#partially losing this one person that is a father and so much more to me was just too much

[lovesuhng]

right time

angst, fluff, best friends to lovers / w.c: 3.3k / doyoung is reader's fiancé, a lot of flashbacks, kinda slow burn (?)

The church doors opened. Beside you, your father held your hand, moved to tears because his only daughter was about to get married. The wedding march began. But you… you couldn’t hear a thing. You looked stunning in your wedding dress, but at that moment, you weren’t moved by the fact that you were getting married. Your heart pounded in your chest when, from a distance, you saw your groomsman—and best friend—Johnny Suh. The man who truly held your heart. That’s when memories of your childhood with him rushed into your mind.

Johnny had laughed out loud when you tripped over your own bike and fell into the grass at the neighborhood park. “You really suck at this!” “And you suck at helping!” you pouted. Johnny came closer and held out his hand. You had grass in your hair, scraped knees, and you were whining about something while Johnny laughed at the whole situation. “Alright, I’ll teach you... but only if you promise that when we grow up, we’ll still be friends and ride bikes together.” “Of course, Johnny.”

As you took your first steps into the church, another memory flooded your heart. This time, you were teenagers, navigating all those sweet, confusing feelings that come with that age. That’s how Johnny made you feel: like a free and hopelessly in love teenager.

You were in Johnny’s backyard, wrapped in an old blanket, sitting side by side on a makeshift inflatable mattress. It was summer, but the night had brought a cold breeze. The sky was filled with stars, and you had been staring at them for a while. You called his name. “Do you know what I always think when I look up at the sky?” you asked, turning your face toward him. He simply replied with a “hm,” his eyes still on the vast sky. “That everything seems so far away and yet so close. Like some things are only beautiful from a distance.” He chuckled softly. “Deep thoughts, huh? Turning into a poet now?” You laughed too, even though you tried to sound serious. “I’m being serious.” “Okay. I was just thinking… do you think it’s possible to like someone so much and never be able to say it? Just keep admiring them from a distance, like seeing the stars in the sky?” You held your breath. The question felt like it came from a deeply honest place in Johnny. “I think so.” You answered slowly. “Sometimes we’re so scared of losing what we have that we’d rather keep it inside.” Johnny turned his face to you. His eyes sparkled more brightly than all those stars. “Even if the other person might feel the same?” You hesitated, but replied, “Even then.” “Have you ever felt that way? Like… about someone specific?” Johnny asked, almost without thinking, but he wanted to know. “Maybe. What about you?” “Maybe,” he said, echoing your response with a soft smile. “But that person is kind of blind.” “Or maybe just pretending not to see.” You both smiled, but sadly—like two people recognizing each other, yet unsure if you could take the next step. A comfortable silence settled between you. “If one day we fall in love with someone for real…” Johnny said, “Promise me you won’t forget me?” “You’re my best friend, Johnny,” you whispered, lightly touching his face. “How could I ever forget you?” He didn’t answer. He just reached out and gently interlaced his fingers with yours. And there you stayed, under a star-filled sky, two teenagers full of unspoken feelings, experiencing the kind of love they didn’t yet know how to name.

A sad smile crept onto your lips as you remembered that night. You swore everything would change that day, that you would finally give voice to the feelings in your hearts. But a few years later, Johnny introduced you to his first girlfriend—and your heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

You were waiting for him at the usual café, sitting at your usual table with a partial view of the park and that retro decor you both loved to make fun of. Then came his message: “On my way. Don’t hate me, okay? I brought company.” You frowned. Johnny never brought anyone along to your meetups, so it felt off. When you saw him walk in, your smile faltered for a second and your stomach turned. Johnny was with a girl. She was beautiful—long hair, flawless skin, confident gaze. He was holding her hand. “This is Yerin,” Johnny said, nervously smiling. “My girlfriend.” Girlfriend. The word echoed in slow motion. “Oh…” you eventually managed to react, though your voice was quieter than you wanted. “Hi, Yerin. Nice to meet you.” “Nice to meet you!” she replied, overly friendly. “I’ve heard so much about you.” You did everything you could to keep a smile on your face. You laughed at their jokes, pretended to be interested when Johnny talked about how they met. But inside, everything screamed. You had remembered the night in the backyard. The touch of your interlaced fingers, the words between the lines. But apparently, none of that had meant the same to him. Maybe you had misunderstood everything. “You’re quiet today,” Johnny said when Yerin went to the bathroom. “Just a little tired, that’s all.” He looked at you for a few seconds too long. Like he knew that wasn’t all, but also didn’t want to ask. “Are you happy for me?” The question caught you off guard. “Of course I am,” you said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. Johnny smiled, relieved. “You know, no matter what happens, you’ll always be my best friend, right?” You never imagined how much that title—best friend—could hurt. When you got home, you cried silently.

From that day on, you decided to move on. You remained friends, but kept some distance because of Johnny’s relationship. It didn’t last long, but even so, you stopped hoping for anything beyond a strong friendship. At that moment in the church, your eyes met Doyoung’s—nervous, waiting for you at the altar—reminding you of the first time you introduced him to Johnny.

