#he also has been very clear in his intent to put a ring on me and we've been in a relationship for like 4-5 years so like

[pending-trans-action-2]

Hmm it is possible I have raised him to a borderline deified state in my mind and would probably worship the very ground he walks on at this point, I'm sure that's healthy and normal

[heavyhitterheaux]

Ghost Part 5 (NSFW)

AN: It's been a while, but we're back 🤭🤭

Synopsis: Jack comforts you when he finds out that you're going through a difficult time and you got a lot more than you bargained for. Now you have to make a decision regarding the future between you and him

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Do not engage if underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Walking into work on Monday morning, you were extremely nervous. It did take some convincing on Jack’s part, but you did in fact delete your Only Fans account by the end of that very same night. Now all you had to do was hope and pray no one saw it that was associated with your job.

Once you dropped Ace off at daycare, you made your way down the long hallway in order to get to your classroom and was in for a surprise once you did.

Sitting near your desk was Alicia Hamilton who was the principal of the school. The interactions that you had with her in the past were always pleasant and she always made it a point to ask about Ace and ask about how you were seeing as she was also a single mother and knew how hard it could be at times.

“Alicia, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You asked as you smiled at her, a smile that she in fact did not return. Instead it was a look of seriousness.

“Y/N, it was brought to my attention that you have an Only Fans account that involves explicit material.”

And there it was.

“What exactly does that have to do with my job? I do that outside of here and shouldn't get penalized for it.” You answered as you stood your ground.

“Trust me, Y/N I get it. However I have had numerous complaints and my phone has been ringing nonstop since this past weekend.”

“Alicia, you of all people know how hard it is to live on a teachers salary and be a single mom. I had to do something to make sure that Ace could eat. And I was in college when I did that.” You told her as you tried to plead your case.

“Y/N, I adore you and you are an amazing teacher, but my hands are tied. We could lose funding over this. If there was a way that I could fix this and make it all better, I would but as of right now I can't. I have to let you go. Ace can still come to daycare and get a discount. I just can't allow you to teach here anymore.”

“But…”

“I have a substitute coming for you all this week and you’ll be able to pack up your classroom after school lets out.”

“Just keep everything. I clearly don't have a use for it anymore.”

“Y/N…”

Without another word, you grabbed your purse and made your way back down the long hallway. You decided to let Ace stay the rest of the day while you had absolutely no idea what you were going to do.

As you settled into your car, the waterworks started and you didn't even stop them from rolling down your face. You knew deep down that this was eventually going to happen and you had no clue what to do in order to move forward. In no way, shape, or form did you blame Jack for posting your picture because there were only good intentions behind it. But now, it was probably going to be ten times harder for you to find another job.

Moving back home didn't sound like a bad idea at the moment, but you couldn't do that to Jack after all the progress he's made with Ace.

You simply sent Jack a text because you needed a few days for yourself and to think this through and you needed to have a clear head.

You- Hey, can you take Ace for a few days?

Jack- Yes, is everything okay?

You- It's fine, I just need some time to figure some things out

Jack- Are you sure that you're okay? Just let me know if you need anything from me.

You- I promise I'm fine, if you could pick him up today from daycare that would be perfect

Jack- Whatever you need

Jack told you that Ace was excited to spend a few days with him, but he was also concerned about you. He felt as if there was something that you were keeping from him and he made it his mission to facetime you after he put Ace to sleep.

Currently you were stuffing your face with some stuffed pasta shells that you had made earlier when your phone rang. You glanced to see that it was Jack and sighed. You didn't want to talk to anyone, but had to make sure that it didn't have anything to do with Ace.

“Hey.” You softly said as you propped your phone up so that you could continue eating and Jack could immediately tell that something was wrong.

“Y/N, something is wrong and don't lie to me and say that it's nothing.”

“It's nothing for you to worry about. I can deal with it.”

“I went to pick up Ace and when he took me to see you in your classroom, you were nowhere to be found.”

“I guess not because I don't work there anymore.”

Jack's eyes went wide.

“Fuck. It's because of me, isn't it?”

“I don't blame you for it happening if that's what you're thinking.”

“But it's my fault.”

“It was going to happen eventually. I figured that it would only be a matter of time. Where's my baby?” You responded while trying to shrug it off.

“Our baby is sleeping.”

You glanced at the time on the clock that was hanging on the wall in your kitchen and saw that it was a little past 8 at night. You were happy to see that Jack was keeping him on his normal schedule.

“Hmm.”

“His bedtime is 7:30 so the same thing goes when he comes over here. But we aren't done talking about your job so stop trying to change the subject.”

“There’s nothing left to say. It's just going to be ten times harder for me to find another job teaching.”

“Just take a break and relax for a while.”

“Jack, bills do not stop and I don't have the luxury of doing that.”

“You have me and I'm going to take care of it. Y/N, you aren't in this by yourself anymore.”

“No. I'm not a golddigger and we aren't even together so that doesn't sit right with me.”

“Don't you think I know that by now? Just let me help you. How does it look if I let the mother of my child struggle when she doesn't have to.”

All you did was shake your head and Jack looked at you confused.

“What's that face for? Just let me do this to help you.”

"Why, Jackman? Why now? Where was all of this compassion you had for me when I was pregnant with your child and scared shitless because I literally had NO ONE.” You asked him as you threw your fork down.

“Because we're moving towards a better future, that's why. I know that you have a right to be pissed at me for a million lifetimes all because I was too scared to step up and take care of my responsibilities. But I promise that will never happen again. My parents and Clay would kill me if it did.”

“You've made promises to me in the past and they proved to be empty.”

“This time it won't be.” Jack replied as you took a deep breath.

“Please don't make me regret this.”

You noticed that Jack wasn't looking directly at you and figured that he was doing something on his phone.

“Send me all your expenses for the month so I can add it to my bank account to come out automatically. And I also just put 5,000 in your account and I don't want to hear a word out of you. I'm doing this.”

“But…”

“Matter of fact since I know you'll be free for a little while, pack a bag with a few outfits and you can come over tonight or tomorrow. I think tonight would be better since you won't have to get up so early.”

“Wait, what? For what?”

“I have a few interviews and appearances to do so I'm bringing you and Ace with me. I already posted about having a son so it's not a secret. That way we can really spend time together like an actual family. I know Ace will be excited about that.”

Well, he didn't say anything that was wrong and you had absolutely nothing to lose.

“Fine, give me an hour.”

“Okay, let me get the guest room ready for you. And pick between lavender or vanilla.”

“Oh, you do this for all the girls that stay at your house? And what am I picking this for?”

“No, only for the special girls and you happen to be the first one. I also want you to be the last one if you’ll let me but we'll address that later. Now pick one.”

“I… lavender.”

“Okay your bath will be ready when you get here too.”

“Jackman!”

“See you soon, babe.”

It was around 10 at night when you finally reached his house and knocked on the door. Once he opened it, he was all smiles and took your bag from you and moved to the side so you could pass the threshold.

“I have everything set up for you, come on and follow me.”

Climbing the stairs of his house, you took in your surroundings because you literally hadn't been in it for more than five minutes. You saw multiple awards decorating the walls along with a few pictures of him and Ace, Clay, and his parents. Jack led you into what you assumed was his bedroom and he set your things in his closet.

“I have a little more room in here than the guest room closet does so I put your things in there and my bathroom is bigger so I have everything set up for you in there.”

“You definitely didn't have to do this.” You replied walking into the bathroom and you were in awe. The smell of lavender hit your nose upon entering and were surprised to see that multiple candles were lit. Jack came up behind you to throw in a lavender bath bomb as you were taking it all in. You couldn't even remember the last time someone did something like this for you.

“So that's why you asked me if I wanted lavender or vanilla?” You said and he simply nodded.

“Water is warm and I want you to take all the time you need. Your towel is here along with your robe….”

“What? My own robe?” You asked, cutting Jack off.

“Yes, I got it earlier today. I knew that something had happened and I picked up some things in order to help you hopefully feel better.”

“Well I appreciate you doing this for me. Can't remember the last time that someone was this nice to me.” You said and you caught Jack off guard as you went to hug him. After the initial shock, he hugged you back. This was as close as you two had been since Ace was conceived. Because the two of you were usually arguing.

“Of course, now come on before the water gets cold. I’ll crack the door so if you need me just call out.”

“Okay.”

You stayed in the bathroom for close to an hour before getting out and drying off. After blowing out the candles and brushing your teeth with the toothbrush that Jack had bought you along with giving a quick rinse to your face, you walked out to see him reading with the tv on a low volume. He heard your footsteps and looked up and smiled at you.

“Feel better?”

“I do, surprisingly.”

“I got the guest room ready for you and it's right next to Ace’s.” He told you as he put his book down and hopped up from the bed.

“Okay.”

“Oh wait, you need something to sleep in. Did you want to grab it out of your bag? If not, I can give you one of my shirts.”

“Your shirt is fine.”

Jack handed you one of his many Louisville Cardinals shirts and you held onto it and planned on changing into it once you reached the guest room.

“And make sure you don't steal this one.” Jack playfully told you as he remembered the many shirts that you stole from him during the very short time that you two were together.

“Hmm, no promises. I still have all the other ones and this will just be another one I add to my growing collection.” You answered as you thought about all the shirts that you had of his in your closet.

“Soon, I won't have any.”

“Stop being so dramatic.”

After Jack was back in his bedroom, it gave him time to think as he threw the comforter over himself and got comfortable.

He knew that this didn't fix the amount of pain that he put you through, but was thinking that it was a good enough start. He wanted to really prove to you that he was all in when it came to you and Ace. His end goal was having the three of you under the same roof and truly being a family. He knew it was a longshot, but he at least had to try. Progress was made when you gave him a hug catching him off guard and he felt that it was a huge step in the right direction. You had been doing everything by yourself for too long and it was time for that to change.

It was around 10 in the morning when all of you were on a plane headed to Boston. You and Ace were sitting next to each other and you were doing your best to entertain him while Jack was in front of the both of you when Urban came and sat next to him.

“Hmm so I see you two are talking?” Urban asked, gesturing towards you.

“Yeah, I'm just happy she's giving me a chance to get this right or at least try to.”

“Your ass finally grew up and it was about damn time.” Clay commented as he passed the both of them and went to pick up Ace.

“I'm also hoping that she'll be in a relationship with me again.” Jack quietly said in the hopes that you wouldn't hear and Urban just stared at him.

“You're my best friend and I have to be honest. I want you to be happy, but that sounds damn near impossible.”

“I know it sounds crazy, but I want us all under one roof. So much has happened and I have to make it right.”

“You can make it right by being a good father to Ace. Making it right doesn't necessarily mean that you two need to be together.”

“But I want to be, that's the thing. Truth be told, I see how amazing Ace is and I want more but I only want them with her.”

“You have done some serious soul searching because that sounds weird to hear you say.”

“Only thing is, I don't know if she'll go for it.”

“I mean, do you blame her? Look at how much shit you put her through.”

“But she hugged me last night. I called to check on her and I told her to come over because I knew she was upset. I bought her a whole bunch of things and ran a bath for her. I'm honestly surprised she said yes, but then again I wouldn't take no for an answer.”

“And yall didn't fuck? That was the perfect setup.”

“No! I need to take this slow and do it right.”

“Well…I… I just want you happy and if this will make you happy then okay.”

“What's the pushback for?” Jack questioned Urban as he saw him sigh.

“Look, this seems to be going a little too well and Y/N might pull something because of all the shit you've done to her.”

“Urb, she's not like that.”

“And how do you know? You were in a relationship with her for six months at most. You don't even know her if we're being honest.”

“I know enough to know that she wouldn’t do that, because she would have done it already with as much shit that has happened.”

“Well whatever happens, I'm here for you.”

“I appreciate that.”

It was the last day that you were all spending in Boston and you were currently helping Ace get ready because Jack surprised him and told him that he was taking him to a Celtics’ game. Knowing that Jayson Tatum was Ace’s favorite player, he got him a jersey in his size and he was wearing jean shorts with the New Balances that Jack designed. He also gifted you a pair that you planned on wearing with your olive green pants and white cropped hoodie.

When you were finished helping Ace tie his shoes, Jack walked in and smiled at the scene in front of him.

“Daddy, I’m ready!” Ace exclaimed as he ran over to Jack and he immediately picked him up.

“So that means we should get going. I have a feeling that you’re going to like where we’re sitting.” Jack had mentioned to you that you all would be sitting courtside and you didn’t tell him this, but you immediately got nervous. If you were sitting anywhere near him, you knew for a fact that cameras were going to be on the two of you which also meant that they would be on Ace.

Before Jack told Ace about his surprise, he consulted you first simply because this would be Jack’s first public appearance with him having Ace with him. He made sure that you were on board and assured you that he made a few calls to have an increase in security since the two of you would be with him.

Jack then looked over at you and smirked.

“Not you stealing my outfit.”

You looked at him confused before you looked down to see that the two of you were indeed matching. All you did was laugh to yourself and shake your head.

“I got dressed first so you in fact stole my outfit, not the other way around.” You replied back as you made your way over to the two of them.

“Hmm, I admit you do look good in it.” Jack replied and you tried to stop the smile from appearing on your face, but you failed miserably. It also didn’t help with the series of butterflies erupting in your stomach at this very moment.

“Daddy, can I get a hot dog?!” Ace asked as he looked at him hoping that he would say yes.

“Whatever you want, bubs.”

The three of you were currently outside of the arena and had just gotten out of the car when Jack could sense your nervousness and made a point to ask you if you were okay.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s going on over there in that head of yours?” He asked as he whispered in your ear as the three of you were being led inside by security through the back entrance in the hopes of avoiding too many fans. Last thing that Jack would want to happen is them bombarding him when you and Ace were with him.

“Just nervous, I guess. I’m not used to being around big crowds of people.”

Jack was holding Ace as he quickly went to grab your hand and held onto it tightly as he squeezed it.

“It's going to be fine, you’re with me. Just let me know if you ever feel overwhelmed and need a minute.”

You nodded your head towards him and Jack gave you a small smile in return. Soon after, you three were led to your seats and Ace couldn’t contain his excitement.

“Ace? What do you think of this view, bubs? You like it?” Jack asked and Ace immediately nodded his head as he spotted Jayson who was coming out to warm up.

“Daddy! Look!” Ace replied as he pointed in Jayson’s direction.

“Do you want to meet him?” Jack had sent Jayson a text the night before telling him that he was going to be at the game and that he was bringing Ace and how he was his favorite player. Jayson responded and told him that he would definitely make it a point to say hi to Ace during the night.

Suddenly Ace’s eyes went wide and he proceeded to turn around and hide in Jack’s chest. He would get like this often when he was meeting new people, but once he warmed up to them he was fine. He finally peeked up at Jack and gave him a slow nod which led to Jack smiling at him.

Once Jayson spotted Jack, he jogged his way over to all three of you and immediately greeted you and Jack before turning his attention to Ace.

“This must be the famous Ace that I heard so much about.” Jayson said as he squatted down to his height.

“That's me! How did you know my name?” Ace asked while looking at him confused.

“I know your dad and he told me all about you. I also heard that this is your first game?”

“Yes! My daddy got your jersey for me. Oh I forgot to say thank you. Thank you daddy.” He answered as he looked down at his outfit.

“You're welcome bubs.”

“Ace, I'll make a deal with you. If we win, I'll give you the ball.”

“Really?” He asked as his eyes went wide.

“As long as you're good for mom and dad the entire game, you can have it.”

It was safe to say that the Celtics won and Jayson even signed the ball before handing it to Ace who couldn't contain his excitement.

By the time that you all got back to the hotel and put Ace to sleep, your back was on fire. Your plan was to take ibuprofen and lay down as soon as possible.

Jack noticed you wincing as you came to steal his charger since yours was on its last leg and would charge when it wanted to. He quickly grabbed your hand to question you about it.

“What's hurting? You're wincing.”

“My back, but I'll just take something and go to sleep. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does I can barely move for like two days.”

“Umm, I can help you if you want.” Jack replied and you looked at him confused.

“Help me how?”

“I can give you a massage to help get the kinks out. It’ll probably make it feel better.”

“Seriously? Is this your plan to try and seduce me?” You questioned him while laughing.

“No funny business I swear.” He said as he held his hands up in defense.

“Well, I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

“Just let me check on Ace and make sure he's asleep. You can stay in here and take off your clothes so you’ll be ready for me.”

“It sounds weird when you say it like that.” You replied as you plugged in your phone and waited for an indication to see that it was indeed charging.

