#And basically burn the bridges with his family

[danadaria]

AU where Steve Harrington has an older brother and look like this

[badolmen]

Actually I think I’ll die mad at my bros high school girlfriend. I hope she gets stuck in stop-and-go traffic for an hour every time she travels for more than 20 minutes.

[palluniskillas]

But not every parent deserves a child.

[arminsumi]

SAKURA.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 — 五条悟 ⋅ fem reader

NOTE: i really liked this idea and merged it with my little daydream of Gojo being in his clan and meeting you in a small village (like before he moved to the city or something) and tweaked it just a lil bit if that's ok!! i hope i delivered, and mwa ty for your request lovely anon i hope i got it all right, enjoyyy 💐

REQUEST: Can you pls write gojo who gets the Hanahaki disease cause of reader and gojos condition worsens so to keep the strongest alive the higher ups set up an arranged marriage with reader (her mission is to love gojo so he doesn’t die but she is defensive and uncooperative at first) but then she warms up to gojo (he does everything to make her happy) and they both live happily ever after 😭💕

SUMMARY — you meet a boy on a Taiko-bashi as a child. Little did you know, he was the prodigal son of the Gojo clan, and you would be married into that family to save his life.

WARNINGS — heavy angst to fluffy fluff, he steals ur first kiss, domestic life with ur kid Megumi at the end <3 😭, unrequited -> requited love, arranged marriage, quite a lot of blood/bloody flower mentions, disease/afflicted with coughing spells (see about the fictional Hanahaki disease here. Basically u cough up flowers and/or throw up full flowers if it gets life-threatening), poor boy almost dies, there’s a scene where it’s insinuated that he throws up a full flower, some teasing/playfulness yk the usual you'd expect from gojo, lmk if i have missed a warning thank u

WORDCOUNT ≈ 4.3k

PLAY ME ♪ bouquet — Ichiko Aoba

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 — サクランボ ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

When you were seven, a boy a few years older than you – perhaps two or three – passed you by on a Taiko-bashi in a small village. You remember him as the boy with peculiar eyes and white hair who looked back at you on the bridge. In your eyes, it was a very ordinary encounter with a very extraordinary looking stranger.

But in his infinitely blue eyes, there was ingrained a more meaningful and vivid memory of that encounter. He held it very close to his heart. When you and he made that brief eye contact as he looked behind his shoulder, slowing at his mother’s side, he felt a windswept, lovestruck feeling come over him. He batted his pretty lashes at you and stopped walking for a fleeting moment, as if captivated, and then went his separate way with the image of your face burned into the forefront of his mind. His kimono fluttered as he tended to walk in a gliding manner.

When you were fourteen, the same encounter happened again. A familiarly pale face with barely grown-in features looked back at you – his whole body felt a twinge of excitement. He only took one small moment to look at you and yet knew you were the same girl he saw as a child on this very same bridge.

Years went by, and the two of you kept encountering each other at peculiar times in your lives at that same bridge. Neither of you spoke to each other once, well, you didn’t say a word – but he uttered a few boyishly desperate greetings and even bowed as he glided past you to try and get your attention. If only you would have stopped for a chat, the poor boy would have given anything for that.

In some way, it felt like the two of you knew each other, though it was only your eyes that ever talked.

Come your eighteenth birthday, you were burdened with awful news. You were to be married to a man you had never met – someone from the Gojo clan. That person was apparently fatally sick with a disease you had scarce knowledge on. You asked your friend at the time, her name you’ve long forgotten by now, about Hanahaki and all she said was;

“Your lover is going to spit flowers in your face.”

You scrunched your nose up in disgust and confusion at this. A very silly image formed in your mind about the disease ever since your old friend had said that – all you could imagine was your future husband spitting saliva-wettened, half-destroyed flowers at your face.

The Gojo family and your family had always distantly known each other, hence all the visits to the village that they resided in. Your marriage to Gojo was long-debated throughout the years – yet neither you nor him knew anything about it. Neither of you prospected marriage, you were just the two strangers that passed each other on the Taiko-bashi every time the Sakura was in bloom.

The first time you and the son of the Gojo clan were introduced, it had already begun with a rocky start. You walked in when he had been overwhelmed with a coughing fit, and you were hushed back outside. The shoji door smacked shut behind you, and you heard sickly coughs piercing through the translucent sheets. When your future husband stopped coughing, and the blood and petals were cleaned up, you were brought back into the room. There were both your families and some important-looking officials in the large room, all formally sat on the tatami mats with mixed expressions. His mother seemed delighted at the sight of your face – but not more than her son.

Gojo Satoru, an eighteen-year-old at the time, with usually such a loud mouth and good joke up his sleeve, was rendered speechless when you had walked into the room. He analysed and absorbed every feature that made up the image of what he thought was the most charming and alluring creature ever to exist. Definitely a creature, he thought as you formally bowed with him, because no human could possess such an ethereal beauty.

Satoru was intrigued by you from your encounter on the Taiko-bashi, but when he was finally introduced to you he was utterly captivated.

The reasons and conditions for your marriage with the Gojo clan’s prodigal son conflicted with your strong beliefs in love and romance. You had rather aggressively told the poor boy your opinions in the days leading up to your wedding.

“I always thought,” you emphasized with a snotty tone, yet he listened to you like one would listen to the tranquil flow of the river under the Taiko-bashi, “that I would marry someone I loved, and not be forced to love…” you seemed so disappointed with how your life was turning out, that he couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for you.

“I’m a positive person, I have faith that you’ll fall in love with me in no time.” He said cheekily and winked at you. You felt very taken aback by such straight-forward flirting – you must understand, no boys in your village ever did that. They were very proper, even reserved.

He was almost charming in that instant, but then he added; “Who wouldn’t fall in love with me?”

At the time he was so full of himself that you could hardly believe there was space for any petals in his body. But there certainly was – when you left him alone in that room and stormed off, appalled by his conceit, he clutched the side of the door frame and coughed up little pink petals – enough to comprise three whole flowers.

It started worrying him, a few days before the wedding, when he started coughing more often. And not just that, but he started coughing up more petals than he had ever in his life. The peculiar disease had started during a time in his childhood that was coincidentally very close to the time he first passed you by on the bridge.

The night before the wedding, he laid in bed and brooded. And he was never the type to brood – he let life happen and moved on relatively easily. But he brooded, and brooded until it felt like he sunk so deep into his futon that he became one with it. The ceiling blurred.

What was going to happen if you didn’t fall in love?

That thought scared him so much that he violently drove it out of his mind and replaced it with an ideal daydream; he envisioned you and him cuddled up, bracing each other’s bodies, and melting into each other like real lovers do. He imagined you would be warmer than him, with that cool touch he had, and you would also stroke his hair. It was very fluffy, he made sure to point that out to you several times – but you never took a hint.

On the day of your wedding, he snuck to meet you just before the ceremony. He was crouched in the garden outside the room that you were preparing in. It’s then when he heard you voice your feelings to whoever it was helping you get ready.

“How can I love a stranger? And anyways, he is so full of himself, I can hardly believe there’s space for any flowers in there. There’s nothing I like about him.”

“Oh, Y/n, you have yet to learn about him. I’m sure you will find he’s rather charming. He is the pride of the Gojo clan, after all – he has the Six Eyes and Limitless. He’s the strongest, he’ll always be able to protect you – ”

It sounded like the woman talking about him was your mother, with how she praised him so much. She was right, Gojo thought; he could protect you from anything.

His expression was grave after hearing your thoughts. But he put on a lightened smile and masked his slight heartbrokenness when the rituals and main ceremony commenced.

It was a very formal, rigid ceremony. Gojo looked up at you sadly a few times, wishing you would spare a glance. He brooded on the idea that you’ll never love him like he loves you, and then a sickening, ticklish feeling spread in his throat and just as the closing ritual ended, he burst into a coughing fit – one of his worst yet. A bit of blood dribbled out his flushed lips, contrasting against his pale skin. Of course you were concerned – and of course you felt the urge to help and comfort him. But those feelings were purely out of the goodness of your heart.

Friends share love. But even when you and Gojo developed something resembling a friendship, it didn’t alleviate his disease. It was embarrassing sometimes, to realize that you were failing at the one thing you had to do; and that was keep him alive.

He was quite genuinely dying for you to love him.

Yet you refused to be in the same room as him for too long. Your mother had to encourage you. Eventually, both his family and your family worked together to make sure you and Gojo spent adequate time with each other. They organized meetups ranging from fancy nights-out to long voyages to weekend sleepovers. It was comical, how your families got along more smoothly than you and Gojo.

It’s the spring of his nineteenth birthday when the thought of kissing you becomes a reality. Well, it doesn’t go as he planned it. See, Gojo envisioned that kissing you would solve all his problems – he thought he could infect you with his love, somehow worm into your heart through a passionate kiss.

So when you and him sat for tea in a spacious room, kneeled side by side on the tatami mats, he went in for a kiss. You were distractedly straightening out your kimono when suddenly a pair of inexperienced, boyish lips crashed onto yours.

“Mmf!” you reacted with sheer shock – why on earth was he kissing you? The audacity, he had just insulted and made a mockery of you with a cheeky, playful attitude.

“Satoru!” you whined into his mouth.

He cupped the back of your neck and partly entangled his hands in your hair. White lashes sat pretty as he closed his eyes and glided his wettened lips over yours. For the briefest moment, you let yourself enjoy his kiss. But suddenly, as if your principles of love kicked back in and stomped on the moment, you shoved him away.

And a hard shove that was, he fell out of balance and landed on the mats with his elbows, a look of shock and surprise twisting into comedy.

“Playing hard to get?” he joked. His heart sunk ever so slightly at your rejection.

“You can’t just kiss a girl!”

“Come on, I’m your husband – if I can’t kiss you, then who is allowed to?” he asked.

You looked furious, like you were about to bite him, so he slowly started backtracking.

“I just wanted to see if kissing you would – ”

“How dare you, that was my first kiss! I thought I would have a cute first kiss, not a hasty one shared over… over a cup of tea!” you complained.

His expression changed and he started sputtering apologies. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know – I – ahuh!” he started lightly coughing.

And now it was your turn to feel apologetic, because all the bad tension between you and him brought on another violent coughing fit for him.

“I’m okay.” He choked out, eyes water and face reddened – some blood pooled at the corners of his lips, he instinctually brought his hand up to his mouth to catch any that dripped.

You rushed and kneeled over him, placing a much-needed soothing hand on his shoulder. “Satoru, I’m sorry.”

He tried to muster up a joke to lighten your worry, “H-hey, since when d’you call me S-Satoru? I thought it was strictly Go-jo.” he was interrupted by more coughing.

You comforted him, until his parents came into the room. They seemed disappointed with you, but masked it.

The night fell heavy all around the Gojo home. The barren Sakura trees’ branches subtly shook in the wind. A storm was approaching.

“Hey, sweetlips.” Gojo slipped into your room as you were in the middle of preparing for bed. “There’s a big storm comin’, if you get scared you can sleep with me.”

“Are you out of your mi-” you shut up when a sudden, extraordinary crack of lightning sounded and shocked you right out of your skin.

Gojo had a little laughing fit at your overreaction. He was completely calm at such a loud noise. Of course he was.

“I’m not sleeping with you!” you muttered angrily, but then you saw the dejection on his face – no, rather, you saw the way he tried to conceal it, and you felt bad.

Maybe tonight is the night you’ll try harder, you thought.

“Okay, well, don’t cry like a wimp if the thunder scares you ‘cause I won’t come running to soothe you.” He said and left you alone.

When he walked down the hall, his fingers grazed over his lips. All he could think about was how blissful it felt to kiss you, even if you did reject him. And he was your first kiss – maybe it was wrong to smile over that, but he couldn’t help himself as he climbed into the comforts of his bed.

A violent rainstorm engulfed the village.

As the lightning got more frequent and more terrifying, Gojo scrunched up his shoulders and half-hid his face under his blanket. He felt like a boy again, as scared of the thunderstorms as he was when he was seven years old. His pretty upturned nose peaked over the blanket, eyes glistening with tears as he recalled the fateful day you and him encountered each other at the Taiko-bashi.

He held onto that memory with a death grip. No one else ever had the honor of being so close to his heart, not even his best friend who he had made at Jujutsu high when he was seventeen. No, that heart of his he kept reserved for you. He thought to himself that night, while curling up on his side in pain, that even if he dies, at least he would die having been able to love you – albeit without reciprocation.

And then it happened. He shot up and let out a violent cough, and began spluttering over his white blanket. The thunderstorm was so violent that it muffled even the violent coughing in his room. His head felt like a dense ball of tension.

Unrequited love for many boys his age was heartbreaking, but not deadly. He morbidly laughed at that fact, observing the flower that he had thrown up onto his blanket, soaked in his blood.

He was dying.

He defeatedly closed his eyes, breathing through his blood-glistening mouth. His chest lightly heaved. “Y/n, you’re really gonna be the death of me… ah, oh well. That’s okay.” He muttered madly to himself and fell back onto his bed, too weak to stay awake any longer.

It was probably the work of the universe, but you floated down the unlit hall and tapped at Gojo’s doorframe. “Are you awake? Satoru?” you called his name in a gentle murmur.

There was an eerie silence. You slid open the door and caught a glimpse of bloodied sheets and a mangled-looking flower.

“Satoru!” you rushed over to him, stirring him awake with a harsh shake on his arm. “Satoru? Are you okay? Can you hear me?”

He groaned weakly – you felt a small relief. He wasn’t dead, though he really looked pale enough to be. His cheeks were flushed, his lips cracked and dry with residual blood.

Not a word you spoke sounded coherent to him though it was, all he heard was the soothing qualities in your voice. Though his vision was blurred, he knew it was you, because he felt the familiar air and scent of you.

He felt a strange sort of alleviation when you cupped his cheeks, murmuring something. Oh, when did he end up in a doctor’s room, laid on a patient’s cot? Weren’t you and him just in his bedroom at night, during a loud thunderstorm?

All he recalled was that you held his hand and squeezed it for a long time, while you were travelling somewhere. He remembered feeling your comforting presence each time his consciousness stirred.

“Have I died and gone to heaven?” he chuckled jokingly, feeling your lips press to his forehead.

“Huh?”

“Probably dreaming…” he muttered to himself.

“Satoru, you’re not in heaven you’re at Doctor Tanaka’s home.” You told him.

He pinched his eyes shut, overwhelmed by his afflicting sickness and Six Eyes.

“I’m so sorry…” he heard you speaking in a more tender voice to him than you ever had before. He felt the pressure in his chest lessen as you spoke, “… I was going to come to you because the thunderstorm scared me… no, actually, because I wanted to be with you. I felt this overwhelming urge to be at your side, and I don’t know why. Satoru, I’ve been such a fool. I’ve been such a scared fool, fearful of loving a stranger. Or, no, I guess I’ve feared loving someone I’m not supposed to be loving. You’re so special I feel driven away by it. But I promise I won’t flee from your love anymore, Satoru – I love you, and I’ll express it as much as I can in this feeble human form. The rest of our love will happen in the stars, after we die, I guess.”

He opened his eyes. It felt like the burdening fog that had been plaguing him since he was a little boy on the Taiko-bashi finally cleared. Everything felt fresh and sharp, and good and properly comforting. It felt like he had woken up from a long dream or arrived home from a harrowing journey through the landscapes of his mind.