Same café, same nervous hands fidgeting with a menu you knew by heart. You looked more elegant than usual, something Johnny noticed right away. “You’re too dressed up just to have coffee with me.” The comment made you both laugh. You were about to answer when Doyoung appeared with his dark hair, pristine shirt, and kind smile. “Johnny, this is Doyoung… my boyfriend.” You said the word boyfriend almost in a whisper, like you were afraid to say it in front of him. Johnny raised an eyebrow, surprised that you were dating your coworker, but he quickly masked it with a polite smile. The conversation flowed well. Doyoung was polite, asked questions, laughed at Johnny’s jokes naturally. But there was something different in Johnny’s eyes. “Since when two have known each?” Doyoung asked. “Since forever” Johnny answered before you could. You laughed, trying to ease the tension in Johnny’s quick response. “He was the first boy who beat me at video games.” “And she was the first girl who called me an idiot for missing our first group project.” Johnny added, with that nostalgic gleam in his eyes. Doyoung smiled, seeming to understand that this friendship was older—and deeper—than he had imagined. “I’m glad he’s in your life.” “Me too,” you said, looking at Johnny, who smiled back. Doyoung insisted on paying and went to the counter. That gave Johnny the chance to lean closer and speak softly. “He’s a good guy. You seem happy.” “Yeah…” He nodded, biting his bottom lip lightly. “You deserve to be happy.” “You too.”

A tear fell as you remembered Johnny’s words. It was your wedding day. You should be happy, thinking about your groom—not reliving moments with your best friend. But even so, you remembered when you asked Johnny to be your best man.

“Johnny?” “Hm?” He was distracted. It was just another Friday. You were both in your living room, watching something on TV, laughing, saying silly things, making time feel lighter. But you were tense and Johnny could tell by the tone of your voice, by the way you nervously twisted your engagement ring around your finger. “I wanted to ask you something.” “Go ahead.” Johnny replied, smiling and turning to look at you. “Would you... be my best man?” Johnny froze for half a second, and you noticed. “Like… during the ceremony?” “Of course. Right there, next to Doyoung.” You gave a nervous laugh. “You’re my best friend, Johnny. It wouldn’t make sense to get married without you there. I need you for this.” He looked away for a moment, staring into nothing. “Of course…” Johnny said, sighing. “Of course I’ll do it.” You smiled, a little relieved by his answer. “Really? I thought you’d think it was weird…” “Well, I still think it’s weird that you’re getting married, but life’s been weird ever since you showed up with that ring on your finger,” Johnny admitted, giving a small smile to mask his feelings. “I don’t want this to change what we have.” "Nothing will change what we have. We’ll be friends forever. But I want you to promise me one thing.” Johnny looked into your eyes as if trying to memorize your face at that moment. You nodded for him to go on. “If at any point, you’re not sure about what you’re doing… tell me.” You stayed quiet. You tried to understand what Johnny meant by those words, but you only answered softly, “I promise.” Johnny just smiled, kissed your forehead quickly—just enough to make your heart race. “I’m gonna be a pretty best man,” he joked. “Prettier than me as a bride?” “Impossible.”

You looked at Johnny again, and you could swear he was about to cry—something that almost never happened. You questioned once more if you were doing the right thing, especially after the conversation you had with Johnny the night before.

It was already past midnight when you heard the doorbell. You were wearing one of Doyoung’s old T-shirts and sweatpants, getting ready for bed and your heart skipped a beat when you saw Johnny standing at your door, his hair slightly messy, carrying a subtle scent of whiskey. It was clear he had been drinking—but not too much. “I know, I know… it’s crazy to come here at this hour, the night before your wedding…” he said, leaning on your doorframe. “Did you drink?” you asked, arms crossed in a mix of worry and nervousness. “Just a little. Can I come in?” You stepped aside to let him in. The apartment was so familiar to him. He sat down on the couch, closed his eyes, and leaned his head back. “Tomorrow’s not the best day to be hungover,” you said, handing him a glass of water. “After all, tomorrow’s my wedding and you’ll be up there.” Johnny drank the water, set the glass down somewhere nearby, and looked at you. The way he looked at you was so intense that you felt like he could see right through you. “Johnny, are you okay?” He took a while to answer. He ran his hands over his face, as if trying to sort through his feelings. “No.” You were startled by his honesty and immediately worried. “Johnny, what’s going on?” “You’re marrying an amazing guy tomorrow. He loves you. And I should be happy for you. I tried to be happy for you.” “But clearly, you’re not.” “I keep thinking…” he continued, his voice a bit shaky, his eyes fixed on his hands, fidgeting with the skin around his fingers, “if maybe… we let our feelings slip by. If at some point, just one word could have changed everything.” “You know it’s not that simple.” “But it could’ve been,” Johnny replied. “If I had told you I loved you that night in the backyard, when we were looking at the stars… I didn’t say it because I was a coward. I am a coward. I’m afraid of losing you.” Your eyes welled with tears. You completely understood what Johnny meant. Silence fell over the room for a long moment, until you spoke. “I tried to forget, Johnny. I tried to move on, especially when you introduced me to your girlfriends. I couldn’t wait forever.” By now, both of you were crying. Johnny, slightly drunk, was wiping your tears. “I know. I don’t blame you.” Johnny whispered. “And that’s why I’ll be there tomorrow.” You were surprised by the decision he had made. “You’re still going to be my best man?” “Of course I am,” Johnny said, looking you in the eyes with a faint smile. “Because even loving you, I never stopped being your best friend. I’ll always want to see you happy, even if it’s not with me.” The tears rolled silently down your cheeks again. Johnny gently held your hand, as if that gesture was the last thing he could offer. Then, before standing up and leaving, he said, “If you say ‘yes’ to him, I’ll accept it. But if you have even the slightest doubt… I’ll be there for you. Always.”