“I did want to be a massage therapist at one point and I’ve been told that my hands work magic.”

“Hmm, I bet all the girls tell you that, don’t they?”

“Well now these hands are only reserved for you so you’ll have to tell me when I’m finished.” Jack winked at you before going to Ace’s room in the suite that was across the hall. You listened to instructions as you got somewhat undressed and wrapped yourself in a towel and simply sat on the bed and waited for Jack.

Once he returned, he locked the door behind him and told you to lay on your stomach with your chin resting on your arms. Jack undid your towel and moved it so that it was sitting right at your waist when you heard his voice.

“Um, Y/N, you have to take your bra off too.”

“Hmm, close your eyes and don't look.”

“Promise even though I've seen them plenty of times and even had them in my mouth.”

Rolling your eyes, you ignored his last comment as you slid the bra off your shoulders and placed it next to you on the bed. Next thing you knew you felt warm liquid on your back and Jack’s hands rubbing it in.

“What the? Where did you get the oil from?!”

“Shh, don’t worry about it. Just relax so I can make your back feel better.”

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but your back definitely felt better and you were glad that you agreed to let Jack do this for you. As you were about to move a little to the side to get more comfortable, you felt Jack hands on the outside of your back and they got higher until they became dangerously close to your boobs before making their way back down. He had done it a few more times before you decided to adjust again as his fingers lightly brushed against your nipples.

As his hands started to move back down, you quickly caught one of them and moved it so that it was right on the outside of your breast. Meanwhile, Jack is starting to get nervous because he wasn’t quite sure what to make of your sudden movement, but him asking a simple question was all the confirmation he needed.

“Y/N, you want me to do the front of your body too?”

“Yes.”

As you flipped over, your breasts were on full display for him and you laid your head back down as he grabbed more oil to place it on the front of your arms and chest. He massaged the oil into your arms first before gliding it over your chest and moving his way down to your stomach. Once he reached the lower part of your body, he wanted to move the towel to the side, but asked for your permission first.

“Is it okay, if I move this?”

You nodded your head and that was all the confirmation he needed. Moving the towel away from the bed, you were fully naked in front of him and he started to massage your thighs as he was trying to do his best to focus, he noticed that his pants were getting tighter and tighter begging for some type of release.

He had made his way down your entire body and quickly grabbed your hand to help you sit up indicating that he was finished. Once you did, you noticed the bulge that was evident in his pants. No words were exchanged as you immediately undid them and heard a quiet hiss escape from his mouth as you pulled them down to have them pool at his feet. His dick sprung to life and without another word being spoken, you took him in your mouth.

“Oh shit.” Was all he could moan out as he focused on you pleasuring him.

He made a makeshift ponytail of your curly hair so that it could be out the way, but knew because all of this built up sexual tension that he had every time that he was around you that he probably wasn’t going to last long.

As you released him, a river of saliva made its way out of your mouth quickly landing on Jack’s dick as you slowly put your mouth back on him.

“Y/N… fuck!”

You held eye contact with him as you moved him in and out of your mouth as he held your head in place. Your jaw was getting somewhat tired because of how big he was, but knew that he was close once you felt him twitch in your mouth.

Catching him off guard, you released him from your mouth again and he looked at you confused before you began jerking him off and sucking his balls at the same time. That was your go to move to get him to cum when you two were together and by his reaction, it still was.

“Yes, babe. Keep going, keep fucking going. I’m almost there.”

Within thirty seconds he was coming undone in front of you and you made it a point to take him back in your mouth as he was coming down from his high as you milked him dry.

When his breathing returned to normal, you simply looked up at him to see him now peeling off his shirt and removing his pants and boxer briefs from his ankles.

“You missed me sucking your dick, huh? Because I could definitely tell.” You told him as you wiped his cum from the corner of your mouth and quickly sucked it, tasting the last of it.

“I missed so much more than that, but you’re right.” Jack said as he brought his hand up to stroke your face and then leaned down to kiss you.

As hard as it was to admit, that was a feeling that you had missed.

“I figured I would return the favor for you giving me a massage, but you missed one spot.” You said as you took him in your hands again.

“Where’s that?” Jack asked and his voice suddenly got deeper making you become even wetter. Jack knew exactly where you were talking about but he wanted to hear you say it.

“You didn’t massage my pussy and I’m going to need for you to do something about that before I do it myself.” You answered as your fingers went to massage your clit, but Jack caught your hand.

“No need to do it yourself, because I’m here. Spread those legs for me.”

Smirking, you laid back as you spread your legs and soon felt Jack in between them. You felt him kiss it before he gave you one long lick making you moan and he immediately stopped.

“Be quiet babe. Don’t want you waking up Ace.”

You nodded your head and he continued to pleasure you as he slipped two fingers into you and made a note how wet you were for him.

Your hands found their way into his curly hair as you spread your legs even wider so that he could have better access to you. Catching you off guard, Jack stopped leaving you confused as he laid down on the bed next to you but not before throwing your bra that you had placed there clear across the room.

“Get up here and sit on my face.” He told you as he tapped your leg and you swung it over so that you were positioned perfectly with the help of Jack.

He had a tight hold on your legs and you knew for a fact that trying to get away from him would be damn near impossible.

As his mouth began to run over your folds, you placed your hand over your mouth in order to help you keep quiet.

Jack wasn't making it easy for you as he began to give his undivided attention to your clit. He quickly noticed how you began squirming and squeezed your legs even tighter anticipating that you would try to move away from him.

“What did I use to tell you about running from me?” Jack asked as he came up for air and was waiting for a response from you.

“That you wouldn't let me cum.”

“Good. Now stay still.”

In order to give yourself some leverage, you rested your arms on the headboard as you felt that familiar feeling in your stomach become more pronounced.

“Oh shit.” You couldn't help but to moan out.

Hearing your soft moans and whimpers was music to Jack’s ears as he could tell you were close.

Squirting all over his face, he continued to lick your folds as you did your best to stay quiet in the hopes of not waking Ace up.

When he was finished, he placed multiple kisses along your thighs as you rested against the headboard. When you felt as if you could function again, you moved yourself away from his face and scooted down until you were hovering over him leaning down to give him several kisses as you went which he eagerly returned.

“Give me another one. I miss kissing you.” You heard him say as he guided you back down to meet his lips with yours.

In between kisses, you slowly smiled because you felt the same way.

Not knowing how long he had you there for, you slowly felt him lift his hips up to enter you and you met him halfway as a moan escaped both of you.

To make yourself more steady, your hands rested on his stomach while his hands went to your hips to help guide you.

“You're riding me so good, baby.”

Using him saying that was your motivation, you began to go faster as his arms had now wrapped around your waist fully and sat up to suck on your breasts making a loud moan escape from you.

As he continued to kiss all over your chest, without warning, he flipped the two of you over so that he was now hovering above you and placed your legs back as far as they would go as he entered you again, bottoming out and began to move in and out of you slowly.

“Oh fuck, Jack go faster.” You breathed out and no words were spoken as he listened to what you wanted for him to do.

Within two minutes your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks and Jack slowly moved out of you as he came all over your chest and stomach.

The only thing that could be heard was both of your erratic breathing as you were trying to steady it. Once Jack had done so, he went into the bathroom before he made his way back over to you, gliding the warm cloth all along your body. When he was finished, he laid down next to you and immediately turned your body towards him once more so he could kiss you.

When the two of you finally broke apart, Jack still had his arm wrapped around you as you cuddled into his chest.

Waiting until Jack fell asleep and you helped move the process along by playing in his hair which you always did when you two were together, you gathered your clothes and made your way back to your room and took a quick shower before laying down and pulling the comforter over your body.

You were wide awake and your mind was racing thinking about what had just happened between you and Jack.

Regret didn't come across your mind at all, but now you didn't know where the two of you stood. Jack had been hinting on wanting to be in a relationship with you again, but at this moment in time you just weren't sure. He has definitely stepped up and been the father that Ace deserves but could he be the person that you needed when it came to a relationship?

Grabbing your phone, you opened the group chat and sent a text to Nadia, Blaire, and Liv.

You- I just did a thing….

Liv- Explain the thing!

Nadia- Wait, why are we all up? Where's Blaire?

Blaire- Present!

You- I just had sex with Jack

Liv- Oh

Blaire- 😀😀😀😀😀😀

Nadia- Okay, what's the problem? You got dicked down!

You- I think that I'm leaning towards giving him a second chance

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

Counting my blessings this week as these current shows continue to absolutely kill it. These are all streaming on Gaga or provided via fansub (feel free to ask if you don’t know where to find them).

Our Youth

This week we were treated to a series of relationship negotiation conversations, several scenes so charged with tension and meaning that I am still not done processing, and a metaphor that just about knocked me out. Hirukawa can see through Minase's weak protests and just keeps putting himself near him, and now with Minase's parents likely divorcing and his impending departure abroad, he feels like he has nothing to lose, so he may as well give in to his desires. I am attuned to the pacing so I assume within the next two eps we will be wrapping up this high school backstory (brace yourselves for the horrors) and then going back to the present to see how they come back together as adults. I can't wait; this show is just killing it.

Love is Like a Poison

We begin this week's ep with the sweet smell of vindication, because as I thought, Haruto did not leave Shiba. He simply put his ring safely away and went out on a mission. Our Battle Couple continues to thrive! After another terrible encounter with his father (another strong contender for worst dad in BL), Haruto comes home and finally comes clean about the last of his secrets with encouragement from Shiba. His backstory is just as sad and horrifying as expected, and all the details of how he approached Shiba come together seamlessly now that we know he's been seeking help to avenge his mom this whole time. As a cherry on top, Shiba's bestie backs him up with the boss, and now the whole squad is geared up to take that man down.

Love in the Air Koi

CW: abuse, intimate partner violence, sexual assault

This week we transitioned from Arashi and Rei's happy coupledom to the beginning of Kai and Fuma's love story, with the flashback to their first encounter and an efficient presentation of Kai's harrowing backstory. I appreciate that this show did not flinch away from the ugliness of Kai's history, but also didn't dwell unnecessarily in the trauma. I am also noting the absence of the first kidnapping plot from the original drama--I assume this version will be combining Rei and Kai's abductions into one event toward the end of the show, which for me is an extremely welcome change. Nagatsuma Reo is really solid in portraying Kai's trauma and the intentional distance he keeps in his relationships and the fear and tension warring with his interest in Fuma was well done. Looking forward to their story.

The Fragrance You Inherit

In this episode Sakura and Mone got the chance to reconnect and Sakura finally told her story. It's sad as hell that her devastation over Mone led her to a dubious encounter with a man she doesn't know or like, but at the same time it gave her Toki, who is clearly her great joy in life. I'm happy that she got to raise him with the support of a good friend in Ryosuke, if not a partner. Speaking of Toki, it's now clear that he knows about his mom's feeling for Mone, and he is feeling her out to see what she might be willing to tell him. I'm sure he's having a lot of complex feelings, but I didn't get the sense that he's angry with his mother or concerned about his own relationship as much as he is sad that Sakura has kept this huge part of who she is a secret from him. Sakura wants to shield him from things he already understands, and she's too caught up in her own past trauma to recognize that the very fact of queer people existing will not come as a shock to her son. I love that the show seems poised to tackle that generational culture aspect of this conflict alongside the interpersonal dynamics. You can find the show here, with big thanks as always to @isaksbestpillow for providing English subs.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Dangancember 2024 - Danganronpa Top 24 Class Trials - Number 8: Danganronpa Another Case 4 {BEST CASE FROM DRA}

//Yeaaaaaaahhh I don't think anyone is surprised...

//Although, to be fair, it was SOOO CLOOSE which trial between Case 6 and Case 4 would be my ultimate winner for the original Another Despair Academy, because both trials are so goddamn good for me.

//Largely the reason why Case 4 of DRA ends up being the best in that game though is largely because of two reasons:

It's the most emotionally gripping, with the finale coming in close second.

Despite sharing points of commonality with previous fourth cases, this one's overall writing manages to be different enough, and in a way that I really enjoy, especially with the circumstances behind the murder.

//Honestly, I don't really know if I have as much to say about this case as I do the final trial of this game, but that's mainly because there's a lot to unpack with the finale's. This is case is, honestly, fairly simple in practice, but it ends up REALLY getting to you.

//In ways that, I believe, no other closed-off-location case has ever done before.

//First of all, let's talk about the circumstances behind the motive for this case, what's been going on behind the scenes, and what leads to this case.

//This chapters starts at a very low point, with the boys in particular being very tense, and the despairful mood even getting to Yuki's head. So much so that his defeatist attitude puts him at odds with Akane. But shortly after they investigate the new areas, Monokuma summons the students to the newly opened up Ballroom.

//Monokuma announces he’s hosting a dance party, complete with fancy outfits. The students are suspicious, so he produces a signed memorandum to "prove" his good intentions. After splitting into gender-segregated changing rooms, the students pair up awkwardly for the event: Akane grabs Yuki, and others team up by circumstance or default.

//Dancing leads to dining, and just when things seem lively again, Monokuma reveals his trap: they’re locked in, and their clothes (and handbooks) have disappeared.

//Panic sets in. Tsurugi tests the door, and it's locked. Akane finds their clothes missing. Worse, the food supply dwindles rapidly, thanks in part to Haru and Satsuki’s overeating. Monokuma establushes the stakes: they can’t leave the ballroom unless someone kills. Similar to what we've already seen with DR2's funhouse. Although in this case, supplies are limited instead of just void.

.//e also abolishes all rules except the "no violence against Monokuma" clause, making the ballroom a lawless zone. The students, now prisoners, are forced to sleep in makeshift dorms, with their only escape lying through bloodshed.

//Tensions escalate as the group investigates their grim new surroundings. The limited food becomes a major sticking point as rations mysteriously disappear, fingers point, and arguments flare. Mikako even accuses Satsuki and Haruhiko of hoarding food. Meanwhile, Tsurugi vigilantly guards the arsenal to prevent violence but becomes a polarizing figure in the group.

//As hunger and isolation take their toll, the group fractures further. Teruya lashes out, Haruhiko and Satsuki’s antics frustrate everyone, and even Yuki falls into a hunger-induced trance, nearly succumbing to murderous impulses before Tsurugi literally punches him back to his senses. In desperation, the students consider grim solutions, like drawing lots to sacrifice two people. This dark spiral culminates when Tsurugi suggests mass suicide, even distributing guns to the group. Yuki intervenes, and after a scuffle, Tsurugi is restrained and locked in his room for everyone’s safety.

//The next morning, things go from bad to worse. The arsenal door is found locked, and when Yuki and Teruya manage to open it, they’re met with a blinding flashbang. Once the smoke clears, Haruhiko’s lifeless body is discovered against a gun display. The body discovery announcement rings out, and Monokuma appears, as cheerful as ever, to provide food, clothing, and student handbooks for the investigation.

//Let the trial begin.

//SO much happens in the build-up to this case that trying to summarize it like this was genuinely NOT easy! But right out of the gate, what I like with this that LINUJ did better than the previous locked-room cases is creating the tension.

//Danganronpa 2's fourth chapter is tense, and things really do start spiralling south for everyone. But specifically, the most arguing that goes on in the funhouse is Kazuichi doubling down on his idea that Hajime is the traitor, and like Yuki, there is a point where Hajime does attempt to go to the final dead room like how Yuki goes to the arsenal.

//But when LINUJ is given a chance to explore his own version of this concept, he ALSO doubles down. As we've seen before with LINUJ, give him an inch, and he'll take a mile.

//Haru is quite possibly the most integral character to this whole case, ending up as the victim for it, because he's actually the one who Masterminded the murder.

//The night after Tsurugi’s dramatic (and thankfully failed) attempt to encourage mass suicide, tensions remain high, but Haru decides to act on a plan of his own. He meets up with Satsuki, who, by now, is pretty much his only friend in the ballroom, and invites her for a walk. Reluctantly, she agrees, and the two wander through the unsettling confines of the ballroom until they reach the arsenal. It’s there that Haru drops a bombshell, and asks Satsuki to kill him.

//He explains his guilt over consuming so much of their food on the first day and admits that his death could help save the others. Haru, ever the tragic, if clumsy, hero, makes it clear that this plan is optional since he realizes it would mean Satsuki would face execution if she went through with it.

//Surprisingly, or maybe not, considering how Satsuki thinks, she agrees, but she asks him to kill her instead.

//What follows is an absurdly heartfelt but ridiculous argument between the two, as neither wants to be the one to pull the trigger on the other. After bickering like kids fighting over who gets the last slice of cake, but way darker, Haru proposes a compromise: a duel.

