then back up.

Pleading.

But Caleb only chuckles.

He studies you, drinking in the way you’re already ruined, already so perfectly wrecked for him before he’s even touched you properly.

And then—

“Open.”

You do.

Caleb watches as your lips part, obedient, willing—his. And he smirks.

And the chip stays silent.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, somewhere, you

He doesn’t hesitate.

He pushes deep.

Slow. Unrelenting.

His fingers tighten in your hair, guiding you, controlling you, setting the pace—

Making you take it.

A deep, rough groan rumbles through his chest, his violet eyes locked onto you, watching the way your lips stretch around him, the way your throat swallows, the way your breath hitches with every inch.

“There you go,” he murmurs, voice thick with something dark and indulgent.

His grip flexes, guiding, controlling you to take everything he gives.

Your hands clutch at his thighs, fingers digging in, trying to steady yourself, trying to keep up.

But he’s ruthless.

And he doesn’t stop.

Not until you’re trembling, until you’re gasping, until your body gives out from sheer exhaustion.

Then—he pulls back.

Slow. Cruel.

Your lips are swollen, slick, your breath ragged, wrecked.

And he smirks.

“Good girl.”

A thumb brushes over your lower lip—mocking, almost affectionate.

Then, that same command.

“Now—lie down.”

——————————————————————————

The Maze, somewhere, Caleb

And you do.

You’re gone. Lost beneath him, trembling, unraveling, coming apart with every brutal stroke, every precise drag of his fingers against your clit.

Caleb watches, drinking in every gasp, every sharp, wrecked moan, every stutter of your breath. The Maze hums around you, its silence thick, swallowing the sounds of your ruin.

And then—he stills.

No movement. No pressure.

One hand remains firm at your waist, keeping you down, keeping you exactly where he wants you. The other? Just barely hovering. Close enough for you to feel the heat of his palm—but offering nothing.

He waits.

Watches.

Because he wants to see it.

Wants to see the moment realization sets in, the slow, helpless flicker of need in your eyes.

And there it is.

Your lips part. Trembling.

A breath catches in your throat, your body shifting instinctively, chasing his touch, chasing what only he can give you.

And fuck—

It’s beautiful.

Caleb’s hand is like hot iron, soaked in your slick, branded with your need—steady, unyielding, waiting. A presence that sears, that claims, that lingers. And it doesn’t move.

Not yet.

His voice is a dark murmur, smooth, indulgent.

“Let me see how badly you want it.”

Fuck, he loves it.

Loves the way you beg without words, without pride, with only your body.

Loves how you bend for him. How you break for him.

Loves that, together, you’ve carved out a way for this—for him to have you, for you to take him, for nothing to stand between you.

Not even that godforsaken chip.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, somewhere, anywhere, everywhere, you

“You like this, don’t you?”

Your breath hitches.

You don’t want to say it. You don’t want to give him that satisfaction. Not yet.

But your body?

Your body betrays you. Your hips arch, chasing his next stroke, chasing the unbearable friction of his cock against your clit.

And Caleb?

He laughs.

”Of course you do.”

His hand slides down, gripping your waist with deliberate pressure, holding you still as he sinks in—slow, unhurried, stretching you open, making you feel every inch of him.

Splitting you apart.

Claiming you completely.

And he takes his time—watching, savoring, feeling the way your body trembles around him, adjusting, yielding, helpless beneath his control.

“You were made for this.”

His hands shift, sliding from your thighs to cup your ass. With effortless strength, he lifts your lower body from the ground, tilting your hips just enough to expose more of you to him. He spreads you wider, admiring the sight, savoring the way you tremble beneath his touch.

Another deep thrust. Measured. Designed to ruin.

Your gasp breaks.

He sees your struggle, your hands twitching, desperate to grab onto something, onto him, onto the earth beneath you, onto anything to ground yourself.

“No touching.” The command is sharp, final.

He won’t let you have that control. He can’t let you have that control.

“You take what I give you. Nothing more.”

Then, with effortless force, he flips you over, pressing you down until you’re on your hands and knees, the cool earth beneath your palms, the damp grass tickling your skin.

Exposed. Open. Waiting.

His fingers flex, his grip tightening around your waist, holding you still, making you to take it, to feel every second of your loss.

——————————————————————————

The Maze, somewhere, Caleb

Caleb doesn’t falter, he never slows. Each deep, calculated thrust is authoritative, demanding—designed to remind you exactly who’s in control, to make you feel every second of his dominance.

And then—

The first crack. A sound leaves you—wrecked, helpless, something high and desperate and utterly broken.

His jaw clenches.

Because fuck, that does something to him.

His grip tightens, fingers pressing deep into the softness of your waist, holding you steady as he claims you. One hand slides forward, rough and demanding, cupping your breast, squeezing, pulling you up, arching you back against him. Your spine curves, your head tilting, the heat of his breath against your neck, the weight of his body controlling every movement. His control slipping—

But the chip doesn’t stop him.

His body tightens, his own control slipping, because hearing you break—feeling you break beneath him—

It’s intoxicating.

And he wants more.

So he pushes further.

“Say it.”

You bite your lip. Shake your head. Pathetic.

He wants it broken.

He wants you broken.

So he changes the angle��snapping his hips forward, deeper, harder, exactly where he knows you can’t hold out.

His hand fists in your hair, tugging just enough to keep you exactly where he wants you.

“Say. My. Name.”

A sharp cry rips from your throat.

Another thrust.

Another.

And then—you snap.

The way your body tightens around him, clenching, desperate, pulling him in, refusing to let go.

The way your body shudders beneath him, shaking, convulsing, utterly wrecked.

“Caleb—! Fuck—”

A high, shattered moan spills from your lips. Your muscles tighten, locking around him, gripping him in a way that nearly destroys him.

And fuck, yes.

That’s it.

“That’s it,” he groans, voice wrecked, victorious.

“Let go. Let me have it.”

And you do.

He feels it.

The way you unravel beneath him, wrecked and ruined, shaking with pleasure so raw it sears through you like wildfire.

And it—it destroys him.

Something sharp, something raw, something uncontrollable surges through him.

“Fuck—”

His pace stutters. His fingers dig deeper. His breath shudders.

Until he loses himself completely.

Caleb’s body tenses, wrecked, desperate, utterly gone. His release slams into him with brutal force, tearing through every last shred of control.

A groan—low, raw, helpless.

Because he’s lost in this now.

Lost in you.

And the chip does nothing.

Because this isn’t love.

This is power.

This is control.

This is victory.

And Caleb?

He always wins.

——————————————————————————

The only sound left is your breathing—

Shaky.

Spent.

Completely and utterly ruined.

Caleb watches you, his own breath still uneven, his body still thrumming with the raw, intoxicating high of what just happened. Pleasure lingers in his limbs, warmth sinking deep into his bones.

For the first time in so long—

He feels free.

He leans in, letting the tip of his nose brush along the damp heat of your throat, breathing you in, slow and deep.

Your scent. Your warmth. The proof of his victory.

His lips part slightly as he presses a kiss to your skin, open-mouthed, deliberate, letting his breath ghost against you.

Not a claim.

Not a taunt.

Just a quiet, wordless reward.

And fuck—the way you melt.

The way your body softens, relaxes against him, the way your cheek presses against his chest as if it belongs there—as if you are meant to be here, against him, with him.

Your breath spills over his collarbone, warm, uneven, still trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure.

And he lets you.

He lets you rest.

Lets you take comfort in his warmth, his presence, his touch.

His fingers trail up—slow, careful. Threading into your hair, tilting your head just slightly, enough for his lips to brush against your forehead.

Soft.

Unrushed.

A silent reward for your submission.

Because you are his.

Completely.

Utterly.

And yet—

A dull pressure pulses at the base of his skull. A slow, creeping weight curling into his thoughts, threading into his awareness like a shadow.

It’s not a shutdown.

Not a failure.

Not yet.

But the chip is reacting.

And for the first time, he doesn’t know why.

Not until the thought cuts through him, cold and gutting.

Would this be enough for you?

Would you accept him—if this was all he could ever give you?

If the only way he could hold you, touch you, take you—was by keeping you beneath him, conquered, obedient, controlled?

Or would you still struggle?

Still resist him, not because you didn’t want him—

But because this isn’t what you wanted at all?

What if—even now—you were just enduring this?

What if—even in surrender—you were still waiting for the Caleb you once knew?

The thought tightens something in his chest.

And then—

Your voice.

Soft.

Barely there.

“Caleb, I love you.”

The words slip from your lips so quietly, so unconsciously, that for a moment, he thinks he’s imagined them.

Until—

Until he feels it.

The gentle tug at his chest.

Your fingers. Curling around his dog tag. Holding onto it like an anchor.

His name—whispered like something fragile, something holy.

His body goes rigid.

The weight of those words hangs between you, too heavy, too real.

And suddenly—he is afraid.

Because he doesn’t know which Caleb you’re speaking to.

The one he is now?

Or the one you’re still hoping will come back?

And worse—

Who is the one answering?

His throat tightens. His mind races. The chip sends a warning pulse, static curling at the edges of his thoughts, demanding that he suppress, overwrite, forget—

But he can’t.

Because the truth is burning through him, deeper than any error message, deeper than any system override.

Still, he forces himself to speak, forces himself to answer.

His voice sounds like him—but he doesn’t know if it is.

“I love you too, Pips.”

And fuck—

It hurts.

The pressure behind his eyes intensifies. A tightening grip. An invisible force coiling around his mind, threatening to crush something he can’t afford to lose.

The chip.

It doesn’t like this.

It wants him to ignore it.

To erase it.

To pretend.

But he can’t.

Not now.

Not when everything feels like it’s slipping through his fingers.

This was a victory.

He had you.

Completely.

Utterly.

And yet—

It doesn’t feel like winning.

It feels like losing something he can’t name.

Like holding something too tight, only to realize it’s slipping away.

And suddenly—

The thrill of this loophole feels like a cage all its own.

——————————————————————————

Chapter five

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: So they just wanted to fuq but every rose has its thorn. Whyy does my brain function like this bahhh. I was nervous about posting this, but I hope I balanced the power play, angst, and lust. And: not me listening to Running Up That Hill while writing the smuttiest, dom-iest scene so far in my fanfic scribbles career—Kate’s lyrics are just chef’s kiss for this chapter. And the other; well. It’s predator Caleb. So! On to the next chapter. Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[glitter-stained]

Prompt: Christmas Con

Idea: Jason & arrowfam fic in a no cape AU (no no, not the horse movie one. A different fic.)

It's a Christmas fic.

Jason is a realistic "troubled kid" (not a mass murderer -may I insist, this is a civilian AU and no action story. In-world superhero logic does not apply here.) who was adopted as a preteen by Bruce as a preteen. As a teen, he struggled with his mental health, endangering himself with passive suicidality and even running away to find his biological mother -struggles which led Bruce to enroll him in what he thought was a therapy centre, making Jason yet another victim of the troubled teen industry. As an adult, Jason's relationship with the batfam is fraught, as the family doesn't understand Jason's resentment and has been fed over and over the narrative that he's simply a bad kid who refuses to do what's necessary to get better until they -and Jason- eventually started to believe him. On a meta level we have a Jason relatively close to Rebirth here in that he's rather depressed with a very negative opinion of himself, has lost his fire in a way that makes it feel like he's almost unrecognisable to when he first came back (from "therapy") and was so angry on behalf of himself, and that most importantly, he's internalized all the classist bullshit dc has been feeding up about Jason. The main theme of the story is the intersection between classism and psychophobia. Oh and Jason has BPD, because I'm predictable.

Meanwhile Roy is struggling to rebuild his life in the aftermath of his divorce with Jade. Their relationship is complicated; he loved her, and will still always love her in a way, and so will she, and they both love each other so much, but their relationship is so difficult, so much stuff happened due to problems in their work life colliding and many other issues, including issues with Jade's mental health, Jade wishes she could take care of Lian but she's self-aware enough to know she needs to work on stuff and wouldn't be able to give her what she needs, but she still visits a lot and tries her best, but they're also arguing all the time, and Roy is struggling to find balance between work and single-fatherhood, and the stress is giving him cravings and making sobriety more difficult. But from his family's perspective, Jade is just a cold-hearted woman who abandoned Lian and broke Roy's heart, and Roy has had enough of Ollie shit-talking his loved one at every family dinner.

(To clarify, the idea isn't to portray Bruce and Ollie as terrible, but rather misguided parents who thought they were acting in their kid's interest and had maybe an ego problem of assuming they're the ones who know best and Roy and Jason just don't know what's good for them; but the difference highlighted by the parallel, across the story, has to be Ollie's ability to learn and accept that he was wrong, vs Bruce's tendency to double-down on a more comfortable, yet ultimately harmful, point of view.)

So Roy has had enough! And as the next family dinner, he has an idea, one meant to show Ollie just how "spoiled" he's acting when complaining about Jade...

Rose Wilson, survivor of the troubled teen industry and proud self-appointed most annoying roommate, is about to spend Christmas with her newfound brother... But Eddie is invited to a giant christmas party this year, and neither of them is very comfortable leaving their other roommate alone for Christmas. So when Rose's friend approaches her about an issue her brother's having, Rose knows just the way to help her former foster family while helping Jason put his theatre skills to use and get him a friend and a good distraction in this difficult time.

The plan is simple: hire Jason to act as Roy's terrible, deadbeat boyfriend for Christmas to teach Ollie a lesson about talking shit about Roy's ex-wife in front of him and Lian at family dinner.

Jason thinks he's got this one, easy peasy! A frankly comical job that pays great on Christmas day, and all he has to do is behave as an annoying parent's worst nightmare of a boyfriend? He doesn't even have to dust off his acting skills- an unstable, impulsive, asshole street rat like Jason already fits the bill perfectly. A day of food and money, and all he's gotta do is have fun and be himself.

A hiccough, though: the plan is simply not working. Of course, there's Oliver's suspicion and distrust about Roy's taste in partners, Roy's kid who seems convinced he's trying to replace her mom and steal her dad, and this damned chilli that tastes like a non-verbal shovel talk... But be it his defensive demeanor, the cigarette smell, the fact that he dropped out of highschool, or his thick, "vulgar and ill-mannered" Crime Alley drawl, nothing seems to phase this odd, complicated family- and the more Jason learns to know them, the less he wants them to dislike him...