“So you can be good with your words.” Was the first thing he said, and that was such a Gojo response that you knew he was okay.

“How do you feel?” you asked him, peering down at him.

He groaned and stretched and shifted around, fussing dramatically.

“I feel…” he began, and looked over at your lips. “Like I deserve to be kissed.”

“Oh, shut up you…”

He pouted. “Okay, ‘guess the kissing can wai- mmf!”

You kissed him very quickly and recoiled from shyness. His lips were divine.

He shot up out of the bed like he couldn’t just believe what happened.

“Wow.” He blinked at you. “So gutsy, you know you’re not allowed to kiss your husband!” he joked.

“You are such a – ”

“ – good kisser?”

“An idiot!” you giggled, genuinely enjoying his company.

The two of you bantered, basking in the newfound feeling of shared love. When the doctor came back in, he was preparing to witness the worst – but he was utterly surprised and at a loss for words when he walked in on you two smiling and laughing.

And it was the talk of the village. Neighbors gossiped, “Did you hear that Gojo Satoru is cured?” they spoke amongst themselves, “I heard! Apparently it’s a very romantic love story, did you read the newspaper article?”

You and Gojo drifted down the Taiko-bashi, together. He squeezed your hand when you set foot on the bridge, the cool skin of his wrist tickling your inner wrist as they pressed together.

“What are we doing here?” you asked him confusedly.

“Don’t you know this place? It’s the place we met.”

“Ooh, you’re romantic, huh?” you smirked.

A small blush crowned his cheeks.

“I’ve been romantic since the start.” He defended.

“What d’you mean! You were so cheeky!” you kicked his leg.

“I was quite a menace, I’m sorry – not sorry – kidding, kidding, I am sorry.”

He looked at you with a cheeky smirk, knowing damn well what you were talking about.

“You know…” he began, looking over the bridge at the river flowing beneath and admiring how the stream carried the Sakura blossoms. “Whenever I used to get coughing fits – bad ones – I would soothe myself with the memory of when we first met here. I can still recall the kimono you wore, and the Sakura that got tangled in your hair – and I thought about…” he came closer to you, speaking with a charming allure, “How badly I wanted to pluck that flower from your hair.”

You blinked up at him. How could such romantic words come out of him? You didn’t know how to respond.

“Ooh, did I make you shy?” he teased.

“No…”

“I totally made you shy. That’s so sweet. Are you blushing?” he giggled, putting his cool palm up to your cheek to feel the heat, “Oh, you’re blushing blushing. You could burn my hand right off.”

“Satoru!” you giggled.

“Ah!” he clutched his chest dramatically when you said his name, “Don’t say my name like that! I have a wife.” He joked.

“You are ridiculous!”

He gave you a big, toothy smile. “But you love me for it.”

“I do.” You tell him, and though he’s heard it many times after that day, each time feels like the first time you’re saying you love him.

“Gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease, slowly backing away off the bridge.

“Seriously? You’re gonna make me chase you for a kiss? I’ve coughed up petals because of you, ‘n you’re gonna do me like this – heyyy! Get back here!”

Running into the petal-littered streets like carefree kids felt so freeing and exhilarating. He felt like he was catching up on all the fun he missed, if only you would have lived in his village as a child or visited more often.

“Got you!”

“Ah! Jesus, you scared – mmmf!”

He didn’t hesitate to take a much-needed kiss from your quivering lips. He kissed you so hard that you felt dizzied, lost for breath, rendered speechless. And he relished the love pouring out from you.

You stood there being kissed by your husband in a quaint alley, standing tiptoed on the Sakura blossom-littered ground to meet him halfway. Gojo’s heart thumped at the smallest things, like the fact you were standing on your tiptoes – that was the cutest thing in the world to him.

The two of you took a break for breath, and silently admired the Sakura blossoms as they drifted, being swept away by the wind.

Gojo looked at them, and looked at you, and thought of everything that had happened up until now. He was about to say something lovey-dovey but blurted out a dumb joke instead just to hear your laugh.

“Damn, I used to cough up those things.”

You laughed, “Your jokes aren’t good, Satoru.”

“But you laughed.” He said cockily.

“Shut up or I will never kiss you again.” You playfully threatened.

“You don’t mean it.” He tilted his head at you. You cracked a smile.

On the walk home, he kept calling you various nicknames – all flowers.

That day became a cherished memory of the past as the two of you weaved your way into proper adulthood. And the nicknames followed; he went through the whole flower alphabet, even the bizarrely named ones, even the Latin root names. When he wanted to annoy you, he’d call you prunus subgenus cerasus.

Now Gojo fusses around the living room of his tiny Tokyo apartment, preparing food for a little boy of the name Megumi. The day is full and busy, but any second he can get with you, he relishes.

“My tulip, 'gimme a kiss.” He asks.

“Come get it.” You tease.

“Ew.” Megumi grimaces, hearing this exchange right as he walks into the kitchen. He walks right back out.

“Gumi, get back here, food is almost ready.” Gojo calls after him, then leans down to try and kiss you but you playfully dodge him.

It always happens like that – he asks for a kiss, you refuse jokingly, he chases after you for a kiss and you scamper away. Like a running joke that’s a callback to your past.

“C’mere, you – ” he finally snatches you up, too needy for a kiss to play around anymore. “Stay right there and let me kiss you.”

He enjoys every second of kissing you, embracing you tight like he’s never letting go. Just like when he first kissed you, Gojo cups the back of your neck and tilts his head to deepen the kiss. It has you breathless, gasping – he’s so alluring that you shudder.

“Satoru!” you scold, “The food will get cold…” you excuse.

“Okay, okay. But you owe me extra kisses tonight.” He winks.

“You’ll have to get them out of me yourself.” You tease.

“Oh, I will, don’t you worry. I’ll take every little kiss I can.” He says determinedly.

He pecks at your lips, savoring the sound and feeling of the act.

“Ew!” Megumi grimaces, and walks out the kitchen just as he walks in like earlier.

“Gumi! Food! Sit-your-silly-butt-and-eat! You rascal you.” Gojo lifts him by the armpits, and tickles him like a real dad.

Megumi is poker-faced at the tickling.

“Y/n, tell Gojo he’s being annoying.”

“Husband, you’re being annoying.” You murmur up at Gojo.

“Am I?” he smiles down at you, giving you another cheeky peck.

Megumi sighs.

“Stop spyin’ and start eating, little lotus.” Gojo threatens playfully.

“Dad. Save the flower nicknames for Y/n.” Megumi scrunches his nose up.

Gojo's face lit up. “Okay, okay. Enjoy eating, I'm gonna go see where she went off to.”

He hurried into the bedroom where you had wandered into and excitedly whisper-shouted “He called me dad!” he gushed like he was the happiest man alive.

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄.

[lionheartedmusings]

the thing about q!bad recreating the soulfire base basically block by block and planning to surprise the team with it is that it says a whole lot about him, where is was during purgatory, and where he is now.

q!bad spent months trying to burn bridges and push people away, he effectively placed himself in a distrusted position on the island, his children (the only reason that man breathes) vanished in the middle of the night, he was actively torturing himself and kidnapping people. he was a man on a mission, sure, but time and time again he reinforced to us the audience that he wasn't *happy* about what he had to do. his plan — whatever his plan is — is something he deems necessary enough to have been alright with ruining his own life. as he said to q!baghera: "i'm expendable".

suddenly there's hope in egg island, but egg island is actually a hellscape and he's trapped without his biggest support systems — q!bagi, q!baghera, q!foolish, and even to an extent q!forever were the people he had to take down, they couldn't be there for him anymore. and from his team? other than q!tina and q!aypierre, he wasn't close to anyone or was just... directly antagonistic towards them (mainly q!pac and q!tubbo).

and then the funniest thing happened — he found family in hell and in people he never truly expected to be comfortable around.

he grew to respect and care for q!tubbo, he grew much closer to q!tina, his relationship with q!aypierre was tested and strengthened, he found a connection with q!niki and by god, he protected q!pac — who'd once been terrified of him — with his life. even the people who didn't log on often, he grew to see as part of his pack in a way he (and i) didn't see coming.

when soulfire mains talk about them being the perfect example of found family, that's what we mean. slow, careful changes that grew into love and protection beyond belief — enough that when green gay ninjas were split, everyone was welcomed with a warm hug and a cup of tea, now part of the family undoubtedly and forever. just like that.

their family was hitting their stride when purgatory ended and q!bad tanked a nuke to his back to save his son, and now his bookshelves are all knocked over and his memory's slipping. he's dying, he knows he's dying, and he's holding on by a thread for dapper and pomme even if he's aware that he can't just "bear it" much longer. he's isolated again, hiding and lying about his condition, watching the world turn and knowing his clock is ticking... sometimes he knows nothing at all.

and in this moment of pain, and solemn realization of the end of this version of him?

he's spending his time rebuilding the last place that felt like home block by block, talking openly about how he feels nostalgic and misses their base, their god awful spawn, the memories they made. his time with his daughter has been spent down there.

i know we as a fandom have theorized that one of these days, his memory's gonna snap down there and he'll think he's back in purgatory and it'll be a mess. sure. but right now?

right now that rebuilt base means love, and friendship, and family, and safety. it's the last place things were okay, and he felt cared for in a way that frankly your children can't provide.

a group of ragtag mismatched people got put together in a poor man's hunger games and they saw this demon — bloodthirsty, destructive, full of cold calculated murderous intent and a need to win for his child and instead of being horrified, running away screaming from his fangs and his claws?

they loved him. they found the gentleness beneath the blood and guts. they called him their attack dog because he's so full of love and so protective, and would tear anyone to pieces to protect their family.

team soulfire saw q!bad in a way no one in the island had, and they loved him for it — even when he drove them up the walls and they had to hold the leash tight, they loved him.

and now he's remade their home.

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters React to Finding Fanfic/Fanart of Themselves: A Collab with Cosmereplay

As requested by anon :)

I asked @cosmereplay to collab with me on this anon's request, and happily, she agreed! Basically, I've written the fanart parts of this, and Cosmereplay has taken care of the fanfic parts since I, ah, don't read fanfic and wouldn't know the really good jokes.

1. Shallan, Adolin, & Kaladin Read Fanfic

Shallan (reading tags): Hmmm...ace Kaladin, aromantic Kaladin, bisexual Kaladin, bottom Kaladin (I'll have to look into that one later...), demisexual Kaladin, demiromantic Kaladin, dom Kaladin... Adolin: What are the relationship tags like? Shallan: Let's see... blushes thoroughly OH LOOK KALADIN/SLEEP! THAT'S SO SWEET! Oooh...Kaladin/Happiness! Kaladin: Everybody's a critic. Adolin: They just want you to be happy, Kal! Kaladin: I-I'm fine most of the time!

2. Elend & Vin Look at Fanart

Elend: Wow! Stunning! Magnificent! Vin (peering over his shoulder): Uh, Elend, I think you're supposed to be looking at art of yourself. Those are all pictures of me. Elend: Can you blame me?? I mean look at you here! Vin: I suppose I look...somewhat cool there. Elend: Ascendent, I'd say!

3. Ellista and Pai Read "Covenant" by liesmyth

Ardent Ellista: Oh you HAVE to read this one, it's the most popular Cosmere fic by kudos! Kaladin Stormblessed and Highprince Adolin are soulmates, it's so sad yet hopeful! Ardent Pai: I bet it doesn't even mention their class differences. Ardent Ellista: No it totally does! And it really gets in the way of them kissing!! Ardent Pai: Well maybe I'll take a look then.

4. The Kholin Family Look at Fanart: Part 1 (Dalinar & Navani)

Jasnah (slamming a large tome onto the table): All right, everyone. I've finished my extensive research into the fanart of our family. Jasnah: Dalinar, according to my findings, people on the internet find you (a) extremely sexy and (b) wish you to be shirtless on the beach. Jasnah: There is also extensive interest in you being strong but vulnerable in the face of Odium, which I believe goes back to point (a), your assumed sexiness. Dalinar: ... Dalinar: I see. Jasnah: Navani, the residents of the internet desperately wish to see you explore women as romantic/sexual options. Navani: ...In general, or specific women? Jasnah: Mostly Ialai and Raboniel, from what I have seen. You can see here, and here. Navani: Sure, makes sense. Dalinar: (Does it??)

5. Sigzil & Lopen Read Fanfic

Sigzil: Bridge Fourgy? Ohhh... oh no... Lopen: Well now you GOTTA read it, gancho! Sigzil: I will burn it is what I will do.

6. Hoid & Design Look at Fanart

Hoid: (huffing and harumphing) Design: Well, I think the art is nice! Hoid: (harumphing and huffing) Design: The colors are spot-on, there's some symmetry... Hoid: (muttering) I've been involved in practically every Cosmere-significant event...I tell stories with colors and magic imagery...I beat up Kelsier that one time... Hoid: But nooooo they only want to draw me in the Mare shirt with mismatching socks and sandals!!! AND TINY RED SHORTS Design: Wow, look at my boobs in this one! They're so round and shiny! Hoid: ...I feel like you are not sympathizing with me here.

7. Rushu & Jasnah read "The Princess and the Captain" by ailvara

Rushu: Your Majesty I looked into the most popular fanfic by hits and discovered it's an ongoing slowburn romance between you and, uh... well... Jasnah: Out with it, Rushu. Rushu: You and Kaladin Stormblessed. Jasnah: Me? And Kaladin?? But he's half my age! And we've done nothing but argue! Rushu (blushing): I think that's part of the appeal, Your Majesty. Jasnah: Give me that. (reading) Well if he said THAT then maybe I wouldn't have... hm... Rushu, cancel my appointments for the next hour, I need to finish this. Rushu: Of course, Your Majesty! (sotto voice) Thank goodness she still doesn't know about the Hoid foot fics...

8. The Kholin Family: Part 2 (Adolin & Renarin)

Jasnah (continuing to leaf through her large book of findings): Adolin, according to my research, the internet thinks that you are a handsome, sweet man who wishes to be with his friends. For example, here. Jasnah: It is mostly you, Shallan, and Kaladin, however you want to read that. Adolin: As...reality? Jasnah: Renarin, if you are not suffering emotionally alongside a stained glass motif, or suffering emotionally as a child alongside Dalinar, then you are with Rlain. Renarin: With him as in...? Jasnah: Yes. Renarin: ... Renarin: I thought we were being fairly subtle! Jasnah: You were not.

9. Moash & Leshwi Read Fanfic

Moash: What are the fics about me like? Leshwi: Well, you either die a violent, horrible death or you make tender love to... Leshwi: ... Leshwi: ...Kaladin Stormblessed? You know him? Moash: Ok so here's the thing

10. Moash & Kaladin Look at Fanart

Moash: Okay...I should definitely get my ears pierced, right? Moash: I mean...look at me. Look at me, Kal! Hot, right? Moash: ...Kal? Kaladin: ... Kaladin: [silently pushing this art toward Moash] Kaladin: There are a lot like this. Moash: What, of you standing? Kaladin: Smiling. Kaladin: People want me to smile, I guess. Moash: ... Moash: Well, I bet you'd smile more if I was always looking hot in earrings, huh? Kaladin: Heh, yeah, probably.