//They’ll stand at a distance, fire their guns at the same time, and let fate decide who lives. Satsuki reluctantly agrees, picking out a weapon while Haru secretly rigs his pistol with non-standard bullets, ensuring it’ll explode when fired.

//The tension is high as they prepare for their duel. They aim. They fire. Satsuki’s bullet hits Haru square in the right lung, while his gun explodes, shredding his hand in a grotesque mess. Haru collapses, bleeding profusely but still alive enough to deliver a heartfelt confession.

//He admits that his plan wasn’t entirely altruistic. He didn’t just want to save the others. What he really wanted was to ensure that Satsuki, specifically, survived.

//This motive already sets Haru apart from all the other Case 4 motives. Aside from the fact that he's the victim and not the killer, most of the Chapter 4 kills were done as part of a greater purpose to ensure the general survival of the group:

In DR1, Sakura commits suicide to end the tension that was plaguing the other students surrounding her reveal as the traitor, and dies in an act of defiance that convinces the other students to take a stand against Monokuma.

In DR2, Gundham and Nekomaru fight, and Gundham kills him to break everyone out of the funhouse, not just in a sacrificial move, but in a way that teaches the others to not give up on their lives, or their willingness to escape.

In V3, while it's a bit more complicated, Kokichi sacrificing Miu and Gonta is the prelude to his master plan to destroy the Killing Game and take Monokuma down.

In Another 2, Shinji, like Sakura, deals the final blow to himself so that Yuki and Sora can be exempt from becoming the Blackened who killed him.

//But with Haru, his motives for setting this crime up were not the survival of the group. Just Satsuki alone. And there's a really upsetting and emotional reason why.

//He reveals that a few days earlier, he’d found Monokuma’s hidden treasure, his prize being a photograph of himself and Satsuki kissing. The image stirred emotions he didn’t fully understand at first, but over time he realized he cared deeply for her and couldn’t bear to let her die.

//Though devastated, Satsuki flees, leaving Haru to enact the final part of his plan: creating a locked-room mystery to confuse everyone. He wedges a wooden plank into the door handles and rigs smoke and flash grenades on top, ensuring the scene looks chaotic and staged. With his remaining strength, he trashes the room and smears his blood everywhere, making it look like an elaborate crime scene. Finally, he collapses against a gun display, sitting upright as his life slips away.

//In true Haru fashion, his last moments are as messy as his choices, but undeniably heartfelt.

//Haru’s role in the finale of the game is so central that it’s easy to underestimate just how important his character is until it all comes to a head. At first glance, he seems to fit the mold of characters like Kazuichi or Yasuhiro; comic relief with a streak of annoying, someone you’d naturally expect to survive the killing game based on sheer genre convention.

//This makes his sudden, tragic death in Chapter 4 all the more shocking and impactful. Especially because he was a genuine friend to Yuki in his time alive.

//Haru’s arc is fascinating because, while he starts as a flawed and abrasive character, this chapter demonstrates just how much depth he brings to the narrative. What sets him apart is his steadfast dedication to his ideals, even in the face of overwhelming despair.

//From the beginning, Haru adamantly believes that no one should kill to escape, and he never wavers from this belief, no matter how dire the situation becomes. Hunger is one of the most primal forces that breaks people down, and by Chapter 4, it’s clear that Haru is struggling. He and Satsuki sneak food from the fridge, an act of desperation, not malice, but he never even considers turning to murder. Instead, he does everything he can to convince others to stick to their humanity, even when he’s running on fumes himself.

//What makes this chapter even more poignant is the reveal that Haru and Satsuki had dated before the killing game began. Learning this casts his actions in a new light, and his desperate attempt to save her at the expense of the others isn’t born from selfishness but from love and guilt. He’s willing to sacrifice himself, cheat fate, and risk Satsuki hating him if it means she can survive.

//Haru’s refusal to actually become a killer, even when crafting his elaborate duel plan, highlights the tragic paradox of his character. He’s willing to die for what he believes in, but he’s also willing to bend the rules just enough to try and protect the one person he loves.

//Adding to the intrigue, when you really think about his plan and the way he carries himself as a character, Haru serves as an interesting foil to Miu Iruma, even though this game predates Danganronpa V3.

//Both Haru and Miu are hot-headed characters, known for their loud personalities, inappropriate remarks, and tendency to irritate their classmates. Both are geniuses in their respective fields (Haru’s engineering prowess and Miu’s inventive brilliance) but they’re also shockingly dense when it comes to emotional intelligence or basic common sense.

//They share a knack for cheating systems, bending rules, and creating chaos, yet their stories diverge in fascinating ways.

//For instance, while both characters are victims in their respective Chapter 4s, the circumstances of their deaths couldn’t be more different. Haru orchestrates much of the setup that leads to his demise, cheating in his duel with Satsuki in a misguided attempt to ensure her survival. His sacrifice is deeply personal, tied to his desire to protect Satsuki specifically, even if it means dooming others.

//By contrast, Miu’s death in V3 comes after she manipulates the virtual simulation, attempting to kill Kokichi and escape with her own life to save everyone else from what she perceives as an imminent threat.

//Where Haru cheats for love and personal connection, Miu cheats out of self-preservation and an oddly altruistic desire to protect the world as a whole. As...kind of dumb as Miu is here.

//Their roles as architects of their own downfalls also reflect their differences. Haru’s elaborate staging of the locked-room mystery and his final duel highlight his ingenuity but also his willingness to place Satsuki above everyone else. Meanwhile, Miu’s death hinges on her miscalculation. She underestimates Gonta’s gullibility towards Kokichi and overestimates her ability to control the simulation.

//Ultimately, Haru stands out as one of the most complex characters in the killing game, as simple as he initially comes across. His flaws, arrogance, impulsiveness, and a tendency to act before thinking, make him fairly relatable, while his determination to protect Satsuki, even at the cost of his life, cements him as a tragic yet noble figure.

//But what makes this chapter so critical is that Haru, despite being the centerpiece, is not the only character to have some standout moments of depth in this segment of the game.

//I don't want to spend too long talking about Tsurugi, because this is definitely his lowest point in the game, but the solution he comes up with to end the game and try to get everyone out of this situation is so...horrifying.

//It's a chilling reflection of his complex character and the extremes he’s willing to go to in pursuit of his ideals. At his core, Tsurugi is a deeply principled person, defined by his unwavering belief in justice. However, his interpretation of justice is rigid and authoritarian, often placing the greater good above individual lives.

//In this chapter, that worldview takes an even darker turn, as his plan to force everyone to commit suicide reveals both his desperation and the flaws in his ideology.

//The botched mass-suicide attempt demonstrates how Tsurugi’s obsession with law and order has consumed him, distorting his sense of morality. His actions are not just those of someone trying to end the killing game; they’re the actions of someone who has lost faith in humanity's ability to save itself.

//By orchestrating a situation where everyone is forced to "choose" death, Tsurugi plays both executioner and savior, believing that this is the only way to stop the cycle of killing. It’s a horrifying solution, but it’s also tragically consistent with his character. He sees death as preferable to letting anyone betray their moral compass by becoming a murderer, and in his mind, this is the ultimate act of mercy.

//This plan also highlights his hubris and his struggle to reconcile his ideals with the reality of the killing game. He has always presented himself as a paragon of justice, but this chapter exposes the cracks in that persona. His willingness to manipulate and control others to achieve his goals undermines the very principles he claims to uphold.

//And this is even pointed out directly by Kinji Uehara in the previous chapter, coming to a head here.

//He isn't fighting to protect the group or uphold justice so much as he’s enforcing his own vision of it, regardless of the cost.

//And of all the moments in the game where we see Tsurugi at his worst, this is the point that really makes you wonder whether his sense of justice was ever truly virtuous or simply a mask for his need to exert control.

//Furthermore, Tsurugi’s failure to execute his plan successfully is symbolic of his deeper failure as a leader. His rigidity and refusal to adapt to the nuances of human emotion leave him isolated and incapable of inspiring trust, despite how that was his goal when the Killing Game began. Unlike characters who evolve and learn to work with others, Tsurugi doubles down on his authoritarian mindset, which ultimately backfires.

//His breakdown and eventual apprehension mark a turning point for his character, as it’s a moment where he’s forced to confront the consequences of his uncompromising beliefs. And this is taken to the extreme, and really changes him, when Satsuki's guilt is discovered...But we'll get to that.

//Tsurugi’s actions stem from a place of conviction, but his inability to see beyond his black-and-white view of morality leads him down a path of destruction. He’s not inherently evil, his desire to prevent further suffering is genuine, but his methods are so severe that they strip him of empathy and humanity.

//And of course, this chapter is also the critical turning point for Teruya. Who is another central character in this game, and where his character arc and importance comes full circle.

//Teruya is very straightforwardly the Yasuhiro Hagakure. He’s an ambiguously brown student with a carefree attitude, and his relaxed demeanor might make him seem like the comic relief or the one who’s always a step behind when it comes to the investigations. After all, he’s the guy who’s not particularly helpful, tends to act erratic, and doesn't seem to grasp the gravity of the situation.

//And yet, there’s more to Teruya than meets the eye. Beneath that nonchalant exterior, there's a whirlwind of complexities that make him one of the more interesting characters to analyze.

//Teruya’s true character starts to unfold in Chapter 3, where he begins to stand out not because of his typical lazy attitude, but because of how he reacts to the increasingly dire situation. Unlike the others, who maintain a sliver of optimism despite the lack of progress in escaping, Teruya becomes increasingly frustrated and vocal about the futility of their efforts, upset that everyone is pretending everything is fine when it's very clearly not.

//This clash of outlooks leads to a heated confrontation with Haru, which Kakeru has to step in and break up. While everyone else tries to maintain a sense of hope, Teruya’s emotional detachment and his outright disbelief in their attempts to stay positive leave a lot of his classmates wary of him.

//But here’s the thing. While Teruya may come off as the sarcastic, cynical guy in the corner, he also has an uncanny ability to stir the pot, and it’s all part of his more vindictive side.

//He starts to stir suspicion, particularly towards Yuki, when he hints that he knows more about the mastermind behind the killing game than anyone realizes. Teruya tries to convince the others that they should mistrust Yuki, throwing around cryptic suggestions that he may have ratted out Mikako’s secret hideout.

//Of course, this causes even more tension, especially when Kanata tells him to shut up, yet Teruya's ability to sow doubt in the group is interesting because it shows his underlying paranoia and capability of manipulation. But just when you think Teruya’s going to stay on the fringes, he pulls a real "hold my drink" moment in Chapter 4.

//He starts by getting all bent out of shape over Haruhiko and Satsuki stealing food on Day 1. He’s furious, pointing fingers, but then, plot twist, Rei reveals that Teruya himself was the one sneaking food in his room.

//This, as you might imagine, makes Haru absolutely livid, and fists end up flying. But things don’t stop there.

//Teruya then proposes a fun little game where two students draw lots to decide a culprit and a victim who will sacrifice themselves for the greater good.

//This idea is already a hard sell, but it gets even worse when Tsurugi threatens mass suicide to "prevent murders," and Teruya completely breaks down, crying and begging not to be killed.

//It’s here that you really see how volatile, and hypocritical he is. One moment he’s all about manipulation, the next he’s begging for his life.

//And it's largely because of his nature in Chapter 4 of Another 1 that I kind of stand up for his attitude in Another 2. It may have been more theatrical, but even without Tsurugi's influence, Teruya has proven to be capable of all the same types of traits beforehand.

//But things only get juicier from there with him. In an attempt to take things into his own hands, Teruya plans a duel with Haru, rigging his gun to explode when fired. He sends a letter to meet Haru at the armory, but because he’s too exhausted and hungry, he falls asleep and misses the meeting.

//So when Haru is found dead the next day, Teruya is completely convinced that Haru triggered the trap on his own, making himself the true culprit. However, the twist is that Teruya’s whole plan didn’t even factor into Haru’s death.

//Instead, the similarities were a complete coincidence, he was shot by Satsuki, and the gun he was holding was rigged by none other than Haru himself. Teruya, unaware of this, ends up being the prime suspect because he’s the one who could have written Haru’s note. And he's only absolved from suspicion when everyone realizes that while Teruya could be the killer, he could not have set up the locked room that Haru was inside.

//What makes this even more fascinating is how Teruya reacts when the truth finally comes out. Initially, he feels justified in his actions, but once the facts are laid bare and Haru’s final words reach him, Teruya’s self-loathing takes center stage.

//Haru’s last message to Satsuki was for her to apologize to Teruya on his behalf for their previous fallout, and it hits Teruya like a ton of bricks. This moment of guilt and realization forces him to confront just how far he’s fallen, and it leads to a significant character change.

//From that point forward, Teruya starts wearing Haruhiko’s goggles to honor his memory. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes about his emotional growth and the weight of his conscience.

//In many ways, Teruya is a character that subverts expectations. He may seem like the lazy, unreliable guy who gets into unnecessary conflicts, but his complexity lies in the moments when he’s forced to confront his own actions. His attempts to manipulate the group and his misguided sense of survival ultimately reveal his vulnerability and internal struggles.

//But of course, there's one other character critical to this case, and the one who really carries it through, despite not saying much.

//Satsuki Iranami. Hands down the best killer in this whole game.

//To be perfectly honest, when I first heard that there was an Ultimate Clown in this game, my immediate thought was that she was going to be the Mikan/Kiyo of this game, and secretly turn out to be a crazed murderer. And I very quickly realized that that could not be the case based on her personality.

//Which made me glad. But all the more shocking when she turned out to be a murderer anyway, as well as her motivation and actions.

//Satsuki is a character who initially appears to be a playful and easy-going clown, the type who cracks jokes and brings a bit of levity to an otherwise grim situation. But as the class trial unfolds, she reveals herself to be far more complex than anyone could have expected.

//Because she does something that to this day, no other Danganronpa character has done.

//She OUTS HERSELF at the BEGINNING OF THE TRIAL!

//Right out of the gate, Satsuki attempts to just confess to killing Haru and end the trial before it even begins. It's almost like she’s trying to take the easy way out, throwing her hands up and accepting her arrest. But things quickly spiral when the evidence Teruya left behind from his murder plan and her inability to explain why Haru’s hand exploded start to backfire, making her confession look less like a simple admittance and more like a desperate, guilt-ridden attempt to end it all.

//Satsuki’s attempt to confess, however, only serves to make things more complicated. Rei, ever the sharp-tongued critic, accuses her of trying to get everyone killed in her grief over Haru’s death, painting her as a manipulator who’s intentionally misdirecting the investigation. Ironic, considering what Teruya tries to do in this case.

//So, Satsuki, not one to shy away from a fight, decides to just let the trial play out as Mikako advises, trusting that eventually, everyone will come around and realize the truth.

//But when the evidence turns back on her in the end, no one can believe it. And honestly, can you blame them? It’s a tough pill to swallow that the seemingly cheerful, LITERAL clown could actually be the one responsible for such a twisted chain of events.

//What makes Satsuki’s role in the trial especially interesting is the effect it has on the other characters, particularly Rei and Tsurugi, the game’s two main antagonists up until this point. Both Rei and Tsurugi have been antagonistic forces in the game, with Rei’s jerkass tendencies and Tsurugi’s black-and-white worldview putting them at odds with pretty much everyone else. But Satsuki’s actions in the trial throw both of them for a loop, serving as the catalyst for their development in later chapters.

//Rei, who’s been as unhelpful as possible throughout the game, often dismissing everyone around her as idiots, is faced with a situation she can’t immediately solve. She’s so used to being the one who stands apart from the group, offering little to no assistance unless directly forced to, that the emotional weight of Satsuki’s sacrifice is almost incomprehensible to her.

//The fact that Haruhiko, a victim in the game, gave up his life to save Satsuki by creating a Locked Room Mystery to help her escape, blows Rei’s mind. She simply can’t fathom a victim willingly sacrificing themselves for another person, especially when she’s never witnessed that kind of selflessness before. And when Satsuki confirms that Haru’s sacrifice was real and not some elaborate ruse, Rei is completely floored. It’s a moment of realization that hits her harder than anything else in the game up to that point.

//Tsurugi, on the other hand, finds himself completely softlocked by Satsuki’s behavior. He’s been steadfast in his belief that victims should be punished because, in his mind, they’re the ones causing the chaos. He can’t wrap his head around the idea of a victim doing something to help their killer, and when Satsuki tries to confess with no provocation, it shakes him to his core.