Aka the one where Roy's con to get his family to leave Jade alone accidentally backfires into Jason getting a support system. Can be platonic or romantic! And remember, fuck the troubled teen industry.

[utilitycaster]

I feel a lot of discussion of misogyny in fandom would be greatly improved if people acknowledged and understood that a huge component of misogyny, especially in how people judge and berate women, real and fictional but separated from them by some distance (vs irl interactions with women face to face) is that there is virtually no "acceptable" behavior in the eyes of the misogynist.

It's not just that the woman or the female character made too emotional a decision in the moment of great crisis and therefore she's hysterical; it's that if she'd made the "logical" decision she'd be called too cold and ruthless. It's not just that she's a treated as a joke character reduced to being kooky but hot; it's that if she were seen as even slightly more serious and/or less conventionally attractive, she'd be an unfuckable killjoy or called crazy or a bitch. If she's physically weak she's a useless damsel and dead weight the other characters have to deal with; if she's physically strong she's insufficiently feminine. The problem is ultimately that the acceptable range of behavior for a female character (and women in real life) is a single point in space defined by "listens to the much smarter men and does what they tell her and doesn't take up too much screentime," and for many people even the smallest deviation from that point is justification for hating her.

A truly depressing amount of energy (some of which I have absolutely been guilty of expending in the past, and have been trying not to do for some time) goes to sniping between people who generally do like female characters over interpretations on an individual level - whether any one female character is silly or serious, led by emotion or logic - when the misogynists are open to quite literally any interpretation provided the conclusion is "and that's why she sucks and I hate her." I'm all for a discussion of different character interpretations, but the people who are being bigoted are not the ones saying "oh man she's very argumentative" if the next part of the sentence is "and that's an interesting trait to give her." The bigots are the ones saying "why won't she shut her stupid mouth and listen to the men instead of arguing all the time."

[acourtofthought]

can you genuinely say at this point in time, Elain wants lucien? I'm not asking for theories or headcanons. I am asking if you genuinely think that Elain in any way is secretly pining over Lucien, and what textual evidence supports that.

People have argued about her mentioning his name, but I don't think that has to do with romantic feelings for him, moreso basic respect for another. People have talked about a "half-step" which I must've missed bc I do not even remember that - but i don't think a "half step" necessarily conveys anything romantic.

I'm trying to form an opinion in this ship war, but its hard when I see a ton of misinformation from every side. The elriels have their own faults, but they can point to text now that shows Elain wants Azriel.

Can Eluciens do the same? I'm not trying to start a fight, I really just want to know what portion of each ship is backed by the current books vs. how much is just people theorizing they are end game and what they want to happen. And if the Elucien ship is purely just "SJM will always pair fated mates together" that's also fine and valid imo, I just want to know if there's anything in the books you can point to that shows Elain wants Lucien at this moment in time. I don't want to argue about hypotheticals and foreshadowing and what a rose symbolizes. I want cold hard words on the page.

Please note: I know just because it might not be there YET doesn't mean it's not going to happen. I want to evaluate the current standing of these books and the rationality of each argument. But to do that, I need people to be honest about what's there and what's not. I'm asking you because you run one of the more...logical shipwar blogs. But if you don't want to answer this - I also understand why.

At this point in time I don't think that canon supports Elain wanting anyone and that includes both Az and Lucien.

The only person Elain ever confessed having feelings for is Graysen. Real feelings. The "my heart belongs to you" kind of feelings.

Elain specifically said she did not want a male or a mate and those are categories Lucien and Az fall under, despite the almost kiss with Az in SF. It's been proven that a FMC in a SJM book can hook-up with a guy but not want a relationship with him (Feyre / Isaac, Nesta with fae who were not Cassian, Mor / Cassian, Mor / Helion) so Elain's actions in the Az bonus don't prove Elain wants him for more than a night of fun. In fact, the text in canon has her agreeing to "just a taste and that would be it". That's not a confession of long term commitment nor was there any to be found in any other interaction she's had with Az. Even crushes don't mean you're wanting forever with someone. Not to mention she was not written as looking towards either Az or Lucien in the 5 months after Solstice so absolutely no canon supports that she wants to hook-up with Az anymore. Elain's past actions from months ago (including those with Az) can't really be used as proof of canon of now, otherwise we should all be claiming she's still in love with Graysen since she never specifically stated she no longer has feelings for him. Nobody says that though, we use the canon of her no longer breaking down over Graysen to show she's moved past wanting to be with him and currently the canon suggests she's also moved past whatever she was about to do with Az on Solstice since there are zero signs to argue otherwise. There is also zero evidence of Az still wanting to be with Elain in any way now that we're 5 months beyond Solstice. 7 if you count HOFAS.

Right now I think the only thing canon truly supports is that Elain is showing no romantic interest in anyone, male or human. 5 months is a long time. Feyre left Tamlin then was mated to Rhys within 5 months and Elain was not mentioned as shedding a tear for Graysen in that same length of time, not mentioned as looking Az's way in that time, not having a reaction (good or bad) to Lucien in that time.

So to your question, canon does not support Elain wanting Lucien but it doesn't support her currently wanting Az. Canon also never supported her wanting to start a relationship with Az, canon doesn't support her wanting a mating bond with Az, canon doesn't support her having any desire to go forward with a forbidden love with Az.

Does that mean it's what she's actually feeling for Lucien or even Az? We can't say for sure because we don't have her POV but if we're truly basing this discussion off canon alone than Elain doesn't currently seem interested in anyone. It's not fair for e/riels to claim she still wants Az 5 months later as they have no evidence supporting it. It's only their headcanon that she does. Not to mention it's their headcanon she wanted to have a relationship with Az in the first place. They have zero evidence to show she'd be willing to seriously date him.

But as far as what I genuinely think (your phrasing)? I think Elain is struggling with the pull she feels towards Lucien and it scares her.

I don't think all Elucien's assume Sarah will pair Elucien together simply because they're mates. There are many layers behind what we feel.

I do think Elucien's use logic based on Sarah's writing and that logic tells us that characters don't simply ignore a mating bond. In canon, the bond creates a tug to the other that can never be truly forgotten. Based on that canon we hypothesis that there is a lot going on under the surface which is why she's hidden Elain's thoughts from us. She's the only main side character from the original cast who has never been given a POV and there's got to be a reason for that. Sarah was willing to share her almost kiss with Az but never her actual thoughts for Lucien who she suddenly began ignoring in ACOFAS after the events of ACOWAR and that seems a bit purposeful doesn't it? How a kiss isn't a secret but what she feels about the bond she says she doesn't want is?

While we've got no proof showing she wants Lucien, we were given so many examples of the author making an effort to show their compatibility. We were given a bunch of crumbs as to where Elain's future journey could take her and many crumbs placing Lucien in those same places. The author wrote Lucien (not Az) meeting Elain's father. We were given a bunch of scenarios where we're left wondering WHY Elain behaved a certain way towards Lucien especially after she defended him to Graysen, after she took a step as if she'd stop him from searching for Vassa, after she did follow he and Feyre instead of staying behind at her father's grave, after they were left together to wash up after the war, after she invited him to come back to Velaris but only after all that she began completely ignoring him for unexplained reasons. Based on Sarah's writing that pull and push typically means a character is struggling with her pull / desire for the other person and things aren't so one dimensional as "she doesn't like him!" If she didn't like him then why take a step as if to stop him? Why follow him instead of staying with her father's grave? Why peer up at him? Why invite him to Velaris?

We've been in this place before with a Sarah book. "Why did the character do that only to do an abrupt 180?" We saw it with Nesta, who was willing to die with Cassian in ACOWAR only to do the most 180's of all 180's by giving her virginity to someone else in the novella. To telling Cassian she wanted nothing to do with him though we knew she did. So Elucien's are only waiting to see how the author deals with Elain and her inner thoughts of Lucien. We don't think Elain's setup is going to be any less complex than Nesta's was. We believe the author is going to tell a story that is deep and meaningful. And while Elain's current setup doesn't prove this to us just yet, it is canon that Sarah has given that exact treatment to every single one of her mated pairs, whether the FMC was struggling with what she felt or the MMC (as we saw with Rowan and his bond with Aelin), so it would be silly for us to think Elain would be the only one who isn't given that same complexity.

While the textual evidence does not necessarily prove Elain has feelings for Lucien, I think it's valid for Elucien's to use textual evidence of Sarah's past writing patterns to predict the direction she's taking them.

I have no problem admitting that current canon doesn't prove Elain wants Lucien but I've never seen a e/riel admit that current canon, by the end of SF, also doesn't prove Elain wants Az. That canon never proved she wanted a relationship with him at all. Canon doesn't even prove she called his scars beautiful considering Feyre said she wasn't sure if she was referring to his Siphons yet they still hold on to that one.

Canon proves Elain loved Graysen though he was an asshole, canon proves that she was willing to hook up with Az with no proof of anything more, and canon proves that she shares a mating bond with Lucien that she'll never be able to completely forget ("it will be a bond that will trail her for the rest of her existence") though she's currently trying her best which results in weirdness for everyone. That is all the canon proves.

From a romance standpoint, only one of those storylines typically has staying power.

[soaringwide]

Pick a Card: You vs Them - Love Connection Check-in

Hello and welcome to another love reading pick a card.

This is a pretty classic, you vs them romantic connection check-in, where we'll look first at both of you currently are, your respective thoughts feelings and actions you are taking, as well as the connecting dynamic between the two of you.

This pick a card reading is meant for any type of romantic connection, whether it's a crush situation or a more established connection.

Like my style and want to book a paid reading with me? Check out this post or my pinned post :) You can book through DMs or ko-fi.

PILE 1

You

Cards: 6 of Swords, the Tower, the Warrior of Love, Jealousy, Strength, Knight of Swords, 3 of Pentacles

You are currently experiencing quite the conflict. It seems you are not satisfied with your love life in general, but also with the state of this connection. This is triggering heavy feelings and even making you experience a personal crisis. You feel doomed in regards to love and this connection, like nothing ever works and that it might not be in the cards for you. That you spent all that time loving them for nothing. As a result, you are feeling jealous, either of other people's love or of the potential of your person being with someone else. You are also wondering if you should cut your losses and let go of this connection to look for something better. This is adding to the inner crisis you are experiencing because its like your logic is telling you to let go to avoid being hurt further, but your heart does not want to. Like at all. It's like in the inside you're determined to see this through and try everything you can until you are 100% sure this relationship is dead and buried. There is a very combative vibe to this ad in you do not want to give up and you're ready to take risks. You go back and forth between being determined and wanting a way out.

Your thoughts towards them is again some type of combative mind game. It's like you are very observant of your own thoughts and try to keep them under control, both to avoid being unrealistic about what's happening, and also to avoid falling into despair. You're trying to keep the balance and be strong in this situation. You may also be trying to temper your emotions with your mind as a way to avoid doing something you think you might regret. Overall you are very active in your mind and have some type of iron grip over this.

Your feelings regarding them explain why you feel this need for control, as it seems you feel some type of emergency, that you are extremely scared that this is going to slip away if you don't act and that you need to find a way to either make it work or exit fast. This is making you feel restless and anxious.

Your actions are also kept under control by your thoughts as I see you talking to them and building a foundational friendship, hiding everything. Collaboration or work might also be important to some of you. So yeah your actions are not romantic at all and seem to be calculated and carefully paced. Which contradicts totally with your feelings, which you seem to hide very well.

Them

Cards: 9 of Swords, 4 of Cups, at Peace, Judgement, the Sweetest Taboo, the Fool, 4 of Swords, the Hanged Man rx, Queen of Pentacles

On their side of things, I'm getting that your person is involved with someone else, and they are toying with the idea of you, the card the sweetest taboo is quite telling. They may be daydreaming about you and imagining what it would be like to let themselves have this, but in reality, they are not acting on it, and it remains a fantasy. They are simply remaining quite apathetic, withdrawn, and not taking any steps towards you. They might go hot and cold quite often with you. They seem to be keeping this mask if calmness that is a front because the 9 of swords tells me the situation distresses them quite a lot, even if only when they stop distracting themselves and think about it. They are definitely thinking about this a lot. Judgement also tells me they are well aware that their actions will have consequences, whatever they decide to do about this, and they are taking it very seriously. 

Their thoughts on the matter is that while again they seem to be toying with the idea of a new beginning and taking a risk with you, they are also playing dead, so to speak. It's possible that they have recently withdrawn compared to what they used to do. Its like they think about going for this carelessly, but they also feel the need to think about this deeply and carefully. The thought it there but they haven't made up their mind and right now they are just withdrawing and thinking about what they could do.

This is reflected in their feelings. With the Hanged Man reversed they are taking this sweet time to think about this, feelings very indecisive and not ready to make a choice. They are still considering the different paths they could take, whether with you or not, and are also considering their feelings quite a lot.

Their actions towards you seem to be focused towards being friendly and showing they care for you on a personal level. They may be giving you advice or paying attention and remembering what you said. They are super careful about keeping the relationship stable and well meaning, and just like you are doing they are hiding they inner state pretty well. Again might be a co-worker or a friend, again not showing super romantic actions towards you but keeping things harmonious between the two of you.

Connecting dynamic

Cards: 7 of Pentacles, the Empress, a Loving Gaze, Soft Whispers, Inner Awareness, Wishes Fulfilled, Optimism

Despite the lack of romantic actions on both sides, I'm getting that gazes seem to be a pretty important way for the both of you to communicate. It seems that a lot of things remain unsaid, but a lot is communicated through the eyes.

I'm also getting that the way you talk to each other in the tone you take is quite important in this dynamic. You might be talking about mundane things but you communicate your feelings through the way you both speak, keeping things sweet, lighthearted and friendly. So yeah again everyone avoids the important issue here but you try you best to be perceived in a good light.

This is represented further by the Empress, both of you want to  look, smell and act your best, trying to attract the other in a magnetic way rather than through direct flirting. Again the idea of keeping things amicable shows up and you both seem quite interested in building things slowly and carefully, observing intensely how things are unfolding.