[suugarbabe]

[Chapter 5]

word count: 4.3k

warning: smut, fingering 18+ content MDNI

an: Theo is not mentioned in this chapter and I’m so very sorry but chapter 6 is very Theo heavy so I hope that makes up for it 🫶🏻

You and Enzo had made a routine of apparating to the club together. You had been doing this for about a week before the incident with Monti, but ever since that night Enzo was very firm that you arrive together. The first few days after it happened, he carried a lot of guilt with him for letting you go to the alley by yourself. It took heavy convincing, but you were pretty sure that you were able to convey how much it wasn’t his fault, and that you were glad he was there to help protect you.

Since that night, Mattheo had barely been around the manor. You could count on one hand the amount of times you actually saw him at the manor over the last two and a half weeks. It was more like you heard him more often than you saw him, and most of the time he was yelling. All of the other boys were being yelled at regularly, but Draco seemed to be taking the brunt of it. You weren’t sure if it was because they were family, but it made you feel kind of bad for him.

It really made you upset not seeing Mattheo that long, not really interacting with him. Maybe upset was not the right word, but if you thought too long about it you felt queasy. There was something about the dynamic between you and Mattheo that made you feel one of two ways, either incredibly, seething, fire burning, hell raging mad - or - light headed and butterfly stomach and warm and yearning and pining and wanting so much of him you thought you might physically implode.

You were thinking about all these things as you were doing mindless work getting the bar ready for the night when Pansy walked into the room, mouth running a hundred miles a minute as you heard her pleading with whoever was on the other end of the cell phone pressed to her ear. When her conversation finally ceased, Pansy set the phone down on the table in front of her. Her head was hung low, like she was trying to recenter herself. You looked over at Enzo, who simply shrugged his shoulders.

In the next moment Pansy was screaming with rage as she pointed her want towards the stage nearest her, deep red exiting her wand and the stage effectively exploding in front of all of your eyes. Your mouth was agape, not expecting to ever see this side of Pansy. Enzo only shook his head in annoyance, taking out his own wand and giving it a swift flick, causing the once exploded stage pieces to slowly float back to their original position until it was like Pansy didn’t have an outburst whatsoever.

“What’s the problem, Pans?” Enzo broke the silence, clearly having dealt with this side of Pansy plenty of times before. Pansy let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “One of the main stage dancers is not coming in tonight and I have no one to replace her. You know how particular Mattheo is, he’s going to have a fucking aneurysm over this. Roxy is good, but she can’t do the whole stage by herself.” Pansy leaned her head back, closing her eyes and letting out a few more expletives.

Enzo couldn’t contain his amused smirk, “This is why I’m glad I don’t have your position, Pansy. It is far more easy being me than it is being you.” You scoffed, quickly quipping back, “Yeah until you’re basically dying and whining like a toddler when someone is trying to save your life.” Enzo gasped at you, fake hurt in his eyes. But the interaction managed to put a smile on Pansy’s face, if only for a brief moment. “Really, you guys, I’m not sure what I’m gonna do, I really don’t want to deal with an angry Mattheo tonight.”

You gnawed at your bottom lip, wondering if what you were about to say would be helpful or just start another argument. You really wanted it to be helpful, you wanted to show everyone how valuable you could be in a crisis, prove yourself of sorts. Especially after the last time you were given a task you basically caused them to all have to show their darkest sides of themselves in order to save you. You glanced over at Enzo, knowing that immediately after you spoke your thoughts he would protest.

Enzo’s eyes widened before you could even speak, shaking his head as if he already read your mind; which in fairness was highly possible. Regardless, you turned back towards Pansy, the words flowing from your mouth before Enzo could protest for real, “I could do it.” Pansy’s head snapped up at your words, you quickly reasoning as to why it was a good idea, “I wanted to be a dancer when I first came to the club anyway, I know I can do it. Not to mention I watch the stage every bloody night, I could probably do Roxy’s routine in my sleep. And Roxy and I already have a good relationship so there would be like…chemistry or whatever.”

Once again you managed to make Pansy smile. “That’s brilliant!” She exclaimed at the same time that Enzo barked out, “Like bloody fucking hell you are.” Both you and Pansy turned to Enzo glaring. “Okay, remind me to never be in the same room as the both of you when you’re upset, because this is fucking scary,” he took a step back from both of you, “but I’m serious, Angel, no way. Mattheo would fucking kill you if you went up on that stage.”

You rolled your eyes so hard you head went along with it, “Oh, please Enz, Mattheo would never hurt me, let alone kill me.” Enzo scoffed, “Right right, I forget, you guys have that special relationship.” He emphasized the last two words with air quotes. You narrowed your eyes up at the sandy haired boy, “What are you insinuating?” Enzo doubled down, not breaking eye contact with you, “I’m saying that your relationship is different with Mattheo than any of us. He lets you get away with a hell of a lot more than any other person in this family.”

“Oh, bullocks,” you spat back at him. You were irritated beyond belief, Enzo never spoke to you this way. “Fine,” Enzo held his hands up in surrender, “how bout you just go tell him about your little plan then, hmm? I know he’s here.” You looked over at Pansy who just shrugged her shoulders. Turning back to Enzo you crossed your arms stubbornly, “Fine, I’ll go ask him.” Enzo huffed, “Well fine!” You shouldered past him, “Fine!” He called back at you again, “Fine!” For good measure you threw one more over your shoulder, “Fine!” Pansy covered her face with her hands, shaking her head, “You guys are worse than having bloody children, I swear it.”

You walked with determination back towards Mattheo’s office. With each step the air felt like it was getting thicker, but you urged yourself to keep moving, to prove to Enzo (and everyone else) that while you now worked for Mattheo it didn’t mean that he controlled you. With a flick of your wand his office door swung open to reveal an irritated Malfoy and Mattheo with a satisfied smirk on his face that was less than comforting.

“Can we help you?” Draco sneered, clearly annoyed by the boldness of your intrusion. You stood just inside the doorway, arms crossed. You gave Draco an irritated look before turning to Mattheo, “Pansy said one of the main stage dancers isn’t showing up today, so I’m going to replace her. I know the routine and have a good rapport with Roxy so-”

“No.” Mattheo cut you off with a firm statement. You huffed in annoyance, “Yeah that’s not really an option here, boss, if we don’t find someone to go up there then the club will lose money and I know that you don’t really like that and it’s bad for bus-”

“I said no,” Mattheo’s voice boomed again, “I’ve told you before, Birdie, you are not a dancer. You are a bartender. You are not going to be a dancer, will never be a dancer, under any circumstance. Is that clear?” You glared at him, holding his gaze as your lips formed a thin line. You opened your mouth to protest again but Mattheo flicked his wand, mumbling a quick depulso and pushing you back through the doorway before slamming it shut.

You’re a right git, Mattheo, you said to him. No means no, Princess. Don’t play with fucking fire, Mattheo thought back. You stood outside the office trying to weigh out your options. You were about to lean towards just giving up, when you heard Draco’s voice, “C’mon, what’s the harm, really. It’s just one night, and you know she’s right fit, she’d bring in so much money. She’s right about us losing out with just Roxy up there.” You smiled at a bit at Draco actually being on your side, maybe he wasn’t such a tosser after all.

“Absolutely fucking not, she’s not doing it. I swear to fucking Salazar if she goes on that bloody stage it’s your head, Cousin.” You didn’t have to see his face to know Mattheo was seething and poor Malfoy was on the receiving end of it. The fiery anger in his tone only fueled your own further.How dare he think he can decide what you can and cannot do? You didn’t care if he was the owner of the club, he had no right to tell you what decisions you could make. You were tired of him acting like he owned you.

With a deep breath you walked away from the office door, heart pounding as you made your way back to the bar. You felt like your heart beat was in your head with every step you took, the bass of the music in the club not helping ease this. When you got back behind the bar you closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to try and center yourself. In the time you were in Mattheo’s office a large amount of clientele had appeared, the current dancers working hard to milk them for all their money as Enzo bounced back and forth behind the bar.

As you got to the bar you turned around toward the booze, grabbing the most expensive tequila the club had as you slammed four shots down in front of you.“Y’alright, Angel?” Enzo’s eyes grew wide as you picked up one glass at a time and quickly threw them each back, the alcohol burning your throat in the most calming way. Picking up the last shot Enzo’s large hand enveloped your wrist, “Slow the fuck down, what are you doing? Trying to blackout on the job?”

Your eyes pierced his, a storm of determination brewing behind your pupils, “Enzo, let go of my wrist or I’ll hex your fucking cock off.” He shook his head, stubbornness higher than ever, “No way, Mattheo will have my throat if I let you get fucking sloshed.” You groaned in frustration, rolling your eyes and stomping your foot on the ground like a toddler having a tantrum.

“Why does everyone act like Mattheo is my fucking keeper?” You leaned your head toward the shot, tipping it in to your mouth while Enzo still gripped your wrist. He rolled his eyes at your actions, finally letting go, “Why’re you doing this, Angel? Was I right about the meeting with the good ol’ boss?” You looked toward the stage as the dancer finished up her routine, crawling on her knees and swaying her hips as she picked up the large bills from the stage floor and stuffing them into her bikini top and barely there bottoms.

Enzo followed your gaze, laughing nervously, “Oh no fucking way, hell no. You’re not…no, Angel.” You turned to face him again, pulling off your tank top to reveal your rhinestone bikini top, “Who’s gonna stop me?” You shoved your tank top into Enzo’s chest, walking toward Blaise at the Dj booth to tell him what song you wanted and what stage name to announce. Enzo glanced around the club nervously, praying to Merlin that Mattheo wouldn’t notice, or that at least whatever stage name or song you played didn’t alert him to your little rendezvous.

Enzo stared at you as you walked towards the dancers changing rooms, trying to get you to change your mind, He’s gonna have your ass if you go through with this Angel, you know that don’t you? Entering where the rest of the dancers were you just shook your head, answering Enzo, Let him! You quickly found Roxy, walking up to her and telling her your plan. She gave you a questioning look, but after assuring her that Mattheo would only be upset with you and not her, she helped you get ready, hair, makeup, the works before going towards the main stage entrance.

As Mattheo left his office to find Pansy and talk solutions, Blaise began introducing the next entertainers to come on. Being none the wiser to your plan, he did everything you asked. Flicking a few switches on his sound board the main stage began to illuminate, catching the attention from most of the patrons and earning some whoops and hollers from those that were excited for the main event.

Blaise held his wand to his throat in the booth, doing his introductions, “Please welcome to the main stage your favorite girl R-R-R-R-Rooooxxxxyy,” he drawled out. “And accompanying her tonight is someone new to the stage,” at this Mattheo stopped dead in his tracks. He looked over towards the bar only to find Enzo looking towards the ceiling and avoiding his eye contact. He looked across the club at Pansy, who was holding her hands up in surrender. Blaise’s voice continued, “Let’s give a very warm and wallet generous welcome to…” Blaise paused for dramatic effect, lowering the lights around the stage and putting a small spotlight at where you were about to walk out, “Cherrí.”

The amount of whistles and cheers that occurred when you stepped out into the light was almost deafening. You tried to give your most sultry smirk as you walked toward the pole opposite Roxy. You grabbed hold of the cool steel as you began walking in a slow circle, Blaise putting on the song you requested; Cherry Pie.

You grabbed hold as high at your height would allow as the lyrics began, following Roxy’s typical routine and pulling the bottom half of your body up the pole, hooking your knee around the bar and leaning backwards as it spun, now hanging upside down while you grabbed the pole above you

She's my cherry pie

Cool drink of water, such a sweet surprise

Tastes so good, makes a grown man cry

Sweet cherry pie, yeah

Maneuvering your body around the pole proved to be a lot easier than you anticipated. Following Roxy’s lead you would stay on the pole while she walked and danced around the stage, shedding a layer of clothing here and there and crawling seductively towards the bills that were being thrown on stage. When she walked back toward the other pole, you took a deep breath, knowing it was your turn to do what she called crowd work. You took one last spin on the pole, the whistles from the men directly in front of you fueling your adrenaline along with the song you chose.

Swingin' to the drums

Swingin' to guitar

Swingin' with the bass

In the back of my car

Ain't got money

And I got no gas

But we'll get where we're goin'

If we swing real fast

I scream, you scream

We all scream for her

Well, don't even try 'cause

You can't ignore her

You slowly slid the skirt you wore down your thighs, the man in front of you’s eyes roaming your body like you were his last meal. You shimmied your hips, pulling your skirt down teasingly slow and bending over in front of the men to give them a full view of your arse. Bills flew to the stage as you finally stepped out of your skirt, sinking to your knees and spreading them wide to sit back on your heels. You let your hands roam up your body, over your breasts causing the hanging rhinestones to shake and glimmer in the light, then dragged your hands up and into your hair, throwing your head back as you bounced slightly on your knees.

Crawling on your hands and knees across the stage you were sure to arch your back, swinging your hair back and forth in time with the song, throwing winks at men that looked like they wanted to tear you apart like an animal but instead threw money on the stage. Walking back over to you, Roxy held out her hand, helping you up slowly so your body’s slowly dragged against each other as you stood up, giving the whole audience a show.

The song ended and Blaise turned on an interlude as you and Roxy maneuvered around the stage to grab the bills that were left. As you were picking up some bills while still trying to look sexy and sultry on your hands and knees a man held out a large bill in front of your face. You reached out your hand, but he quickly grabbed your wrist. You were about to protest or even hex whoever it was. But as soon as you saw the tattoos on the fingers that held you all your nerve endings tingled.

Slowly, you looked up. Taking in the sharp black suit jacket, crisp black dress shirt, all to go along with the onyx eyes that belong to Mattheo Riddle. To any average onlooker it would seem like there was a glint of playfulness in his eyes. But you’d seen that look before, many times during your lessons. If this look told you anything, it was that you were going to regret your last few decisions.

His voice was low when he spoke, you almost had to lean closer to even hear him as he grit his words through his teeth, “Office. Now.” It was a command and not one you were going to ignore. You sat on your bum, swinging your legs over the edge of the stage. Despite his rage Mattheo still assisted you. Grabbing your hips, albeit harshly, and lifting you off the stage and setting you down on your feet.

Once standing he gripped your wrist again, leading you to his office like a child about to be scolded. You looked toward the bar, Enzo meeting your gaze and miming locking his lips as if to assure you he didn’t tell the boss on you. Once in his office Mattheo released his hold on you, “Sit.” You walked toward the chair in front of his desk before his voice cut through the silence once more, “Not there. On the desk. Facing my chair.”

You gulped, trying your best to keep your face stoic despite the rising heartbeat in your chest. You walked slowly around his desk, slowly lifting and perching yourself atop. The wood was cool against your bare thighs, Mattheo not even giving you a chance to put more clothes on before dragging you through the club. So there you sat, clad in only your bikini top and thin panties. You tried your best to control your breathing as Mattheo came to stand in front of you.

He gripped each one of your thighs just above the knee, his touch setting your skin aflame. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hands splayed across your legs, squeezing the flesh as he spoke to you, “Are you proud of yourself?” You tore your eyes from his hands and looked up at him, confusion clearly written on your face. “Oh, don’t play innocent now, Princess. Not after that fantastic performance you gave,” he wore a shit eating grin as your face fell. Mattheo’s grip on your thighs tightened slightly as he spread your legs wide enough to step between them.