//His inability to comprehend Satsuki’s motivations is so profound that it causes him to pass out, which is a huge moment for a character like Tsurugi, who’s usually so composed and in control. The whole ordeal forces him to question everything he’s believed in up until that point, turning his worldview upside down.

//While Satsuki’s actions may confuse and challenge these antagonistic characters, what really makes her situation heartbreaking is her motivation. She’s essentially playing a game of Xanatos Gambit; a plan in which all potential outcomes, even those that appear to be failures, ultimately benefit the planner.

//In this case, Satsuki is trying to ensure that either she lives at the expense of everyone else, honoring Haruhiko’s final wish, or she’s outed as the killer, allowing the others to survive while she joins Haruhiko in the afterlife.

//Satsuki, however, chooses the latter because, deep down, she could never go through with a plan that would result in everyone else’s death. It’s a tragic, self-sacrificial decision that highlights her inner conflict and the complexity of her character.

//Her decision to confess early in the trial reflects a surprising internal struggle, as she’d rather face the consequences herself than drag others into it. The first time she outs herself, it’s completely out of the blue, catching everyone off guard. The second time, when Yuki outs her, she comes off as too cheerful, which seems forced.

//But it turns out this is all part of her strategy to protect the others while not entirely dishonoring Haruhiko’s last request. It’s almost like she’s wearing a mask, keeping up appearances to make sure that even in death, she’s still able to honor the person who sacrificed so much for her.

//And of course, this marks a turning point in the game. Satsuki’s execution, which occurs at the end of Chapter 4, is not just the end of her character arc but the moment where the game shifts tone. As the main source of comic relief up until this point, Satsuki’s death symbolizes the severing of the lighthearted moments and the start of a much darker, more dramatic turn in the story.

//The "clown" has been metaphorically and literally "shooed out," and what’s left is a much more somber atmosphere that sets the stage for the emotional intensity that follows.

//What makes Satsuki’s journey so amazing is how her transformation from comic relief to a tragic hero highlights the unexpected depth hidden beneath her initially cheerful facade. Her sacrifice for the others, combined with her internal moral struggle, makes her one of the most tragic yet fascinating characters in the game.

//It’s a perfect example of how appearances can be deceiving, while also not doubling down on the idea of turning something that should spark joy into something that induces horror; and how a seemingly frivolous character can end up being a key player in the narrative’s emotional core.

//To end this review off, I want to talk about one last thing that I notice among the fanbase that people don't really seem to like, and it's quite crucial for this game in particular.

//This is not the first, or the last time that Danganronpa does this, but motives like the Ballroom, or the Funhoise, where characters are forced into a life-or-death situation, have often been a point of contention for fans of the Danganronpa series.

//The reasons for this frustration are multifaceted, rooted in how such motives can feel manipulative or overly simplistic, undermining the complexity of character development and the emotional stakes that the game works so hard to build.

//But despite these drawbacks, the "kill or die" motive still works in certain cases, especially when used strategically to enhance the narrative.

//I want to break down both sides of the argument to better understand why this trope often sparks such division and, at the same time, why it remains effective in this specific context.

//First off, In many cases, these motives reduce characters to simple archetypes driven solely by survival instincts. Rather than allowing for nuanced personal growth or moral dilemmas, these motives often force characters into extreme decisions for the sake of plot, leaving little room for the exploration of deeper emotional or philosophical themes.

//When a character is pushed into a corner where the only apparent choice is to kill or be killed, it can feel like the narrative is taking shortcuts, focusing more on shock value than on organic storytelling. Like the story is forcing characters into situations where their choices seem preordained, rather than allowing them to act on their individual desires or motivations.

//These situations often remove a character's agency by presenting a false dichotomy. Lill, or everyone will die/you will die. This undermines the central theme of Danganronpa, which is the struggle to overcome despair through hope and human connection.

//In these situations, characters are pushed toward morally gray choices, often without the room to make a decision that aligns with their values, resulting in a sense of helplessness. Instead of exploring what drives a character to kill, the narrative can sometimes skip over these crucial moments and go straight to the aftermath, which can make the choices feel hollow or too convenient.

//But I actually want to stick up for the idea in this game in particular.

//Danganronpa is built around the tension between Despair and Hope, and that's why these motives that force characters into a desperate place where their decisions are influenced by their understanding of hope, survival, and the consequences of their actions need to be here.

//In situations where characters are pushed to their limits, the way they navigate this choice can reveal a lot about their character and beliefs.

//Satsuki is a character who embodies a sense of self-sacrifice, guilt, and emotional turmoil, which makes the kill or die scenario particularly poignant. Unlike characters who might kill out of pure desperation or for personal gain, Satsuki’s motivation comes from a place of love, guilt, and a desire to protect others.

//Her internal conflict is the core of why the trope works here. She could have escaped, and was even urged to do so by Haru, but instead, she chooses to place the lives of others above her own, knowing that her actions will ultimately lead to death.

//The situation becomes even more tragic because Satsuki doesn’t simply make a choice based on survival. She is forced to confront the moral implications of that survival, and whether it's worth sacrificing herself in a way that might let others live.

//The scenario is further complicated by Haru's involvement in his own death. Satsuki’s confession attempt, premature and out of the blue, shocks the others, who can’t comprehend her actions, particularly Rei and Tsurugi, whose emotional limitations prevent them from understanding her sacrifice. This misunderstanding leads to significant character development for them, forcing them to confront their own emotional shortcomings.

//As the narrative shifts from humor to tragedy, Satsuki’s death marks a turning point, highlighting themes of self-sacrifice, moral complexity, and the true cost of survival.

//This motive also sparks Rei’s and Tsurugi’s development, pushing them to reconsider their previously rigid views on morality and human connection. The trope works here because it serves as both a plot device and a means to explore deeper emotional and thematic layers, rather than just a shock tactic.

//Which is why it's so important. And why this is the best case in the first Another game.

[elsecrytt]

Obey Me Theory:

Simeon and Michael are the same person.

Disclaimer:

Yes, I know about the "But then wouldn't..." objections to this theory; I'll present my evidence and then address those at the end.

I came up with this idea after going through specific things in my personal MC lore, but there ended being so many things that fit that I actually really liked it.

To be clear, this idea is to say: Simeon is Michael's alternate identity. Simeon as we and others know him has always actually been Michael; there's no "real Simeon" hidden in a basement somewhere while Michael impersonates him.

Evidence (spoilers for Obey Me and Nightbringer):

There are hints and suggestions throughout the story - confirmed in hard mode in NB - that Simeon is actually a considerably powerful angel. Powerful enough to be a seraph like Lucifer was.

In Season 1 and 2 of the original Obey Me, Simeon acts as the representative of the Celestial Realm in the Devildom. He's obviously high up.

Diavolo says that Simeon is the one person he doesn't want to anger. Diavolo. The would be King of the Devildom.

Note that Diavolo can tell when someone is lying. Simeon does an excellent job of tip-toeing around issues and details, not disclosing the full truth, etc.

Diavolo says he finds angels in general difficult to work with. He finds Simeon difficult. And Simeon does live up to that difficulty (hard mode Season 2) - and he puts it a very interesting way.

He tells Diavolo that if a matter (the dangerous information Diavolo's been hiding from Lucifer all Season 2) concerns the Celestial Realm, then of course they'd interfere...

...that's what Michael told Simeon to tell him, anyways. Simeon speaks with a lot of authority for someone who's not even a seraph.

Pretty much all the information we get about Michael and his current intentions come from Simeon.

And after this - what happens?

The incident with the Ring of Light.

Mighty coincidental that Simeon happened to be able to stroll into Michael's Lucifer fan-shrine and nick the ring from there, huh?

The explanation Simeon gives for knowing that the ring existed - "Michael would never let something of Lucifer's go" - is also interesting.

If Simeon were Michael, then he would know the solution of giving MC the ring from the very beginning. It'd be easy for him to stay calm, cool, and collected - Michael already gave a mortal (Solomon) his ring, and he knows Lucifer's ring can do the same thing.

Additionally, we have the sequence where a voice - almost certainly Michael - speaks to MC in a vision sort of sequence.

The voice specifically says that it would have expected MC to be an awful person, since Lucifer and co. care about them so much.

Notably, Season 2 is also the turning point for several of the side characters. Diavolo and Solomon get some ship tease for feelings, and Simeon steals the ring for you...

But this conversation could also be Michael/Simeon acknowledging his feelings for you - a human. Simeon confesses to you in Season 3...

...where it's also revealed that his worst fear is his (and Lucifer's) father.

If Simeon is Michael, this makes a lot of sense. Michael, like Lilith, has fallen in love with a human. He's even also - technically - interfered in a human's lifespan by saving you. He would fear his father, for the same reason Lucifer would.

Now, this also makes plenty of sense if Simeon isn't Michael... but just imagine.

The bone-chilling terror of having fought and beaten Lucifer and his family, having killed Lilith...

Only to eventually fall into the same circumstances that she did.

But who will fall with Michael? Who will rebel against heaven to protect him? He expunged those who were guilty of this sin, and now he is guilty of it himself. He erased all possibility of change or rebellion with his own hands.

There are other reasons to be suspicious.

In Nightbringer, Simeon and Diavolo each attempt to tempt Solomon to their side. But Diavolo's angel counterpart in the Celestial Realm is Michael, the authority figure; not Simeon, the powerless archangel.

Simeon and Solomon get along pretty well. Michael liked Solomon enough to give him the Ring of Knowledge.

What else do we know about Michael?

Most people describe him as eccentric.

Simeon wrote?? A whole book series?? About Lucifer and his brothers????? Why???????

For bonus eccentric humor: in Season 2, Simeon writes a play. He puts Lucifer and Diavolo (who have been on bad terms with each other) into a love triangle with MC.

Season 2 marks a big breaking point for Luci and Dia's relationship, with MC at the center, and both of them develop feelings for MC.

Simeon recognizes it when people tease Luke - and he is basically Luke's guardian - and pretty much says it's okay up to a point.

"Sure, tease this little kid I'm responsible for, a little taunting is good for the soul." He even seems to imply he likes to do it, too XD

He actually takes a lot of weird antics and wacky hijinks with stride. I don't think it's because he's a responsible adult. I think it's because he's another weirdo, masquerading as a responsible adult.

Several characters also talk about Michael working Raphael very hard, and having very particular demands.

We see exactly how extreme and demanding Simeon can be in Season 2, when we put on a play. He has a vision. And he's going to make EVERYONE do it, RIGHT.

We also see Simeon the taskmaster with quite the temper in Season 3 when he's running a cafe. He gets EXTREMELY mad, to the point of getting everyone to sit down and obey him, despite being normally very calm.

Michael is a huge Lucifer fanboy.

Simeon is constantly texting Lucifer ingame, even when Lucifer ignores him. He also joins Diavolo in on complimenting Lucifer's looks as an angel.

He admits that he does care about Lucifer and the brothers. We get hints that Michael feels a similar way.

In Nightbringer - Simeon ruminates deeply over a specific day where he, Lucifer, and Raphael were spending time together.

Lucifer confirms to him that he had a nice day, that day - that Simeon did notice his discomfort, and it was a relief that Simeon reached out in the way that he did, even if Simeon is rethinking it now.

It makes more sense for Simeon to be ruminating over this if this day is just a representation of his inability to reach Lucifer, to make Lucifer see his side of things.

Anyways, that's most of the things I noticed that make it look possible.

So, why doesn't anyone recognize him?

There are a few different possibilities.

They don't know what Michael really looks like.

I've seen screenshots of a devilgram floating around where angel Mammon is chatting with angel Lucifer, and he mentions that Lucifer actually has twelve wings - he just doesn't have all of them out at once.

If Michael has a similar number of wings, and does use all of them, then it's possible no one ever got a good look on him.

Also notable is that Lucifer's angel outfit is pretty conservative - if Michael was similarly clothed, with the addition of gloves, and some kind of veil/mask (he is supposed to be eccentric), they actually may just legitimately not have a good picture of him.

For personal reasons (I want to know what Michael looks like), this is my favorite theory.

Michael has used a glamour to change his appearance.

I'm relatively sure that angels can do this; they can "wear" their wings or not, and demons have similar abilities, so I don't think it's out of the realm of reason.

No one remembers what Michael looks like.

When we meet Michael in the finale of Season 2, we see just a glowing light from above. It's possible that we did see Michael then, but we just don't remember it.

Lucifer and his brothers might have forgotten Michael's appearance post-fall.

Michael texting himself? Simeon's punishment?

The text from Michael to Simeon was the most obnoxious dramatic conceit in the game.

We don't see ANY more communication between the two, at all, and are only informed of any of it afterward. It was literally just there to be a cliffhanger/source of excitement.

I think the hint is in season 3, where Simeon's greatest fear is his father.

Because if Simeon is Michael, then there's only one higher power who can punish him. The fact that Simeon was hiding who he was - that could also really explain his dodgy behavior in Season 4.

After all, after punishing Lilith for doing exactly what he just did, it'd be extremely hard to face them and be honest about what happened.

There's probably more to this theory to iron out and explain, but yeah. I do like the idea, and find the possibility fascinating - for some reason, I've picked up a bit more on Simeon these days.

Nightbringer really has made the side characters soooo much juicier >.>

[palfriendpatine66]

@somethingsteff asked for #39 for obikin from the Abba lyrics prompt list (and #4 which I’ll answer separately so I don’t lose track!)

39. you thrill me, you delight me, you please me, you excite me

Read below for a proposal drabble - what else could it have been for this song?

“Well?”

Obi-Wan shifted on his protesting knee, now feeling patently ridiculous to be kneeling on the hard stone in front of the stunning younger man who had apparently been stunned into silence, as unmoving and hard as stone himself since Obi-Wan had sunk to his knee and bared his soul and presented the ring that he still held outstretched in his now sweaty palm.

“I know it’s a loaded question and all, but one does usually expect an answer of some kind.”

Anakin cleared his throat, fighting through the burning tightness that was losing its battle to choke back all the emotions threatening to spill out. “Are you sure?”

“About which part, exactly?” Obi-Wan wondered. “The ring? No, I’m not. You’re the one who has to look at it for the rest of your life, if you don’t like it you can pick out one that you do.”

“Not the ring,” Anakin reached out and closed both of his hands around the outstretched palm starting to shake, cradling it like it was something precious, because it was.

“What then?” Obi-Wan prompted when nothing else followed.

Broad shoulders shrugged sheepishly. “Me.”

“Anakin Skywalker,” Obi-Wan’s knee objected with a disconcerting pop as he rose to cup one hand to where the long neck met brushed back curls, his other still held in the strong grip of long fingers that had no intentions of letting go. He pulled until their foreheads touched and he was looking directly into blue eyes brimming with wet tears that had somehow not yet been shed, windows to the insecure soul before him. “Did you not listen to a word I just said? I thought I made my feelings quite clear.”

“I did listen,” long lashes pressed closed in a last attempt to keep the tears from spilling. “And you did, it was,” he paused momentarily, overcome, “it was very nice to hear.”

“Alright…then…help me out here.”

“I know that’s how you feel now. It’s just…”

“You think I’m going to change my mind?” Obi-Wan asked dryly. Just that morning they’d had fought over the fact that Obi-Wan considered trying a different route to the restaurant “a pointless exercise.”

“Ok when you say it like that,” Anakin smirked. “I just. It’s supposed to be forever.”

“Yes, that’s rather the point.”

“That’s a long time to be with me.”

“Yes!” Obi-Wan had reached the end of his patience. “I’m familiar with the concept! So could you either tell me what it is you object about it or put the damn ring on your finger and tell me you would also like to spend the rest of your life with me?”

“Idiot,” Anakin smiled against his hold. “Of course I do.” He closed the remaining space between them to press their lips together. “I guess I have a hard time believing that you would want to spend that long with me.”

Obi-Wan drew back just enough to search every inch of the face before him. “Explain,” he commanded seriously.

“I’m a lot,” Anakin sighed.

“Yes.”

“What if I’m too much?”

“You could never—”

“What if you get bored?”

“How could I—”

“What if all the things you think are quirky and cute become annoying and —”

“Love.” Obi-Wan silenced him with a chaste, barely there kiss. “You thrill me. You delight me. You please me. You excite me.” He sealed each statement with a kiss - one to each cheek, then the furrowed brow currently sporting premature wrinkles, then finally the hands that still clasped his own between them. “What can I do to make you believe me?”