You had reached the altar. Your father kissed your forehead, then shook hands with Doyoung, who smiled at you—but you sensed something different in his eyes. “Hey…” he said softly. “Can you come with me for a second?” You were confused. That wasn’t the right time for the two of you to leave the altar. “Doyoung, what are you doing?” you asked, following him into a side room of the church, as the murmur of the guests filled the background. “I know everything’s ready and it’s kind of late to have this conversation, but I want to ask you something.” You nodded for him to continue. “You love Johnny, don’t you?” Your breath caught. Tears instantly filled your eyes. “Doyoung…” “You don’t have to answer,” Doyoung said with a half-sad smile. He took a deep breath and went on. “I felt it since the day you introduced us at that café. And today, I was sure of it. You looked at him the moment you walked into the church.” Silence. You couldn’t answer your fiancé. All you could do was cry. You tried to speak, but Doyoung gently interrupted “Hey… it’s okay.” He took your hands in his, and said as sincerely as anyone ever could: “You were someone really special in my life. I was so happy with you. But I couldn’t live with myself knowing you’d never be truly happy by my side. So, I’d rather let you go.” “You’re amazing, Doyoung,” you said through tears, hugging him tightly. “I know,” he smiled, trying to make a joke. He looked at you deeply one last time, taking a deep breath, holding back tears. “Well, I’m going to go tell everyone. Stay here a bit.” You stayed there for a while, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to figure out how you’d explain everything to your family and thinking about how Doyoung was an incredible man for seeing the truth in you, even when you hadn’t said a single word. When you realized everyone had already left, you decided to leave the church too and go straight to the one place you always turned to when life felt confusing: your favorite café. You couldn’t help but smile at the looks people gave you as you walked in still wearing a wedding dress. But one particular look caught your attention. Johnny was sitting at the table you two always sat at when you came to that café — the same one where you had introduced Doyoung to him. You walked over naturally and sat across from him, still catching that look of admiration in his eyes. “You really are the most beautiful bride there ever was,” he said. All you could do was laugh at your best friend’s comment. “And you looked really handsome as the best man,” you replied. Johnny gave a small smile, going quiet for a moment but his eyes said so much. It was a silence filled with stories, memories, questions never asked and answers you both already knew. You leaned your elbows on the table and looked at him. “You knew I’d come here, didn’t you?” “Of course,” he said. “It’s your place. It’s our place.” You nodded slowly, biting your bottom lip. “It’s crazy to think I almost got married today.” “I know,” Johnny said softly, playing with the napkin on the table. “It’s even crazier to think that you’re here.” You sighed. “Here with you.” “I told you I’d be here if you had doubts.” He looked you in the eyes like it was the most certain thing in the world, like he had always known that, somehow, you’d end up there with him. You rested your head on your hand, watching him play with the napkin. “So now what? What should I do?” you asked, almost in a whisper, as if he held the answer. Then Johnny leaned in closer, elbows on the table too, eyes fixed on yours. “Now… you breathe. And then, when you’re ready… you tell me. No rush, no labels. Just you and me.” You smiled through teary eyes, feeling for the first time that, despite everything, you were doing the right thing.

Weeks went by filled with long talks, quiet meetups, and laughter, like the two of you were discovering each other all over again. Johnny was always there, patient and tender, as if he hadn’t already waited a lifetime to have you by his side. You were sitting together on the same park bench where you used to go as kids and early teens. Johnny was sneakily taking a photo of you — a habit he'd had ever since his mom gave him a camera for his seventeenth birthday. “You should be more subtle when you take pictures of me,” you said, one brow raised and a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Who says I’m taking pictures of you? I’m photographing the sunset. Not my fault you keep getting in the way.” You laughed at how shameless he was, then paused just to look at him. He was like that sunset in a city that never sleeps: impossible to ignore, quietly breathtaking. His smile was warm and real — the kind that calms the storms inside you with just a curve of his lips. And in that moment, in that smile, you knew it was time. “Johnny?” “Hm?” “I’m ready.” He furrowed his brows slightly, lowering the camera and turning to face you. “Ready for what?” You gently held his face, your thumb brushing his skin in a tender caress. “To be happy with you. I think we’ve waited long enough.” Johnny looked like he couldn’t quite believe what you were saying. “Are you sure?” he whispered, already close enough that you could feel his breath. “I'm more than sure.” And you kissed him. It was a soft, deep kiss — full of all the feelings that had waited in silence for so long. When your tongues met, it felt like the most right thing you had ever done. Johnny held you gently, knowing you weren’t going anywhere, that this time you were his to keep. When you finally pulled apart, Johnny rested his forehead against yours, smiling against your lips. “Well, that was way better than holding wedding rings at the altar.” You laughed and replied, “And you were a very handsome best man.” “Just imagine how I’ll look when I’m your fiancé.” “Cocky” you teased, brushing a strand of hair from his face and tracing his eyebrows with your fingertip. “Thanks for waiting so long for me.” “I would’ve waited forever, because you make my life worthwhile.”

[perfectlyvalid49]

Sorry for grossing you out but uh, I have a complex claim to a lot of religions and cultures because of how colonialism (arguably Israel is a settler colony state so uh… hmmm) has impacted me.

As you’ve ascertained (correctly) I’m a non-Jewish American, only by technicality, because I haven’t found a rabbi that will even support the fact that I’m gay and the “three asks” thing feels like a troll move which feels… homophobic???