“I was just-” Mattheo gripped your throat, effectively silencing you before you could begin. “Ah, ah. It’s my turn to talk, you just get to sit there and listen.” A shiver ran up your spine as his hand that was still on your thigh slid up higher. “You really pissed me off just now, Birdie. Blatantly defying me after I told you no. I told you from the beginning, no dancing, and yet what did you fucking do?” He hung his head, letting out a light chuckle as his thumb kneaded the inside of your thigh, “Do you know why I won’t let you dance, Princess?”

You shook your head the best you could with the grip he had on you. His smirk grew in to a devilish grin as he leaned in close, whispering in your ear, “Because if you’re going to be a slut for anyone, it’s going to be me, and only me, do you understand, Princess?” You nodded, squirming on the desk at his words. Mattheo met your gaze, taking in your current state of desperation, “Do you like that, Princess? The idea that you only get to be the perfect little slut for me?” He slid his hand between your thighs, dragging two fingers along your folds over your panties. He smirked at the dark wet spot that was already forming, pressing his thumb lightly against your clit. You jolted at the contant, a pathetic whimper leaving your throat.

“All this for me, Princess? Or is some of this for all those men throwing dirty bills at you being a whore?” You groaned at the degrading words, shaking your head, “N-no, it’s all for you, Teo. I swear, just for you.” Mattheo growled at the nickname, eyes darting down quickly to your parted lips before meeting your gaze again, “Good, because it’s about time for everyone to know who you fucking belong to.” With the grip he had on your throat he finally brought your lips to his. The kiss was anything but gentle, lips harshly pressed against one another as his thumb started circling your clit again. You whimpered at the action, Mattheo taking the opportunity to allow his tongue to explore your mouth.

As his lips trailed lower, along your jaw and to your neck, his fingers gripped the top of your panties before tugging harshly and ripping the thin material off your body. You gasped and could feel Mattheo smirk against your skin. When he found a particular spot to suck and bite near your collarbone he ran his finger up your folds, coating them in your slick before circling two fingers over your clit. “Fuck…” you moaned out, trying your best to take in all the pleasure you were receiving.

Mattheo’s lips found yours again as he circled his fingers around your hole teasingly, swallowing the whimpers as they left your lips. Without warning he slipped a finger deep inside your cunt, your back arching and bringing your chest flush to his. “Fuck, Princess, you’re so fucking tight, don’t know how you’re ever gonna take my cock when you can barely take a finger,” Mattheo groaned against your lips. You mewled against him, hands gripping the edge of the desk like a vice, unsure if you were able to touch him or not, but too lost in the pleasure you were feeling to try.

He added a second finger, thumb finding purchase on your swollen clit, slowly finger fucking you on his desk. He broke his lips from yours to watch your cunt swallow his fingers over and over as he pumped them into you. “Fuck, Princess, you’re taking my fingers so well. Those other men would die to be in my position right now, but that’s not who you want, is it, pretty girl?” You shook your head vigorously, chest heaving. “Words, gorgeous, let me hear them. Let me hear what I’m doing to you.”

You tried to keep your eyes from rolling in the back of your head and answer him, “N-no, fucking hell-” Mattheo curled his two fingers now with every outward thrust, pushing against your g-spot in the most delicious way no one else every had. The blissful stretch created an overwhelming feeling of pleasure, “Don’t want them, j-just want you.”

You could feel the pressure building inside you, the waves of pleasure clouding your vision. He quickened his pace, his long fingers hitting places you have never been able to reach and sending jolts of electricity through your entire body. His thumb made tight circles over your clit and you clenched around his fingers. “I can feel you clenching around me, Princess. Come on, be a good girl and let go f’me.” It was like his permission was all your body was waiting for as you fell over the edge into your orgasm.

Your vision blurred as you let out a pornagraphic moan, Mattheo continuing to finger you through your high, your legs shaking with pleasure. As your breathing calmed Mattheo slowly slid his fingers from your cunt. He stuck out his tongue, bringing the glistening digits to his mouth before lewdly sucking them clean causing you to clench around nothing.

“I swear to Salazar I can’t wait to fucking devour that cunt of yours,” he grabbed hold of your thighs, gripping them tightly as he captured your lips in another searing kiss. You couldn’t help but moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue. Mattheo rested his forehead on yours, his own chest rising and falling along with yours to catch your breath. “Never forget that you’re mine, Princess.” He leaned back slightly, grabbing hold of your chin. His eyes held an intensity to them as they locked with yours, your breath hitching in your throat as he spoke three final words.

“I own you.”

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Ivy | Prologue

summary: rooster and you break-up, you run back to san diego and you run into a pretty blonde at the Hard Deck. What could happen?

listen to: ivy - taylor swift | summer time sadness -lana del rey (playlist here)

warnings: smut!!!

word count: 6.2k

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fi!!

It had been a really bad breakup. 

It wasn’t the type of breakup in the movies when the main character and their love interest just face a challenge and then they reconnect, say how much they love each other, and live happily ever after. No, this wasn’t that type of breakup. 

This was the type of breakup where you move out the same night, the type of breakup where you tell your friends to pick up your stuff when he’s not there, and the type of breakup where you haven’t spoken in person since it happened. 

It was the type of breakup that you’d never thought you’d experience with Bradley Bradshaw, Rooster, your Rooster. 

“What games are you playing?” your eyes narrowed in annoyance as you poured some water while Rooster groaned automatically as he laid on the couch. 

You’d been out to the bar near the base. Since you two had been stationed temporarily on Whidbey Island it had been a bit hard to adjust. Usually, you were always in San Diego or at least in any base in California but with your Ice gone, you didn’t particularly want to spend too much time in San Diego, the presence of your father lingered in those hallways in ways that still made your skin crawl. 

“What are you talking about?” Rooster huffed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

The fact that he still didn’t want to acknowledge it made your blood burn as you glared at him. 

“Do you think I’m stupid? Or blind?” you said nonchalantly before sipping the water, hoping that it would make you feel soberer, more in control when you were about to have this conversation.  

“Brat, not in the mood for another fight”

You bit your cheek, and the grip on the glass got a little bit tighter as you fought the urge to simply walk away. You were never too thrilled about having hard conversations with your significant others, which part of you believed, was the reason you’d let his attitude go on for so long. 

“Do you think I am?” you asked while you passed a hand through your hair, glaring at Rooster from the kitchen. “You want a meek little girlfriend that doesn’t call you out on your bullshit and I’m not it, Bradley,” you grumbled. 

He let out a snarky chuckle. “You don’t let me forget that right?” he asked as he raised from the couch. 

“Fuck you, Bradshaw,” 

Rooster and you had known each other since you were kids. Growing up with parents in the Navy meant also knowing other kids in the Navy but with Ice and Mav being so close along with the fact that basically, Carol became even more like family after Goose passed away, you practically were attached to the hip since Rooster was five and you were one. 

When you were younger, you didn’t get along too well. Rooster often picked on you and as Ice called it, the Navy Brat that you were, you didn’t stand for it. Your younger sister and brother loved Rooster and he got along with them better, maybe because he was a lot older than them, they looked at him as being cooler and more fun than you. Although, there were small moments when you would get along, after school when Rooster would often come to your home for homework and he helped you, when you convinced him to play fighter pilots with you and when you would watch movies together. 

The bickering and small fighting only died down when you were a teenager and even older, you were 18 while Rooster was twenty-three when you started to get along. Carole and your mother often joked that you should be dating, that it was meant to be since you knew each other so well. 

Rooster mockingly refused, saying that you weren’t that pretty while you would bite back saying that he wished he could take you out. Both of you apparently were hurt by the other statements, you would later find out. 

So, it just stayed like that. Graduating high school, all through college, then on the Naval Academy where you and Rooster went together since Mav had pulled his papers, and finally at Top Gun. 

Nothing had changed until you were called back a few years later, the uranium mission being the catalyst of it all.

“Why are you being so hysterical?” Rooster yelled back, now in the other corner of the table. 

“Oh, I’m sorry I should be laughing and playing nice when I see my boyfriend flirting with another girl when we’re out?”

Rooster looked away, avoiding your gaze as he now poured water too. “I wasn’t flirting, I was being nice,”

He was a bit drunk too, you wondered if you both had tried to drink your feelings down. 

“You’re always being nice to every girl, except me,” you answered with a stern look. 

You’d noticed it. You wondered if it was because you’d always known each other but you also knew there was a clear cut in his attitude when you’d told him over a month ago about your plans for the future. The fight lasted over a week, and it became insufferable and ended up with both of you in bed but it was truly never closed.

“That’s bullshit,” he snapped at you. 

There it is, you’d thought. 

Rooster wasn’t good with hard conversations and he’d rather avoid them. Part of him thought because he usually was never raised to be a confrontational type but he also knew it was because he’d been angry most of his life, at everything, and he was always afraid that he would snap like he usually did when he was younger, a stupid teenager. 

But that had been a long time ago. He liked to think his anger was in check, that he didn’t have any bad specific outbursts. Sure, there were moments he knew he was near to losing it -like when Hangman had mentioned Goose- but he tried hard to never let his anger get the best of him enough to hurt people he cared about. For you, Rooster had always been kind, soft, and perfect.

Especially when he was fighting with you, he always tried to keep his rage from spilling over, but lately, it’d become harder.

“It’s not and you know it,” you pressed. 

Rooster rolled his eyes and he took a deep breath; so much for not liking hard conversations, he thought. 

“What do you want me to say?” 

“I want you to tell me the truth,” you insisted but Rooster remained quiet, his silence saying so much more. You took a deep breath. “Do you want out of this relationship?”

Rooster frowned deeply. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that we haven’t had a real discussion since I told you that I didn’t want to get married yet or have children,”

It had been a month since it’d happened. You were celebrating your anniversary, it had been a one-year and a half since the uranium mission and since Rooster confessed his feelings for you. He’d felt called to do it since he’d almost died, he’d always loved you and you’d always loved him.

It had been a dream kiss and confession, followed by the most perfect night someone could’ve spent together. Sarah, your mother had been so happy while insisting that Carole would’ve loved it if she was still with you and Ice too. 

In the last part, you didn’t know if it was true. 

“Don’t bring up that,” Rooster bit back, features hard and serious. “We’re talking about how I flirted with a girl, right?”

You rolled your eyes while you glared at him. 

“It’s all the same. You want a wife and kids and I’m not going to give you that, and you would rather do things that hurt me rather than break up with me!”

“Do you want to break up? You don’t love me anymore?” Rooster’s jaw clenched as he got closer to you, stomping the glass of water so hard on the counter that you flinched slightly, thinking it would break. 

You sighed as you stepped closer to him. 

“Of course, I love you,” you scolded him, attempting to take his hand before he swatted it away. 

“Not enough apparently,”

You groaned. 

You now wondered if you should’ve said it, but you knew it was the right thing to do. You’d never wanted the traditional life like your mother, you never felt ready for it. The only thing that you’d ever wanted in life was to be like your father. Maybe it was an older daughter thing and the fact that you were the only one of your siblings to choose the same life as your father, maybe it was the desperation of being recognized by something more, of doing more with the path that everyone wanted you to take. 

“See?” 

“Okay, fine!” Rooster screamed as he paced back and forth in the kitchen and then walked to the living room, his steps being a bit unstable because of the alcohol previously consumed. “I want a family and you know it, you’ve known it since we were friends that I wanted that, that I wanted to get married, I”

“And you’ve also known that I don’t want that since I can remember, you know that I’ve only talked about flying. I’m not ready for anything like that yet,” you screamed back, following him. 

“Yet, see?” Rooster retorted while you grumbled under your breath.“I just don’t get why you don’t want to give that to me?” he insisted. 

“Am I denying you something, Bradley?” you scoffed. “You can go back to the girl in the bar, you want someone, anyone, just not me,” you hissed. 

“That’s not true,”

“But it is! You want the house, the stay-at-home wife, and the kids but not the person, not me!” you insisted, as tears began to spill from your eyes, he refused to look at you. “And I get it, I get why you want that after everything you lost, Goose and Carole, and I get it darling but I can’t be the one that’s going live with your trauma, you can’t step all over m-”

“Fuck you,” Rooster roared. 

It was a split-second, involuntary reaction. 

One second he was looking away from you, trying to keep his anger at bay but the grip on his anger went loose when you mentioned Goose and Carole, his trauma, the most painful experience, and his biggest loss. 

The next, his fist was rammed into the wall next to your head. 

Silence reigned between the two of you, breathing heavy and jilted as your lip trembled while you looked at him wide-eyed and then to the right of your head, staring in shock at his hand wedge into the wall, white powder, debris, and white paint drifting down innocuously to your clothes and floor. Rooster pried his hand out from the wall, staring at the red and raw knuckles of his shaking fist. 

“Brat, I-”

You flinched. 

It was over after that. You knew that Rooster would never hurt you, you were aware of his anger issues but never to the point of him expressing it so clearly against you. Both of you had cried, he begged you not to go but you also knew you simply couldn’t stay. 

That’s why you were back in San Diego, it had been three months since it had happened and it had taken almost a month to be stationed back to your home town but thankfully the Kazansky name still worked for something, you decided right there to take some time off. You hadn’t used the time that was given to you to grieve your father the prior year and you barely remember taking any type of vacation since you graduated but you surely needed it now. 

You hadn't told your friends that you were back and you’d managed to stay hidden at the guest house at your parent's place for the remaining two months, only Sarah and Maverick knowing that you’d returned and why, while you actively avoided any place where you might run into them until that night. You were due to start the following week and you decided that you needed a drink. 

You found yourself at the Hard Deck, you left your bike in the front and asked for the bartender of the night to pour you some tequila. Thankfully, Penny was out with Maverick that night, you realized, and you didn’t need to talk about it. 

At least, until you heard that thick southern accent. 

“Brat?” 

You refused to turn around immediately, mentally cursing the universe for being so cruel to you.

“Hangman,” you finally breathed out as you turned around with a small smile to find him. 

There he was, it should’ve been illegal how pretty he could look sometimes. Tall, knee-buckling handsome, his sea-foam-colored eyes stared at you softly, and the million-dollar smug smile accompanied with the dimples that you’d made fun of while you first met was wide as he took you in. 

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart,” he teased as he opened his arms, you climbed down off the chair to hug him. 

He was happy to see you, you could tell by the way he was holding you, he was always happy to see you. The scent of lemon and wood wrapping around you as you bury your head in his chest. 

“A shame that I cannot say the same thing to you,” you replied teasingly as you pulled away, Hangman chuckled softly.

The thing was that you knew that under that smug face and cocky attitude, there was a loyal friend. He could be a hard head sometimes, which was how you’d come to know each other; you were always butting heads at the academy but as time passed you’d come to find that Hangman was not so bad. He became a good friend, he also saved your best friend and uncle from being killed by an enemy jet. 

That definitely promoted him from a good friend to one of the closest people in your life, even though you didn’t enjoy admitting it. 

“Sweet as always,” he muttered while shaking his head. “What are you doing here?” he asked as he leaned into the bar, sitting next to you. 

“Drinking,” you replied dully. 

Hangman's lips parted for a second before they closed again, he nodded slightly. “You know what I mean,” he replied while taking a sip of his beer. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you muttered, not daring to look at him. 

“Something happened with Rooster?” he asked. 

Were you that transparent? 