“I do,” Anakin whispered as his fingers were pried one by one. “I—”

“I hoped you’d say that,” Obi-Wan declared as he finally slipped the ring onto Anakin’s finger, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed his face as he did. Uncertainty turned to awe, wrinkles smoothed out, and tears spilled as Anakin stared at the band that drew all the light in the room.

“You really want to marry me?” Anakin rasped.

“I do,” Obi-Wan sighed in relief that the fact finally seemed to have sunken in. “Please say you do too.”

“Yes,” Anakin buried the glittering ring in auburn locks and pulled Obi-Wan forward for a kiss. “I do,” he whispered against his lips. “I do, I do, I do.”

[thrashkink-coven]

Random thoughts about Jophiel because he’s on my mind today

Jophiel truly was my introduction into the occult. My relationship with him has a lot more history than many of my other spirits, even that of Lord Lucifer, so I cherish him very deeply and consider him to be my patron saint. You may notice that I use he/ him pronouns for Jophiel which is unusual. Jophiel has always appeared to me androgynously (of course) but has always seemed to assume a kind of masculine energy, even with all his feminine aspects. He’s kind of like me in that way.

I first “met” Jophiel around the age of 7. I had a very surreal “dream” in which a ghostly figure with luminescent white hair and firey - incomprehensible- blue eyes appeared in my room and explained to me that we were eternally bound. He told me that no matter where I go, he will find me and “keep me in good condition”. Weird dream for a 7 year old to be having!!

(Note: I’m 99% sure Jophiel is not my holy guardian angel- he himself has told me that he is not “the one responsible for that role”)

I remember thinking he was inhumanly beautiful, purely beautiful- so much so that it’s almost uncanny. He is beautiful in a way a human cannot be- the way that a painting or a flower is beautiful. Beyond description.

He’s like a cathedral or an ocean beaming with life, and it affected my idea of beauty for the rest of my life. Jophiel is beauty that is beyond understanding. The beauty in music that makes you tear up without understanding why. The beauty in a poem that makes you strangely melancholy for months. He is aesthetic in itself, the idea of beautiful elements coming together to portray an emotion. He is the beauty of existence and the melancholy of its destruction.

Jophiel always speaks softly, almost muted. In fact he seems to mute the entire world. His energy is shrill, rings extremely high, but he also washes over you like ocean waves, swelling and waning and swelling again in cycles. He is a liminal entity who exists between spaces. He’s someone you have to be very quiet to notice.

Since that first introduction to him I had developed the ability to “see things”. I hold my skepticism close to my chest, but I also cannot deny my experiences. Since the age of 7 or so I have been able to see the energy on certain objects among other things. Perhaps these would be described as “auras”. Sometimes I can see the intentions of others before they act, their energy will swell to a certain direction and then they will take that path seconds later. I don’t want to go to into specifics for fear of sounding crazy or delusional, but Jophiel’s blessing allowed me to somewhat see through the vail when my mind is in the right state. It allowed me to be aware of the energies around me that I cannot see with my own two eyes but with my “third” if that makes sense. I was also given greater access to astral travel. Other witches in my community have described them as the abilities of a “seer”, I believe these abilities came directly from Jophiel. But, again, skepticism skepticism.

About a year or so ago Jophiel started seriously pursuing me, maybe even haunting me for months in my dreams. He showed me a lot of incomprehensible cryptic symbolism and visions, seemingly in hopes to get me to take my craft more seriously and stop questioning whether my reality is real. In order to understand how to use my abilities I’d have to first stop questioning their existence- and this is when I took up Jophiel as my patron more seriously. I genuinely believed that I was losing my mind at this point, things became very clear and that was very confusing. Angels don’t care how much or little you believe in them, when they have a job for you to do they will make you believe, whether you want to or not.

Jophiel can be stern, terrible and terrifying. He is the angel with the flaming sword. He is not at all afraid to get serious by any means, and he has most definitely put me in my place a couple times. He is the strength and wisdom that is required to protect beauty as well as the beauty itself. Jophiel doesn’t need to yell- in fact he doesn’t need to say anything at all to get his point across. He really doesn’t tolerate disrespect, as kind as he is he is still an Archangel with legions of angels beneath him.

I thoroughly believe his purpose was to prepare me for the other magical relationships I later developed with his assistance. Jophiel and Lucifer (and Haniel) are extremely merciful and understanding of human mistakes and clumsiness. Other spirits are not so much. Jophiel made it very clear to me that my angelic work needed to lay the foundation for my work with the infernals. My boundaries and protections needed to be strong in order to delve into the darkness unscathed.

We now have a relationship where he will sometimes show me visions that I will then use as inspirations for drawings. He seems to really enjoy this, saying once that “his will has become real in my material though the intentions of my hands”.

Jophiel has appeared to me in a variety of forms. Sometimes he is not a person, but a place. An oasis in a desert or a field of lavender. He is music and art in every form, but also wisdom. The art and wisdom of maths and sciences and sacred geometry. The geometry that builds your cells and arranges your atoms.

Sometimes he is gargantuan, so tall that I cannot see the top of him like a mountain. Sometimes he is so bright that I fear he will burn my eyes out of my skull. He speaks quietly but he can also be VERY LOUD! Because of his raw intensity I only summon him once every few months. It takes a long time and requires weeks of submerging myself deep in prayer. Jophiel adores prayer.

I see many people equate Jophiel to a happy cheerful young girl. To me he is always pleasant, but not necessarily a happy go lucky ball of sunshine. Don’t get me wrong, he is literally a ball of sunshine- he is pure light and love. But his immense wisdom creates a sense of quietness in him- nuance. He is aware of the cycle of creation and destruction- how beautiful things can become ugly and how ugly things are beautiful. How beauty is so subjective and therefore adaptive. He isn’t a stereotypical portrayal of beauty and love- not at all.

While other spirits represent more carnal love of the flesh and lust, Jophiel is more oriented towards the love of culture, the love of the natural beauty of the world, the love a child has for a stuffed toy, or the love a painter feels towards a flower. In fact I would go as far as to describe Jophiel as a virgin goddess. He has actually told me himself that he does not like to be sexualized, although he has nothing against sex in general it is not his greatest sphere of influence.

Many occultists have corresponded Jophiel with Saturn and Jupiter, as a wise and capable guardian. I personally believe that Jophiel is also Venusian. I believe he is among the spirits that embody the principles of Venus. This is more of a upg based off of my experiences with him and his leading me towards Archangel Haniel and Lord Lucifer. They are extremely familiar and have good opinions of each other.

The last time I saw Jophiel was a few nights ago in my dreams. He was accompanied by a legion of angels behind him (fucking wild to see, they look like a bunch of glowing goo that shifts around and oscillates when they’re all together like that) and he basically said “Hi, it’s nice to see you but I’m really busy right now, okay bye!” and I thought that was really funny.

He always likes to answer whenever I call even if it’s just to tell me that he’s unavailable which is really really nice. Not even Faviel does that for me lol.

Anyways, that was just a bunch of brain vomit about my relationship with Jophiel. I really do love him so much. Maybe I’ll make a post about ways to better connect with him some time for those who are interested.

I usually end these posts off with “Ave ___!” as a devotional send off, but angels work a little differently than that, so I’ll just say thank you Jophiel for everything that you’ve given me and everything that you are. You are my dear friend and I wish you well. May we meet again soon.

[anothercrisis]

alright consider me attached hook line and sinker for the prikolai agenda <3 do you perhaps....🤲......have any headcanons or thoughts abt them....👉👈

personally I'm attached to the idea of nikolai and price sorta co-parenting gaz <- just finished the 2019 game again and is In The Feels (tm)

Welcome aboard the Prikolai ship! This is your captain speaking. We are presently stumbling our way along, but we’re expecting smooth sailing shortly.

And absolutely I do. BUCKLE IN BABES

(This is going to be a short messy list, because I’ve only had Prikolai for a few days, but there will be more to come the more research I do.)

Nik is the only person Price will allow himself to be truly relaxed around. He trusts Nik that much, to keep an eye so he doesn’t have to. Even when he’s off mission surrounded by his soldiers, even if diligent Ghost is there, Price can’t quiet the part of him that stays alert. But if Nik is with him, he feels safe enough to relax.

Nik fell first, Price fell harder.

Their love languages are acts of service and quality time.

Nik knows how hard Price works and he likes to do whatever he can to lighten the load on Price’s shoulders. Does Price need to get a report from Ghost before he can get some sleep? Okay, Nik makes Price take a few minutes while Nik goes to find Ghost for him. He’ll send Ghost to Price with a bottle of water and a sandwich because who knows when Price ate last. While Price wraps up his workday, Nik makes sure Price has clean comfortable clothes to change into when he gets back to his room, makes sure there’s no clutter in the space that would stress Price out when he was supposed to be relaxing.

They like to take walks together. It helps clear Price’s head and helps Nikolai ground himself after being in the air for an extended period of time.

They’re not much for PDA. They’ll sit next to each other a little too close to be casual. Nik will sometimes put his arm around Price’s waist and sometimes Price will hold Nik’s hand. Price likes to kiss Nik’s cheek and Nik likes to kiss Price’s forehead. Anything more usually happens when they’re alone.

They smoke together. And pick fun about each other’s preferences.

Gaz adopted Nikolai before Nik adopted him. Gaz could see the comfort Nik brought Price and that was enough for him, though he did attempt to give Nik the shovel talk. Which wasn’t easy, because Nik is a big Russian man, intimidating even when his default state is content and comedic. But Nik took it very seriously when Gaz approached the topic, promising him that he had nothing but good intentions with Price.

Price gets hurt more often than Nikolai does. After Price has been forced to medical, Nik will gently assess the bandages himself, locating all the scraps and bruises, just because he likes to keep track of when Price gets hurt where. He also makes sure Price tends to them properly. When Nik gets hurt, Price mothers him like a toddler who’d gotten hurt for the first time, which is hilarious to Nik because Price is smaller than him and he’s adorably angry when he’s worried.

Nik is older and taller than Price, but not by much.

Their relationship crept up on them. They’d been good friends for many years and somewhere along the way started spending more time together, sometimes even on leave. They kinda just woke up one morning and were like, oh we’re together aren’t we.

Legally married, not long after they got together officially. And yes, because they love each other, but the original thought was that they wanted to be the first person contacted if something were to happen to either of them.

Nik wears both their rings when Price is in the field. If he’s piloting the mission, he wears them on the chain of his ID tags beneath his clothes and ignores the fact that he would get into trouble for it.

The 141 boys adopt Nik quietly when they notice something going on between him and Price, but they accept him more loudly when they notice the rings and subtle touches.

Price’s favorite son is Gaz and he won’t admit to it. Nik’s is Soap and he will tell everyone that. They genuinely love all their sons equally.

Price learns bits of Russian from Nikolai. He started asking for translations and lessons when Nik started to speak to him in Russian with this soft, loving look in his eyes. Price eventually uses Russian pet names for Nik, and Nik picks up English ones to use for Price.

Their love is just…soft, quiet most of the time. Their lives are high-intensity, high-risk, and they both find comfort in the steady company of the other’s love.

[slasherrcentral]

Run, Rabbit, Run — Bo Sinclair. (18+)

Summary: after attempting to run away from him again, maybe you will finally learn your lesson this time around.

Note: this is so fucking filthy and i’m not the least bit sorry for it, bo sinclair has fully rotted my brain. please don’t read if you are sensitive to any of the triggers involving violence, stockholm syndrome, spit and blood or talks of murder. this is some shit below the cut and viewer discretion is very much advised.

Dedications: the wonderful @visceravalentines for inspiring this work with her fic “I’m so dirty, babe” because it’s changed my entire life. and also to the beautiful @bosinclairz , who inspires me to have a blog even half as cool as theirs. thank you !!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Warnings: predator/prey play, name calling and abuse, heavy stockholm syndrome implications, spitting, blood, choking, bdsm elements, topics that elude to past murders, slight voice kink ( if you squint ) ( not even if you squint ), extremely heavy and violent sexual content.

The morning air was frigid while your bare feet pattered against the concrete, your breath leaving your chest in heaving, tired gasps. He was right behind you, the tell-tale pattering of old, worn out black work boots was as clear as the day you’d stumbled into the tiny, vacant town of Ambrose, when he had to chase you down for the first time after discovering his horrible, malicious intentions. You’d been so stupid then, too naive and entirely too trusting. His low, sultry drawl had given you a false sense of contentment. Those piercing, wild blue eyes had drawn you in like bee’s to honeysuckle. He’d even gone as far as to call you darlin’, that wolffish grin peeking out behind sharp canine’s as his eyes scanned your figure, making you fidget in place. Denim shorts, white spaghetti strapped tank with a crimson red bra visible underneath the flimsy cloth. You should’ve ran right then and there, should have found something to clobber him over the head with. But you didn’t. You’d been begging for it then like you’re begging for it now.

“Run, little rabbit! Run!” Bo laughed manically behind you, sending a series of chills down your spine. He was taunting you now, always taunting and menacing. His disease lusted for the chase, for the terror he inflicted upon you. The deep, rumbling chortles and your pants were the only sound ringing through the abandoned, haunted town. Nobody was coming to save you. There was nobody for miles and miles. You should know, you tried to escape him before. Look at where that got you, restrained in an old medical chair and tortured for two weeks straight with no reprieve from your misery. Your body was still blanketed with scars from that incident, constant reminder’s of who you slept next to at night.

You could still feel the stitched up wounds, courtesy of Vincent, on your inner thighs, rubbing against the denim of your washed jeans, blue jeans that had belonged to another girl before you, a girl that had thought she could escape too. Her worn, tattered Polaroid picture was still hanging up inside of Bo’s makeshift workshop. It was taken not long before he’d grown tired of her whining, and put her out of her misery with the sharpened blade of his hunter’s knife. You wanted to rip up that picture, chew it to pieces and spit it out on the ground. You did not like the idea of him still looking at her after you fell asleep at night, when your hole was of no further use, thinking about all the things that he did to her.

He was right, when he’d spat in your face that you never learn, duct tape digging viciously into your wrists. You didn’t think he’d be in the house this morning, didn’t think he would catch you making a bee-line for the open porch door. But he did, and now you knew, he was not going to make the same mistake again. You were dead. Another poor soul forever incased in wax, just like all the others, and you could practically hear them laughing at you as well. Stupid, stupid girl. Thinking you ever even had a chance. Stealing a glimpse over your shoulder, he looked murderous. Pointed, narrowed blue eyes burning into the back of your head. His top lip was curled up into a snarl, growls burrowed deep in his chest, canine teeth exposed to the dewy morning air. You knew Bo wasn’t running as fast as he could be, choosing to make a fun little game out of this instead. You hated his games. It’s because of them that you’ve almost been killed, strung up from the ceilings with ropes and leather straps as he took his careful time ruining your body. A body that was no longer yours — a body that he molded to his darkest, most unfathomable desires.

You were tired. You wished he’d kill you, get it over with once and for all. Vincent would make you look beautiful again, maybe he’d put you in the movie theater, where you could always watch a film. Where you’d never, ever be alone again. Where you could fade into nothingness. Where you could forget about how pitiful you were and how disgusting it was for you to love the very man who stole everything from you. Your goals, ambitions, drive for the future. You’d been on your way back to campus from your spring break trip when your car broke down, leading you here. Leading you to him. Hell, you’d even heard your name on the radio some months ago. Your parents were looking for you, your friends are worried, your teachers insisted that it wasn’t like you to vanish. Bo had laughed when he saw the tears on your cheeks, spitting that they’ll never find you here, that you’re his.

In a move that surprised the both of you, and because the little spitfire that Bo came to adore so much is still buried somewhere deep down inside of you, you hook your heels into the gravel and duck to the left, where a house was awaiting your heady arrival. Slipping on the morning muck—you crash right in front of the steps, a pained groan leaving your chest. Get the fuck up now, he’s right behind you, are the only two things your mind kept shouting. Despite your gasps for air and the pain, you manage to dodge Bo just as he gets within’ arms length of you. He leered at you, twisting to follow you up the stairs and into the shabby, white house. You’d flung yourself into the residence, pressing your frame against the door. It doesn’t have a fucking lock, you’re fucking stupid to think that it did. Barreling all of your weight against the door, which wasn’t much because you’ve lost a considerable amount since arriving here, sustaining a diet of eggs and sandwiches. Your teeth rattled within’ your gums as Bo pounded on the front door behind your aching back, screaming expletives, demanding that you open it up or he’ll carve you like a thanksgiving turkey.