The cards also shows quite a lot of optimism connecting the both of you, showing that despite the inner conflicts and indecision, you both still have hope for this, even if it seems quite far away. You are both wishing for each other and for the situation to magically fix itself, like with some grand intervention of fate that would unite you.

You are also both trying to stay aware of yourself and control what you are doing while not being super aware of what's happening on the inside for the other. It's also like you're trying to both deal with your own shit first, keeping you quite blind on the situation and self-centered.

PILE 2

You

Cards: King of Pentacles, 5 of Pentacles, Physical Attraction, Longing and Desire, Optimism rx, the Lovers, Temperance rx, Queen of Wands, 6 of Pentacles

It seems you went through a breakup with your person and you're left feeling like you have nothing left, completely trapped in pessimistic feelings about having lost the relationship and thinking it will never be gained back. However, you still hold deep feelings and desire for them. You are very protective of the idea of this relationship and this person and you can't let it go. This person still lights your fire up and you think about them longingly, with intense sexual attraction. You keep imagining what it would be like to get back together with them and what to do to win them back.

So it makes sense that you got the Lovers as the card defining your thoughts. You keep thinking about your past relationship and being able to come into union with them again. You are dead set on fixing things up and bring harmony, even of you don't really believe it will happen.

For your feelings, with Temperance reversed, again, you have trouble letting go of this and healing, and you are neglecting your own emotional needs here. You feel like they are the missing piece to fix you instead of looking within to see what you could to do heal your heart and move on.

The actions you take show me that as a result of feeling like there is nothing left, you keep on trying to give and reach out, even if you don't get anything in return. You feel insecure and you're trying to get a hold of that by not letting yourself go and trying to do whatever you can to make things happen.

Them

Cards: 5 of Swords, 4 of Wands, Anger, à Loving Gaze, the Lady who Waits, 7 of Cups, 6 of Cups, Wheel of Fortune, the Hermit, Knight of Swords, the Hanged Man, King of cups

The breakup wasn't easy on them either even though it seems they triggered it, as there is evidence of a battle that ended and losses were made on both sides. However there is an idea of celebration and getting back together with friends and enjoying time with them, so it seems they needed that even if it's really hard on you. So they might be spending time with friends, partying and getting their life moving again.

It seems they are still quite angry at the situation though and have a lot of resentment for you. They have definitely moved on and left behind what they had with you. They are currently contemplating their options moving forward, looking to open up to new connections and waiting for the right opportunity. They are wondering where life will take them next and everything seems rather hazy and not grounded in anything yet.

For their thoughts, it seems they are embracing the change and again let go of what once was. The wheel as turned and a new chapter has opened. They seem to think this was bound to happen, whether they believe in fate or not, they think there was no other option here and that it was meant to happen at some point.

For their feelings, they definitely are very focused on themselves and are more focused on how you make them feel than how you feel. They are withdrawing and we already saw they are not giving anything to you anymore. They are focused on what this whole experience has taught them and doing some soul searching.

Which shows in their actions as well, withdrawal and contemplation while trying to remain calm and emotionally stable by distancing themselves. Their own emotional balance is very important to them and they are very protective of that. They do whatever needs to be done to keep the upper hand and stay in control of the situation. They might lash out or behave harshly as a result of you pushing against them.

Connecting dynamic

Cards: 3 of Swords, Knight of Wands, the Warrior of Love, Unrequited Desire, Reflection rx, Shadow Work

The main thing I get is that emotions are running high. You've got passionate longing for you and anger for them, which connects in intense headache, sorrow, fresh wounds from the past. It seems you are both triggering each other, bringing out the worst both of you have to offer. It's definitely a toxic situation, not necessarily because you are toxic individuals, but because the dynamic has turned sour and feelings are too high to behave differently.

There is also some type of chase going on like you are still hung up on them but they aren't reciprocating but you feel like they aren't closing the door properly, which is delicate and is quite complicated in reality. They might act like that as a reaction more than a real desire. Which again is triggering the worst of both of you and making a messy and painful situation on each sides.

You also can't seem to understand the each other's perspective because everything looks distorted by your own thoughts and emotions, like you're looking in a broken mirror.

PILE 3

You

Cards: 7 of Pentacles rx, Queen of Wands, Reflection, Jealousy and Possessiveness, King of Wands, 10 of Pentacles, Queen of Cups

Currently, you're feeling quite frustrated by the pace of things in this connection, feeling like you've invested a lot of time and effort in this and not gotten the reward you were expecting. You have expectations regarding what your person should give you, and you're eagerly waiting for them to meet them. You know your worth and feel quite annoyed because you feel you should be getting more from this whole thing. This is pushing you to weigh things out and reflect on the dynamic of the relationship, and you're actively seeking advice about it, to the point of being quite obsessive and overthinking it. You feel quite jealous and possessive of your person, and you feel like they should be yours and yours only.

In your mind, you are very clear about what you want from this relationship, and you keep thinking of a long-term future with them. There is no hesitation on your mind. You have a vision and you feel like there is real potential for success here.

This is reflected in your feelings. You feel at home with this person and have a deep desire to build something solid and committed that could lead to building a life together.

For your actions, though, it seems you are not showing your cards fully, keeping them close to your chest. Your feelings run deep, and you seem to be spending a lot of time in them without necessarily acting on them, and definitely not communicating them to your person. It's like you're facing away from them, refusing to show your depth of emotions.

Them

Cards: King of Pentacles, 10 of Wands, love's embrace, stress, Jealousy, the Tower, 3 of Pentacles, Page of Cups, King of Cups, Wheel of Fortune

On their side of things, they seem to be quite overwhelmed by the situation, to the point of feeling burdened by stress. On their side of things, the situation seems a bit "stuffy" or "suffocating" and they have a thousand things they need to do which adds up to the stress. It's like, they are not used to this game of love and feel quite a bit out of their depth here. They are definitely not at ease with the attention and it may be a distraction from their work and they have trouble balancing that. They are also mirroring you on the Jealousy aspect as they seem to worry you might have other suitors more fitting for you.

This is reflecting in their current thoughts, which shows that they are at a breaking point. Their whole world is being turned upside down, and they feel pushed towards a transformation they don't think they are ready for. This might feel like something they didn't ask for is happening to them, and they don't think they have any control over this.

For their feelings, they again seem to mirror you in their desire to build a foundation for the both of you, although they seem less long term oriented than you and more focused on the task at hand. Perhaps getting to know you or building positive exchanges. They do feel the massive amount of work that it requires though and they might feel the need to reach out to others to help them in their task and give them advice.

For their actions, they appear like a shy, not super confident or particularly determined suitor, testing the water and making careful moves. They do want to show you that they are reliable and full of desire to provide for you, but they are not exactly showing that very well. Its also like they are waiting for a change coming from the outside to solve the situation, perhaps the intervention of someone else or a big fated event, which may make their actions appear quite erratic and random, because they lack the drive and focus.

Connecting dynamic

Cards: 10 of Swords, Ace of Pentacles, Page of Swords, Standing Alone, Seeking Pleasure, Doubt and Indecision, Sweet Surrender, 8 of Wands, Worry

So you both feel like you've reached some type of low here, as if you could not get any lower. Its a bit dramatic because the cards are also showing the a new start here. Perhaps things had indeed ended here but they are picking up again, and fast. However you both are quite defensive and on your guards regarding this new beginning and are being quite suspicious about it, wondering if you can really trust it or not. It seems that during that time where things where low, you both had to stand on your own and learn to care for yourselves, building and healing you own issue.

However there might be some reluctance to leave this state, because it asks to be vulnerable with the other and neither of you seem totally ready to do that. This is leading to doubts regarding this relationship, wondering if it is indeed the right path for both of you. However, the promise of love and pleasure comes out very strong and I think it has been building for a while without finding a release. You both seem to desire and dread this equally. The whole situation is making you both quite worried and disoriented and there is a need to communicate things in a straightforward way.

[halogenwarrior]

This is somewhat of a continuation of the post I made recently: but I think Marco and Cassie’s relationship dynamic is a very interesting one. They are on the surface of it the advocates of opposing ideologies, and the closest emotionally to Jake so that he is always feeling the contrasting pull of both. And by connection they are the resident “smart ones” of the group, the ones that tend to notice things others don’t and make the most cogent intellectual arguments. Except that (in a running theme of the series of the contrast of how each character is viewed by others vs. reality, and how those roles they are stereotyped into in the pressure cooker of war affect them) only Marco is really acknowledged and named by the others as “the smart one”, as an appellation constantly referred to them when they are being introduced (Rachel is the brave one, Jake is the leader, Tobias is the one who is a hawk, etc.). Yes Cassie will sometimes get a shout out as being deep or emotionally understanding, but never “smart”, even if she has about as many moments of finding the intelligent solution or realizing something as Marco does. And I think this speaks to how Cassie’s ideas seem too out-of-left field, she thinks “differently” and is likely to be dogpiled by everyone as a result, while as noted in one of the books (can’t remember which) Marco’s complaining and cautiousness (and by extension his ruthlessness) says what everybody thinks but doesn’t want to say, just on a more intelligent and insightful level, it’s the same “genre” but with more insight. Even Cassie herself internalizes it, referring to Marco as the smartest one and herself as a dumb tree-hugger.

Interestingly, the only time I can think of she is referred to as “the smartest one” the way Marco often is by Marco himself in #45. In this book, Marco wants to rescue his mother but, from his position of logical ruthlessness, thinks it would only harm others for his own personal benefit. And then Cassie is the one who is able to come up with an objective reason why saving her would benefit them and their cause, and Marco responds by thinking that “I just wouldn’t again forget that, in some ways, Cassie is the bravest and smartest of my friends”. He appreciates Cassie and her intelligence because when someone else, like Jake, tries to tell him do act with his heart, there’s not much of an argument to it and it is something he can easily debunk, it’s all just foolish and not pragmatic. But Cassie is smart enough to actually make him believe, by his own logic, that he can dare to hope for himself.

There’s also the dynamic between them of selfishness/personal gain vs. selflessness, where it quickly becomes unclear who is supposed to represent what. But just a recap if you haven’t read that: I talked in my earlier post about how Cassie’s fundamental drive/motivation is that the animal world is cold, running on just survival, of oneself and those genetically close to oneself (as she realizes in #9 and has a bit of a breakdown about), and to prove there is something more and the world is not senseless, every sapient being has to use their ability to morally reason (as she articulates in Megamorphs #2) to do whatever an animal wouldn’t. Marco starts out as the opposite, the one out of all the Animorphs who is most associated with personal “survive and protect one’s family” goals. In the early books, he is the most concerned about the risk of death they run, for himself and how it would emotionally crush his father, and often points out that the people they are helping are not people he personally knows or is related to, so why should he risk his life for them? When he decides to fully commit himself to the war, it’s not out of some far-reaching altruism but because he now knows his mother is a Controller and he might be able to rescue her. Contrasting Cassie’s desire to transcend the reasoning of an animal, the ruthlessness that Marco desires is “animal-coded” in #15, where he loves the shark morph for giving him the simple and ruthless animal instinct that allows him to escape his uncertainties and insecurities. 

But something strange happens along the way. Step by step, Marco transitions from using the shark’s logic, the animal ruthlessness, for its typical purpose of survival of one’s genes to expanding it to the whole planet, being willing to appropriate that animal instinct for the benefit of all of humanity even at the expense of his personal benefit (being willing to sacrifice his mother no matter how much it emotionally destroys him) – appropriating the logic of selfishness for a selfless cause, and taking the same risks even though he’s given up on saving what personally matters to him from it. And Cassie’s fundamental driving principle of avoiding that self-serving logic also means avoiding the “animal’s action” even when it would have a great utilitarian benefit, which gradually starts to look an awful lot like selfishness. In #19, Cassie is willing to risk her friends’ torture and death, and in the long run the enslavement of humanity, so she can convince Aftran that there is another way besides parasitism. This makes perfect sense with her convictions, as the animal logic would say the Yeerks are biologically forced to be humans’ enemies, and humans for their own survival must see them as enemies to kill, but her beliefs means she must try to find a way that they can use their sapience to transcend that, otherwise what would be the point of living and winning in the first place? But it’s still a different kind of selfishness; not a selfishness for one’s own preservation, but that of potentially causing much suffering of others so one can personally feel morally sound and avoid despair. And I just love that dynamic where it quickly becomes unclear within the character foil relationship who is supposed to be the selfish or personally driven one and who is supposed to be the selfless, caring for everyone person. Just a fascinating dynamic.

[changbinsboobs]

Who is more into commoners vs idols/celebs?

Skz limiting beliefs

Can you do these in between husband series?

Ugh those guys just can't give a straight answer🙄💀

Who in Skz is more into celebs/commoners?

Chan: not a definitive answer, rather he says when the chemistry's there its there, doesn't really matter what the person is. Although i believe thats what he would say but how it actually is, is that he prefers having someone thats equal to him in the sense that they're both are on the same mental&emotional level. So thats a pretty big indicator for me that for serious stuff he probably leans towards celebs cuz they share a similar lifestyle and understanding of that life.

Lee know: bro just said none💀😂 although when i look past that there's a heavy commoner energy. It just feels simple. Theres no better word to describe the feeling. So i guess he's someone that appreciates simplicity in relationships especially and by logic commoners are simpler than idols or celebs.

Changbin: my guy tells me he likes people who reject him🥲🤡 he likes chasing after something he can't have. I had to pull 3 cards for him cuz bro kept repeating the same thing in each one. Idk guys, i guess he doesn't have a preference or if he does his need to chase and be rejected and wallow in his own tears and despair is way higher on his priority list when looking for a partner than if the person is famous or not🙃

Hyunjin: ehm so...he has had a pretty bad experience with someone so he's shaken in his preference. Idk which one it is tho. Once ahain clarification cards aren't of any help🥲 after long, long, long shuffling i finally got a card which gives me groups & peers vibe so maybe he tried something with a person from his circles and it wasn't good at all so now he's confused as to if he should remain open to idols or not. That being said, my guess is that for now he's keeping it low and kind of in the middle. Maybe not dating complete commoners, but also not celebs, maybe he's oriented himself towards influencers or something of that sort.