You stared at him, hoping that the melancholy on your features wasn’t visible to Hangman, but you knew that he could see right through. He stared at you softly, eyes gleaming with certain knowledge.

“Tell me about you, how was Hawaii?” you asked, quickly changing the topic as you gazed back at your drink. 

Jake chose not to pry but he could already guess that something had happened between Rooster and you, he knew you well enough to know that you were not okay. He knew it was about Rooster too because he could recall every time you had a bad day at Top Gun, you would run to Bradley almost as if he was your safety blanket. 

Now, you just seemed doleful and he was nowhere to be seen. 

He got the clue though, he didn’t press you to tell him and choose to lighten the mood. You talked for hours and hours on end while you sipped on Moscow mules and tequila while he only nursed on a couple of beers and watched you softly, amusement toying on his lips as you talked about your mission in Virginia and then he went on to tell you about the missions he carried out with Phoenix, who had apparently grown tired of him and then how he spent the last three months with Fanboy in Hawaii. 

It was around 2:00 am when you both realized that the bar was closing and you were one of the last ones in the whole place. It wasn’t until you stood up from the chair that you realized how much alcohol you’d consumed. Jake saw how you stumbled slightly and immediately placed his hand on the exposed skin of your waist. Goosebumps erupted on your skin and your breath hitched as you felt his featherlight touch on you, he didn’t seem to think it was a problem but you quickly tried your best to walk along, brushing his hand off from you knowing that feeling like that about Jake touching you wasn’t a good sign. 

Not that it mattered now when he insisted that you should go to his place and ask for a cab from there, there was no way he was going to let you ride your bike in such a state and you knew that it would be irresponsible as well. Hangman’s place wasn’t far away from the Hard Deck, a lovely small house in front of the beach, one you’d been to many times before for dinners and parties with the Dagger team. 

It was a familiar setting, but as your gaze followed Jake in the kitchen as he poured some glasses of water for both of you, you realized that something was shifting. When Jake gazed back at you with that smug smirk you rolled your eyes as you took the glass of water and sipped slightly while still watching him talk. 

“God, I forgot how annoying you were,” you teased with a smile. 

“The girl whose literal call sign is Brat, is talking about annoying?” he replied. 

You elbowed him playfully as you both leaned into the table in his kitchen while you laughed softly. He smiled coyly at you, his eyes gleaming as your laughter died down, just enough to realize the way he was gaping at you. It was strange, to see that look in Hangman’s, he was always playful with you, he always had something to say but just now it seemed like he was at a loss for words. 

There was a beat of silence and something compelled you to speak. 

“We broke up,” you whispered as you played with the water that remained on your glass, not daring to look back at Hangman. 

“What?”

“Me and Rooster, we broke up,” you explained, again not daring to look at him. 

Hangman stared at you, he could feel the bitter taste of your words as you told him. It must’ve been hard to even bring it up, he knew that you were never a fan of talking about feelings just as much as he was. 

“Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry,” he cooed softly as he brushed some hair away from your face and you turned back to him. 

“I know but I feel like it’s for the best,” you concluded.

Hangman nodded as you looked at your water in silence, recalling the last time you’d spoken to Rooster, which ended up with angry hot tears falling from your eyes. You hated it, you hated all the crying, hated all the discussions with Rooster that never ended right, and you hated that you didn’t even know who you were now. A part of you lost between the friendship, the love, the fights, and everything else.  

“Are you really okay?” he asked after a couple of seconds, your mind snapped back to reality as you turned to Hangman. 

“What do you mean?”

“I know you, Brat,” he muttered affectionally. “You always act so strong, like nothing’s wrong but I know that you’re hurting, it’s okay if you’re not okay,”

You sighed, he wasn’t wrong. 

“I’m better than before and the important thing is that I’ll be okay,” you answered him softly, although you didn’t think the last part was completely true. 

“Well, you know that I get along with Rooster but I’m always going to be on your team,” Jake said, leaning back at first as if he was trying to see all of you at once while before he leaned closer to you nudging your body softly against his. 

You snicker softly but then you realized how close he was, his hot warm skin from his arms flushed against yours as he cocked his head towards you smiling, as if he was seeing you for the first time. The air suddenly shifted slightly as you smiled at the other, you’d smiled at Jake so many times before in all the years that you’d known the other but this felt unknown, there was an intimacy in the way that you were talking, that you were staring at each other that was enough to make your heart feel like it was going to burst from your chest. 

“Thank you, Jake,” you replied. 

You stared up at him silently, your heart hammering on your chest as both of you turned to the other, it was so slow that for a second you thought that you were imagining it yourself but then you realized how his eyes flickered to your lips, the same way yours did a second before. 

Jake pressed his forehead against yours as your breathing hitched, his jaw clenched slightly as he stared at you with those sea-foam eyes swirling with so many emotions that you weren’t sure how to feel about it at first. The tension crackling between both of you. 

But you weren’t afraid anymore of what happened, you were suddenly overcome by the fear of what if?

So, you took a leap of faith. 

You closed the gap between your lips, his hand went to cup your face softly as you placed your hand on his neck as you straightened yourself while Jake looped his arms around your waist pushing you against him. Stumbling through the kitchen you continued to kiss him, it was soft at first, it was new and it was tender and it stole your breath away. His palm brushed off some of your hair to get at your jaw as he pulled away suddenly. 

You gasped softly at the sudden loss of contact but your eyes looked up at him, willing to continue, begging him to continue. Yet, he didn’t for a second, he looked at you as if you were a precious stone that he had to take care of. He placed his thumb against your lips and passed it softly over them as he looked at you, you knew that he was weighing his options, knowing that this might be something that was wrong because you were friends and you were Rooster’s ex but as he looked at you, Jake couldn’t let it go. 

It was Rooster’s loss, it wouldn’t be Jake’s too. 

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours more urgently than before, stumbling against the wall as he nudge your neck and began to press kisses on your neck as his hand began to play with the buttons of the breezy silky black shirt that you’d worn, exposing your chest. He stopped for a second as he looked down, you weren’t wearing a bra that night and you felt your body sizzle by the lustful expression those sea-foam eyes gave you. 

Jake began to kiss you again, you collapse into him as Jake’s tongue started to explore your mouth, deepening the kiss as he reached down your hips, cupping your bum and suddenly turning you against the wall. One of your hands was pressed against the wall, as Jake’s lips were kissing, licking, and biting on your neck your breath hitched, your body sizzling with anticipation as his hands reached down and began to pull down your pants before he pressed his hand over the one you had at the wall. 

He suddenly pressed his length against your bum, you could feel him pressing insistently against you and you bit down a whimper while he kissed the length of your neck again and your shoulders as your shirt began to fall from them. 

It was feverishly, the way that you were touching, passionate to the point that it was frightening. You wondered where it all came from, the burning desire for Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, the way that he was tenderly but fervently touching you. If you thought about it, it was always there but you’d never allowed yourself to see it. 

You turned around, your trousers on your ankles, and the oversize black silk shirt slipped to the point that your breast were somehow out whilst Jake couldn’t help but pry a bit as you stared at him. His blonde hair was out of place which was strange for him, his lips taken apart as he looked at you, a dusky pink color in the slated light of the kitchen, a pale blush tinting his cheeks. 

You couldn’t have wished for more. 

You pulled him back harshly to kiss his lips, Jake breathed a sigh of relief, as if he was waiting for you to stop him, and this at any moment but just the fact that you hadn’t had made his breathing normal again. His right hand came to cup your cheek as your tongue caressed his while you focused on the feeling of his thumb running softly across your cheekbone. 

Jake quickly looped his other arm around your torso and quickly placed you on the counter of the kitchen, you squeaked out as your bare ass pressed against the cold marble, and Jake couldn’t help but smile at you as he began to kiss his way down your body. A flash of heat ran down your body as Jake began to pull your legs apart, his sea-foam eyes always on you as you gasped with anticipation. 

There was nothing, Jake decided at that moment, more breathtaking than your face when flushed with desire. 

He yanked your pants off from your ankles as he pushed the lace to the side in one swift movement, diving in, he pressed a kiss to your clit, your hands flew to his hair, clutching handfuls of his blonde curls as you felt Jake’s tongue starting to move as he brushed a finger against your clit. You closed your eyes, a moan falling from your lips as your body couldn’t take the way how his mouth expertly move against your core. Then he slid his fingers inside of you, curling them against your g-spot while he pressed his lips against your clit, an unexpectedly loud moan fell from your lips and you felt like you couldn’t hold yourself anymore. Your back fell to the marble as you began to moan louder, grinding your hips up against Jake’s mouth, you could hear the glasses breaking against the floor, while one of your hands fell to your side as you gripped the table, a bowl of fruit falling too as you whimpered. 

You could feel your orgasm building, your pussy clenching Jake’s fingers and tongue as he worked on you. It was too much, your back arching as you mewled in desperation at the way he was putting all the attention on you, all of his efforts on your pleasure. He was too good, Jake’s eyes flickered up at you and he couldn’t help but smirk at the way he had you already. You moaned one final time so loud that Jake thought that his neighbors might’ve heard you, your walls clenched around his tongue as you were shaking and withering, as you squeezed your eyes shut while the waves of pleasure washed over you. 

“I want you,” Jake whispered as he climbed up and pushed you up against him.

His chest flushed with yours as he studied your features softly; Jake had been with many girls in his life but he was sure he’d never felt such pleasure in gazing at a woman he was with, sex for him had always been about touching and taste and fire, and yet with you, it was tender but passionate. 

You were so utterly beautiful to him. 

“Open your eyes,” he murmured against your lip, your thighs still trembling from the orgasm he gave you. “Come on, doll,” he said again softly. 

Your eyes fluttered open, cheeks blushed as you place a lazy kiss against his lips. Your pulse seemed to be so slow in comparison to a few minutes before, it felt as if you were drunk, intoxicated by him. 

“I want you too,” you breathed out as you pressed his lips against yours, you tasted yourself on his tongue feeling how he was smiling, really smiling as he took your bum off the counter and took you to his room while you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

Jake sat on the edge of his bed, while you laid on top of him, kissing him hard. You tugged his shirt upward and then worked on his jeans, Jake yanked his clothes off him without much trouble as you held into his shoulders for leverage while you continued to press kisses in whatever skin you could find. 

And then, Jake pulled down his boxers. You looked down at it and your heart began to thump harder as you realized what you were about to do. Jake pulled away for a second, looking up at you and smiling, Jake was so hard already and you could feel him pressing against your stomach, hard, thick. You touched him softly as you breathed heavily while watching him, Jake let out a soft growl as you work on him and you smirk smugly while licking your lips. Jake’s hands flew to your hips before you pause for a moment.  

“It’s okay,” you muttered as you understand the unspoken question. 

It’s okay that we’re friends and we’re doing this. It’s okay that even if you are a close friend of my ex-boyfriend we’re doing this. It’s okay that we don’t have a condom, we’re doing this. It’s okay if you are you and I’m me, we’re still doing this. 

Jake then pulled you down and kissed you, hot and unrelenting, kissing you with intent. You adjusted yourself a bit and soon Jake was pushing your hips so you were sinking down on him, burying himself as deeply as he could possibly go inside of you. Both of you let out strangled moans, the feeling of being filled and the absolute warmth overtaking both of you almost completely. He feels so good, so good that you didn’t know if you were just going to come there and then by the way he was pulsing inside of you. 

You moaned gently into his shoulder, nails sinking into his skin as Jake struggled for a second before he got a grip and started to move your hips provocatively slow as he swallowed hard and looked at you, he loved the fucked out look on your face. You were unable to help your sharp intake of breath as Jake thrusted up sharply, when you opened your eyes you saw the smug smirk on his face. You frown before you pressed your lips against him, claiming his mount in a vulgar, tongue-filled kiss. It was sloppy and hot as you sucked his lower lip between your teeth, eliciting a soft groan from Jake before you release it. 

Now, you gave him a smug smirk before you started to move your hips up and down as your hands braced your body against his broad shoulders. Jake kept pounding into you. Jake pressed his lips against your throat, rutting his hips upward to meet yours, he sucked different purple marks into your skin as your eyes squeeze shut by how good you were feeling, by how good his cock felt as he drove up against your g-spot with each movement. Jake marked you up, a purple mark on your neck, then one on your chest, then one under your boob as he continued to snap his hips against yours. 

“F-fuck,” his voice hoarse, sounding a little choked after a particular roll of your hips. “You’re so good, you’re so lovely, sweetheart,” 

You whimpered at the nickname as you felt how your body began to burn as he slammed harshly into you, his heavy breaths against your upper chest. The rhythm steadily increased the tempo, bodies rocking together, both finding their release. You ride him with everything you got, mewling in pleasure as your nails rake his shoulders and then his chest, sweat running between the two of you, dripping from your slick bodies as you rocked against each other. Jake gritted his teeth, hissing in pleasure as you slightly shifted your hips and everything becomes tighter. It’s intoxicating, the way that your breathless pants and gasps feel against his ears, his ragged breathing as you kiss him one more time, it’s slower than the other kisses but with a frenzy filling up your chest. The rhythm grows quickly out of control before your throw your head back as you feel the fire pooling on your lower belly, Jake knows you’re there, you just need a little push, he slid one hand between the two of you and pinches your clit with his finger. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you clenched around him. It was too much and not enough, you gasp for breath as you quickly surrender to the shockwaves of pleasure cursing through your veins as he thrust deep inside of you. Soon, your mind was spiraling, growing hazy from the intoxicating feeling of Jake’s cock hitting the right spot, your legs begin to tremble but Jake didn’t stop, relentlessly pounding into you with a barely animalistic growl as ecstasy burst through you as Jake’s thrust became sloppy and soon, he reached his own release. 

You barely heard Jake yelling out your name as he spilled into you, filling you up completely. 

Jake just holds you there as you both try to catch your breaths, bodies still overheated and chest heaving. Jake’s head falls back softly as he chuckles lightly. You don’t want to move for a second, still too dizzy and weak to do it, you kiss his shoulder softly, his collarbone, and then placed a chaste kiss over his lips. Jake smiled at you and you smiled at him, your fingers playing gently with the soft hairs of the nape of his neck as Jake’s fingers trace small circles on your back. 

By the morning, your muscles are so sore that you could’ve sworn you’d done aquatic training the day before but not, but you didn’t. Still, in the haze of your sleep, your mind didn't seem alarmed as you feel the warmth of a body tangled with yours, your mind didn't register the gravity of the fact that that body belong to anyone other than Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. 

The only thing you could think about was a loud and lousy ringtone that was making your head hurt, maybe it was the alcohol that was making your head hurt but you didn’t want to take the blame. 

“Oh my god,” 

You mutter before you press your face back into the comfort of the pillow you’d slept on that night, pulling a bit away from Jake, maybe the loss of heat would wake him up but after a minute you realize that it didn’t. You push his bicep unceremoniously, waking him up suddenly. 

“What?” he asked alarmed as he began to move but still too sleepy to realize where the sound was coming from. 

You groaned. “Fuck Hangman, are you deaf? Why is that thing so loud?” you grumbled although it was hard to hear you with how your face was pressed up against the pillow. 

Jake’s mind finally snapped and looked down at his pants on the floor, where his phone probably was. He leaned down a bit too slow as you whimpered loudly, tacitly asking him to stop the sound. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Jake mumbles before he answered the phone and walked out of the room. 