“You’re really in for it now, little bunny.” He huffed out a callous chuckle. And then like rumbling thunder on hot summer nights or heat lightning cracking in the air, he slammed up against the door with his elbow. You’re whimpering now, scanning the house for an exit, but it seems like there’s none. There is, however, a staircase. Hearing the wood split, knowing that he was getting in, you slipped away from the door and made a run for the stairs. He was inside in a matter of moments, his chest heaving and his fists clenched tight at his sides. You’re certain that he’s going to kill you. You’d die here, in the little sad house on the corner, staring into those ocean blue eyes all the while. You hoped that when he does it, that he looks at you. That he see’s you, one more time, and that you’d sit with him for the rest of his days. It’s the very least that he could do for you. You bolted, his glare burning into your back, clambering up the stairs.

It took no time at all for him to reach you, wrapping a meaty fist around your bruised, scarred ankle. You’ve screamed, you’re sure of it, throat burning and warm, wet tears streaming down your cheeks as you began sending hard kicks behind you— hoping one of them would land. One had to land. Had to give you time to make an escape from his rage. “Let me go right now, you fucking psychopath! Let me go! I hate you, I hate you and this fucking haunted town so fucking much!” You’re rambling now, jumbled and frantic. He laughs, that bastard laughed at your hysteria—dragging you down the stairs, slowly now, one at a time. Taunting, always taunting, his malice gave you enough time to send a brutal kick right at his nose. Your kick landed, right on the bridge of his prominent nose. He yelped, surprised for a fraction of a moment, then he roared. Blood poured from the wound, dripping onto his tee, down onto the dirty, blue carpet below. You gaped, waiting, terrified. And when Bo’s gaze fixed back on yours, you knew that you were in for a world of pain. You’d knocked his favorite truckers cap off his head, made him bleed his own blood. Good, you thought. Means you hadn’t lost every piece of your soul—yet.

“You wanna play fuckin’ games with me, sugar? We’ll play, then. Disobedient little bitch, forgettin’ all of the manners I’ve taught you.” Before you had any time to prepare for the blow, he sent a monstrous kick with a steel-toed boot directly to your rib cage. You gasped, couldn’t help it, your lungs attempting to suck in the sweet air that had just been knocked from you. Your head was swimming— small mewls leaving your lips, sputtering out some thick coughs. “Look at ya, poor thang. Writhin’ around, helpless and achin’. Soundin’ sweet for me, singin’ like a bitch in heat down there.”

You were flung onto your back, eyes wide and scared, still dazed from the blow to your mid-section. Bo’s on top of you within’ mere moments, hands now latched tightly around your throat. You’re squirming under the weight of him, heels digging into the carpet and your mind beginning to haze over. It was brutal, you were almost certain that your eyes were going to pop out from their sockets if he pressed down any harder. He was showing sick, twisted restraint— you hated him, hated him so much for it too. He could just end your misery and get it over with. He could extinguish that inferno that builds up inside of your gut when you’re sitting in the passenger’s seat of his truck, windows down and taking in the breeze on back road’s, sandy curls that framed the nape of his neck swaying in the wind, pillowy pink lips curled into a grin as you sang along, obnoxiously, with whatever song he’d chosen.

Or when you’re both in bed, crushed against his chest, strong hand clasped against the swell of your hip bone whilst the other cradles a cigarette and he’d murmur praises in your hair and the crickets sang outside your window. Or when he made you true Louisiana cuisine, snapping at you to stop munching on his goddamned vegetables and grab him a beer from the fridge. When you did, he’d kiss the crown of your head. You needed, desperately, to get away from him. You’re in love with him inconsolably so, to the point where it’s killing you, right here and right now.

He let go. He fucking let go of you and then wrenched calloused fingers into your mouth, hooking the long, ringed digits over your bottom teeth and under your tongue, pulling down with such force that your head rattled. Your mouth popped open—slick and waiting, sobs bubbling in the back of your throat. His iris’ are pitch black now, the dark has swallowed up the light, primality glinting in pools of midnight hues. So busy gasping for air after his attack on your neck, Bo was anything if a man of true opportunity. He hadn’t yet made up his mind what he was going to do with you, what he would have to do to break you. You noticed gears turning in his head, pillowy pink tongue jutting out, running across his bottom lip. He wanted to hurt you, he was going to .. but there was something else, something that you couldn’t quite pin.

“Keep that fuckin’ filthy mouth open, ya hear?” Bo’s leaned down now, snarling into your ear, the smell of sweat and blood swimming in your nostrils. It was so overwhelming, so intoxicating. Made you burn down below, made you wither into yourself with shame. “I don’t wanna have ta’ ruin this perfect little face, that beautiful little mouth. My cock has always looked so good nestled in that throat, don’t ya think so, sugar? Makin’ me hurt ya’, thought ya’ knew better by now.”

A white glob of his spit pushed past his lips; dangled past his chin, slowly lowering into your plump mouth, one of his personal favorite assets on you. Now you’re squirming again, keening at him, a silent beg to cease his infernal teasing and sink his knife into your throat, but you should’ve known. He wouldn’t let you go that easily, not without proving his point first. His saliva’s drooling into your mouth — sliding it’s way down your throat and you’re swallowing it without any command, with meticulously trained obedience, courtesy of the man currently pinning you down to the dirty floor. He was smirking again, tongue poking out to wet his lips, and sanguine curls sticking to his damp, tan forehead.

“That’s fuckin’ right.” He crooned, “There’s my good, dumb little baby. Just how I want ya’. Don’t need one thought in this pretty head.” And then he backhands you, sharp and fierce. It busted your lip, throws your head to the side, makes you cry out in terror as pain radiates in your cheekbone. One hand made a quick work of hooking into your jaw again, keeping meaty fingers pushed invasively into your tongue while the other slid into your flimsy underwear. It hurt so bad, those fingers in your mouth and pushing against the newly opened wound on your bottom lip. And it felt good, too. So fucking good. He made a house inside decay and rot, and you lived there with him, singing songs on the radio and making breakfast in his shirt. Those wax figures were all laughing at you now, you could hear them. You were filthy, utterly grotesque.

Two calloused, rough fingers were on your clit. You’re strained and babbling into his hand, whimpering like some bitch in heat, as Bo so kindly put it. His deep, thundering groans does nothing to help your current state, only aiding your back in further arching, heart thudding wildly against his own. Slow, slicked circles around your swollen bud sent you reeling, exhausted legs still kicking underneath of his weight, white dots speckling your vision. His fingers were still locked on your jaw and stuffed inside of your mouth, and when you’d whined at him again because you felt like your teeth were giving way to his brute strength— he had taken his hand out of your battered mouth to send a ferocious slap to the same cheekbone as before. Bo knew that it would only hurt more that way … it did.

“B-Bo! Stop, p-please, just fucking kill me!” You cried, fingers digging into his white v-neck, as if attempting to anchor yourself into him, into that moment. Sticky, warm tears were freely flowing now, and he leaned in your face to lick them off your bruised cheekbone. He always did love how quickly bruises blossomed on you, like paint to canvas. His breath, always so hot and wet, invaded your rattled senses. Then, all at once, he sinks two fingers into your core, giving you no time to adjust before setting a brutal pace that had your legs shaking, your head thrown back against the staircase. “Stop Bo, stop, stop! F-fuck, I can’t take it! Please, please!”

“I know you’re lyin’ to me, angel.” He kissed your inner earlobe—sloppy wet kisses careening down your neck, before he stopped at your jaw to bite down. It hurt so bad, the skin breaking, your moans turning into sharp, bellowing shouts of agony. The dig of his fingers were keeping you grounded, expertly finding the sweet spot inside of your body like all the times before, calloused fingertips rubbing into the sponge of your g-spot and pulling an animal-like wail from the back of your throat, hips wrenching in an attempt to throw him off. “Christ, this cunt is fuckin’ droolin’. Makin’ a big ‘ole mess. You don’t know what to do with yourself whenever ya ain’t gettin’ stuffed fuckin’ full, do ya? Fuckin’ empty inside, needin’ somethin’ to scratch that itch.”

Tears continued blurring your vision- chest heaving as you struggled to intake enough air underneath of Bo’s braun. Your heels have stopped digging into the filthy, dusted blue carpet beneath your feet. Your fingernails have stopped assaulting his neck and chest, leaving a litter of angry, crimson red welts and scratches behind, which had only seemed to spur him on. His lips found yours, another all too familiar occurrence, gnashing of tongues and teeth and blood and spit and regret and stone-cold hatred and unspoken love all at once, your peak lurking dangerously close to the surface. He was right, always right. You needed him, needed this. You craved it, actually, and the realization only made your tear ducts well up more. When he broke away, he was feral looking as he loomed above you. And when Bo’s lips pursed to send another big, white glob of his spit directly into your face; spittle hitting your sore cheek, chapped lips and bruised chin, you screamed out for him, fingers digging into his back and arching off the floor with a steady groan, eyes rolling in your skull as wave after wave of euphoria overtook your body. His teeth were digging into your collar bone now, tearing skin and growling like a rabid dog, his arm was under your back and holding you against him as the rest of your orgasm has turned you into a mewling, squirming mess in his tight hold. Like a little kitten, you thought, trying to wriggle free from grasp and scamper off into the woods.

“Right there, angel. Jus’ like that. Feels so good when you’re cummin’ all ‘over my fingers, don’t it, my sweet girl? Almost made me forget about your punishment.” His southern drawl, filled with false comfort and low, rumbling honey, turned venomous again. “I’m gonna fuck ‘ya into the ground now, little bunny. When I get done with ya, maybe you’ll finally fuckin’ understand exactly where this sloppy cunt belongs, after I fuck it stupid. Not that you need any fuckin’ help with that.”

You were thrown onto your stomach, head smacking against the staircase and making you simper in pain; although, not as much as the hard knee pressing into your spine suddenly did. You cried out, legs aimlessly flailing once again. You could hear him making hasty, frantic work of his black leather belt behind you, and grumbled curses leaving his blood-stained lips. Your entire body was sore and stinging, eyes filled up with tears and dried tears staining your purple and yellow cheekbones. Your lip was split, your cunt was aching, sputtering and clenching around nothing, your spine threatened to give way underneath the weight of his clothed knee. “I-I’m so sorry, B-Bo! Please, please, I won’t ever run from you again!”

And when you heard the metal buckle release, before that same belt looped around your hands — securing them to the small of your back, you felt the weight of Bo’s love for you. He didn’t want to kill you, he didn’t want you to leave him. He couldn’t fathom what he’d ever do without your scrambled eggs and toast thats always just a little too burnt in the mornings, without your pattering footsteps behind him while he worked about Ambrose, always lingering and always wanting, eager for any chance to be near him. Or without your perpetual, infuriating kindness, how you’d cradle the nape of his neck and press kisses to his sweaty head, whispering in his ear how good he is, how he’s worth something. No, he couldn’t kill you, couldn’t ruin this, but he could make it hurt— he’d always make it hurt. Snarling, he took his boot off of your spine and made quick work of shedding your denim jeans and undies, pulling them down your legs with jarring force. You’d arched back into him without realizing it, seeking his warmth and his embrace. He laughed at you— again, reaching down to pull himself free from the confined black slacks around his waist.

“Ya ain’t sorry for nothin’ yet, angel.” He made a noise similar to annoyance in the back of his throat, “But ya will be, that I can promise ‘ya. If ‘ya wanna act like yer some disobedient little mutt with no fuckin’ common sense or house trainin’, forgettin’ what i’ve taught ‘ya, that’s how yer gonna get fucked.” With one big hand pressing in between your shoulder blades, whilst the other found purchase underneath of your waist, Bo’s cock was pressed up against your heat. Your stained face was pressed down into the carpet, which smells soured and stale from years of abandonment. You’re holding your breath, still trembling, waiting for Bo to sheath himself inside of you. “Here I was, fixin’ to be sweet on ‘ya tonight for being so good ‘fer me lately, only to find my angel tryin’ to run away. Mama must have been right, i’m a damn fool. You wanna break it, darlin’? Break this old heart of mine?”

You sobbed into the carpet—fingers digging into the fabric. You felt guilty, felt so damned guilty. It’s part of your sickness, part of who you are now. You never wanted to hurt him, even when you had opportunity, even when he made you bleed and scream and beg. Never wanted to know a world without him, without ocean blue eyes and calloused hands and the smell motor oil left behind on his clothes. If you ever were found, a therapist would tell you that you have what normal people call Stockholm Syndrome. All of your friends would plead with you to see reason and stop thinking about him. Your parents would want him to spend his life in prison. And all the while, you would dream of being back here with him. You’d be in that small cell with him, refusing to leave his side. You’re filthy, and fucked up, and dirty, belonging all to him.

Your tongue wanted to stick out childishly, at all the ghosts who’ve been taunting you since your arrival; wanted to tell them all to shove it. He was yours, he cared about you. You had him in a way that nobody would ever have him again. You ruined him just like you’re ruined now, bound together by your vileness, something not even Trudy could say from her grave.

“N-no! I never want to break your heart, please,” You didn’t know what you were pleading for, pushing the warm clench of your pussy into the head of his cock, “Bo! I need you, I need you so bad, p-please fuck me hard and make it hurt! I-I need it to hurt please, sir.”

The levee broke. Bo slid into your wet, willing hole with an ease that was almost embarrassing. Almost. This is where you were meant to be, right here- pinned under the man who you loved more than life itself, even if it’s never going to make sense again, even if it’s so wrong. Even when you felt him push your body into the carpet, even more so than it already was, his breath steady on your goosebump-ridden back as he gains his bearings, hissing through clenched teeth at the feeling. You held your breath, wanting to savor the sound, knowing that it’s your body that makes him lose his composure. His ringed fingers dug painfully into your shoulder blades, but you didn’t mind. Your face was smushed down into mildew-coated carpet, and you still didn’t mind. You’d pry open your chest and wrap your fingers around your still-beating heart, handing it over to him if that’s what he wanted from you. When he grants you with another bone-shattering thrust, hard and deep, stopping for a moment to grind his pubic bone into the flesh of your ass, you snapped back to reality with a loud wail, that bounced from the walls of the small home and makes Bo’s pillowy top lip curl up into a pleasured sneer.

“That’s my fuckin’ angel. My good fuckin’ girl, always ready to be pumped full ‘o me, aren’t ya?” That damn southern drawl, you could live inside of it if he’d allow you to. You nodded, the best that you could with your face shoved so brutally into the floor. But that wasn’t good enough, not for the man behind you. Bo’s thick, veined hand took mercy on your shoulder blades and grabbed a fistful of your matted hair, whilst the other locks itself around your waist in an iron clad grip that made drool start pooling in the corners of your dried, cracked open lips. “Speak up when I’m talking to ‘ya, girl. Won’t bother sayin’ it twice, either. Use ‘yer cute little lips and start singin’ pretty for me, sugar.”

“P-please, sir! I need it so bad, need to be full of you, need to be yours! Please, fuck me, please!” You were absolutely wrecked before he even started, babbling directly into the carpet while his hand held your face there by your hair, scalp stinging so pleasantly, your mouth drooling and hanging opened, waiting for yet another sticky, wet surprise from his mouth. And he began fucking you, in earnest, balls slapping against your ass with a volume that should be disgusting, so damned raunchy that it could’ve hit top views on the latest porn channel. You couldn’t get enough, didn’t want to ever get enough — wanted to feel that cock, always so thick and angry, plunging into your achin’, soaked little hole for the rest of your life.

“Right there, sir! Oh, fuck yes!” You’d moaned into the creaking staircase—your body moving on it’s very own accord, pushing yourself back against his brutal thrust, desperate for any release that he we going to give you; crimson blood still leaking from his nose and falling on your bare back with little droplets that makes your toes curl into themselves, cracking at the bone. There was a prominent warmth in your belly, a dam that was sheer minutes away from breaking, a heat that made the chill, morning breeze seem piping hot. You’re clinging to the surface, grasping at whatever purchase you can find on the floor, screaming for him like a banshee. He felt too good, he felt so good, and you wanted to kill him for it, make him bite down on your rage and on your searing, weightless devotion to him. Get a taste of his medicine, make him bleed for your loyalty. He was pawing at you now, keeping you in place against him, driving his cock into you at a speed that should be considered brutality, hisses and low, thundering groans echoing. But you’re alive, your body on fire, your heart swelling.

“And If ‘ya really think that I’d let ‘ya slip away from me, you’re dead fuckin’ wrong.” Bo hisses into your ear as a coil began to tighten in your stomach. “Ain’t nothin’ on god’s green earth as sweet as this cunt and she knows who she belongs to. You’d just come back to me, baby, beggin’ me to take ‘ya back again. Thats if, ya don’t go blabbin’ to the pigs—like the fuckin’ bitch that ‘ya are.”