Han: Def commoners. He needs to be the star, to be admired, to get lots of attention and having many hypemans. Among other celebs he would be just one among many, but among commoners he's a star. And he lives that. So his choice in partners also def reflects that.

Felix: he likes a good variety. A bit of everything. So i think he may not habe a solid preference but rather be in the mood for this today, and net week in the mood for the other. Yk. For now his new "mood" is wise people. I think he's really into that - people who see through others shit, who cant be fooled easily, who can teach him a lot and have a "godly aura".

Seungmin: he likes celebs, well mannared and pretty. Also may not necessarily be entertainment celebs like idols. Could be actors, ceos, owners of something, just affluent people with status, means, manners and just overall are a "good, valueable contribution to society".

I.N: so either he's saying he likes heartbreakers or that he's a heartbreaker. Boy what?! Ok i think a commoner may have broken his heart so now he's gotten cold towards them or something. Maybe he wants to repay now in ignoring "them" and focusing and considering only options that are more affluent.

[akirasstories]

🤍 theo + liam: birth chart compatibility analysis (aka why they can’t stop fighting OR kissing) 🤍

🔥aries sun, cancer moon, scorpio rising (liam)

🌊scorpio sun, aquarius moon, gemini rising (theo)

aka: the emotionally explosive golden retriever meets the emotionally repressed chess master

🔥 fire (aries) vs 💧 water (scorpio)

→ theo: cool, calculating storm of passion

→ liam: fiery ball of chaos and feelings

→ the energy? electric. the emotions? confusing. the chemistry? off the charts.

☀ scorpio sun + ☀ aries sun

→ both intense, passionate and STUBBORN

→ liam: punches first, cries later

→ theo: schemes for six months, then casually ruins your life

→ constant power struggle potential bc both wanna lead, both hate being wrong

→ emotionally intense in completely opposite directions. spicy.

☀ scorpio sun + ⬆️ scorpio rising

→ instant "i know you" vibes

→ deep, magnetic pull. intense eye contact.

→ love language = possessiveness & loyalty

→ both thrive on emotional depth and connection… but also want control. whoops

☀ aries sun + 🌙 aquarius moon

→ liam acts, theo overthinks

→ theo helps calm liam down (or at least side-eyes him into calming down)

→ both are independent af! can struggle with compromise or admitting they need each other

→ but when they align? power couple energy

🌙 cancer moon + ☀ scorpio sun

→ liam FEELS EVERYTHING and just wants emotional closeness

→ theo is a walking locked door with fire behind it

→ liam needs verbal reassurance. theo offers a vaguely affectionate smirk

→ deep emotional potential but requires actual communication (aka theo's worst nightmare)

communication & misunderstandings (aka: liam yells, theo blinks slowly)

→ theo: gemini rising + capricorn mercury = calm, logical, never says "i feel"

→ liam: cancer moon + aries sun = emotional chaos dragon

→ theo thinks first, liam launches

→ theo might come across as cold, liam gets frustrated and storms off

→ liam wants a love letter. theo sends a “k.”

BUT:

→ both are smart, observant and capable of deep understanding

→ if they learn each other's languages (logic vs emotion), they're unstoppable

trust & loyalty

→ cornerstone of everything.

→ liam: scorpio rising + cancer moon = fiercely loyal, needs safety

→ theo: scorpio sun + capricorn mercury = commits hard once he finally trusts

→ both are ride-or-die once they're in. just takes some dramatic emotional war first.

→ theo might seem unpredictable (aquarius moon), which stresses liam out.

→ liam might seem emotionally demanding, which makes theo spiral.

power dynamics & control issues (hi, yes, there will be yelling)

→ liam: aries sun = natural leader, takes charge

→ theo: scorpio sun = secretly in control at all times

→ both hate being told what to do

→ can either implode in dominance battles or build a power couple empire

→ key = mutual respect (and maybe one of them occasionally backing down. unlikely tho.)

emotional support & intimacy

→ liam is a cuddle monster who just wants to be loved LOUDLY

→ theo loves deeply but very privately

→ liam: "hold me"

→ theo: "you're fine." (but then stays up all night making sure liam's okay)

→ theo fears vulnerability. liam lives in it.

→ can lead to moments where liam feels unloved & theo feels overwhelmed

→ they NEED honest convos (even if theo has to be tricked into them

passion, affection & chemistry

→ aries sun + scorpio sun = magnetic, explosive, kind of insane

→ liam: bold, fiery, emotionally expressive

→ theo: intense, mysterious, emotionally charged

→ physical attraction is unhinged

→ leo venus (liam) = grand gestures, constant affection

→ scorpio venus (theo) = soul-crushing intensity, emotional depth, eye contact that lasts too long

→ theo wants to become one soul. liam wants to scream "i love you" across a stadium

✨ in conclusion

this relationship is high-stakes emotional warfare wrapped in unresolved tension, late-night cuddles and one too many near-death confessions

→ trust and loyalty? elite.

→ communication? working on it.

→ intensity? through the roof.

→ affection? explosive.

→ emotional conflict? yes.

→ soulmates? … probably. if they don’t kill each other first.

liam's chart analysis | theo's chart analysis | thiam sexual energy | teen wolf zodicas

[mxtxfanatic]

"Shen Qingqiu doesn't actually like Luo Binghe, at least not until the end (if even). There's just no proof that—"

Shen Qingqiu's reaction to Liu Qingge—his beloved shidi who half of the fandom has convinced itself is in love with him—being aphrodisiaced:

Liu Qingge’s handsome face was splotched with red and white; it seemed like he’d been worked up into true distress, but he had no idea what to do with it. He clung helplessly to Shen Qingqiu, simply unwilling to let go. At the sight of him being so pitiful, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but think of how Bai Zhan Peak was a gang of thugs who knew only violence, and about how everyone there was obsessed with cultivating and fighting. Perhaps Liu Qingge, who’d grown up with such traditions, really was mentally deficient with regard to this sort of thing and didn’t even know how to jerk off. A deep pang of sympathy struck him. ... He kicked Liu Qingge into Madam Meiyin’s rose petal-filled bathing pool. Water splashed nearly six feet up. Even though Shen Qingqiu had the foresight to cover his face with his fan, icy coldness managed to splash all over his head. A soak at this temperature would assuredly cure Liu Qingge.

—Vol. 4, Chapt. 23: Recalling an Experience of Fighting Succubi with Great Master Liu, 7seas

vs. Shen Qingqiu's reaction to finding out that Luo Binghe actually liked him and had for a long time:

Shen Qingqiu was filled with both deep compassion as well as a feeling that this was extremely absurd. What could be more absurd than discovering that the person from whom you’d exhaustively plotted to flee, and had indeed fled from for so many years, hadn’t actually wanted to kill you at all, but wanted to do you instead? Though whether the desire was to kill or to fuck, the result was the same: Shen Qingqiu would still run away with all his might. One party wanted to meet but couldn’t, and so had clung to a corpse for five years. The other party avoided the first like the plague but still felt like he ran into him a great deal. Shen Qingqiu’s hands were stiff as he raised and lowered them, clenched them and relaxed. In the end, he let out a sigh anyway and patted that head above his. Fuck, I’ve really lost! he thought.

—Vol. 2, Chapt. 10: Huan Hua, 7seas

...or his reaction when an unconscious Luo Binghe pops a boner on him in the Holy Mausoleum:

After flailing about for a while, he slapped himself across the face and reasoned with himself logically: One couldn’t tell day from night in the Holy Mausoleum, so maybe it was morning outside right now? Therefore, this was a natural phenomenon, a normal bodily function. It would go away on its own, right? That was how it usually went, yes, that’s right! But just letting it sit there and not doing anything about it—wasn’t that a bit pitiful?! Well, there was nothing to be done about that. He couldn’t exactly help Luo Binghe jerk off under these circumstances, right?! If he just pretended he hadn’t seen anything, he would probably be forgiven—right?! Right! In the end, as a shizun, Shen Qingqiu had absolutely no duty to help his disciple simmer down, even if he’d started the fire in the first place!

—Vol. 3, Chapt. 16: Melting Ice, 7seas

On the one hand, Shen Qingqiu decisively kicks Liu Qingge into a freezing pond to deal with the effects of the aphrodisiac. On the other, he hems and haws about how he should react to any of Luo Binghe's come ons, be they intentional or unintentional. If you needed another example: Shen Qingqiu has completely different reactions to being propositioned for sex when he thinks it's his Luo Binghe asking vs. when he finds out it's Bing-ge. That man loves his husband and his husband alone!

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage. A/N: This chapter is 24k words & Tumblr won't let me upload it all in one post so cutting it off in four smaller parts.

Previous Chapter 18 (alt ending 2.9) - Inheritance of Hunger (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 19 (alt ending 2.10) - The Anatomical Weight of Neglect in Infinite Drops - Part 1

1 Monday - Evening

The problem with killing your mother was that she just wouldn’t die.

"Is she still breathing?"

"Barely."

"Gross."

Earlier - Avoidant Attachment vs. Unhinged Therapist

Dr. Maya leaned back in her chair, twirling a pen between her fingers, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Across from her, the subject—heavily pregnant, expression blank, a trillionaire CEO who had survived hostile takeovers, media smear campaigns, and now, the psychological hellscape of being ignored by two husbands—stared back, unmoved.

Maya sighed. "Alright, let's get into it—why'd you run?"

The woman in question arched a brow. "Do I look like I can run?"

Maya exhaled through her nose, unimpressed. "Cute. Answer the question."

"You already know why."

"Oh, I know. But I want you to say it."

Silence.

Maya smiled. A slow, knowing thing. "Isn't it funny? They ignored you for months, and you stayed. But then, suddenly—poof—gone, like a bad Tinder date. So, what changed? What finally broke you?"

A slow inhale. A steady exhale.

Then, finally—

"That night."

Maya tilted her head. "Elaborate."

A humorless smile twitched at her lips. "You ever been in a room full of people and still felt alone?"

"Of course. I went to medical school."

"Then you already get it."

"Indulge me."

The woman exhaled sharply. "I could handle the silence. The neglect. The unanswered texts. The ‘we lost track of time.’ But that night—" her fingers curled over the fabric of her dress "—they did it right next to me, like I wasn’t even there."

Maya’s eyes gleamed. "And Gojo said?"

A humorless laugh. "‘See? Nothing.’"

"Ouch." Maya twirled her pen. "That’s when you knew, huh? That you weren’t part of it anymore."

Silence again.

Maya smirked. "Alright, fine, let’s get to the fun part—who hurt more? Gojo or Nanami?"

"Excuse me?"

"C’mon, logically one must have hurt more."

A slow inhale. Then—

"Nanami."

Maya’s brows lifted. "Fascinating. I expected you to say Gojo."

"Everyone does."

"Why?"

The woman leaned back slightly, shifting to accommodate the weight of her stomach. "Because Gojo is… untouchable. There’s always been a distance. He lives in a world above everyone else—above me. Orbits the world like a comet, all light and chaos, but never close enough to truly warm you. I still loved him, even when it burned. Let myself believe that my hands could anchor him, that my voice could call him down from that endless sky when it was taking a toll on him. But I was naive. You can’t chain a god to mortal soil. Not even with love. And I loved him despite it. I gave him comfort when he needed it. But I always knew, deep down, that I’d never be able to truly reach him."

Maya hummed, intrigued. "And Nanami?"

Her lips parted, then closed.

Maya grinned. "Ah, so this one actually hurts. Good. Continue."

A long, slow exhale. "Nanami was supposed to be the one who saw me. Who understood me. We’re the same—rational, grounded, obsessive over details. Two pragmatists building something real, brick by brick. He was my equal, my mirror. The one who noticed when my coffee went cold, who memorized the way I organize spreadsheets, who saw me—not just the wife, the caretaker, the shadow trailing behind a star. He’s the one who I’d say would be my friend, not just my husband; with Gojo, I never even felt like even Nanami wa close enough with him to truly call them friends.”

Maya clicked her pen. "But he did."

"Yeah, he chose the star instead. He looked at Gojo—at that blinding, reckless force—and decided that was worth burning our world for. And I… I became the ghost in our marriage. The one they step around, the one they whisper about when they thought I was asleep. The rational one. The grounded one. How ironic, isn’t it? That the man who worshipped order would destroy everything we had for a single undivided taste of chaos?”

"And that hurt more than Gojo?"

"Her voice fractured then, the weight of her stomach suddenly unbearable, as if the twins inside her could feel the ache too. “I could handle Gojo’s distance. I signed up for that. But Nanami? He wasn’t just my husband. He was my friend. And friends don’t… they don’t erase you.” A slow exhale. “Gojo was always a god. I just didn’t expect Nanami to be one too."

Maya whistled lowly. "That’s poetic. Hope you’re writing that down for your future memoir."

The woman gave her a flat look. "I’ll title it How to Be a Third Wheel in Your Own Marriage. "

Maya barked out a laugh. "Now that’s funny."

"Glad my suffering is entertaining."

"Oh, don’t be dramatic. You’ll forgive them."

A scoff. "What makes you so sure?"

Maya leaned in, grin sharp. "Because if you really wanted them out of your life, you wouldn’t be here talking about them."

Silence.

Then—

"You’re evil."

"I prefer effective."

Meanwhile, in the Observation Room

Nanami’s grip on the armrest was white-knuckle tight.

Gojo looked like he’d been punched in the chest.

Kashimo, standing by the door, took a sip of his coffee. "Damn. That was brutal."

He’d been hired by Maya to electrocute them if they tried to escape listening to this.

Gojo let out a slow, shaky breath. "She—" His voice wavered. "She thinks I was always unreachable?"

Nanami said nothing.

Kashimo stretched lazily. "Well, yeah. You’re Gojo Satoru. You float above humanity like an untouchable deity. You’re a brand, not a man. You can’t even go to a convenience store without being recognized. That kind of isolation doesn’t just disappear in marriage."

Gojo swallowed hard. "I thought—" His voice cracked. "I thought she understood me."

"She did." Nanami’s voice was quiet, hoarse. "She just didn’t think she could reach you."

Gojo’s jaw clenched.

Silence.

Then—

Nanami exhaled. "She didn’t expect me to betray her."