I need you to seriously consider how my life has been negatively influenced (hence the circumcision poll) by a bastardized JEWISH practice, and what the fuck that means for my identity as it feels like fate to some degree and a bit offensive that you would yuck my ability to find yum in Yhwh or w/e because I’m… too much of a faggoy? Idk man… just asking questions. I’d love to clarify your response in a dm since its… a lot. Not meaning to offend just sick of being put in a box because my circumcision and mother aren’t “right” enough to be in the in club because Hekate or Satan or whatever swooped in and said “NOPE” 🙃

Cheers

Trying to understand Israel through the lens of settler colonialism is a failing proposition. Consider the following:

Jews are indigenous to Israel. We have a historical record that says they’re from there in both the Greek and Roman written record. Like there is as much if not more evidence of Jews in Israel in Roman writing as there is of Julius Caesar being a real person. We also have archaeological evidence. Israel is covered with digs that find evidence of Jewish life dating back 2,000-3,000 years. We also have genetic evidence. DNA studies have shown that even super white looking Ashkenazi Jews have significant portions of DNA that are most closely related to other groups from the southern Levant.

So to call Jews settlers either denies all that evidence, insists that indigenous people can be settlers on their own land, or posits that indigenous people can somehow lose their status as indigenous if you wait long enough. The first is anti-intellectual and antisemitic, the second is ridiculous and the third is a dangerous line of thinking for all indigenous people. How long before Native Americans no longer have a claim to their land? How long before Maori no longer have a claim? It’s not really a place we want to go.

As for colonial, the definition of a colony is “a country or area under the full or partial political control of another country, typically a distant one, and occupied by settlers from that country.” So which country controls Israel? I think we’ve seen over the last year that it’s not the US given the way Bibi has repeatedly blown off Biden, so who is it? Which country is sending settlers to control the area? Again, it’s not the US. While some American Jews make Aliyah every year, the vast majority of Jews in Israel are either from Europe or the Middle East. To be a colony, you have to be a colony of some other power. What is the other power here?

So we can see that Jews are neither settlers nor colonizers. But you know who did colonize the area? Arabs. Arabs are indigenous to the Arabian peninsula, not Israel. And in the 7th century, Arabs came from the Arabian peninsula into Israel (and other places), conquered the locals and did their best to eradicate their cultures, forced conversions to the conquering religion, and settled in the new lands while being under the political control of the far away Caliphate. Sounds like settler colonialism to me. So if we must understand someone in the area as colonial (and I still don’t think it’s the best way to look at things, but if you do) then it’s the people that Palestinians are descended from.

Having said all that, just because colonialism has impacted you, it doesn’t mean you have a complex claim to Judaism. Here are ways you can have a complex claim to Judaism: 1) your father is Jewish and your mother is not, 2) you have Jewish ancestors who were forced to convert and you are now trying to reconnect with the religion that was taken from them. I don’t know your history, so it’s possible that one of those is true. But if you have no Jewish ancestry, then your claim is not complex, it’s non-existent, and if you do have Jewish ancestry but your ancestors willingly left the tribe, then you don’t really have much of a claim either. That doesn’t mean you can’t convert, but given that you seem to think you have claims on other aspects of Judaism as a non-Jew, my gut reaction is to be very doubtful toward your claim on Judaism in general.

If you can’t find a rabbi to support your conversion because you’re gay, you’re looking in the wrong places. The senior rabbi at my synagogue is gay, and we have several queer families as part of the congregation. There are literal signs on the door to the main office that say Trans and Queer Jews welcome here. This doesn’t mean that all congregations are welcoming, but lots are.

The three asks thing is a metaphor that some rabbis take literally. Converting to Judaism is a big decision. The three asks are to make sure that you’ve really thought about it and are really sure – that you’re taking it seriously and thought through all the consequences. If that feels like trolling to you, then maybe Judaism isn’t a good fit. Honestly, from my interactions with you this week, I would bet that the rabbis you’ve met with haven’t said no because you’re gay, they’ve said no because you don’t seem super interested in taking on Jewishness, you just want to take from it instead.

I don’t know what happened with your circumcision. If it went wrong and it was done by a mohel then you can feel angry toward the Jewish people I guess, but I would want to know why your parents had a bris for you if they weren’t planning on raising you Jewish. If you were just circumcised as a medical procedure, as many American babies are, then you may have trauma related to it, but you don’t need to be taking it out on the Jewish people, which is exactly what that poll was doing.

Don’t write down those four letters. Don’t try to pronounce them either. We have asked, repeatedly that people not do that, and once again, the fact that you are is super disrespectful to Jewish people. Write G-d, or God if you must, or even Hashem (I don't think goyim should, but it's better than what you did), but not those four letters. It’s not yucking your yum. You are allowed to enjoy what you want. But what you are doing here is the equivalent of coming into my house and saying that because my dinner looks delicious you can just reach onto my plate with your bare hand, scoop up some of what I’m eating, take a bite and throw the rest back. It’s disrespectful and offensive. I am not objecting to your joy, I’m objecting to your lack of respect to my culture.

Being Jewish is about more than just being circumcised and having the “right” mother. There is a culture here that you need to understand. If you are raised in it, then you get to join the club that way. If you’re not, then you can put in the work to learn it and learn to be respectful of it and join the club that way. So far, you haven’t been able to find a rabbi that thinks you’re willing to do that work, and from what I’ve seen, I’m willing to agree.