“I-I love you, Bo,” you’re sniffling into the floor, “Love you, so fuckin’ much. I’m not leaving- I need you, you make me so happy, sir.” You weren’t lying to him, and that’s the most devastating part. Bo hummed and he seemed pleased by your dramatic confession and the genuine sound of your voice, flipping you with a force that rattled your bones. You were dazed, whining and confused, the back of your head slapping against the staircase and further aiding your current state, all the white dots that danced in your vision returned, and it made Bo squeeze your inner thighs like he was trying hard to maintain his own composure, the sight of you reduced to nothing but a pliant, squealing little toy to use like a fleshlight was enough to make him tail spin.

Bo sits back on his broad haunches, pushing your thighs up against your chest and effectively folding you in half, before drilling into your core at a numbing pace that has your watery, puffed up eyes rolling back into your skull and screams that ran your throat ragged in seconds, the air between you both becoming so thick that you could practically taste it when you opened your mouth to keen for him, your hands reaching up to tangle in his tee-shirt, which you wanted to pull from his skin. He used the ball of his thumb to rub tight circles onto your clit, granting you one step closer to sweet, unabashed release. When Bo brought his hand up from his assault on your clit, to slap it without mercy, you began to spasm in his grasp.

“Keep those fuckin’ eyes open,” He snapped down at you, “Look at ‘ya, filthy fuckin’ bitch. Spread wide for me, cummin’ all over the carpet. You feel that, angel? Feel ‘yerself creamin’ nice and hard ‘fer me?” You do, could feel it starting in your toes, splintering it’s way through your body, spurting at the seams. You were delirious with pleasure— could hardly manage more jumbled whimpers and pleas for his mercy, for what heaven he’d be willing to give to you in this little hell, something that would be yours to keep.

“Y-yes, sir! It feels so fucking good,” You wheezed, “I’m gonna cum, sir! I’m gonna cum!” Jaw slackened, eyes squeezed shut, toes curled up, fingers bunched up into his old work tee-shirt. Your orgasm was a violent thing, turbulent and licking up your spinal cord. You felt your sticky, hot release spill down your thighs and onto his thighs, the wet clapping of your skin meeting his own sounded akin to the sweetest music you’ve heard, the symphony of your bodies colliding with a passion that you’d never, ever known before. Bo groaned, his peak wasn’t far behind, lurking just underneath the surface, his head lulling backwards to stare up at the cracking, white water-stained ceiling. This has to be his heaven, his own place of worship nestled between your thighs.

“Baby,” Bo’s body folded over your own, lips closed on your neck, red hot kisses left in his wake. “Gonna cum, gonna fill ‘ya up. Mark ‘ya from the inside out. ‘Ya ever pull this shit on me again, I’ll slit that fuckin’ gorgeous throat ‘an bleed ‘ya out like a snuffed deer. Hear me?” When Bo kissed you again, smooth as butter, tasting blissfully of copper and cigarettes — you hooked two trembling legs around his waist and pulled him deep, your hands finding purchase in his damp curls. Curls that you wanted to root your fingers through forever, anchoring yourself to him. You loved him, wanted to burrow into his skin and stay there for good.

“I-I hear you, sir! I’m so sorry, p-please forgive me Bo, wanna be so good for you.” You hiccuped, “Wanna be your angel. Please, let me be good for you, daddy. I’m empty without you, make it feel better.” It wasn’t very often that you flipped the daddy switch, made him so hot under the collar. But when you did, you knew you had him right where you wanted him. His groans, the resounding grumble that vibrated deep in Bo’s chest, was confirmation that you had him on a wire. There’s nothing left to do but send him teetering on the edge. When your hips came up to meet his thrusts, you did exactly that, wide eyes staring up in awe as his damp, disheveled frame succumbed to bliss.

“Jus’ like that, sweet girl, fuck!” Bo clenched his teeth, brows furrowed in concentration and head lulled while spurt after spurt of his spend painted your walls in the essence of him, marking his territory, making sure you understand who you belonged to. This was his, no one else’s, not even yours. After he collapses on top of you, panting and thoroughly exhausted from the chase you put him through and from fucking you into the carpet; he placed little, gentle kisses on your chest, up to your collar bone and neck line before finding your sore lips.

“Never run from me again, angel.”

“I won’t.”

With the world waking up outside and basking you in a glow of golden hue, you smiled up at him through dark, crimson blood stained teeth and when he returned the same smile back to you— his bloody canine’s showing, you know that you weren’t lying to him.

author’s note:

how are we doing? are we okay? yeah, me either. thank you all so, so much for reading! i have a lot more of ‘ole Bo sitting in my draft’s, more to come from yours truly.

[bengiyo]

Moonlight Chicken Ep 5 Stray Thoughts

Last time, things got complicated. We got to see Alan, and learned that he doesn't exactly accept that he and Wen are broken up; Alan and Wen are still living together because Wen can't afford to move out. Gaipa's mom joins the ranks of great parents, but is waving multiple death flags. Things came to a head with Li Ming and Jim, and we all realized how painfully aware of their lives Li Ming is. Heart successfully cheered Li Ming up, and we realized that the Chin Tickle is likely something Li Ming learned from Jim. Li Ming also snuck Heart out for a date and took him to meet members of the local deaf community. Finally, Alan showed up at the diner and started a physical altercation, so things are pretty messy.

Just like with Jim and Beam, I'm really glad we're seeing a glimpse of what Wen and Alan were before. It's fun to see First and Mix play off each other. I want this to be remembered as a gay drama, so we need to see more pairings. Still, they were together for over five years, so I kinda get Alan a bit more.

Cutting from their sweet first anniversary to this fight made me feel tense. First and Mix are great here, and I have to know what happened that soured a five-year romance. This fight feels like it could only happen between two people who know exactly how to hurt each other.

Chapter 5: Wrong You in the Right Time

So Gong seems to have a girlfriend.

Wen definitely has to move out. This can't hold anymore.

You know they must have filmed all the scenes at this other restaurant on the same day, because that same bird is chirping so loudly in the background.

Li Ming hates being told not to contribute, when these worries affect him too.

This breakfast is becoming so awkward, but I'm not surprised Gaipa and his mom are willing to help Jim.

You can see Li Ming growing up in real time as he pushes Jim about Wen.

Au Kornprom Nyomsil cameo as the bubble tea seller (he's the director of My School President). Very cute that it's an interaction with Fourth.

Heart and Li Ming picking up temp work as mascots in the mall was not what I was expecting, but I'm sure it'll let Wen meet them first.

And there he is. It's interesting how Wen can avoid talking about his relationship problems with Jim without Li Ming getting frustrated. Li Ming is determined though, and makes sure Wen knows that Gaipa is around more. I like how fond of the boys Wen is, and how quickly he adapted to communicating with Heart.

You can feel the age gap between Jim and Alan. Jim has no intention of trying to assuage Alan, because Jim knows there's nothing he can say, and they can both stay within the professional sphere in the bank. Still, Alan crosses that line when he asks for the pen, and Jim follows suit to assure Alan that he didn't know.

First is so good. The pissy little head jerk he gave when he realized Wen is involved with the diner loan stands out.

Gong's role in this show is to provide completely reasonable advice and clear perspectives.

Wen, he said to talk in person. Stop calling and just go to him.

Oh, Jim. You're absolutely valid for not wanting to get tangled up in someone else's affairs, but I am aching for you.

Fuck, Alan and Wen had rings?? No wonder he's been so upset. Wen should not have put them through this for half a year. This was a painful breakup scene. First and Mix have been incredible this episode.

Li Ming is lying. It's time for this to blow up.

Saleng also hasn't mentioned selling the dowry yet.

The real fantasy of this show is speech-to-text working consistently.

Look at Li Ming following the father's advice to use physical touch with Heart.

Okay, so Heart at least didn't crash into someone else, but his parents are going to freak about him being injured.

That scene with the family was difficult. Gemini is good, too. How long has Heart wanted to say that to his parents? They can't even communicate with him because they didn't learn sign. Did they provide resources for Heart to learn, but didn't use them for themselves? How long would this have gone on if Li Ming hadn't become his friend? How long has he gone without someone to understand him and hug him?

I like timing Wen's arrival after this fight between Li Ming and Jim. Li Ming questions whether Jim would neglect Li Ming like Heart's family, and stresses that he's the only one who could help. Now Wen is here and things are clear. Jim can't turn him away now.

[septembersung]

📖 - tell me about something that helped inspire this part of the story

🖋️ - tell me something about the writing process that went into this part of the story

❓ - author's choice! tell me anything you'd like to share about this part of the story "The priest nodded. “I understand. Do you know what I am? What agreement I offer?” Calm and collected.

He took a breath. “Yes.”

“Can you read?”

“Enough.” His father had tried.

“Write?” ”Enough.”

“And...” A first hesitation. “Are you fully initiated?”

Despite everything, he grinned. It felt lopsided and unnatural on his face. “Bishop Ananais, last year’s harvest on Gemini.”

The priest beamed. “That simplifies things.”

The woman beside him shifted suddenly and both men turned to her, startled. She laid her folded hands on the rickety tabletop. He saw her wrists were not bound, but were ringed with wide raw strips where something had dug into the skin. Though the hands were grimy, the nails were short and neat.

“Woman,” said the priest kindly, in a clear voice. She inclined her head slightly, but did not meet his eyes. “We are going to the new world,” he continued, slowly, “in the far outer system. I’m sure you know the law. Colonists without proof of intent to populate-” He paused. “To have children. Are not permitted to go. But we will not take you against your will.”

We? he thought. And then, But where will she go, if not with us? The vision of the dark, depressurized bay returned, and he shivered.

She did not answer, but sat still, her head inclined. The silence drew out and his heart sank. The priest’s impassive face grew sad. She did not understand. Was there no interpreter - ?

She raised her head. “I go,” she said, the Standard heavily accented. “Free.”

He felt as though he'd been clapped hard on the back. The priest jumped to his feet, bringing his hands together, joy in his face.

Swiftly the priest brought out a packet of papers. “You will sign the engagement,” he said, deftly sliding out the correct paper, and laying the government-issued red pen on top. “That will serve to get us aboard.”

A relief he hadn’t been looking for leaked like cold water down his chest. Just the engagement. And he firmly put his father’s face out of his mind."

📖 - I really wanted to explore arranged marriage, but in the worst of environments, with people who have very little idea what they’re doing. A little island of decency trying to be Catholic in a sea of moral bankruptcy. In my original vision, I wanted the motives and identities of the men to be murky for the reader until much later, so you don’t know if you trust them or not, but found I just couldn’t write it that way. This scene is the necessary staging ground, because I need to get these three strangers from awful circumstances legally bound together and on a ship to what they hope is going to be a kind of earthly promised land (spoiler: it’s not) so the real developments can happen in their relationships as they learn to trust each other and learn from each other.

🖋️ - This was a hard part to write. It is what it is right now but I’m not all that happy with it? I went through a couple iterations of the how the church-state relationship works and it needs some more thinking. I’m also not satisfied with how Mir works out on paper.

❓- Fr. Paul’s mandate is to get himself to the new world and establish a mission (this is illegal, which is why he attached himself to Mir and Adam in a technically different capacity.) He was selected for this necessary but the-opposite-of-prestigious duty because his superior dislikes him. He has a knack for getting himself in trouble by drawing attention to himself, like wearing his habit and rosary in public and ransoming captives from the trafficking rings with money he’s not supposed to spend. In the original draft, he had the cost of Mir referred back to his monastery, which I loved because it highlights the weird place of the church in this pagan society - kind of tolerated provided they stay quiet in public and generally assumed to be as corrupt as everyone else - but decided that sophisticated of a financial arrangement didn’t make sense in what’s essentially the Wild West in space. But I may revisit it if I flesh out more fully how the technically illegal but overlooked institution of trafficking/slavery actually functions and what comms tech they have.

[eternal--returned]

hello Bill Abbott: I appreciate your passing around my books in jail there, my poems and sotires. if I can ligten the load for omse of those guys with my books, fine. but literature, you know, is difficult ofr hte average man to assimilate (and for the unaverage man too); I don't like most poetry, for example, so I write mine the way I like to read it.

poetry does seem to be getting better, more human, the clearing up of the language has something to do with it. (w.c. williams came along and asked everybody to clear up the language) then I came along.

but writing's one thing, life's another, we seem to have improved the writing a bit but life (ours and theirs) doesn't seem to be improving very much.

maybe if we write well enough and live a little better life will improve a bit just out of shame. maybe the artists haven't been powerful enough, maybe the politicians, the generals, the judges, the priests, the police, the pimps, the businessmen have been too strong? I don't like that thought but when I look at our pale and precious artists, past and present, it does seem possible.

(people don't like it when I talk this way. Chinaski, get off it, they say, you're not that great. but hell, I'm not talking about being great.)

what I'm saying is that art hasn't improved life like it should, maybe because it has been too private? and despite the fact that the old poets and the new poets and myself all seem to have had the same or similar trouble with: women government God love hate penury slavery insomnia transportation weather wives, and so forth.

you write me now that the man in the cell next to yours didn't like my punctuation the placement of my commas (especially) and also the way I digress in order to say something precisely. ah, he doesn't realize the intent which is to loosen up, humanize, relax, and still make as real as possible the word on the page, the word should be like butter or avocados or steak or hot biscuits, or onion rings or whatever is really needed. it should be almost as if you could pick up the words and eat them.

(there is some wise-ass somewhere out there who will say if he ever reads this: "Chinaski, if I want dinner I'll go out and order it!")

however an artist can wander and still maintain essential form. Dostoevsky did it, he usually told 3 or 4 stories on the side while telling the one in the centre (in his novels, that is). Bach taught us how to lay one melody down on top of another and another melody on top of that and Mahler wandered more than anybody I know and I find great meaning in his so-called formlessness, don't let the form-and-rule boys like that guy in the cell next to you put one over on you, just hand him a copy of Time or Newsweek and he'll be happy.

but I'm not defending my work (to you or him) I'm defending my right to do it in the way that makes me feel best. I always figure if a writer is bored with his work the reader is going to be bored too.

and I don't believe in perfection. I believe in keeping the bowels loose so I've got to agree with my critics when they say I write a lot of shit.

you're doing 19 and ½ years I've been writing about 40. we all go on with our things. we all go on with our lives. we all write badly at times or live badly at times. we all have bad days and nights.

I ought to send that guy in the cell next to yours The collected Works of Robert Browning for Christmas, that'd give him the form he's looking for but I need th emoney for the track, Santa Anita is opening on the 26th, so give him a copy of Newsweek (the dead have no future, no past, no present, they just worry about commas) and have I placed the commas here properly, Abbott?

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Charles Bukowski ֍ "Christmas poem to a man in jail." what matters most is how well you walk through the fire (1999)

[sunofmoon]

Hello, how are you? I hope you are doing fine. I want to ask your opinion, but before that, I want to inform you that I don't have any intention of hating anyone. I only want to know what you think of this.

It's clear that Neymar is back with Bruna B nowadays because he's been wearing a ring on his left hand. I want to know your thoughts about their relationship.

And since I asked your opinion, may I also put mine?

Idk why, but tbh, It feels not right. About they're getting back together. And for the nth time, I don't try to gain or spread hatred here. I only really want to know your opinion.

Because for me, Ney and BB seem fake their love(?) It just seems off and strange in some way(?) Idk how to explain this.

A few times, I really wish for Ney to get back together with Carol because she looks more genuine, elegant and not an attention seeker. But we also know how this is ridiculously dumb since Carol is already married and have a wonderful family.

With BB, I think Ney's sex needs are fulfilled. While BB gets fame and money. Thus, he's known for his unconditional love for Marq back then. And I know that maybe I'm being delusional, but if you take a better look, BB is trying hard to look like BM and this is really not right. BB used to be pretty by looking like herself, she used to look pretty in her old Instagram-tagged photos. But recently, her filler and surgery are too much till really overwhelmed and fake at some points.

I just hope if they're faking their relationship just because they're used to being like this, I hope they will be separated for both own goods.

I really wish for Ney to be settled in his own family, built by the foundation of love and values, within people who treasure and value him as Neymar da Silva Santos Jr, not only for getting into his money/fame/else like his present environment.

When he said Messi is his idol, somehow I wish for him to learn from Messi. Not only in terms of football but also in a life lesson.