The silence is finally comforting as you take a deep breath and try to get yourself back to sleep. Unfortunately, another ringtone starts to fill the room and you cursed mentally as you recognize that it’s your phone. Jake, before everything had happened, had placed it in his room so you could charge it before you left. 

You groaned as you pull yourself out of the comfortable position you were in before you reached for it on the bedside table, you don’t even mind looking at the number, you don’t find yourself caring or thinking too much about who it is. 

You just wanted to go back to sleep. 

“Hello?” you asked.

“Lt. Kazansky,” you recognized Warlock’s voice immediately and your eyes snapped open as you raise from the bed. You don’t answer, holding your breath as you wait for Warlock to speak, he seemed to take the hint and continued. “I’m to inform you that you’ve been called for a mission. The dagger team has to return.”

Suddenly, Jake opened the door as he gazes back at you, the same concerned expression painted on his features. 

Shit.

***

taglist: @laracrofted @double-j @inky-sun @alanadetigy

***

author's note: so this took a while, I'm so sorry. I just really had this idea about the prologue and it took me a while to think about the smut lol anyway, I really hope this is up to your expectations. as always thank you for reading.

***

feedback is always welcomed!!!

donate: help me pls with a glass of wine?

[turndecassette2]

I do remember those magic knight people! Every once in a while I go back on your blog to try to track down those drawings because I like them and the concept in the description so much. I would love to hear more about them. Do you have a story planned out?

yeah, vaguely. so for the cosmology; there's this dystopian city I desperately need to draw a map of built above the fossilised remains of an ancient hell. the city mines the hell for 'hell-flesh', a semi-sentient magical substance that's kind of the physical container of the souls of the damned. I suppose this is like fantasy rare earths for fantasy compute or w/e. this has been going on for a while and the city is, kiruna-style, gradually falling down the pit. also as more of the hell is laid bare, semi-autonomous demonic creatures are let loose, maybe as a kind of immune response against human incursion.

(imagining this sort of thing + branching passages. but in the middle of an italian intra-feuding city-state w a population ca modern day singapore)

a kind of grid of bridges and fortresses has been built above the pit to protect the fancier, upper parts of the city from the decaying/descending bits below. the lower city is mostly miners etc & due to the fucked up mutagenic influence of living near a hell & touching hell stuff all day the people in the upper city treat them with suspicion. there's a 'join the US navy-army-whatever to get health insurance & education & basic human dignity' or like french foreign legion situation where by joining the elite magic army manning the little fortresses, ppl from the lower city can gain some access to the upper. in the reverse I guess for the upper city ppl it functions a bit like 'the wall' in asoiaf where criminals, noble bastards etc go to maybe redeem themselves or die horribly.

the fire magic used by the guards to fight demons etc is derived from the burning corpse of a god that is said to have been there since before the founding of the city (presumably the entity responsible for the hell situation in the first place). by swearing fealty to this dead(-ish) god one gets the ability to summon his divine flame but you forfeit your chance at an afterlife, or maybe you go to hell (no-one is quite sure). everyone kind of assumes once the body is fully burned the god will return/reincarnate (and either save or destroy the city, depending on who you ask).

the politics part; at its founding the city was part of some empire that has since collapsed (pretty recently). the city is dependent on trade to stay viable/fed and to appease the new warring states/mini-empires that have sprung up around it. the current ruler is a reclusive young queen & she has her favourite lord/advisor, an ageing academic who is sort of trying to liberalise the place or make it superficially less fashy. other lords dislike this & are working to either find her a proper king or hasten the return of some deity or other that will return the place to its former glory.

I guess the story? has this noble child bastard protagonist from a shady family* of word-mages who is sent to the 'centre' fortress & works her way up to become the apprentice of some hero-knight demon slayer guy with a possibly shady past (I think rn the name I have for the guy is Chaimé & idk if this is a good name? like the spanish jaime but w more e, & the tiny bastard is Myia I think). I imagine her being the sasuke to a happier, more popular girl who saves her from a demon (embarrassing) then is outed as a half-demon herself (she's the redhead in the drawings) & Myia warms up to her as she (demon girl) becomes increasingly isolated from the outside city (being supposedly dangerous or too powerful? I don't think Myia has much natural magic or w/e in her aside from being a nerd & very persistent).

sorry there's a lot here that would be SPOILERS if I ever actually made this into something coherent enough to be an actual comic ha ha. the knight/mentor guy gets dragged into a kind of fantasy 'business plot' & I guess part of that would be like, seeing to what extent he goes along with it & if he's actually a good person ha ha. + there's a bunch of other characters w stuff going on that I haven't figured out the looks of yet but. they're important in my head. the big bear-ish bf guy who gets sent on an expedition down the pit etc

* I have a distinct image of these people living hidden away in some gormenghast-style estate. they've habsburged themselves into being mostly deaf but the only ones around who can fully read/write the divine language that lets them do word-based magic & the other houses kind of have to put up w their weirdness. also scheming nobles in dune using sign language is 1 of my favourite things in the new film adaption & I like the idea of outsiders being forced to learn to sign (or else being cut-off from higher level magic) as some sort of power move? I don't think they involve themselves that much in politics since that's below them but are def part of the 'bring the gods back' thing, for better or worse. anyway after 'avas demon' (GUILTY PLEASURE I know it has such pretty colours but comes from such an unhinged part of the internet, will never stop apologising for this) started posting again I realised it had a character w the same look & vibe so will try and re-design protag girl to look more like this cute person I saw in a fashion post on IG

... let's see how this goes. came up w all this BS after some viz lady at comicon asked me if I wanted to make them a manga but it's grown from being too little to being too unwieldy to pitch. will see after I finish up my current projects. how much blood, swearing & genocide can a story have before it stops being YA. I think chainsaw man is sort of YA but dorohedoro isn't

[utilitycaster]

Speaking of Laura and Marisha having relatively weak chemistry, which CR cast members do you think have the strongest chemistry (romantic or otherwise) across campaigns?

I've tried to limit this because I could literally name a great relationship for basically every cast pairing at this point, but some of my favorites. To keep things balanced, I've done a sort of circle situation with two pairings per cast member. I also haven't included Matt just because I think it would be weird because as DM he has to play off everyone well, and he does.

Travis and Liam always have something bizarrely intense and it's different every single time and it's never quite romantic (other than Bertrand/Lieve'tel) but it is, frequently, homoerotic. Obviously most present for Fjord and Caleb and particularly their conversation in the Xhorhaus, but the "I want to give you an experience" line in late Campaign VM and Chetney and Orym's conversation in the Heartmoor are two examples.

Ashley and Travis are also always good; Pike and Grog are legendary for a reason, Fearne and Chetney have some extremely fun stuff going on but can also take it to more serious places, notably their discussion after Ashton's shard absorption attempt. and Fjord and Yasha didn't interact a ton but their few moments (I'm specifically thinking their shopping trip around episode 108 or 109?) are stellar.

Sam and Ashley have the same quality I think Liam and Travis have, namely, they are on some level playing chicken with each other and neither will back down. We see this with Pikelan; my favorite interaction is Pike being mad at Scanlan after he returns from his Meat Man era. Pike and Tary and the flashcards to remember VM is also a legendary scene for a reason. Veth and Yasha have some unbelievably funny conversations (I killed my whole family, I'll throw you under a bridge) and FCG and Fearne have run the gamut from poignant (post-Otohan Fight) to ridiculous (Fearne riding FCG around and using them as a thermos; honestly, the latest Otohan encounter somehow straddled these two vibes).

Laura and Sam should be a legendary cast pairing. They tend to play in a similar space thematically and they also keep overlapping in some sort of stat or outlook as well, without ever playing characters who knew each other beforehand. It's uncanny. We had Vex and Scanlan as Vox Machina's Charm (highlight being Vex's reaction during Bard's Lament). Vex and Tary becoming best friends and opening a bakery. Jester and Veth's shenanigans and deep friendship (messing around in that temple in Zadash; Jester confiding in her about Fjord kissing her; that one time where they encountered the syphilis bandits and kept running past each other in the dark; Jester taking the flask; and many more). And FCG and Imogen's early campaign closeness, with Imogen insisting on FCG's personhood and the two of them doing mind and dream stuff together.

Taliesin and Laura, unsurprisingly given the appeal of Perc'ahlia, are always great as well. Their willingness as Percy and Vex to be incredibly honest with each other, even about their darker traits, is commendable. Molly and Jester were fascinating because I don't think he respected her much but he did enjoy her company, and she admired him greatly. Team Cleric was also, naturally, a great duo, and I particularly think of them both returning to their respective thematic wells of closed-offness and recognizing it in each other, but going to other places to open up. We didn't get a ton of Kingsley, but he and Jester seem to get along pretty well! And Imogen and Ashton's standout moment was post-shard, but they also had a really good conversation after All-Minds-Burn, and I think they are able to embrace the tension regarding their different idealizations of estranged parents as seen in the latest episode.

Marisha and Taliesin are also really unafraid to explore conflict with each other, and it enhances their character interactions. Percy and Keyleth's friendship is fascinating because it seems that pre-stream they were quite close, but once the Briarwoods arc hit they often found themselves at odds and played off each other brilliantly. I love Molly and Beau's belligerence as well; that is one of my personal big regrets about Molly's death, and Marisha did a fantastic job showing how Beau was affected. Beau and Caduceus were also really interesting, in that they saw each other as the adults of the team for a while, especially early on. Beau and Kingsley have a great conversation in the Nein Reunited. And I've been pretty open about finding Laudna and Ashton's chemistry fascinating; while I enjoyed it romantically earlier, and would have loved to see how that played out, there's just such a great weird tension now, post-shard, that's hard to pin down.

Liam and Marisha have two of I think the most popular relationships in C1 and C2 and with good reason. Vax and Keyleth complement each other incredibly well, and I find Keyleth's feelings about the Raven Queen and how she and Vax approach them very differently to be beautifully done. Empire Siblings are again a favorite - they're so often at odds early on even as Beau has a lot of empathy for Caleb, and they're both the nerds of the party and among the most politically-minded to the point of working closely together years after the campaign. Laudna and Orym are also fascinating because they have these similar and yet wildly different ties to Vox Machina, and Orym feels for her situation, and they have some great conversations during the Issylra arc, but I actually love the growing tension. I love Orym flat out telling Laudna that this mission is important and he is pressuring Imogen because only she is capable of getting this information. I'm excited for the infiltration that's coming up!

But also because I can't limit myself here's some thoughts generally about cases where it's not every campaign but it's worth watching. The short version is "Travis and Ashley have some kind of chemistry with everyone."

I can name at least one relationship, romantic or platonic, between one of Travis's characters and a character from every other cast member, but I specifically want to shout out him and Marisha, who have zero romantic chemistry and bananas platonic chemistry in not just all three campaigns but also EXU Calamity and Candela Obscura Chapter 2. (He and Taliesin tend to have a fun and different thing going on each campaign and have a lot of similarities as players; Scanlan and Grog's clown to clown communication and Fjord and Veth's weirdly charged hostility are great; and hilariously I am obviously a massive fan of Fjord and Jester but I feel like the Baileyhams each campaign are like either we're doing high romance or we're going extremely our separate ways, which kind of makes sense in that they have extremely different approaches to D&D but also a lot of overlap in themes. Like on the rare occasions Grog and Vex, or Chetney and Imogen talk it's very good but they're certainly not the closest of characters)

Ashley also plays well with everyone. She has phenomenal chemistry with both Marisha and Laura. Beauyasha is readily apparent but also what we saw of Pike with both Keyleth and Vex was fantastic, and Imogen and Fearne are great and have some sparks, and Yasha and Jester had some incredible conversations. I also enjoy Ashley and Liam but have never shipped their characters romantically (and I suppose that was only even feasible in C1 given character sexualities); that's on my list of "could be fun" because they do always play off each other well. I will say, Ashton and Fearne have grown on me as a pairing but Ashley and Taliesin have always like...quietly vibed and had some great moments, and I think Molly and Yasha was (platonically) promising and cut short, and I love the conversation where Caduceus encourages Yasha to tell Beau how she feels, but they've never quite blown me away. I would like to see it though. There's potential.

Marisha and Sam seem to operate in very different spaces and so like...Keyleth and Scanlan, or Laudna and FCG, don't really interact much though they do have some mechanical overlap (Keyleth and Scanlan were good in combat together but didn't talk a ton) but specifically as Beau and Veth they were incredible. This is out of game but I very much enjoy their rapport during the Midst roundtables. Would love to see more.

Liam and Sam are also a fascinating case in that they're obviously very close friends irl but it's only as Veth and Caleb, and as the Grimms in Candela Obscura, that they've played characters who were close. They do have great chemistry though, romantic and platonic, and I'd love to see it explored. Liam and Laura are also interesting in that I love the twins and think they're amazing, and I like Orym and Imogen's relationship but particularly with C2 in the rearview, I just do not see much romantic chemistry between them at all. Bonkers good platonic chemistry though.

Taliesin and Sam are also a fun one in that I do like FCG and Ashton's friendship and their post-shard absorption conversation was a standout, as is Percy's outburst at Scanlan during the Bard's Lament and his friendship with Tary (and Tary's crush on him). Veth and Molly had some good moments; Veth and Caduceus did NOT know how to interact with each other.

[fuokir]

Aena Florence Cowell - Profile

◊ Basic Information ◊

▹ Gender: Female ▹ Date of birth:  19th of February ▹ MBTI: Defender ISFJ-A ▹ Nationality: British | Welsh ▹ Blood status: Pure-blood ▹ Wand: English Oak Wood | Unicorn Core | 14 ½" Length | Slightly Springy flexibility ▹ Nickname: - ▹ House: Slytherin ▹ Patronus: Red Squirrel ▹ Boggart: Dragon/Fire ▹ Amortentia: Juniper, menthol, lime ▹ Animagus: -

◊ Appearance ◊

Aena is slightly above average height. She has long blond hair, to be honest it's hard to say what color, her hair was once very burned out in the sun, I would call it a pearl blond, with a warm undertone. Violet eyes, in her favorite sly squint. A long, straight nose, it is very easy for them to get into other people's business. Freckled skin and two facial scars.

▹ Clothing style: Ready to dress up in anything, the main thing is that it be washed and ironed. She loves trendy blouses and comfortable shoes, otherwise she just wants to look neat. ▹ Accessories: Silver earrings. A brooch with which she secures a bow on her collar. ▹ Other distinguishing features: Two scars. First received before Hogwarts, her younger sister hit her with a candlestick in a fit of rage. This scar cuts through her upper lip. The second one was obtained approximately between 4-6 class step (I still haven't decided) in a fight with Aisha. This scar is located across the bridge of the nose.

◊ Personality ◊

Aena is a person who values connections very much, and, first of all, values her own comfort. She can come across as rude due to her bluntness, although she usually tries to choose her words. For close people, Aena is the figure of an older sister, patronizing and ready to help with deed or advice. She is still clueless in conversation, but it has its own charm. If you come to her in a bad mood or in tears, she will definitely coo around you and if words do not help, then be sure that you will be taken to have fun in Hogsmeade, even if Professor Weasley did not give permission to visit the village. Due to her rather reserved nature, it is very difficult to catch her own resentment or bad mood. As a rule, she suppresses bad emotions if the pressure on her is very strong. Cowell is inclined to break loose on someone, but more often than something (Ferdinand Octavius Pratt will never forgive her for his torn portrait that once hung in the Trophy Hall). Otherwise, she learned to live such moments in herself, not wanting to impose her problems.