Kashimo raised a brow. "That’s worse than what she said about Gojo, to be honest."

More silence.

Kashimo sighed. "You two are lucky she’s still talking about you at all."

Neither man spoke.

Gojo exhaled, shakily. "She doesn’t know we’re listening."

"Nope."

"If she finds out—"

"Oh, she’ll kill you." Kashimo grinned. "So, what’s the plan, Romeo?"

Gojo’s fingers curled into fists. “Fix it.”

Kashimo grinned. "Good luck with that. She’s got abandonment issues and a murder-level grudge. You’re gonna need it."

Back in Therapy Room

Dr. Maya tapped her nails, watching the woman in front of her like a scientist observing a particularly interesting specimen.

"So," she mused, legs crossed, voice lilting with that signature I-know-exactly-how-to-ruin-your-day tone. "How long did it take them to notice you were gone?"

Silence.

Maya’s lips twitched. "C’mon, girl. Don’t make me work for it."

A slow inhale. Then—

"Six weeks."

Maya whistled low, the sound sharp and cutting. "That’s a long fucking time."

The woman—your body heavy, the weight of unwanted life pressing deep into your spine—gave a slow, humorless smile.

"It is, isn’t it?"

"Oh, it’s poetic." Maya leaned forward, chin resting on her palm. "Tell me—what did they say when they finally realized?"

You exhaled, tilting your head slightly. "‘We messed up. Where are you?’"

Maya snorted. "That’s it?"

"They sounded… confused."

"Confused?"

"Like they had just lost track of time."

Maya let out a surprised snort; it was humorless. "God, that’s almost worse than if they’d just admitted they didn’t care."

"Mm."

"But they did care, didn’t they?"

Silence.

Maya’s smile widened. She had her.

Meanwhile, in the Observation Room

Gojo felt sick.

Not the kind of sick that could be ignored or laughed off. The deep, rotting kind. The kind that settled in the bones and made itself at home.

Beside him, Nanami was completely still—jaw clenched, hands curled into fists so tight his knuckles were stark white.

Kashimo took another sip of his coffee. "So, question—how the fuck do you lose track of your pregnant wife for six weeks?"

Neither man answered.

Kashimo smirked. "Oh, right. You were too busy dicking each other down."

Gojo’s stomach lurched.

Nanami inhaled sharply, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "Shut up."

"No, no—let’s sit with that for a second." Kashimo leaned back against the wall, amused. "Not only did you ignore her for months, not only did you brush her off when she begged for an answer, but you also—what? Thought she’d just stay? Thought she’d just wait around while you two did your own thing for god knows how long?"

Gojo’s fingers curled into fists. "We didn’t—"

"Didn’t what?" Kashimo cut in sharply. "Didn’t think about her? Didn’t notice when she was disgusted by the way you treated her? Didn’t even bother looking at her belly long enough to realize she was fucking pregnant?"

Silence.

Gojo exhaled shakily, fingers pressing against his temples.

God. They had been so… thoughtless.

So fucking selfish.

Back in the Therapy Room

Maya tapped her pen. "Let’s talk about that night."

You didn’t move.

"You know the one."

Your stomach twisted.

"You were still there. Still trying to make it work."

Your breath was shallow.

"And then they came home."

Silence.

Maya’s voice was soft. Dangerous. "Tell me what happened."

Your hands curled into fists over your stomach. Don’t say it.

"They didn’t look at me."

Maya hummed. "And then?"

"They smelled like alcohol."

"And then?"

You swallowed.

"And then they fucked each other."

The room was so silent it felt like even the walls were listening.

"Right next to me."

Maya leaned in, eyes gleaming. "And you?"

You stared at your lap, voice distant.

"I just… stayed very very still."

Maya tilted her head. "Why?"

"Because I didn’t want them to know I was awake."

Maya’s breath hitched slightly. That was new.

"You were disgusted?"

Silence like she’d dissociated herself to some safe space.

"Heartbroken?" Maya pressed.

A long, slow breath.

Observation Room

Gojo was shaking.

Nanami had gone still.

Neither of them spoke.

Neither of them could.

"Jesus Christ," Kashimo muttered. Even he looked disturbed. "That’s fucking grim."

Gojo swallowed hard. "She—" His voice cracked. "She was awake?"

"Obviously," Kashimo said flatly.

Nanami’s hands trembled. "I fucking knew it." He wanted to crawl out of his own skin and baptize himself with acid.

Gojo was still reeling. “Why didn’t she say anything?”

"Because she knew you wouldn’t listen." Kashimo answered.

Gojo winced.

Kashimo let out a low whistle. "I mean, that’s bad, but you know what’s worse?"

Neither man answered.

Kashimo smirked, leaning against the wall. "She still doesn’t know you’re here."

Therapy Room

Maya tapped her pen against her chin. "You’re mad at them."

No response.

"You’re hurt."

Nothing.

"You still love them."

Your nails dug into your palm.

Maya smirked. "And that’s the worst part, isn’t it?"

Your breath hitched.

"Because after everything, after the neglect, after the betrayal, after they made you feel like a ghost in your own home…"

Maya leaned in, eyes sharp.

"You still want them to fix it."

Your eyes burned.

"You still want them to fight for you."

Silence.

"You still—"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, MAYA."

Maya grinned. "Oh? Hit a nerve?"

Observation Room

Gojo inhaled shakily.

Nanami was silent.

---

Later, outside the crime scene in Megumi and Haibara’s penthouse.

You could hear Gojo breathing steadily beside you, his arms slung around you as you lounged on the patio chair by the pool, half-buried under a blanket and surrounded by his long limbs. The shirt you wore would have been big on Gojo, but on you, it was practically drowning you—probably because it was Nanami’s. Your Switch sat heavy in your hands, the soft plink-plink of Animal Crossing’s background music filling the quiet air.

You were halfway through building a bridge when Gojo nuzzled his face against the crook of your neck.

"You’re ignoring me," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

"I’m not ignoring you," you said without looking up.

"Mmm." He sounded skeptical. "Then why haven’t you reacted to the fact that I just bought you that designer villager you’ve been trying to get for weeks?"

You paused. The words "Raymond has moved in!" flashed across the screen.

"Oh my god," you gasped. "You actually did it!"

"I have my ways." Gojo smirked, smug as hell, his arm tightening around you. "Love me more now?"

"That depends. How much did it cost you?"

"That’s not important."

"You spent real money on this, didn’t you?"

"…Define real."

"Satoru."

"It was worth it." He pressed a kiss to your temple, fingers tracing soft patterns along your waist where the oversized dress-shirt had bunched up. A small, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as he added, “I’ll buy you an entire island next.”

You rolled your eyes at him, still playing.

"Your mom called earlier," Gojo murmured.

Your fingers tightened slightly on the Switch.

Gojo caught it. "Didn’t answer."

"Good."

His arm tightened around you again.

There was a noise—faint, distant—something metallic scraping against concrete.

Gojo’s hand cupped the back of your head, steering you closer until your back was practically curled into his chest.

"Focus on your game, babe."

You frowned, about to protest when—

"Motherfucker, is she humming?"

"Sounds like it."

"And she’s smiling."

"Even with the acid?"

"Gross."

Haibara’s voice hummed faintly from the next room—light, cheerful, amused. You couldn’t hear Megumi’s response, but judging by the sharp metallic clang that followed, it wasn’t pleasant.

"You left Megumi and Haibara alone?" you asked Gojo suspiciously.

"Normally you and Nanami ask that question about me,” he chuckled.

Your fingers froze.

Gojo immediately backtracked, although vaguely. “They're... working through some things."

"You mean they’re torturing someone."

"It’s fine," Gojo said, brushing your hair back from the nape of your neck. His lips ghosted over your ear, the weight of his hand on your stomach deliberate. "It’s nothing you need to worry about."

Inside

"This is disgusting."

Megumi’s gloved hands were curled tightly around the edge of a steel table, his mouth twisting into a sneer as he stared at the writhing body strapped infront of him.

"Do you think it’s the acid or just her personality?" Haibara mused, sitting cross-legged on the counter with a half-eaten sub in hand.

"You’re eating? Next to a rotting body?" Megumi’s disgust deepened.

"Hey, a body in distress shouldn’t ruin my appetite."

"You’re sick."

"I was MI6." Haibara shrugged.

“Why does everything with you end with MI6?”

“Because I was MI6.”

“I have a lot of ex-MI6 agents working for me, and yet none of them are as insane as you.”

“That is because I come from a long line of people with something wrong with them.”

Your mother’s mouth curled—a jagged smile, teeth bared even through the dark sheen of blood coating her lips.

Her eyes glinted. "You’re just like your father."

Megumi’s expression darkened. "Shut up."

"Twisted. Cold. Unfeeling… Fucked Up."

"You should stop talking."

"You’ll never be enough for her," she hissed. "You both, or that pathetic blonde thing playing house with her. Satoru is the only one she really loves—"

Megumi slammed his fist down beside her head. The steel table cracked beneath his punch.

Her head snapped to the side, blood spraying from her mouth in a jagged arc.

"You don’t get to talk about her."

"Aw, you made him mad~," Haibara sing-songed, licking BBQ sauce off his fingers.

"Why isn’t she dead yet?" Megumi hissed.

"She’s resilient." Haibara tilted his head thoughtfully. "Kinda impressive. Do you think she’d last longer if we—"

"Don’t."

"Spoilsport."

"I mean it, Yu."

"You’re no fun, baby Fushiguro."

Your mother coughed—wet and sharp. Blood dribbled down her chin, staining her teeth as her mouth curled into a grotesque smile.

"Do you really think killing me will make her love you?"

In an instant, Megumi’s gloved fist struck her jaw, the impact echoing through the air with a sickening crack. Her head snapped to the side, her jaw dislocating as her body crumpled under the force. Megumi’s expression was cold, unyielding, his dark, midnight-blue eyes glinting with a madness she couldn’t comprehend.

“I know it’s hard for your selfish, narcissistic ass to comprehend,” he said, his voice low and venomous, each word cutting sharper than the last. “But I expect nothing from her. Hell, I don’t even care if she never looks at me again.” He leaned in closer, his shadow looming over her broken form, his presence suffocating. “This was never about me. It’s always been about ensuring you never lay a finger on her again. Never look at her again. Never even breathe in her direction again.”

His grin was feral, unhinged, and it sent a shiver down her spine. Megumi Fushiguro never grinned—not like this. Not unless he was living his destiny. If you could see him right now, you’d think his father had possessed him.

“And if I have to melt you into infinite drops to make that happen,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I will.”

The air around them grew heavy, the shadows deepening as Haibara’s cursed technique surged. The ground beneath her seemed to shift, the darkness itself reaching out to claim her. She tried to scream, but no sound came out—only a choked gurgle as the shadows wrapped around her, pulling her into an abyss that promised nothing but endless suffering.

Megumi stood there, his breathing steady, his expression unreadable. He didn’t revel in it. He didn’t need to. This wasn’t vengeance. This wasn’t even justice. This was necessity. A brutal, unflinching act of protection.

Megumi turned away, his hands moving to pick up the acid bucket. The grin was gone, replaced by the usual stoic mask. But the darkness in his eyes lingered, a quiet reminder of the lengths he would go to for her.

For you.

Because some loves were not meant to be soft. Some loves were forged in shadows, in blood, in the unyielding resolve to destroy anything—or anyone—that dared to threaten what was yours.

And Megumi Fushiguro had never been one to hesitate.

Outside

Now, you had moved on to absolutely decimating Gojo in Mario Kart.

"No, no, no—Babe, wait—Babe—Use the shell," Gojo pleaded, gripping your thigh. "Please. Mercy."

"Nope," you said sweetly, drifting around the final corner with expertise only a gaming industry insider could have. "Red shell, baby."

"I’m your husband!"

"That’s why I’m not holding back."

Gojo groaned as his kart spun out.

You crossed the finish line, first place sparkling across the screen.

"You’re cruel," Gojo mumbled, dropping his chin onto your head. His arm slid around you again, fingers tracing absent-mindedly over the swell of your stomach.

"Yeah, but you like a challenge."

"Unfortunately." He sighed. His breath warmed the side of your temple. "I’d be less into you if you were nicer."

"I’ll keep that in mind," you murmured, leaning into him, head on his chest, watching the victory music play out on the screen. Gojo’s hands continued to rub gently over the bump of your stomach. His thumb tracing soft circles.

"They’re getting stronger," he murmured.

"Mmm."

"Maybe they’ll come out normal."

"I’ll beat you with a frying pan."

"Okay, okay—maybe they’ll come out slightly cursed."

"You’re setting the bar pretty low."

"Better to be realistic."

Inside

"Okay, hear me out—" Haibara wiped his bloody hands on his pants, crouched over the half-dissolved corpse in the industrial sink. His other hand casually still held the half-eaten sub. "—what if we just leave her in the bathtub for a few days? Let nature do its thing."

Megumi’s eye twitched. "No."

"Why not?" Haibara asked, taking another bite. His other hand was drenched in blood, and there was something almost alluring—like a serial killer—in the way his tongue darted out to lick the sauce from the corner of his mouth. "The acids will break her down eventually."

"We’re not leaving a body in the sink," Megumi hissed. He stood back, arms crossed, his long frame darkening the room. "That’s disgusting."

"You sound like such a prude," Haibara said, eyes glittering. "Is it the bathtub part or the dissolving part?"

Megumi’s nostrils flared. “Both."

Haibara shrugged. "Well, we could always—"

"We are not cutting her into pieces."

"You’re no fun." Haibara tossed his sub wrapper into the sink—where it floated ominously in the rising pink sludge—and wiped his hands on his pants again.

"Stop doing that," Megumi said through gritted teeth.

"What? Blood’s biodegradable." Haibara leaned against the sink, examining the half-dissolved mess like he was eyeing a bad paint job. "Honestly, I’m impressed. Woman’s stubborn."

"Evil has a longer shelf life than most," Megumi muttered darkly. His eyes narrowed at the body, or what was left of it.

"Should we check for a pulse?" Haibara suggested.

Megumi glared at him. "She’s in three pieces."

"Could be playing dead."

"I’m not checking."

"Coward." Haibara nudged one of the limbs with his foot.