[agentmarvel]

center image by @/ave661

PART II

hitman!ghost x fat!reader (afab, fem) w/ arranged marriage

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

rating: explicit

word count: 3,010

read on ao3

cw: toxic parenting, implied fatshaming, simon begins his descent into madness, so obsessive!simon

♡

It's irksome, the way Johnny fusses over Simon's bowtie. He keeps turning and twisting it in an effort to straighten it out, but the little perfectionist is just never satisfied.

“s'fine, Soap. Leave it alone.”

“Awa’ an bile yer heid. Damn thing's more crooked than yer nose, LT. Not letting ye get hitched lookin’ like a dafty.”

Simon sighs, rolling his eyes with a sly smirk. He's partial to the nickname, though neither of them served a day in their life. Well, not in the traditional sense, at least. But the semblance is a loyalty forged in sweat and blood; Johnny's been with him for years, a parting gift from Price. 

“He's a good lad, Simon - real salt of the earth type. Bit chatty, but he works as hard as his old man did. Think he'd do well with you.”

Simon thinks he truly understated the chatty bit, but as usual, was not wrong.

“Aye, there we are.” Johnny finally steps back, admiring his work. “Yer tie looks better now; shame we can fix yer ugly mug, though.”

“Oi, fuck off.”

Kyle snickers across the small room, straightening his cuff with a grin.

“Don't be such a git, mate. Not every day the big man gets married. Frankly, with a face like that,  doubted he ever would.”

“You're both fired,” Simon mutters, shaking his head as he moves towards the door.

“Where ye think yer goin'? She's not laid eyes on ye, so I dinnae think she's bolted yet.”

“Better give ‘er the chance then, yeah?”

He slips out the door with an amused hum before wiping his palms against his slacks. Never will he admit it, but a waxing sense of anxiety gnaws at his gut. It’s been years since he’s actually felt… nervous. Not since his first solo contracted kill. Treading unfamiliar territory stirs foreign feelings, but perhaps they’re not all bad ones.

To take the edge off, Simon decides to step out for a smoke. That wasn’t his intent initially, lest Soap bitch at him for disrupting the effects of his subtle cologne, but he’s willing to face the wrath for some nicotine. He pats his jacket, feeling the creased, misshapen cardboard pack in his breast pocket and looks for the nearest exit. It’s just a bit further down the hall.

But something stops him before he steps out. An argument behind another closed door.

“Of course I think you look nice! All I’m saying is that you could’ve put a bit of effort into losing more weight. I didn’t hire a top nutritionist and personal trainer just for you to not need more alterations.”

Simon recognizes that voice. Your father has an unmistakable level of condescension that drips off every word he says.

“And would it kill you to smile? It’s your wedding day, for Christ’s sake! Pretend you’re happy.”

“You’re not in any position to ask anything of me.” The response is acrimonious, venomous, and a voice that doesn’t ring any bells. It’s you. 

“Don’t you dare take that tone with me. I am your father, and you will do as I say.” The already bellicose tone swells as his voice raises, and Simon has half a mind to step in. A sense of fury burns within his chest. He should’ve known that someone with such a flagrant disregard for you behind your back would be just as derisive to your face. It’s crass at minimum, especially in the face of your own fucking child.

The only thing stopping him is the want for things to go smoothly today; a temporary ceasefire to ensure that he can fulfill his obligation.

Still, he feels a tug at his hollow heartstrings. No one deserves to be spoken down to in that manner, let alone on their wedding day. He’s certain you look stunning, and he’ll be sure to tell you as much when he finally gets to see you.

He’ll also be sure to limit contact with your father immediately after the marriage license is filed. Keeping that twat on a short leash ought to keep his beautiful bride in high spirits, yeah?

Before he can think better of his decision, Simon sees himself outside. Getting his fix does little to quell the rage stoked by his albeit unintentional eavesdropping. Before he knows it, he’s gone through half the pack and is about to light another when he gets a text from Kyle.

>>> It's time!

He takes the unlit cigarette from his lips and begrudgingly stows it away. Making his way back inside, his stride slows as he approaches the door to the bridal suite. It's partially open, and from what he can see, your father is conspicuously absent. You remain, however. 

It's hard to fathom how a man could be so cruel to such a creature of allure. In the most fleeting glance as he passes by, Simon's struck with a gravitational pull. You're the moon, he's the tide. At that moment, he wants nothing more than to turn back. He wants to make his presence known and promise you'll never face another day of derision after today. You'll never endure another vile word. A painful, gruesome death would befall anyone who treated you so disgracefully from this moment on. In that singular frame, Simon knows he'd break John's rules for you. He’d break his own rules for you. 

And he's never even spoken to you.

♡

Johnny's waiting for him just a few doors down. As Simon approaches, he sees Johnny’s nose wrinkle.

“Och! Ye smell like the alley behind a fuckin’ pub, ye reprobate. C'mere, ye fuckin’ oaf.”

As predicted, Simon supposes.

It's a quick fix, and Johnny rushes him off to the altar. Simon adjusts his jacket, buttoning it properly before taking a deep breath and pushing ahead. The room goes silent as several dozen eyes abandon their previous gazes to watch him. His confidence doesn’t waver outwardly. There’s no room for that. He keeps his eyes forward as he approaches the pulpit. A familiar face awaits him there in a fresh-pressed three-piece.

“Didn’t know you did weddings,” he laughs, low and clipped.