So he can choose a better circle who really value him as a friend and not only to dip into some of his fame. Hahah. I also hope to see him getting married, to someone that is not an attention seeker, the one who's like Carol/Anto, and seeing MSN having a good holiday together. LOL

Because sometimes, it's just sad you know to be him.

One time he was that good. He's guaranteed as a future player in his prime for the talent he had, but in an instant, he ruined it by moving into another club for money. Right now, not only his career in football that is ruined but his love life is also ruined. As if everything is never right, from having a greedy father to having an "I'm sorry" quite fake fiancée. Even for friends, the only genuine is some of his National Team, Messi, Suarez, some of his mate in Barca, Paredes, Veratti, and some in PSG.

I don't know whether he's aware or not but sometimes, I saw him realise this fake and failed world around him, but in the end, since this is the life he used to live, he's okay with that since getting used to it.

I read on some website, that during his last surgery, BB left him for Brazil since she also has a life and dogs that need to be taken care of, so Nadine is the one who takes care of him and Ney also paid for BB's father's taxes(?) IDK if it's real or not. I know that I don't have any rights to this matter. It's just sometimes, all of this feels unfair. Hehe

Lastly, I hope we all can take a neutral opinion on this. I have no intention of hating anyone here. I only want to know the thought of some other Neymar fans.

Thank you for the answer and I am sorry if it's very long.

Hey anon!!! i am fine and you?

look, everything is fine! stay calm! here is a safe place for everyone, as long as it is not to spread hatred or any other feeling close to that. and i don't care how big the ask is!

i guess i'll have to apologize to you, because i probably won't be able to give the answer i'd like. it may sound ironic, but i hardly follow ney's dating b.b., i basically only see some news when they are everywhere (example: this supposed pregnancy), so i don't feel i have enough repertoire to have an opinion about their relationship.

life is much more than photos on insta or news in tabloids, so I have no way to affirm if what they have is true since I'm not present in their intimate moments or daily routine.

about carol, i particularly love the fact that both she and ney managed to have the maturity to form a family even without being a couple thinking about davi's well being. they are friends, they are a family and they work well that way!

and obviously, i would love for MSN to spend their vacations together, to have "a similar social life", that they could fill us with pictures with their children and wives, but i think it is also important to understand that this is a decision that is up to neymar himself. i also don't like his father, i believe that many bad decisions that ney made were due to his father's influence, but he is already a grown man and it's time to take the reins of his own life.

this is probably not the answer you would like, i apologize for that, by the way! but my point is, as much as ney has leo in his life and gets good advice, as much as he has us, his fans, trying to protect him, he is a 31 year old man. he is not a child anymore. he has to start deciding which people are good for him.

[taintedsorrow]

@neonsnailcity I'm not as good at putting my thoughts together in a concise way nor do I have the time to really sort through to fish out examples to back up my reading, but this is probably a whole ass write up @vitasexualiiis would want to do, since we talk about it together quite a bit?

Some basic bullet points would be:

He has pretty extreme control issues, and I don't say that dismissively or to be insulting toward his character. He feels like the obligation falls to him (and often him alone) to make sure large scale chaotic and dangerous situations don't get more out of hand than they already are. This obligation extends to ignoring his own feelings and desires in favor of acting the logical and strategic leader. He puts the organization's self-preservation (and in extension, Yokohama's) in front of his own in a way that, while he views this as necessary, and maybe it is, is definitely at the expense of himself in many cases.

The whole Elise situation. Which is a lot to unpack, and relies heavily on some difficult to fully "prove" interpretations. But personally, I view Elise as most likely a manifestation of parts of his psyche he may not be fully in control of, while simultaneously being an outlet for some of his compulsions/avoidances. She gets to be a little kid. She gets to be a spoiled brat. She gets to eat as much cake as she wants, etc. etc. I could spend a lot of time going into this and maybe I will at a later point? The (very) short of it includes: he spoils her as an outlet for not being able to directly spoil himself, and she fights it, because there's the "rational" part of himself that is always in conflict with that desire. (I think a lot of fans like to forget that Elise is his ability, it is not a person, it is simply a magical manifestation. I'd like to point out that Fukuzawa calls it a "thing" and a "fiend" and extends no shred of empathy toward it as a "person", and this is Fukuzawa.)

What I also see as Compulsive Shopping ("Retail Therapy") behavior, which is an extension of the Elise situation. He obviously takes Elise on shopping sprees as a reaction to stressful situations. I don't know if this needs more elaboration tbh.

There's a part in the Guild Arc where he revisits the blood stain he left on the well after he killed the old Boss at a point of uncertainty... there's a whole lot to say about it, but the act feels like it speaks for itself in context of what's going on (@vitasexualiiis may have talked about this scene before, but I can't find a post to link to so I might revisit this).

Violent urges/impulses. He has moments where he clearly has some violent thoughts and impulses that he obviously has no actual desire to act on, but that you can see very clearly flash through his mind, and he does seem to need to vocalize these. A clear example that sticks out in my mind is when he has his reaction to want to "kill Fukuzawa", which he expresses and concerns Chuuya, but obviously that was never his intent and never has been.

Probably will read as a throw away to most people, but his character info sheet has his dislikes listed as Dirty Things and Raw Food, which are two of my biggest triggers, so it's hard not to read into it as one more glaring example.

... there really is a lot more I could elaborate on and fish out specific examples for, but it's a start. It's really hard for me to look at him and not see his character defined by it. Obviously, he's more than that as a person, and I find him to be a very compelling character who I genuinely adore. I also think there are alternative ways of interpreting his character, but this is what rings true for me.

[casspurrjoybell-26]

Made of Steele - Chapter 34 - Part 2

*Warning: Adult Content*

Kit

I watch Jamie re-wrap a towel around his waist and then come over to me, his beautiful dark gray eyes captivating me with a single glance.

"I have patience, just not for things I want."

Just like that, I'm falling deeper and deeper in love with Jamie Steele, as if it couldn't get any worse than it already has.

I can't help myself from feeling so incredibly lucky it is me that gets to be with him, to see him like this, to make him this happy, it's a big feeling that I hope never goes away.

Like a puppy, I follow behind him and into his bedroom as he starts picking up the clothes he laid out to dress into for tonight's Christmas dinner that we were hosting together.

Although I'd admit to being worried about tonight, I instantly became calm when I saw Jamie's face because I knew that even if tonight went bad, we would be good and that's all that mattered.

A month ago, I was stabbed in the stomach and it was the best thing to ever happen to me because if not for that, I would've never had the courage to do what I have always wanted to do.

I gave my brother CEO, I ended ties with everything relating to my father's company and most of all, I am in the process of moving to America, to be closer to Jamie and to make our relationship stronger.

The news of my departure wasn't lost on my family after being told that I was in love with a man and uprooting my 'life' to go be with him and... it made them furious.

Yet, it's been weeks now and my family, especially my mother, has come to accept that if they want to be in my life, they will have to always expect Jamie right by my side.

I had made my intentions very clear, Jamie was what I wanted and after ending my engagement with Jessica and my business deal with her father, I felt like that weight my father put on my shoulders had disappeared, making me feel like a whole new man.

"Are you just going to keep staring at me?" Jamie asked as I blinked and focused on his eyes.

Was I staring?

Sometimes I just can't help myself.

He's just so damn beautiful.

"I was just thinking."

I smiled at him, watching as he buttoned up his shirt.

"Second thoughts?" he said cheekily, making me laugh.

"Not even for a second," I scoffed, as I put my hand in my pocket to nervously touch the contents inside.

My heart was beating so fast I thought that any minute I'd blurt the words I so desperately wanted to say out loud but the look on Jamie's face made me hold back, as he sat on the edge of his bed whilst he put his socks, then shoes on.

Since the moment I opened my eyes in that hospital room, I knew what I wanted, I wanted to be with Jamie, for however long who knew but one thing I did know was that there was no life for me without him.

I had been carrying around an engagement ring in my pocket for a week now, whenever we went I would carry it with me, hoping for the right time, any time, to just say the bloody words out loud, to get it off my chest.

I knew we were young and Jamie had his whole career ahead of him, being a very successful and creative painter, I knew that marriage would be a game changer in his life.

I didn't buy the ring to tie him to me but because it was the only thing I could do to show him just what I was willing to give and to share with him, if he was willing to also do the same.

I knew he loved me too but the fear of him turning me down because of how soon it was, was almost too much to bear.

So I held my tongue and watched him stand up, fully dressed and looking straight at me and to me, Jamie was the sexiest guy I have ever seen in my life.

He stared at me and for a moment I saw a panic swirl in his eyes as he opened and closed his mouth but no words came out.

Was he having second thoughts?

"Jamie..."

"Move in with me," he blurted out so loudly, it was almost a shout.

My eyes go wide as I stare at him, his face turning a beautiful shade of pink as his eyes try desperately to hold focus with mine as my heart beats rapidly in my chest as the words ring in my ears.

"I was going to ask earlier... but with dinner and stuff..."

He rubbed the back of his neck, which was now blushed red.

"Our family knows... we're dating and with my studio being in the city, it'll save you time and money to buy an apartment, plus we'll see each other more so we won't have to constantly travel just to..."

"Yes."

I couldn't wipe the smile off my face if I tried, once I wrapped my arms around Jamie, there was no ever going back to how things were, this was how things were always meant to be.

"I love you, of course I'll live with you."

I bit back a laugh, as Jamie's timid hand rested on my back, as I noticed the tip of his ears red.

He was nervous about asking me to live with him... which only made me want to hold him more and tighter, for as long as physically possible.

How does he do this to me?

It makes me so happy that I wonder if I had ever felt this fulfilled in my entire life before I met him.

"Ugh."

He turned away from me, hiding his face.

"Don't be weird about this," he mumbled, making me laugh out loud.

I knew then that I had no reason to be scared about waiting to 'pop' the question to Jamie because it could be tonight, a week or a year from now and I'd still know that he'd be mine and I would be his.

Just then, as I touched the ring in my pocket, there was a loud knock at the front door to Jamie's studio, making us both look at each other, knowing that it was either mine or his family.

"Are you ready for this?" he tiredly said, with a small smile on his lips as he put his hand on my arm.

Ready?

Hahaha...

"I'm ready for anything, as long as I'm with you."

Jamie laughed and then shook his head and with one last kiss before we went and opened that door for our family, we enjoyed that moment of silence that we shared and like that, I removed my hand from my pocket and interlocked my fingers with Jamie's.

"Let's go."

This was the new beginning of life together and we knew that as long as we were together at the end of the day, that was enough.

That was how it should be, for as long as we loved each other, we were made of steel and nothing could break us apart.

The End

[sherlollyandspoilers]

We’re worth it, Chapter 17, September 16th and 19th

Chapters 1 through 16 of We’re worth it can be found here

Here be Dragons is the original fic that this fic is a companion piece for /  HBD timeline: end of Chapter 15

September 16th, A few days later

As he leaned over to press a kiss to her lips, the chain around his neck shifted and her engagement ring fell, settling in the hollow of her neck. Reaching up, she slipped her finger in the band. She examined it in the dim light and felt his eyes studying her.

“When do I get this back?” she asked, flicking her eyes to his.

Frowning, he wrapped his hand around hers and pulled the band off her finger. As he pressed her palm to his lips, he sighed, his eyes closing.

“Not yet,” he whispered. She blinked several times, holding back the tears that were threatening to overflow. “I still have things I need to do before I deserve to see it on your hand.” He opened his eyes and sat up so he could take both of her hands in his. “But I am ready to forgive you for trying to keep your pregnancy a secret.” She shifted higher on her pillow, listening intently. “I…” he faltered, clearing his throat, “I have spent the last couple months wrestling with my own demons about this…my feelings of inadequacy as a father, as a friend,” pausing, he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, “and as your future husband…I believed you when you said that the reason you didn’t tell me was because you were ashamed of yourself but my own head kept lying to me.” He gave her a small smile. “Thank you for reminding me these past few months that you trust me with Mina.”

September 19th

June eyed the two of them as they chit chatted about their day and the weather. “You two are in an exceptionally good mood today…did something happen this week?”

The two exchanged a look and Molly nodded at Sherlock, seeming to tell him to share.

“I told Molly that I was ready to forgive her for keeping her pregnancy a secret,” Sherlock started. “It has been some time and it should not have taken me so long considering everything I have put her through.”

June cleared her throat, interrupting him. “I know that it has been a little while since we have discussed this, but forgiveness does take time. Also, just because you have done something wrong, does not mean that someone else cannot wrong you. The two things are not mutually exclusive.”

He nodded, scrunching his nose as he thought. “Molly having kept the pregnancy a secret intensified my feelings of inadequacy; my own demons were what truly kept me from forgiving her because I wasn’t ready to forgive myself for failing as a father and a partner.” He paused before continuing. “I am still not ready to forgive myself, but I see these two things as different issues now, allowing myself to forgive Molly because I understand how it feels to want to hide something when you’re mad at yourself.”  

“I love when clients make the connections for themselves!” June leaned forward and held up her hand to him. Sherlock stared at it with an eyebrow raised. “No? Alright.” She sighed and high-fived herself, sitting back in her chair. “So, as I was sa…” She noticed that the two of them were staring at her, very confused expressions on their faces. “You know, my weirdness can really only stay buried for so long.”

The two sat for another moment, before shrugging in agreement.

“It felt really good to hear him say that he forgave me, but honestly, hearing that he is still struggling to forgive himself makes me a little sad.” Molly rubbed a hand over her belly, wincing. “And apparently he agrees.”

Sherlock reached over and palmed her belly, before drumming his fingers a few times. After a moment, Molly seemed to relax and took his hand in hers.

“I want to try something new with you two,” June started again. “Sherlock, we have discussed your self-loathing and I know you have also been working on it with your recovery therapist.” He nodded. “And Molly, you have shared your own negative self-talk in sessions…so I am assuming that you have both heard of daily affirmations?” They nodded. “Most of the time we think of affirmations in the context of something we say to ourselves, but what I want you to do is daily couples’ affirmations.” She got up and searched through her drawer quickly before coming back and handing them each a sheet with about 15 different examples. “For this first week, I want you to purposely make time to sit down and say 3 of these affirmations to the other.”

“Okay,” they both agreed.

“This can seem easy to start with, but I want you to practice before you leave. Go ahead and pick 3 off the list that you want to say to the other.” She gave them a moment to search. “Now, turn your chairs so you are facing each other directly.” She waited as they moved their chairs. “Who wants to go first?”

“I can,” Molly smiled.

“Sherlock, while Molly is saying these to you, I want you to give her eye contact and keep a relaxed posture.” He nodded. “Whenever you are ready Molly, go ahead…make sure you give him about 10 seconds between each affirmation.” She nodded.

“Sherlock, you are an unstoppable force of nature.” Molly’s smile didn’t waver, but June noticed that Sherlock swallowed hard with the comment. “You are brilliant and creative.” He kept his eyes on her. “Your past does not define you or your worth.” His back became ridged, and he dropped his eyes away from her, towards June.

“I don’t like this exercise.”

June nodded at him, before looking at Molly. “How was that for you?”

“I loved being the one to speak truth to him.” She reached out and squeezed his hand, bringing his eyes back to her. “It gives me a way to show him how I see him.”

“Exactly.” She turned back to Sherlock. “What was hard about that for you?”

His eyes became unfocused for a moment as he thought. “Being an unstoppable force has not always been a good thing for me and hearing her say it in a positive light was a new point of view.”

“And the affirmation about your past?” she prodded, not letting him off the hook.

He gave her an exasperated look. “Was my comment about my demons not enough to cover that today?”

She scoffed and shook her head. “You ready to give affirmations to Molly?”

He nodded and looked back at Molly. “You are strong.” “You are determined.” “Your soul is beautiful.” Molly had tears running down her cheeks by the time he was done speaking. He looked back at June, “I still don’t like this exercise…I just made the pregnant woman I love cry, again.”

June and Molly laughed as Molly wiped her face. “Despite her pregnancy hormones, how was it to speak those words to her?”

He thought. “Nice.”

“How was hearing those words?”

“I enjoyed hearing those types of things coming from him.” She paused a moment. “Even though I don’t always feel those things about myself, its nice to know he thinks them about me.”

June smiled at both of them. “Thank you for practicing, you can turn your chairs back.” She twirls her fingers in the air. “Again, your homework for this next week is to pick a time that you are going to sit down every day and say 3 affirmations to each other. I suggest starting with this list and then as you get used to it, you can start branching off with your own.”