It twitched.

Megumi’s entire face twisted in disgust.

"What the hell—"

The limb twitched again. The mother’s head—her half-melted face—rolled toward them, lips curling back in what was almost a smile.

Haibara crouched down, eyes gleaming dangerously. "Aw, look at that. She still has a sense of humor."

"You’re enjoying this too much," Megumi muttered.

"It's called finding joy in your work." Haibara smiled, white and smug. "You should try it sometime."

"Finish it," Megumi said, stepping back. "Before she grows another limb."

"Party pooper." Haibara sighed, grabbing a heavy iron rod from the floor. "Alright, Mother Gothel—say goodnight."

Group Chat: Dad Crimes 💀

Daddy: She sat in my lap today. Out of nowhere.

Father Time: Mm.

Daddy: And then she leaned back and sighed. Like this tiny, breathy sound. And then she said, "You’re warm."

Father Time: Mm.

Daddy: I think I died. I ascended. I reached enlightenment.

Father Time: And yet you’re still here.

Daddy: In body only. My soul is gone.

Outside

Your mother had died—but the problem was, she was annoying enough to turn into a curse. Not the powerful kind, just a stubborn one. The kind of curse that refused to be exorcised easily, clinging to the world with a petty, spiteful determination. And now, she was hellbent on sucking the life out of you.

Gojo, your ever-clownish husband, had been appointed to keep you distracted. Of course, he totally did not reverse-psychologize Nanami into letting him babysit you. It wasn’t just because pregnancy had made your body fuller, softer, and utterly irresistible now that you were officially in your third trimester. And it definitely wasn’t just because the way your boobs had grown was doing things to him—things that made it nearly impossible for him to keep his hands off you. No, no, it was more than that.

Okay, maybe that was, like, 10% of it.

The truth was, Nanami had agreed because he knew if he hovered around you, you’d get suspicious. And they couldn’t risk that. They weren’t about to tell your pregnant ass that your mother had turned into a curse with a vendetta against you. Gojo was worried—maybe more than he’d ever admit. Nanami had been sending him articles lately about fathers becoming obsessed with their pregnant partners, and Gojo was starting to think there might be some truth to it. The thought of anything happening to you made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t used to. He’d always been the strongest, the untouchable, but this? This was different. This was you.

So maybe this was his way of being overprotective without drawing attention. He’d heard stories of sorcerers going insane over lost pregnant partners. In another universe he might have understood what Toji would have become if he wasn’t already insane and lost Megumi’s mom.

“Eat, sweetheart,” Gojo murmured, placing a bag of snacks infront of you. “I brought your favorite—spicy chips, pickles, and that weird drink you’ve been obsessed with. Oh, and chocolate. Lots of chocolate.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back against his chest with a hand resting on your swollen belly. “What’s the occasion? You’re being extra… Satoru today.”

He flashed that infuriatingly confident smirk of his, one that made it almost impossible to focus on what he was saying. “Can’t a guy just want to spoil his gorgeous, glowing wife? Look at you. You’re like a fertility goddess or something. It’s unfair, really. How am I supposed to focus on anything when you’re out here looking like that?”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “You’re such a dork.”

“Can’t help it when it’s my wife’s type,” he mused, leaning in to press a kiss to the side of your head. His lips lingered for a moment, and you could feel the tension in him, the way his usual playful energy was tinged with something darker, something more protective.

“Satoru,” you said slowly, while he opened the bottle of drink for you. “What’s going on? You’re being… weird. Even for you.”

He pulled back, his grin never faltering, but his eyes—those piercing blue eyes—were unreadable. “Me? Weird? Never. I’m just enjoying the view.” His hand slid back to your belly, his touch gentle but possessive. “And these two little troublemakers. They’re gonna be just as stubborn as their mom, aren’t they?”

You swatted his hand away, but he caught your wrist, his grip firm but tender. For a moment, the mask slipped, and you saw it—the worry, the fear, the raw intensity in his gaze. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a smirk.

“Relax, sweetheart. I’m just here to make sure you’re comfortable. And maybe steal a few cuddles while I’m at it.” He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping tighter around you in a way that felt both protective and possessive.

You sighed, leaning into him despite yourself. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me,” he teased, his voice soft, almost tender.

You didn’t respond, but the way your hand found his, fingers intertwining, said enough. Gojo’s grin softened, and for a moment, the world felt quiet, safe. But beneath the surface, the tension lingered. He knew what was out there, what was waiting. And he’d be damned if he let anything—or anyone—hurt you.

“Satoru,” you murmured after a while, your voice drowsy. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

He stiffened for a fraction of a second before forcing himself to relax. “Of course, sweetheart. Always.”

“Your hand is like a giant against mine. Like Bigfoot’s,” you laughed, holding up your palm to his, the size difference comically exaggerated.

“Ohh…” Gojo caught your laugh like it was a contagious disease, his grin widening as he completely derailed from his brooding thoughts. “Are you saying I have big hands? Because I’ve been told by my wife they’re very skilled.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile didn’t leave your face. “Yeah, but Nanami’s hands are somehow just a tiny bit rougher than yours. Come to think of it, how are your hands still ageless-looking?”

Gojo froze for a split second, his mind racing. He was not going to tell you he’d been sneaking your expensive retinol serums for years. “Ahh, Infinity, baby,” he said with a small nibbling bite to your cheeks, as if that explained everything. “Keeps the wrinkles away. And the haters.”

You laughed, leaning back against him. “Nanami’s hands are warmer, though. No, wait—actually, I can’t pick one. I like both.”

Gojo gasped, clutching your chest like you’d just stabbed him. “Betrayal! Right to my face! After all I’ve done for you! I bring you snacks, I massage your feet, I let you steal the blankets—and this is how you repay me? By comparing me to Nanami? It’s unfair; Nanami’s perfect.”

You swatted his hand away from your chest. “Don’t be jealous. You know you’re my favorite clown.”

“Clown?!” he exclaimed, feigning outrage. “I’m the honored one, babe, thank you very much. The strongest sorcerer, the most handsome man alive, and the only person who can put up with your weird pickle-and-chocolate cravings.”

“Mhm, sure,” you said, patting his hand condescendingly. “Keep telling yourself that.”

He leaned in, his face next to yours, his grin turning mischievous. “I love you.”

“I tolerate you,” you shot back, but the way your lips twitched gave you away.

Inside

Haibara’s laugh cut through the room, light and cheerful as ever—which only made it worse. He was still licking sauce off his fingers like they hadn’t just spent the last two hours failing to kill your mother while all Haibara had done was continuously munch.

Megumi, standing across from him, looked considerably less composed. His shirt sleeves were now rolled up, and there was blood—a lot of it—drying against his black leather gloves. The acid had done its work, but still...

"She just wouldn’t die," Megumi muttered, disgust curling his lip. "It’s unnatural."

"Honestly," Haibara said, chewing, "I respect the stamina."

"You would."

The sharp clink of ice against glass made both men turn.

Nanami Kento sat by the bar, the city lights casting a golden glow on his sharp features. His hair was swept back with precision, the faint sheen of product catching the light as if even his hair strands obeyed his command. The crisp lines of his shirt hugged his frame like water over marble; his sleeves were still neatly pressed, and the way he adjusted his cufflinks—slow, deliberate, almost predatory—was the very picture of composure. He was calmly stirring whiskey into a crystal tumbler, like he wasn’t in the same room where a body was just being melted.

“Thanks for the intel on her mother, Nanami, but you can fuck off to your perfect little life now. We’ll handle it, just like we always handle everything in her life,” Haibara said, his tone mocking, yet laced with an undercurrent of threat and hatred.

"I appreciate your efforts," Nanami said evenly, swirling his drink. "But I came to collect."

Haibara’s smile twitched. "What could we possibly have that you want?"

Nanami took a slow sip of his drink and set the glass down. His gaze slid to Megumi, sharp as a scalpel.

"Your cooperation."

Megumi’s brow twitched. "I’m not helping you."

"Yes, you are," Nanami said flatly. "Because if you don't... well..." he took another sip, voice smooth as glass. "I’ll have to tell her exactly how many people you’ve killed for her over the years."

The silence was instant.

“In detail.” He finished.

"You wouldn’t," Megumi said, his leather gloves making a soft sound as he clenched his fists around the heavy rod he had picked up.

"I would," Nanami countered. "Because you both have been in love with her since you were kids, and as much as I admire the dedication, she’s my wife. And Gojo’s. And you know as well as I do that neither of us is going anywhere. Gojo’s practically immortal."

“My father killed him once,” Megumi hissed, his voice low and venomous.

“And yet,” Nanami replied, his tone calm but cutting, “he came back from the dead and immediately returned the favor. But funny, I don’t see your father standing here with us.”

Haibara’s smile stretched, sharp and ugly. "You really think threatening us is the way to go?"

"You think I won’t?" Nanami’s voice remained calm, but his eyes were cold. "She’s six months pregnant with twins that are special-grade before they’re even born. She’s a living target, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe—including making sure the two of you don’t poison her head with whatever fantasy you’ve been clinging to."

"She hates you right now," Megumi spoke like he was stating a fact as real as breathing.

"Hate’s irrelevant." Nanami’s mouth twisted slightly. "She’s still mine."

Megumi’s fists clenched harder. "So what’s your demand? You just want Gojo living here half the week?"

"That’s the deal." Nanami continued sipping. "Half the week I stay with her. Half the week, Gojo does. On Sunday, I and Gojo will both stay with you. And in exchange…" His gaze flicked back to Haibara. "I keep my mouth shut."

"And what happens when she finds out you were the reason her mother is dead?" Haibara asked lazily. "She’s smart, Kento. Too smart for you to keep this buried."

Nanami smiled—thin and amused.

"I never made any promises to not kill her mother. Only Gojo did. She knows better than to ask me such things."

Haibara’s smile broadened just slightly; this was it. This was what Haibara wanted to know about this Nanami—how far he’d go.

"You’d hurt her just to keep her?" Megumi’s voice carried a low undercurrent of danger.

"I’ll eliminate anyone or anything to keep her and Satoru safe," Nanami said quietly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Megumi’s gaze darkened. Haibara went back to eating his sub.

"Fine," Megumi said, his voice low. "But if you slip up… if she cries because of you again... I’ll kill you both."

Nanami’s smirk didn’t waver.

"Get in line."

Outside

"Don’t shake the tree! The cherries are about to fall!"

"I know, Satoru." You swatted Gojo’s arm as he tried—and failed—to give you instructions for a game he didn’t understand.

Gojo’s chin was resting on your head. He had one arm looped lazily around your waist, his other hand fidgeting with the hem of your shirt under the blanket.

"I’m just saying," Gojo muttered. "You’re playing too aggressively. Animal Crossing’s about vibes."

"I’ve been playing this game longer than you’ve been paying attention to it," you shot back.

"Rude." He nuzzled against your neck like an oversized cat.

"You’re clingy tonight," you murmured, not unkindly.

"Mmm." His fingers slid across your stomach, thumb-tracing slow circles. The twins shifted beneath his palm, a soft ripple beneath your skin.

Gojo's breath hitched. "Their kicks are strong.”

"They’re strong," you said softly.

"Of course they are." Gojo’s voice dropped to a whisper as he kissed your cheek. "They’re yours."

“Ours,” you said, absentmindedly while smiling faintly, gaze still fixed on the game.

Gojo’s hand stilled against your belly. His grip tightened slightly, like he was afraid you’d slip away if he didn’t hold on harder.

"You still love me, right?"

Your fingers stilled on your Switch.

"I mean… after everything," Gojo said, his voice softer now. "After Nanami. After…" His voice broke. "I just—I need to know I haven’t lost you."

"Satoru…"

"I know you and Kento are closer. I know I’m not as… grounded or human. But I need you too." His voice cracked. "You know that, right?"

You turned, setting the Switch down on your legs. Gojo’s face was bare—no blindfold, no sunglasses—just wide blue eyes, tired and flickering with something fragile. Something desperate.

You reached up, fingers brushing through his hair. "I never stopped loving you."

Gojo exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for weeks.

"Good," he whispered, leaning in to press a kiss against your forehead.

His lips lingered there, trembling. "Because I’m not letting you go. I know I can’t undo the things you felt, but I will never let it happen again."

Your breath hitched, but before you had to say anything more—

Nanami dropped into the patio chair next to you. His shirt was immaculate—no blood, no sweat, not a wrinkle in sight.

"Finished?" Gojo asked, not looking up.

"Not yet." Nanami adjusted the blanket over your legs. "Deciding on the cleanup."

"And?"

"It’s taking longer than expected."

"You’re losing your touch."

"Or she’s simply custom built to be extra pain in the ass."

Nanami’s gaze flicked toward you—calm, assessing. His mouth softened the slightest bit.

"Comfortable?"

"Mostly," you yawned. "Winning helps."

"She cheats," Gojo said.

"She’s better than you," Nanami replied smoothly.

Gojo grunted because with Gojo, there was no hope of winning fair and square, so you almost always had to cheat—and Nanami encouraged it. He’d been gaslighting Gojo ever since the day the three of you met at the gaming convention, weaving lies so seamlessly that even Gojo’s Six Eyes couldn’t always untangle them.

Gojo knew, of course.

He always knew.

But he let you two keep pretending you were sly, playing your little games.

Nanami’s gaze lingered on you, longer than necessary. "If I leave you alone with her for a full week, you’ll find a way to screw it up." He said to Gojo.

"He’s got you there," you murmured.

"You’re ganging up on me," Gojo whined.

"Welcome to marriage," Nanami said dryly.

Gojo sighed.

And then, in the distance—

"OH, COME ON—"

Haibara’s voice echoed from inside.

"How’s she’s still not dead?" Megumi’s voice followed, dark.

"I think she just opened her eyes."

"Put her in the furnace," Megumi said coldly.

"Megumi—"

"Or I’m leaving."

You sighed, tilting your head toward Nanami. "I'm gonna have nightmares again, aren’t I?"

"I’ll be with you tonight," Nanami reassured.

"That’s not reassuring." You said lowly, going back to playing Animal Crossing. Even if they killed to keep you and the babies safe, the guilt still festered and strangled you in dreams.