“Do funerals, too, if you know anyone in need,” John Price hums back with a grin. Simon offers a hand, one Price accepts with a quick, firm shake. “Good to see you, my boy. Been too long.”

“Not long enough if your chin hasn’t caught up with your chops yet.”

“Glad to see time hasn’t dulled your sense of humor.” It’s a dry response, but the creases at the corners of his eyes give away his amusement.

Idly, they chat, waxing philosophical to pass the time. Periodically, John checks his watch and looks into the balcony, but he doesn’t miss a single word Simon utters. Simon’s seen this before; something isn’t quite right, and Price is trying to suss out precisely what it is.

The door at the back of the chapel opens, and a small woman with wiry hair rushes up the aisle as fast as her little legs could carry her without breaking into a jog. She clambers the quartet of steps, looking a bit worse for wear. Sweat prickles her brow, her sunken eyes seeming to recede with each movement. John raises an eyebrow as if to ask her if she’s okay, but she ignores the unspoken concern.

“So sorry to keep you waiting, John. Bride had a little, eh, mishap, but we’re ready to begin.”

Simon opens his mouth to demand more detail, but Price shoots him a pointed look, the aim to keep the dog from barking as he reassures her, “Perfectly fine, Doris. Is the young lady alright?”

“Quite. She's just had a bit of a rocky morning. Nerves and all.”

She shrugs with a timid smile, like that'll placate the intense look of defensiveness on Simon's usually stoic face. He knows she's not being entirely truthful, but to whose benefit? 

Price gives her a curt nod and offers his arm to usher her to her seat. Her frail fingers curl around his elbow, blue veins protruding like a web of thread unspooled. She smiles at Simon sympathetically. They descend the short few steps in stagger, and he can’t help but wonder what it is that she knows that he doesn’t.

It doesn’t matter, he decides. After today, none of this really matters. The setting is a mere formality, born of a desire for flamboyancy and extravagance, neither of which have ever been in Simon’s wheelhouse. His preference for something simple and quiet was aggressively overruled from the start.

His eyes drift over the observers that casually mill about the pews. Only one bears any familiarity, the one patting an old woman’s hand before turning back towards the pulpit, while the rest look more like faceless mannequins, nondescript in the forward echoes of memory. 

John takes his place beside Simon, asking under his breath in close proximity, “Are you ready?”

Simon nods, folding his hands together in front of him and adjusting his stance to face the doors at the back of the aisle. In his periphery, he sees Price signal the woman who sits at the piano. She begins to play something Simon doesn’t recognize. Immediately, those stark moths flood to their seats like a bright bulb.

The doors open after a few measures, a pair of well-dressed ushers securing them in position. Shortly, the two pairs of bridesmaids and groomsmen enter, timely and in sequence. The young women accompanied by Simon’s men are both bright-eyed and all smiles, but the air of wariness is not lost on anyone keen enough to notice. Circumstantially, this wedding is dubious at best, and if they’re close enough for you to ask them to join the wedding party, then they’re close enough to know the truth.

He’s under no illusion that you’re an overtly willing participant in any of this. You were blindsided. Out of the blue - no warning, no inkling - being told over dinner that your father is not the man you always believed him to be, that you’ve been promised to a stranger to improve business prospects, that you’re seen as a pawn rather than a person. Simon feels vaguely guilty for the turmoil, but seeing the lack of consideration for you truncates it. You’ll be better off by his side. That’s not the fanatical part of his brain speaking; it’s factual. 

When he hears the music change from a simple, tedious tune to a melodic version of the traditional bridal march, reality pulls him back into his body. His gaze locks on the doorway. For the first time - the first real time - he gets to see you.

You look god damn gorgeous. There’s no other way to describe it.

The dress is bright white, almost blinding. Crystalline and pearl accents around the neck and waist lines reflect sun rays from the windows, giving you an ethereal glow. Delicate charmeuse drapes some of your curves while tulle hides others (much to his dismay). Simon swears the halo above your perfectly styled hair isn’t a trick of the light. You look like a fucking angel - his angel.

His heart is racing, raging against the cage of his ribs like the bars of a prison cell. It wants to escape, break free and put itself in your hands. The pace of his breathing has quickened, palms beginning to sweat, and a foreign euphoria falls over him like mist. His lips curl into the smallest expression of joy, barely detectable, and John nudges him with his elbow.

“Congratulations, my boy. She’s a beauty.”

A sense of pride swells in his chest at that.

Halfway down the aisle, you finally look up at Simon. In the span of seconds, your expression rolls through a series of emotions; bitter, then a mite of surprise, confusion… then admiration and ire.

You take on a more timid look as you approach, though, fingers wrapped loosely around the inside of your father’s elbow. Despite the narrowness of the aisle, you’re still positioned as far away from him as you can be. The anger is palpable, rolling off you in waves. Just beneath the surface, an indeterminable despair. You don’t want to be here, don’t want to be anywhere near that bastard or Simon himself. He may not have gotten to know you in the traditional sense, but he knows human behavior all too well.

You’re hurt. Betrayed. Defiant.

The iniquity of it all gnaws at his bones as he extends a hand to you. He watches your snake of a father wrenches your wrist with a hollow smile to pull you closer before taking your fingers in his with a brutish grip.

“Do you give this woman to be married to this man?” Price asks, an obscure grit of disapproval at the display thickening his voice.

“I do,” your father answers, tugging your arm forward in an offering of your hand.