▹ Traits: Self-confident, imposing, diligent, cunning, communicable. ▹ Likes: Feeling of winning, gift gifts to friends and family (she is one of those people who will see a wild flower, remember you and pick it to give), To speak caustically. ▹ Dislikes: Gobstones, hates all kinds of sweets and candies (childhood trauma). ▹ Good at: Chess, persuasion, remember things quickly. ▹ Bad at: Flying on a broom (she gets motion sick), to be tact. ▹ Hobbies: Board games, Herbarium, calligraphy. ▹ Fears: Fire, fatal disease. ▹ Ambition: Become an influential person in the magical world.

◊ Family ◊

▹Father: Ambrose Thomas Cowell ▹Mother: Lavinia Marjorie Cowell (nee Brown) ▹Sibling: Aeva Francis Cowell (little sister) | Darcia Arthur Cowell (little brother) ▹ Paternal grandparents: Bertram Caspar Cowell and Marjorie Rose Cowell ▹Maternal grandparents: They do not communicate for one reason or another / Aena does not know them, as much.. ▹ Other noteworthy relatives: Angus Beresford Cowell (uncle), Anna Rayne Brown (aunt), Victor Brown (cousin), Cain Beresford Brown (cousin, illegitimate son of Anna and Angus).

▹ Pet: Couple Mooncalfs and Jobberknoll ▹ Family home: Cardiff ▹ Blood Status: Pure-Blood ▹ Social standing: Middle class family, i guess... Aristocracy? ▹ Family background: The relationship between the Browns and the Cowells became very tense after the announcement of the engagement between Lavinia and Ambrose. Both Aena's parents were strong-willed and strong-willed, and although the families did not want this union, in fear that the newlyweds would quickly fall out of love with each other when they were drawn into the routine, this did not happen. The birth of Aena, the first-born, was not accepted by applause, the parents were still very young, just about to graduate from Hogwarts. it was also that Anna, Lavinia's cousin, and Angus, Ambrose's brother, were not careful and their families found out about their union. And although the Cowells, as a fairly young purebred family, were not well known, everyone whispered about the Browns. This angered the Browns and almost all ties between the families were cut off. This did not prevent the girl from growing up in love and care, even in some kind of permissiveness. Aena was a mischievous child. In particular, she adopted the confidence of her father, and inherited from her mother an unshakable determination. Of course her uncle Angus, who frequents them (living for a while with his brother and his family), also contributed. He was cunning, playful, witty and an excellent gambler. During the early years of Ambrose and Lavinia's marriage, he often stayed to babysit his niece while his brother and his wife worked at Gringotts Wizarding Bank. It would be nonsense if, in the end, Aena did not learn to play almost as well as her uncle. Over time, her sister was born, and now not only Angus was the nanny, but Aena herself, because her sister turned out to be a completely restless child.

The Cowell family can be safely called an example of a healthy family, where everyone listens and hears each other. Where conflicts are not hushed up, but resolved. In their house there is always an atmosphere of warmth and comfort. Family members value each other, they will never refuse to help friends and relatives. Her parents still work in a bank. Grandfather was an Auror, and her grandmother worked as a curse breaker. Her uncle Angus does not work anywhere, but thanks to his skill as a card sharper, he squanders money in all directions.

◊ Relationships ◊

It is difficult to write down with whom Alena is friends to one degree or another, since she tends to call a friend a person with whom she communicated a couple of times both of them at school. Anyway, she was the most frequent communication with Amit Thakkar, Aisha Werdy(oc), Grace Pinch-Smedley and Imelda Reyes. With the advent of the New Fifth Year, Aena's friend list has become noticeably larger! Since the fifth year, a new student has appeared in Cowell's inner circle (I would like to use a specific character, but I love many MCs so much … this is a difficult choice for me, in general, your character could be here !!!). Through the new fifth year, Aena became closer to Sebastian Sallow and Ominis Gaunt. This was an interesting experience for Aena, who was very prejudiced against Gaunt due to rumors and stories from her parents. Although her parents did not want to appear biased, because they had also been the subject of all sorts of dirty rumors before, they were very afraid of ties with the Gaunts. Interestingly, thanks to MC, Cowell stopped communicating with Cressida Blume. One day, Aena managed to overhear a conversation between a newcomer and Ominis in the Hogwarts library, where the MC told in detail what he had read in a Gryffindor girl's diary. She also had a quarrel with Imelda for a while, Reyes was tirelessly talking dirty about the new one and Aena was so tired of it that she asked Imelda not to talk to her until it was all over.

Any more serious and romantic feelings were alien to Aena for a long time. Probably the culprit was gambling, through which she received joy and adrenaline. When she was strictly banned from playing within the walls of the school for as much as 2 years, for Cowell it was a global catastrophe. She was still holding small sessions of games in Hogsmeade, Aena could not find a place for herself and did not know what to do. She struggled with background anxiety for a long time, at some point losing any interest in games. Ominis became her distraction. They bumped into each other on the way to Hogsmeade, talking. Gaunt had another problem with his parents (and more problems with Sebastian), Aena had complete emptiness and disappointment in herself as a person (she was really ashamed of her actions). The Slytherins entered into a playful agreement, Aena helped the boy create the appearance of the life that the Gaunts wanted for him (minimal, but this, as it turned out, was enough), and in return Ominis was supposed to simply brighten up Aena's especially lonely days. And so, with slow steps, they became closer and closer to each other.

◊ little things ◊

Heather Mason - Silent Hill 3

Dana Scully - X-Files

Morrigan - Dragon age:Origins

Suki - ATLA

Princess Leia Organa - Star Wars

Rhaenys Targaryen - House of the Dragon

[failed-inspection]

Dead On Arrival: a Rain World AU

hii hii! I had this AU concept bouncing around in my head for ages, the basic summary can best be described as "What if Spearmaster was friends with Artificer before the events of Arti's campaign?"

Time has passed since The Incident, and Spearmaster Cannot help but blame themself, those angry words of their recipient still haunt their mind, knowing that the message they delivered had caused the death of someone, brougt a slow and painful demise to another, and had burned the bridges between their creator and the one closest to them... They had so much people relying on them, and they failed, they sometimes still visit the surrounding facility areas, maybe as some sort of self inflicted punishment, reopening the wounds of memories, maybe as a bittersweet reminder of what could have been, regardless, during one of these travels, they come across a family of three, a maroon Slugcat and their two pups, at this moment in time, Spear is aware that they're considered an anomaly amongst slug kind (maybe they went to OE at one point as they were traveling), and expected some sort of negative reaction, instead, the other slugcats just seem... curious, not afraid, not disgusted, curious, this in one way or another, this leads to the slugcats interacting, which leads to them hanging out more and more, at one point, becoming relatively close, Arti's pups enjoy playing with Spearmaster despite how unusual they are, and Arti is happy to have a supply on spears whenever it was time to hunt, of course, spear would always return back to Suns, but whenever they visited the facilities, the family would always be happy to see them again.

Eventually, Spearmaster felt comfortable enough with Arti to open up about The Incident, about how they were tasked to deliver a pearl to help their creator's friend, only for things to take a turn for the worst, they ruined their creator's life, their friend lost everything, and they failed to save the one person who needed it most, leading to her death.

Arti doesn't quite understand the loss spearmaster has experienced, since they admit they hasn't faced such a loss like this, but they try to reassure them that things will be fine, they'll be here for them, despite everything, they don't have to grieve alone, one day they talk once again, before Spear goes back to Suns' can, and Arti and their pups go along their very way.

Remember how I mentioned Arti didn't understand the loss? That's because they didn't lose their pups yet.

This is the last time Spearmaster ever sees Arti's pups again, their lives had been later taken in freak incident, when one of them got a little too curious about a golden pearl within the scavenger tolls...

Eventually, time passes, and Spear and Arti see each other again, this isn't a warm, welcoming reunion by any means, as Spear found out about their current murder spree, to add salt to the wound, they also learned about how Pebbles, (who in their eyes, is the very one that lead to the death of Moon and stuff like that, how they feel about pebbles is very complicated and might need it's open in depth look but regardless considering their previous experiences with Pebbles his actions here REALLY don't sit well with them) tasked them with exterminating the scav population in his city, Spear is... rightfully horrifed! This wasn't the slugcat they once knew, the one they considered a friend, they honestly felt pretty betrayed in a sense... maybe Artificer is in the middle of a killing spree as Spearmaster runs into them, maybe they're too blinded by grief so that their attempts to get them to stop, that they don't have to do this... This only makes them see more red, maybe they end up fighting physically, maybe one of them ends up fleeing, whether it be in anger or horror.

Either way, Just like the bonds of the two iterators Spearmaster was made to help in the first place, history repeats itself, and the bridges have burned once again.

because I'm evil, the pearl the pup tried to take is the same pearl that held the instructions for removing the self destruction taboo in this AU <3

[lamaiemiei]

ok, so i slept a bit so, about that ultrakill au idea:

it's a modernish au centered around Gabriel as he meanders around Hell after dropping out of uni and burning bridges with his family (the Council and more people from Heaven) after having realized the disappearance of the Father.

The story would probably take place in a variant of Lust, with Minos serving as an old teacher of Gabriel's and ex ruler, ex high superintendent/judge of Hell, now having retired due to the weight of his duties, V1 as Gabriel’s partner and Ferryman as an old friend.

Gabriel cannot bear the consequences of his departure yet has to deal with more issues including his own body, his relationship to his romantic and mostly sex partner V1, his future in terms of studies and what to do in the near and far future, and his self destructive tendencies (cutting and other forms of physical self harm) which are remnants from a rough homelife with the Council and some of his only coping mechanisms with his body and guilt concerning religion and his hypersexual tendencies.

Gabriel himself tries to hide a lot of his suffering under a rather thin veneer of confidence and pompousness, working at a supermarket to pay rent while considering modelling as a life drawing model to make a bit of extra cash after having being asked by a classmate who thought he looked good looking. He's interested in dancing, but is too ashamed of the "temptress" aspect to act upon it. He plays the organ on Sundays as a solace of his and the first thing he bought purely for himself was a small keyboard synthesiser to practice. He was studying law but dropped out due to numerous issues, including his rapidly spiraling mental health, which lead to an attempt on his life which he barely escaped from thanks to Ferryman and Minos, the fact that he didn't choose to study law and thus didn't feel fulfilled and the abuse his family sent his way under the pretens of "we care about you!" (Often misgendering him and demeaning him and his skills and choices) He relies a lot on V1 as an emotional outlet as he feels too much guilt towards Ferryman and Minos for having "abused their kindness and trust". If he talks in rather self agrandizing ways outside he cries a lot when with V1, whom in turn can only return back hugs and sex as it feels too uncomfortable using their voice, eventually using it if needs be.

V1 is Gabriel's partner, and they have now been together for a few months. They met at some point at a gym where they fought eachother, before meeting again the same night at a machine centred party and V1 hooked up with Gabriel seeing his needs, in exchange for blood seeing as he was much more resistant and had way more blood. Basically starting as some sort of friends with benefits before Gabriel actually started feeling romantic feelings towards V1, the more he hung out with them. V1 itself isn't sure of its feelings towards Gabriel, being one of a kind yet created with fighting and killing as a main module in their "mind". They're more of a NEET kind who does odd jobs to pay the bills and pretty much dropped out of college in their second year cause they hated it.

V1 and Gabriel both like music a lot, but neither would want to work in it, V1 because of it's constant need for action and activity and Gabriel seeing it more as a hobby that'd lose its happiness bringer aspect if he did for performance again. He used to play the organ in Heaven's masses as well

Ferryman is an ex high school classmate of Gabriel's, having a huge crush on him before realizing he might never return those feelings Once his own last year of high school came (Ferryman was an underclassman of his). He now has a degree in naval engineering, but they do still love visual arts and literature.

Minos was one of Gabriel's first trustworthy contacts, before he dropped out. He might meet with Gabriel again at some point.

In the end Ferryman and Minos are mostly worried, Ferryman wishing to recreate contact with him and Minos trying to keep a calm front but still wondering what about his family made him this way

Age wise Gabriel would be 26-27 ish, Ferryman 24-25, V1 25-26 and Minos in his mid 60s.

that's pretty much. all of the important info i have i think. i'd like to add more if anyone wants to but yeah. want to make it into a comic because prose is harder for me and i'd have a more difficult time being subtle and stuff so,, yea

[dollywheeler]

October 4th, 1996

Dear diary,

We survived the night!

At first, when Mike opened the door for us, it was as awkward and uncomfortable as I’d feared. Mike was clearly nervous, which I found stranger than mom responding in kind, seemingly clutching to basic courtesy and manners as they landed on polite chatter about the weather. As if it’s ever anything other than dreadful in the beginning of fall.

I understand why mom was nervous, knew she wanted tonight to go well, but Mike was the one in control - he shouldn’t have been just as anxious, worrying about mom’s opinion. He’d already proven that he is capable of burning every bridge if he has to.

I stayed quiet as we crossed the threshold; I didn’t want to fall into the same pretense of everything being normal, and wouldn't have known what to say even if I did. Instead, I distracted myself by looking at the decor as Mike lead us further into the house. I’d never known there to be any developments in the neighborhood, but the house had clearly been a newer built than I’d expected. If I’d have to guess, I’d say late seventies, judging by the wide spaces and high ceilings. There was no divide between the entrance hall and the living room to the left, a set of stairs against the right wall climbing up to a second floor landing that overlooked the space beneath. The ceiling above the entrance and living room was made up of glass, as was visible from the street, the skylight tilting up until it meets the roof above the second floor. I had to admit it must look lovely during the day - or with the lights out at night - though I wouldn't want to be the one cleaning them.

The floor-to-ceiling windows facing the streets were partially covered by shrubbery and had tasteful white curtains that were left open for now, the glass reflecting the scene back to them and somehow making the lighting appear more cosy.

The furniture was minimalistic - clean wooden lines and modern sofas fitting the style of the house itself - and though the space was clean now, I could tell it's usually covered in clutter. The strip of wall that somewhat separated the hallway from the lounge was covered in picture frames, some holding snapshots of Mike’s time in Chicago, others showcasing Will’s artwork. I even spotted some old drawings above the fireplace that surely had to be from when they were kids. The outside wall was taken up by massive wooden shelves, covered in books and knick-knacks. It seemed empty now, but I’m pretty sure that’s due to the recent move, free surfaces they intended to fill up over the years to come.

The lounge, where Will met us with drinks and told us to sit down, was in the same room as the dining table, and in the back I could see a corner that led to the kitchen. though the kitchen itself was out of sight, I could see a small breakfast nook in the corner. Just like everything else, it was surprisingly cosy and intimate.

It seriously makes me wonder how long they intend to live there. It seemed surprisingly put together for a bachelor pad. Then again, not everything is like the movies, so I might just have to readjust my assumptions.

I didn't really tune in for most of the conversation, which was as awkward and stilted as I'd expected. Mom kept asking questions, and Mike kept answering almost reluctantly, as if he was seriously struggling to respond to to the most basic of inquiries about he and Will had been up to in Chicago. Honestly, one should rethink ever giving him an English diploma if he has this much trouble stringing a sentence together.