Gojo’s mouth tightened as he glanced at you, still curled against him, oblivious to your mother being dissolved alive in acid in the next room, fingers tapping lazily at the Switch.

"Fine, I’ll stay here," he said.

Nanami smirked. "Good boy."

From the hallway, Megumi’s voice drifted faintly—flat and disgusted.

"Stop flirting, it’s gross."

"Says the guy who just dissolved a body," Haibara sabotaged him cheerfully.

---

1 Monday Evening - Your Penthouse

Your home office’s lighting was too bright. Artificial. Harsh.

You squinted against it, the glow of the massive TV screen blurring the sharp edges of the charts and financial projections flashing across it.

"Q3 revenue targets are off by seven percent—"

"Our Asia-Pacific branch needs—"

Your head pounded. The sound of overlapping voices blurred into static.

It was too hot.

You curled your fingers over the edge of the glass table. You had to get through this meeting because it was important and both Megumi and Haibara were still busy. But your breath caught as the twins pressed heavily against your spine. They were restless. Or maybe you were restless.

"Ma’am—?"

You pressed your palm against your mouth and exhaled slowly. Your heart was thudding too hard against your ribs.

"Are you ok?"

"I’m fine," you murmured.

Lying, obviously.

"We’ll need your input on the new licensing strategy—"

"I said I’m fine."

Your vision flickered. The edges of the screen swam. Heat pooled beneath your skin, ice-cold and sharp. Your knees locked.

"Miss—?"

The static roared.

And then the ground rushed up to meet you.

You didn’t remember falling.

You didn’t remember hitting the floor.

But you remembered the arms that caught you.

Firm. Steady. Clean soap and linen.

"I’ve got you," Nanami said, low and calm, as if your body wasn’t limp in his arms. His sleeves were rolled up. His grip was sure.

The boardroom was silent on screen.

Nanami adjusted you more securely in his arms. "Meeting adjourned."

No one moved.

"Now."

The scrape of chairs. The shuffle of shoes. Murmurs of "We’ll circle back to this in the next sprint. Until then, let’s give this a re-read." The door opened and closed.

Nanami didn’t wait for them to disconnect the call before setting you down on the couch.

"Kento—"

"Quiet."

You slumped against him, your head tucked beneath his chin. Your heart hammered painfully in your chest.

"Stock market’s been volatile," Nanami said, almost conversationally. His voice low and steady, cutting through the fog behind your eyes. "U.S. index dropped six points overnight. Nikkei is following suit."

Your fingers curled weakly into the back of his dress shirt.

"The yuan is still stable, though. Interesting, considering the ECB’s latest adjustments."

You made a faint, broken sound.

Nanami’s arms tightened around you. His lips brushed against your temple.

"Rest," he murmured. "I've got you."

A lump rose in your throat.

"I missed this version of you."

Nanami stilled.

You forced your eyes open, the haze thinning just enough to see the tension in his brow. His mouth was set in a thin line.

"I know," he said quietly.

"Then why—"

"I know."

You didn’t want to cry. But you were tired. And there was too much weight pressing against your chest.

"You didn’t even know I was pregnant."

His arms tightened almost imperceptibly.

"I know." His voice was thin. Raw.

You closed your eyes.

Nanami exhaled slowly. He lowered you carefully onto the couch, kneeling beside you as his thumb brushed over your wrist.

"Stay there," he murmured.

You barely registered him leaving the room. Your pulse was still too fast, your head still too heavy.

But when he came back, he was carrying a tray.

Silver cutlery. Crisp linen napkins. A porcelain plate—

And food.

Perfectly seared fish, sliced thinly over a bed of seasoned risotto. Grilled vegetables, drizzled with balsamic reduction. Every piece precisely arranged.

Nanami slid the tray in front of you.

"You didn’t have to—"

"I made it."

You stared at him. "You… cooked all of this?"

"I had time." He rolled up his sleeves further, sitting down beside you. "You need to eat."

You hesitated.

Nanami’s gaze sharpened. His hand settled on your thigh. "Eat."

You picked up the fork. Took a bite.

The flavor melted on your tongue. Warm and rich and… precise.

You swallowed, throat tight. "You made this for me?”

Nanami’s gaze softened.

"Of course."

Your chest ached.

"What changed?" you whispered.

Nanami’s gaze flicked away.

"Nothing." His hand tightened on your knee. "Everything."

Your breath hitched.

"It’s not like I didn’t care," he said, low and even. "I just… didn’t realize."

Your gaze sharpened. "Didn’t realize?"

Nanami’s mouth twisted. His hand slid to the drawer on the end table—

And pulled out a photo.

Creased at the edges.

An ultrasound photo.

"Nanami—"

"Don’t forget us."

The words were scrawled in your handwriting on the back. Ink slightly smudged.

Nanami’s thumb dragged across the paper, slow and deliberate.

"You left this on my desk," he said quietly.

"Months ago."

Your throat closed. "And?"

"I thought you were tired." Nanami’s gaze lifted, sharp and cold beneath the weight of his own guilt. "I thought you were stressed."

Your eyes burned.

"Kento—"

"And now," his voice dropped lower, "I’m realizing I’m an idiot because I didn’t find it in time."

Your chest tightened.

Nanami’s hand slid over your belly, his palm settling just beneath the curve of your ribcage.

"I should have noticed." His thumb brushed over the curve of your stomach. "I should have seen it."

"You were busy."

"No excuse."

Tears burned your throat.

"I didn’t think you wanted this," you whispered.

Nanami’s gaze sharpened. "That’s not true."

"You didn’t act like you wanted it."

Nanami’s hand curled over your stomach. His lips parted—

Then his phone buzzed.

He pulled it from his pocket, glancing at the screen.

"What?"

Nanami turned the screen toward you.

A message from Gojo.

“Did you know that babies can pee in the womb?”

Another message followed.

“Also, they can hear us right now. Say hi to my unborn heirs.”

You laughed weakly, grimicing. "God, he’s so stupid."

Nanami’s mouth twitched.

"He’s trying."

"He’s still an idiot."

"Yes, that he is."

Nanami’s thumb brushed beneath your jaw.

"But so am I."

Your gaze softened.

"We’ll figure it out," he murmured. "I promise."

You stared at him.

"Do you?"

Nanami’s mouth curved faintly.

"I wouldn’t dare lie to you."

Your chest ached.

"Good," you whispered.

Nanami’s hand settled beneath your chin.

"Eat," he said.

Your heart stuttered.

And you did.

But soon your gaze flicked to his laptop.

"Nanami."

He didn’t look up. "Hm?"

"What is this?"

Nanami adjusted his glasses. "An analysis."

"An analysis of…?"

He turned the laptop toward you.

The screen displayed a neatly formatted PowerPoint slide:

"SUBJECT'S HEADPHONES STOCKPILE SUGGESTS UNRESOLVED TRUST ISSUES."

Below it: a bullet-point list.

Number of headphones purchased in the last 3 months: 12.

Headphones hidden in strategic locations: kitchen drawer, bathroom cabinet, under bed, handbag, car, home office, behind TVs.

Preferred brand: Razer (surround sound, strong bass, noise-canceling).

At the bottom: "Conclusion: Avoidance tactic?"

You stared at it.

"Nanami."

Nanami rubbed the bridge of his forehead. "You keep replacing them."

"Because you and Satoru keep borrowing them."

"We wouldn’t need to borrow them if you’d just talk to us."

Your mouth flattened. "You think hoarding headphones is some subconscious avoidance tactic?"

"It fits a pattern."

"A pattern?"

Nanami sighed, closing the laptop. "Your emotional distress is manifesting through material substitution."

"Are you serious?"

Nanami looked at you. Calm. Serious.

"Yes."

Your jaw tightened.

"Do you even hear yourself?" you snapped.

"Of course."

"God—" You stood up, hands shaking. "This is so—"

"What?"

"Clinical."

Nanami’s gaze sharpened. "I’m trying to understand."

"No." You whirled on him. "You’re trying to diagnose me."

Nanami’s brow furrowed.

"I’m not a puzzle for you to solve," you hissed.

"I know that."

"Do you?"

Nanami’s mouth flattened.

"Because it doesn’t feel like it," you bit out. "It feels like you’re treating me like some ‘finance bro’ mess you can manage and file away."

Nanami exhaled slowly.

"I’m trying to help."

"By making a fucking PowerPoint?"

Nanami’s jaw flexed.

"You shut me out," he said quietly.

"Because you didn’t notice me!" you snapped.

Nanami’s gaze sharpened.

"You didn’t notice when I stopped eating. You didn’t notice when I stopped sleeping. You didn’t notice when I started throwing up in the morning, Kento." Your breath hitched painfully. "And I was so scared."

Nanami’s mouth parted.

"I thought something was wrong with me," you whispered. "I thought maybe I was sick. And you—" Your chest heaved. "You were too busy."

Nanami’s face tightened.

"You could have said something."

"I did, Nanami. I did that day in this very living room." Your voice cracked. "You didn’t care."

The tension between you was unbearable.

"And Gojo—" Your breath hitched. "He didn’t notice either."

"I didn’t know." His voice was low. Rough. "If I had known—"

"But you didn’t."

"No."

Your chest ached.

Nanami’s mouth tightened. His eyes flicked to the floor.

Your phone buzzed.

You pulled it from the pocket of your hoodie, swiping the screen.

A message from Megumi.

"Don’t make me come over. You’ll raise your blood pressure."

You exhaled shakily, fingers curling over the phone.

Another message followed.

"But seriously. You okay?"

Your chest tightened.

Nanami’s gaze sharpened. "Who is that?"

"No one."

Nanami’s eyes narrowed. "Fushiguro."

"Don’t." You snapped. "He actually notices when I’m upset."

Nanami’s jaw flexed. "Do you think I don’t care?"

"No, not right now, not from months. Somehow Gojo’s stupid-ass is caring about me more than you right now."

Nanami’s gaze darkened. "Not enough."

"No."

Nanami’s hand curled over his knee. "Tell me how to fix it."

"You can’t."

"Then tell me how to make it better."

“I didn’t have to create a PPT to tell you how to ruin it, so why should I have to tell you how to fix the relationship you sabotaged in the first place with me?” Your throat closed.

Nanami’s gaze softened.

"Alright."

"You say that now."

"I mean it."

You stared at him.

Your phone buzzed again.

Nanami’s gaze flicked to it. "Answer it."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because he’ll come over."

Nanami’s eyes darkened. "And you don’t want him to?"

You sighed.

"He needs to sleep; he hasn’t slept in two days."

Nanami’s mouth twitched. His hand slid to your wrist. His thumb brushed slowly across your pulse point.

"Okay."

You inhaled shakily.

"Next time?" Nanami said quietly.

"Next time?"

"Tell me before you collapse in a board meeting."

You exhaled.

"And if I don’t?"

Nanami’s thumb traced your pulse again.

"I’ll notice."

Your heart twisted painfully.

"Alright."

Nanami’s gaze softened.

"Now eat."

You scoffed.

"Is that a direct order?"

"Yes."

"Asshole."

Nanami’s mouth twitched. "Eat."

---

Sometime later, Nanami stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, the familiar line between his brows already deepening.

Because your body, in the beginning of its third trimester, had decided that your only purpose in life was to eat, sleep and now cry all the tears you never cried before.

So currently, you were sitting on the couch, legs curled beneath you, clutching a gaming controller like your life depended on it. Your pregnant belly made it awkward to sit like that, but you didn’t seem to care.

"Are you… crying?" Nanami asked, carefully.

You sniffed, eyes glued to the enormous TV screen mounted on the wall. A low, menacing soundtrack pulsed through the surround sound system.

"No," you said. Your voice wobbled.

On the screen, your character was getting absolutely bodied.

Blood splatter.

Game over.

A taunting You Are Dead flashing across the screen in bold, red letters.

Your bottom lip trembled.

Nanami took a step toward you. "Maybe you should take a break."

"DON’T TALK TO ME."

Nanami froze.

You threw the controller onto the couch, arms crossing tightly over your chest. Your eyes were glassy. Your cheeks were flushed.

Nanami stepped forward slowly, palms open. "What happened?"

"WHAT HAPPENED?!" Your eyes flashed. "WHAT HAPPENED, NANAMI?"

Nanami’s jaw flexed. "Yes?"

He genuinely hated that you still didn’t call him by his first name. Like he was some distant colleague instead of the man who shared your bed, your life, and—technically—your last name.

“You do realize,” he said, deviating the topic, his tone as dry as the paperwork, “that you’re a Nanami too. Legally. Socially. In every way that matters.”

You blinked at him, feigning innocence. “And?”

“And,” he continued, pinching the bridge of his nose, “it’s a little ridiculous that you still call me by my family name. We’re married. You could at least call me Kento.”

You sobbed harder. “But ‘Nanami’ sounds so professional. Like I’m talking to my accountant.” Hiccup. “Or my lawyer.” Another Hiccup. “Or my—”

“Why are you crying?” He asked instead because, deep down, he knew why you refused to call his name these days.

You made a frustrated noise, leaning back into the couch. "I died!"

"I gathered that," he said slowly.

"And it wasn’t my fault!"

"I see."

"It was the stupid camera angle!"

"Mm."

"And the input lag!"

"Right."

"And the STUPID NPC WHO DIDN’T HELP ME."

Nanami took another cautious step forward. "You could try again?"

You shot him a murderous look.

Nanami wisely stayed quiet.

On the screen, the game restarted.

You didn’t pick up the controller.

You were still glaring at Nanami like he’d committed a war crime.

Nanami’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

He pulled it out and sighed.