Simon takes it gently, savoring the feeling of your soft, manicured fingers sliding across his rough, calloused palm. You lift the hem of your dress with your free hand, taking each step like it’ll delay the inevitable. There’s a tremble in your touch, undoubtedly apprehensive, uncertain, scared.

When you’re settled on the top step, you glance at your father with pleading eyes. His expression is stern and hardened. He mouths an inaudible warning before turning to take his seat, and Simon swears he sees the last shreds of your stubborn will collapse. 

Quietly, you hand your bouquet to the bridesmaid just behind you before placing your other hand into Simon’s waiting one. Tears spring up in your eyes, and he gives you the softest squeeze.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers so softly that even Price almost misses it. Your eyes shoot up to his. “Let’s just get through this, yeah? We can talk about everything when we don’t have an audience.”

You nod.

♡

It all passes in a haze, like Simon’s somehow running on autopilot while still autonomous in part. Both your vows and his were written by the wedding planner with significant input from your parents. An effort to hide the clandestine nature of the nuptials, he supposes. He recites his from recall, trying to place emphasis where needed like code. Yours, however, have him rapt. While he knows the words are not your own, something about hearing you profess your love ignites a spark within him. Hell, he nearly misses his cue for the ring because he’s so focused on absorbing your presence, memorizing every detail of the way you look right now.

One thing snaps him from his infatuated stupor: “You may now kiss the bride.”

He eyes you warily, seeking any sign of discomfort. There are no sirens sounding, no postings of danger, no flashing warning lights. You’ve resigned yourself to the moment’s arrival, and Simon does not hesitate. His hands curl around the roundness of your cheeks, slotting you into his palms like you were made to fit. The tilt of his head falls opposite yours. 

Slowly, he leans forward. Leisurely so as not to alarm you. Your breathing hitches just a hair as he closes in. The tips of your fingers settle against his chest as he reels you closer. His lips barely brush yours, a hint of strawberry as your gloss transfers in brief contact, and you draw him nearer until you reconnect.

It consumes him wholly now, the spark, engulfing his entire being. Flames of desire lick up the base of his spine, rising until your fingerprints are blistering his skin. He’s melting into you, embers glittering as they rise up and away until he’s nothing more than ash, staining every inch of you he may ever touch with a permanent marking that can’t be scrubbed away. Your name is branded on his chest, now and forever. In every way, he is yours.

Price is kind enough to wait until the kiss ends to formally announce the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Simon Riley with a reminder that a reception will occur at a later date. Simon takes your hand in his and briskly leads you back down the aisle, grateful for the guise of a honeymoon flight to stave off a night of questioning and awkwardness.

It’s not a honeymoon that awaits, but rather a lengthy flight back to Manchester. Movers cleared out your apartment this morning, carting it to the tarmac to load. Another crew will be waiting to unload it the moment you touch down.

Simon hopes you’ll be able to get some rest during the flight. You needn’t lift a finger, don’t worry; he’s just concerned for the dark circles hidden under your make-up, the torn bits of skin around your nails, the way your voice rings unsteady and uneven in the moments you’re alone with him.

It’s understandable that you don’t trust him yet. You don’t know him quite as intimately as he knows you. You’re afraid, unsure of what comes next. The life you knew is in upheaval, disrupted by years of lies and deceit. You don’t know what’s real anymore. You doubt everything. Who knew the truth and didn’t tell you? Are your friends even really your friends? Did your parents ever love you, or were you always just a puppet? The strings are too tangled to separate at this point, so you might as well accept your fate and cut them.

You sob into his chest, tears soaking through his white button down. It’s taken so much out of you, hasn’t it? And now you’re here, spilling your guts to a man you don’t know as he holds you, dutifully and steadfast.

One more hour, and you’ll be away from all of this. He won’t lie to you, he won’t hide things from you. You’ll never have to question yourself or the people around you again. You’re getting the life you deserve now.

It’s okay to trust him, sweet girl. Tell him all your secrets, let him in, let him live in your skin, burrow deep in your mind. Simon will keep you safe. At any cost.

part iii

[anothanobody]

EREMIKA MASTERLIST

Fanfictions and projects in progress made by me. All orginal stories or explicitly inspired by movies, series, mangas, manwhas or canon divergences.

Stories with Eren Yeager and Mikasa Ackerman as the protagonists. There might be more stories I have decided to not make public yet, the ones down below are the ones already fixed and planned partially or fully.

MASTERPOST - DRABBLES

Risks Fanfiction - Tumblr Tag

A toxic lovestory between two people who were best friends, and are now a married CEO and his personal assistant. If only he had not rejected her when they were sixteen, all of this could've been avoided.

Tropes: CEO-PA Relationship, Love Affair, Angst, Smut, kind of Unrequited Love.

Sequel - The Distrustful Aftermath

Nannykasa Fanfiction - Tumblr Tag

Mikasa was hired to take care of Elijah, in exchange of living arrangements. Eren, a single father and full time surgeon needed help, maybe it was the force proximity or maybe just how they saw the other behave with children.

Tropes: Age Gap, Nanny-Employer Relationship, Forced Proximity, Smut, Light Angst, Fluff.

What is love? [Yandere Eren AU] Fanfiction - Tumblr Tag

Eren finds a sheltered runaway bride, his obsession is instant. An innocent Mikasa that doesn't know of the world Eren secretly runs, of violence, crimes and darkness. An emotionless man, will he realize if it is love?

Tropes: Yandere, Violence, Possessiveness, Secrets, Smut.