Will cut in a few times with updates on his family, which was a lot less awkward because mom had been keeping up with Mrs. Byers and thus could more easily contribute to the conversation. It was quite strange, even as we actually sat down at the table and they started directing more questions at me.

Surprisingly, Mike had actually cooked himself. Mom was quick to reassure him the food was good and the house was nice and all of that but it felt... weird, somehow. I didn't feel natural, even though she definitely wasn't lying, like she was afraid to say anything less. Meanwhile, Mike just looked more tense with every comment, as if he could sense it too. Will seemed to be the only one even the slightest bit relaxed, being quick to pick up conversation when either Mike or mom got stuck, trying to smoothe over the awkwardness to the best of his abilities. They kept bringing the conversation back to me, asking about school and friends and hobbies, but whenever mom and I tried to ask about them, it got weird again, dodging questions and dancing around the subject.

By the time we finished the main course I needed a break - couldn't stomach the weird energy anymore. So when Will and Mike started clearing the table, I got up and started wandering around. There were French doors made of dark wood near the kitchen that lead into a sun room, clearly used as a more informal living room. there were couches set up in the corner facing the giant floor-to-ceiling windows, tilted skylights similar to the ones at the front of the house allowing natural light to fill the space.

I would have bought the house just for this room alone - Will had set up an easel in the corner where two glass-lined walls met. In the corner away from the windows, a desk was set up cluttered with papers, and folders with white corners haphazardly sticking out, a typewriter stored on the floor next to it.

More so than the rest of the house, I could imagine them living here, sharing the space on lazy Saturdays or late Sunday mornings. Hell, I could take the images from when I was five, of Mike and his party set out around the coffee table in the basement, and implant them into this room, loud and boisterous and warm.

At least in this room the smell of teen-boy could be more easily aired out.

The one thing out of a place, which both surprised and excited me to see, was a shiny acoustic guitar standing next to the couch. It was new, clearly no more than a year or two old. I picked it up and it definitely felt smoother and more expensive than the one the Stevenson's had, and more importantly, it was actually tuned correctly.

"Do you play?" Mike asked, stepping into the room right as I had tried the first few chords, making me jump. He looked amused, though there was an edge of surprise or confusion on his face.

"Do you?" I fired back, because honestly I wouldn't have thought in a million years that Mike could play as much as the triangle, if anything. I wouldn't even have thought him capable of fine motor functions in general.

"Yeah, sort of," Mike shrugged, stepping further into the room and sinking down on the sofa. He held out his hand and I reluctantly handed the guitar to him.

He started playing, and it took me a moment to recognise it as Hey Jude from The Beatles. I raised my eyebrow at him, because as much as the song was a bit of a cliché choice, he was good. He stopped after the first chorus, and held the guitar out for me. I would have thought it a challenge, but instead he just looked genuinely curious to see me try.

I caved and sat down next to him, trying not to be nervous because last time I'd only managed to get to the first verse without making any mistakes. I was quite pleased with myself once I was done, and Mike's look was thoughtful even as he was smiling.

"I know that song, but-"

"Pixies," Will said from the doorway, and we both turned to look at him in surprise. "See, Mike, why am I not surprised your little sister has better taste in music than you?"

I couldn’t help but preen at the praise - I know it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t. Music is an opinion, and Will’s shouldn’t matter to me at all, and yet it felt nice to be complimented on it, as if I’d passed some kind of test. Interestingly, Mike didn't argue, just squinting his eyes at Will and sticking his tongue out like a child.

"To be fair, I've also been influenced by Jonathan," I reasoned, and told them about how Jonathan always makes me a Mixtape when Nancy and him visit. Where is my mind? was on the last one he brought when they visited in June, and just yesterday mom had picked up the new Oasis tape that Jonathan had pre-ordered for me as a late birthday present.

Will was immediately interested, coming over to sit next to Mike as he asked about my favorite song, so I let myself gush about how much I love Champagne Supernova - seriously, it's ridiculous. I've been listening to it on repeat ever since I got my hands on it.

I told Will I'd make a copy for him if he wanted, which he eagerly agreed to, but the conversation was interrupted as something moved in my peripheral vision, making me jump. It was just a cat, however, jumping onto the coffee table next to me. Startled, I ran a hand over her soft coat in awe, her big blue eyes uninterested even as she pushed into my touch.

Will, to my surprise, rolled his eyes when I asked for her name, but there was a smile on his face as he glanced towards Mike. “Her name is Cat.”

“You named your cat, “Cat”?” I asked, incredulous - because, seriously? - and Will shrugged and told me to blame Mike, who immediately gawked in affront.

“It’s short for ‘Catherine’!” Mike insisted as if that was a vital piece of information that somehow made it better.

“Mike sucks at naming things,” Will sighed as he reached out a hand to run over Cat's - Catherine's, because Cat is just too stupid - back, eyes cutting to Mike as if there was an older joke there, and to my surprise mom laughed. I hadn't noticed her come in, but she was sitting on the edge of the couch right next to the door, leaning back against the wall as she watched us with an adoring tilt of her head.

“He does,” mom agreed, fond smile curling at her lips, “what did you name Nancy’s stuffed horse again?”

Mike shrunk into himself, clearly embarrassed. “Neigh-nay is a perfectly acceptable name. As is Catherine!”

As if agreeing with him, Catherine jumped away from my petting and crossed the space into Mike's lap as he started scratching behind her ears. Mom laughed again, loud and deep and happy, and the sight made me smile as well.

“Honey, for someone that like those fantasy games so much you sure lacked creativity at times.”

That made Will snort, eyes filled with glee as he nudged Mike's shoulder, getting Mike to relax into a smile as well. “He was really good at coming up with the stories, though.”

Mom then went on to ramble in agreement, telling story after story about Mike’s imagination running wild from an early age. I was content to sit and listen and try not to die of boredom as we migrated back to the table for dessert. It was mostly things I already knew, Mom’s regurgitations of her favourite memories of Mike nothing new to me, but Will seemed to enjoy himself, and Mike was flustered but didn’t seem to mind either, chiming in to offer more context or correcting her at times when he remembered things differently.

The night was surprisingly pleasant after that, the initial frost finally broken as everyone got to enjoy themselves. They even relaxed enough to finish their glasses of wine and refill them, stories coming more easily after that. Mike and Will more freely talked about the classes they'd taken at UC and Northwestern respectively, and the apartment they'd shared after spending their first two years in the dorm.

There was still always that air of trepidation, of care hidden beneath each word, but it was easier to not fixate on it as we were all busy laughing at their crazy roommates and high-strung RAs. And by the end of the night I almost regretted having to go.

It was nice to have dinner like this - a proper dinner. Where the edges of the room fade away the further you're carried into the night, the deeper you sink into the conversation, when all focus shifts to the table at it's center and the people surrounding it, candlelight illuminating the sparks of joy in everyone's eyes. Everything suddenly seemed easier, the future shinier and more perfect, as if everything outside of the glow of the overhead lighting had ceased to exist.

And then we came home to a dark house, to dad asleep in his chair, and I realized none of my questions were answered.

Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe it's only the first step. I have to admit I don't want to go back, don't want to give this up. Even if it makes me feel guilty, even if I feel bad for leaving dad on his own.

Maybe I can take it one step at a time.

I'll think about it out tomorrow.

Love, Holly

[nunalastor]

Dark Forced Family/Overlord Found Family

We all know Charlie's been having her arc of realizing "what have I done" and wanting to make things right, but hear me out. What if Lucifer was as well?

He was still desperate to get his beloved Alastor back, and thinks of his possessiveness as necessary. But no one can see the person they claim to love on death's door with malignant catatonia and a fever, without starting to question themselves and what they are doing. As Alastor got weaker, possessiveness replaced itself with terror, so he turned to the one person he thought could help: Roo.

Roo tells Lucifer that she knows how to wake Alastor and who would manage to do it, but when asked who it would be, all Roo says is that person was once Lucifer, but it no longer is. Lucifer and Charlie had burned that bridge beyond any hope of forgiveness.

That's Lucifer's wake up call, but at the same time he's enraged, hating himself for what he had done and hating everything else for the betrayals that had made this seem like the only way. This world was dark and selfish and cruel, so he was right to keep Alastor away from it and close to him forever... right? Basically Lucifer is having a massive crisis/panic attack, and that is when he senses someone has opened Alastor's door.

That's right! Lucifer just started having a crisis at the same time as the overlord rescue. He is in a position where if they manage to calm him down, he may be able to be reasoned with and let Alastor go, but doing that would be a massive task in itself.

Roo of course did it like this on purpose, because watching Lucifer suffer is amusing, and if she plays her cards right, someone is going to make a deal with her to either win the fight or wake Alastor. She may not have Alastor's soul anymore, but even without his soul, he is a useful pawn to her.

👀

[darkreaderdan]

₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪

ᴍɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟ ᴄʀɪsᴛ 𝒂 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒔

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

Okay so this is a post that I have been planning for a while now to be honest. Devil's Night Series as been a series that honest got me hooked on reading again and all the characters hold a special place in my heart especially Michael and Rika. I have bared witness to all the hate that Michael gets and as a person who like and can relate to him on some level it actually rub med wrong. I also find it crazy how Michael and Emory are literally the same character in different font but Michael gets a lot more hate. (𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔) But this is a Michael post so I will be sticking to just my analysis of him and maybe this can shed some light on his actions and have a discussion. Keep in mind this isn't me trying to justify the shit he does but instead explain his actions.

❦ So first I wanna touch on who Michael is as a person. We have seen throughout the series and especially in Corrupt that he is a for the most part a loyal person especially when it comes to his chosen family which at the start of the series was solely the other 3 horsemen. But let's go see where this stems from. Michael is considered to be the black sheep of his family despite being the eldest son. We have seen in flashbacks that his father has an unwavering hatred towards him ever since he was younger (a literal toddler), even though we never found out the reason why. I have a theory however, that Evan's hatred stem from the fact that Michael is similar to him when it comes to their stubborn mindset making him harder to manipulate and control compared to Trevor who is literally his father's dog. Now back to regular program... this dysfunctional dynamic in his family is what lead him to find companionship, brotherhood and trust in Kai, Will and Damon. They became his real family. He has proven time and time again that he would and will do anything to protect or even avenge them. He was always giving them advice and even cleaning up after them whenever they fuck up, which we know is a lot.🤣🤣 But nonetheless because of his pact and loyalty he will do all this even at a risk of hurting himself both physically and emotionally.

❦ During the events of Corrupt it is noted on several occasion that he is also extremely self destructive. This can be explained as a direct result of his upbringing. One of the things that I realize that alot of readers and fan of the series like to skip over is the extreme abuse that Michael suffered at the hands of his father. I get that as opposed to Damon and Emmy, it wasn't a main highlight in his novel so people tend to downplay it or outright ignores it. Michael was physically & mentally abused by his father simultaneously for years, from his childhood to when he was mid to late teen (he was 16 if i recall correctly). It was at this time that he finally fought back against Evan, with Rika being an unknowing witness to the event that lead to the stop of the physical abusing but the increased in the verbal and mental abuse. And where was his mom during all of this? Acting and being oblivious ofc. But we can see that he still; in present day Corrupt; is affected by his fathers words which reflects in his self loathing and believing he doesn't deserve to be happy or the love of anyone, especially not Rika. The Rika he loved and his world revolved around since he was 3. The same Rika that his dad as been grooming and basically training to be the perfect match/wife for Trevor. And he would rather continuing to live in emotional pain than accepting that someone can love him, that's why he was so hellbent on avenging his friends at the risk of burning the bridge with Rika in the process.

❦ I will be the first to admit that he is blunt, brutal and overall mean in his speech especially at times when he speak to Rika. Michael is not one to cut words and will things in the most brutal of ways especially when he is angry or hurting as I genuinely believe he is one of those 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 type person who believe that if they are hurting others should too. Though for some reason this doesn't extend to when it comes romantic feelings. Wit that let's focus on his interactions with Rika. Even from the first encounter we saw of the two of them we knew that they had history between them and that their relationship runs deep, this is something that is immediately confirmed. I think one of the biggest issues that the fandom have against Michael is that he is hard on Rika, which is true, but the thing is I think readers are so used to the MMC babying the FMC that the concept of hard love is so alien to them. I will say though some of the things he did say to her are beyond harsh and outright so fucking cruel, like calling her just a pussy or even this:

"𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚔," 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔. "𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢, 𝚁𝚒𝚔𝚊? 𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝. 𝙽𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎." "𝙸'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚔," 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢. "𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢. 𝙸𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛." 𝙸 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚢. "𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝙸'𝚖 𝚋𝚊𝚍? 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎? 𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝? 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔! 𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗-𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛-𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗-𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛-𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛!"

❦ This was just uncall for, but it goes back to what I mentioned before of him believing that if he is hurt, everyone should also hurt, not an excuse but merely an explanation. And as harsh as he is some of his actions are from his perspective a way of teaching her to be stronger and fight her own battles and not wait on others to come to her rescue. He was the first to recognize her fire help her make it shine brighter:

"𝙾𝚠𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎. 𝙳𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍? 𝙾𝚠𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞." -

"𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘔𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘭-𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘋𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘯, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘒𝘢𝘪-𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦. 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨." - 𝘙𝘪𝘬𝘢.

❦ Another instance that I see people always judging him about is the events of Conclave which I find fucking ridiculous cause he literally reacted how any normal person would. For month Rika as been distant from him, all methods and efforts to try and get through to her as been futile, fast forward to that night on the ship, he walked in on his fiancé in the arms of his best friend finding comfort, when she has been brushing him off for months. Rightfully so both him and Banks were upset but everyone tend to only judge him. Come to find out that the woman he loves thinks so low of him, that he would leave her because of fertility issues and even confided in someone else. So yea him walking away from the situation was honestly a normal and natural reaction. Like he is allowed to feel and react like anyone in his shoes would. and I find it crazy how people love saying he doesn't care for, love or respect Rika when there is evidence proving otherwise.

𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒂 𝒊𝒔 𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍'𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅. 𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆. 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓.

"𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔," 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒔, "𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐. 𝑰'𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆. 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒐 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆." 𝑯𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔, 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒔 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒚. "𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓.

𝑾𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍 𝑪𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝑬𝒓𝒊𝒌𝒂 𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒆'𝒔 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒕. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔. 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒎, 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒃𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔.

𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓. 𝑻𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔, 𝑰 𝒓𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒃 𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆, 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕. "𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒂. 𝑰'𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖."

𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒂𝒎𝒆, 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒍𝒍. 𝑾𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒚, 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒖𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒆'𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓.

"𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒔, 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒔, 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒑𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓. 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔."

❦ Like you can bring up that he didn't apologize to her and it is clear that this is one of people's biggest freeze moment but let's not forget that people have different ways for expressing themselves and in MichaelRika case, they have proven over and over again on multiple occasions that they prefer and believe in actions over words. Rika wanted Michael to show her that he is sorry to basically dedicate his life to her and guess what? He did just that.

❦ I could go on more but as this post turn out longer than I anticipated I will end it her on this note. Michael to me is the perfect representation of a complex character, he is a product of cause and effect and it shines through alot through the series. I wanna finish by saying that I am in no way shape or form defending his actions but simply highlighting and explaining them.