---

Chili Rating Poll: Rate each husband's progress in couples therapy (1-5 🌶️): 1 🌶️ = Still setting fires in Sims 4 3 🌶️ = Gojo bought apology watermelons 5 🌶️ = Nanami admitted he’s a simp Bonus: How many times did you scream ‘JUST COMMUNICATE’? So how many parallels did you catch???🤔🌚 Or what was your fav line??? 👀

Next part of this chapter - (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth @austisticfreak @helloxkittylo @itoshi-r @kodzukensworld @revolvinggeto @luringfantasy @xx-tazzdevil-xx @unaaasz @thebumbqueen @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni

[novakology]

rose tinted vows - casey novak + the different ways she says i love you

you learn early that casey novak doesn’t always use words to say how she feels. words are her weapon in court, her armour with the world but with you, she has other languages. and over time, you learn to speak them fluently.

cotton candy chronicles - your navigation

The Lawyer’s Love: Through Protection

🌸When she loves you, she becomes your fiercest advocate — whether or not you asked her to be. 🌸You mention an issue at work over dinner and the next day she’s halfway through your HR policy manual, case precedents already brewing. 🌸“You don’t have to fight all my battles,” you tell her. 🌸“I know,” she says, her eyes softening. “But I will if someone thinks they can mess with what’s mine.” 🌸She kisses your forehead after. 🌸That’s her way of saying I love you — I will always stand between you and harm.

The Quiet Love: Through the Coffee Mug

🌸There’s a mug you love — chipped, faded, too sentimental to replace. 🌸One day it breaks. You’re ready to throw it out, resigned. 🌸The next morning, it’s back in the cabinet — seamlessly glued, with a small post-it on it: some things are worth fixing. 🌸She’s already gone to court, but you sit there holding the mug like it’s a love letter. 🌸She didn’t say the words, but she might as well have.

The Frustrated Love: Through Fights and Forgiveness

🌸Casey is sharp. Her anger burns quick, controlled — unless she’s scared. 🌸When you fight, she paces. Logic vs. emotion, and she’s terrible at letting her heart take the stand. 🌸But after, she always finds you. 🌸Never with grand apologies — just two arms around your waist from behind and a whispered: 🌸“I don’t want to be right. I just want you.” 🌸And that’s her love, vulnerable and raw, peeking through the cracks in her pride.

The Domestic Love: Through Ritual

🌸She always does the dishes after you cook, without being asked. 🌸She’ll run her thumb across your lower back while you brush your teeth. 🌸She folds your laundry just the way you like, even the annoying fitted sheets. 🌸You wake up to her slipping a travel mug into your hand with, “You’ll be late.” 🌸But her fingers linger on yours for one second too long. 🌸That’s her I love you — in every routine, every rhythm you share.

The Protective Love: In Public

🌸She rarely does PDA — not out of shame, just caution. Years in law have made her careful. 🌸But then there’s that one gala. Some colleague’s wife makes a snide comment about “roommates.” 🌸And Casey — calm, cold — just slides her hand into yours and says, “My girlfriend and I will be getting another drink.” 🌸She walks you away without a glance back, thumb brushing your knuckles. 🌸It’s the boldest I love you you’ve ever heard.

The Broken Love: When She’s at Her Worst

🌸After a brutal case — children, loss, too much pain — she comes home and doesn’t speak. 🌸Just takes off her blazer, undoes her necklace, and sits in the dark. 🌸You sit beside her. 🌸“I don’t know how to carry this,” she murmurs. 🌸“I’ll carry it with you,” you reply. 🌸And her fingers find yours in the silence. 🌸Her I love you isn’t about being okay. It’s about letting you see her not okay — and staying anyway.

The Midnight Love: When the World is Quiet

🌸Sometimes, at 2 a.m., she’ll roll over in bed and press her face into your shoulder. 🌸Sleep-heavy, half dreaming, she mumbles, “Don’t go anywhere, okay?” 🌸You hum an answer. 🌸And she adds, “I love you.” 🌸Like it’s a secret she’s been guarding all day but can only release into the dark. 🌸That’s when it feels the most real — bare, sleepy, unguarded.

The Real Love: When She Finally Says It Out Loud

🌸She says it one night when you least expect it — no crisis, no grand moment. 🌸Just the two of you on the couch, your feet tangled, a blanket thrown haphazardly over you both. 🌸“You’re it for me,” she says. 🌸You glance at her. 🌸And she repeats it: “I love you.” 🌸No defenses. No courtroom tactics. No retreat. 🌸Just Casey Novak — all in.

and that’s how she loves you. Not always with the words, but always, always with intention. you never doubt it — not because she says it often, but because she says it right.

[bitchliteraria1906]

Asgard royal family headcanons! (Specifically about Loki and how he relates to each family member).

• I really like the headcanon that Frigga was pregnant before Odin took Loki, and she lost the baby. Mostly because it makes sense logically (that would make Loki easy to explain! He's not some random baby that spawned out of nowhere, they can just say he's the child she was pregnant with!). But also, it adds another layer to their relationship: he's an adopted rainbow baby.

• Because of this, she remembers baby Loki very fondly, romanticizing the memories a bit. I'd even dare to say she remembers Loki as an easier baby than Thor, even though, objectively speaking, that's not true at all. Loki cried more, screamed more, needed special care. Which was to be expected: he was way too young to be separeted from his mom, and the bright lights and warmer weather of Asgard (in comparisson to Jotunheim, that is) were bad for him. Odin even feared that it would be too much to Frigga, that she would beg him to take Loki back or something, but his fragile state just made Frigga want to take care of him more, and she rarely, if ever, complained.

• Odin's feelings were very different, of course. He remembers Thor as the easy baby, because Thor was predictable. Familiar. He didn’t need special lights for sensitive eyes or cold cloths pressed into his forehead to be able to sleep in hot nights. He did all the things, both cute and annoying, that an Asgardian baby is supposed to do, expected to do. Nothing more and nothing less. And of course, he wasn't a secret and a stolen child.

• The golden child vs black sheep dynamic was set from the start, is what I'm saying.

• Odin's treatment of Loki has so much layers that it probably deserves it's own post, so I won’t talk much about it here.

•Constanly comparing him to Thor. Sometimes it was subtle, but sometimes it was literally just saying "Why can't you be more like your brother?"

• I'm not sure what Asgard's stance on physical punishment would be. Like, I can definitely see some people thinking it makes kids stronger or whatever, but Idk.

• Regardless of what the common Asgardian stance on hitting your kids is, I don’t think is something Odin and Frigga would automatically jump to with young Thor and Loki. Frigga doesn't want to hurt them, and Odin prefers other forms of discipline.

• He's definitely not above hitting, though. It may not be his go-to method to actually teach them things, but a smack for talking back from time to time? It has happened, especially with Loki.

• Every punishment happened more with Loki, actually. Odin knew he specifically hated time out, because of how it forced him to think about what he did wrong while completely alone in his room. Sometimes he'd come out ashamed of himself, sometimes he'd just be angry. Either way, he wouldn't willingly talk to Odin for the rest of the day, either completely isolating himself or clinging more to Frigga. Most of the time, Odin wouldn't even notice, and for Loki, that was the most painful part.

•Frigga genuinely loved Loki, but she also had a hand in perpetuating the racism against frost giants (either by action or by compliance) and let a lot of Odin's treatment of him slide. She also had a "defending the person who isn't in the room" approach to conflict, so in the rare occasions that Loki vented to her about Odin, though she was a good listener, she didn't really validate his feelings that much? It was always "I know your father can be difficult, but he just wants what's best for you!" or "I guess he could've been nicer about it, but is he wrong, honey? You already know he doesn't like it when you do that."

•When it came to defending Loki (or speaking up about how Odin was raising both him and Thor in general), she mostly worked in the shadows. She’d argue with Odin about it when they were alone, but never in front of others, and Loki took her silence as agreement, basically thinking "Well, if Mother doesn't speak up when Father is so harsh to me, maybe it's because she agrees. And if she, who is the kindest person I know, agrees, maybe I actually do deserve it."

•Despite all these issues, she was still the person Loki felt the safest around, and a very self indulgent hc I have for them is that they had a special place they would go to when Loki was exceptionally upset. Maybe it was a special room in the palace, or a library, or a garden, or even a little house in some woods nearby. Regardless, they'd stay there for some hours until Loki was feeling better and ready to face the world again.

•At some point Loki decided he was too old to keep needing her this way and that he needed to change that if he wanted to be taken seriously, so he stopped going to said comfort place with her and overall leaning on her too much. She was pretty heartbroken, not only because of that "Damn it, my kid is growing up and changing" feeling that leaves a lot of parents distraught, but also because, knowing Loki too well, she knew that this sudden change came from a place of insecurity and wanting to be taken more seriously by Odin, Thor and his friends, mentors, and pretty much everyone.

•Thor and Loki's relationship as kids was innocent and simple and pretty much what you'd expect from 2 kids who are royals and raised in a culture that values warriors and strenght: lots of competion and sibling rivarly, play fighting, but also a lot of teamwork.

•Thor took his big brother title very seriously as a kid. Yes, he teased Loki a lot, but he was also protective and sweet. Whenever they went on little adventures together, like exploring some place they weren't supposed to go, he'd put Loki's safety before his own.

•This might have been half fueled by Frigga saying "Take care of your brother" whenever they went out to play, or by Odin constanly saying that Thor was the strongest one between him and Loki (see 6th headcanon). Probably both.

•The real problems started in their teenage years, when the golden child vs black sheep dynamic became more obvious. Thor was the perfect stereotype of an Asgardian warrior and king, and was surrounded by friends (and potential romantic partners) who also reached some amazing standards. Meanwhile, Loki was a quieter, more fragile looking and weirder person, with an interest in magic, a different way of fighting, an aversion to most social gatherings and no friends. Most of Thor's friends just tolerated him. Some took interest in him the same way someone would take interest in an exotic animal: they'd listen to him for a while, just enough to see if he really was as weird as he looked, and then leave as soon as they got their answers and their fun.

•This, along with Odin's favoritism becoming even more obvious, really soured Thor and Loki's relationship, leading to some arguments in which pretty cruel words were said by both of them (I might write this).

I could go on but I'm tired lmao. Maybe another day.

Some inspiration was taken from @taw-k and @unityrain24 btw!

[bloodygyaruuu]

I've seen a few people ask other people about their shipping headcanons. What are yours for metadede?

i have been JUMPING to answer this question for like a month now so here are some pictures and explanations of my favorite idiots ever <3

(excuse the late reply, I promise I haven't been ignoring you. ik, very rude of me.)

my crazed reasoning here...

Alcohol Tolerance - I'm in full belief that Meta is the lightweight of the relationship. I mean, just look at him. That tiny frame can't handle the amount of modelo and beer he wishes it could (although he probably prefers sweet drinks in private). Dedede probably carries to his bedroom with some cold bottles of water, liquid iv, and a trash can prepped for the ever-imminent hangover awaiting them.

Love Languages - Out of the 5 love languages, I feel acts of service best coincides with Meta's personality, considering it's literally his job and how he is far more of an "actions over words" individual. Dedede best suits words of affirmation imo since someone with such heavy leader qualities most certainly knows how to captivate a crowd with his words which would seep into his love life. However... Dedede's eagerness to shower his partner in compliments and sweet nothings is betrayed by Meta's unbearable embarrassment and shyness when it comes to being treated tenderly. It's not to say Meta wouldn't enjoy being tended to, he'd just rather jump off a bridge than allow himself to be emotionally vulnerable, even with his partner.

Introversion vs. Extroversion - I think everyone with eyes and a working brain can agree that Dedede is extroverted while Meta is introverted. However, I feel these parts of their personalities would really shine when speaking to each other in a private, intimate setting. Dedede most likely leads the majority of the conversations between the two while Meta sits and listens deeply. Not to say the knight doesn't have his little quip or comment every now and then, but would prefer to stay silent and listen to his partner speak about trivial things. (although meta would have his moments of rambling on and on when dedede entertains one of his interests. ((autism maybe)).

Banter - I don't have a super in-depth reasoning for this one, but Dedede would def asks Meta random questions to make sure he's paying attention to what the pair are doing. In relation to the image, Dedede is asking him to help pick out which robe to wear. While Meta doesn't care that much about fashion, he's more than willing to participate because of how much love he has for his partner.

Taste Preference - I said in headcanon 1 that I believe Meta would prefer sugary, alcoholic drinks over anything else. I'm holding that truth towards caffeinated and soft drinks too. If he were to order coffee from a chain establishment, it'd probably be the color white due to the amount of cream, sugar, and flavor pumps in it. On the contrary, I feel Dedede would prefer teas and sodas. Maybe a nice chamomile to unwind and a soda to pair with the 50 pounds of red meat he likes to consume on the daily.

Arguments and Quarreling - They're each short-tempered and hot-headed in their own right, but the way they show their anger differs greatly. Dedede feels near-immediate anger that is amplified by his loud and bold nature. While he's more openly angry, this fury dies fast, considering his reasoning for the anger is often ridiculous, and he likes to outwardly dramatize his feelings (also getting these feelings out quickly helps him get over any irrational thoughts down the line). On the other side of the spectrum, Meta wouldn't yell out a string of slander when he was irritated although he'd try to logically prove why his view was the correct one. He'd bottle up his feelings deep inside him until they bubbled into a mess of resentment and grudges until he explodes with fury. Similarly to a star, he'd burn out quick- never exactly learning his lesson after this happens. The couple bicker frequently, but always make up the same day while over-apologizing for their respective faults.

Separated Thoughts - They'd probably HATEEE being away from each other for extended periods of time. If nobody stops them, the two just end up rambling on about the other until they run out of breath or everyone even partially listening makes their great escape. Dedede and Meta have their own work duties away from each other for often weeks at a time which puts a lot of strain on their yearning hearts. While they message and call near daily if one of the pair is on a work trip, they each miss the other's touch and kinda miss smooching to the point it distracts them from their responsibilities. (Galaxia would def tease Meta in regards to how much he thinks about the King in a romantic light.)

Body Temperatures - These two are extreme opposites in nearly everything they do and everything they are. Their body temperature is no exception. Everything about Meta is cold from his personality to his tiny hands, while Dedede holds in heat like a sweltering furnace. When the two cuddle together in the same bed, Meta melts into his partner's chest while the King tries oh so desperately not to throw the knight across the room when he's assaulted by freezing cold hands. When they hold hands, they create a perfect, affectionate temperature.

PLEASEEEEEE feel free to add on to my headcanon's here or even talk about your own hc's that I missed. I adore this kind of discussion. I couldn't get my 346 page list of hadcanon's and thought's into these characters in one post so perhaps I'll make a follow-up in the future, but I just love my near-middle aged man yaoi so much I just want to talk about it all day.