Armin's Sobriety Fanfiction - Tumblr Tag

Fucking his best friend's guardian wasn't in Eren's plans, but Armin was the one that kept drinking so much that they had to stay over at Mikasa's, Armin's guardian. Attraction and frustration start it all, casual or serious, Eren is serious about it.

Tropes: Age Gap, P*** with Plo, Drinking, Secret Relationship.

Thank you, Zeke Fanfiction - Tumblr Tag

When Eren is finally froced to go pick up his nephew from school, he meets his teacher, Mikasa, the one that Zeke has been desperately trying to match him up with. It's love at first fight for the two.

Tropes: Love at First Sight, Smut, Fluff.

Train To Liberio Fanfiction - Tumblr Tag

Inspired by Train to Busan; on their way to Liberio for the qualifiers, the unexpected happens, zombies become real. Eren tries his best to protect his Mikasa or he'll completely lose his shit.

Tropes: Apocalypse, Violence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

Not Meant to Be Fanfiction - Tumblr Tag

A king, a tyrant, a man that killed most of humanity after the Rumbling, falls for a dancer from the Underground, a little bird that he cannot let go of. Mikasa, the girl he was supposed to meet when he was nine. Or what if Eren came too late and Mikasa was kidnapped?

Tropes: Courtesan, Love Affair, Smut, PTSD, Sensitive Topics, SA, Violence, Angst, Toxicity, Yandere.

The King’s Bride Fanfiction - Tumblr Tag

Crown Prince Eren had planned his life with Princess Mikasa as his wife and Queen, it is all derailed when he's forced to marry her older sister. The, now, King cannot let go of his first love, now locked in the Queen's palace till he can make his move.

Tropes: Arranged Marriage, Break Up, Abandonment Issues, Angst, Groveling, Obsession, Possessiveness.

Family Rekindled Fanfiction - Tumblr Tag

Eren leaves just after high school, cutting communications with everyone back home, leaving her with an unexpected surprise, their son. He comes back and has to get his family back.

Tropes: Second Chance, Unplanned Pregnancy, Smut, Fluff, Angst.

One Last Goodbye Fanfiction

Often he ends up in his head, thinking and regretting, his mind plays games with him when Mikasa, dressed as a nurse comes to him in the hospital, does he get the chance to say one last goodbye?

Tropes: Hobo!Eren x Nurse!Mikasa, Canon AU, Smut, Heavy Angst.

Die with A Smile Fanfiction

Things don't go as expected from Eren, Ymir couldn't understand them, couldn't forgive them, so now it was Mikasa the one bleeding after the Rumbling.

Tropes: Canon Divergence, Heavy Angst, Character Death.

Fate's Twist Fanfiction

Raised to be mates, Eren and Mikasa fell in love when they were children, dreaming about being the fated Alpha and Luna. But just before presenting, the elders received a message from the moon.

Tropes: Omegaverse, Smut, Angst, Happy Ending.

Older Mikasa x Younger Eren Tumblr Tag

Mikasa was celebrating her new job in a bar in this new city, she didn't know that hooking up with the guy that kept hitting on her would bring her to these many problems.

Tropes: Dark Romance, Yandere Eren, Age Gap, Smut, Friends with Benefits, Obsession, Manipulation.

C50 AU Tumblr Tag

How would have the story have changed if Mikasa kissed Eren in the field? A romantic relationship that completely changes the course of things, but for better or for worse?

Tropes: Canon Divergence, Drama, Friends to Lovers, Break Up, Tragedy.

Catholic Student x Nerd Tumblr Tag

The popular girl in a prestigious boarding school notices the nerd after they are assigned to a class together, she makes the first move and from then, all is kept in secret so he doesn't lose his scholarship.

Tropes: Rich Girl x Poor Guy, Heavy Smut, Secret Relationship, Fluff.

Yakuza AU Tumblr Tag

Heirs of two clans are arranged in marriage, they were childhood friends before anything but something changed in Eren. Mikasa tries her best but what can she do when she doesn't know what the problem is? A failing marriage, Eren is conflicted between love and hatred.

Tropes: Arranged Marriage, Yakuza, Crimes, Angst, Smut, Requited Unrequited Love, Internal Conflicts.

Purge AU Tumblr Tag

Eren violates the purge order and is forced to stay at his girlfriend's house, it's not the best way to introduce yourself to her parents. Or the Purge, in different years, who is trying to kill them now?

Tropes: Horror - Comedy, Smut, Fluff, Violence, Survival.

Caged [Emperor x Saintess] Fanfiction - Tumblr Tag

She saw him in her dreams, she thought him her savior but he was just an Emperor in need of help. After traveling together and alone, the Emperor cannot help his attraction, will he take this caged bird with him or leave her be?

Tropes: Historical, Powers, Angst, Traumatic Backstories, Smut, Possessiveness.

Pollar Opposites Fanfiction - Tumblr Tag

A spoiled rich girl hooks up with her parents' business partner. It is rather unfortunate that sex was good but neither could stand the other later. A bull rider, a rich girl, pollar opposites. On top of that, her parents send her to him to his ranch to reform.

Tropes: Age Gap, Brat Mikasa, Heavy Smut, Falling in Love, Fluff.

BarbarianKing!Eren x Empress!Mikasa Tumblr Tag

The empress was at the end of the rope when she sent the letter with a marriage alliance to the barbarian king, in order to not kill her people. Falling in love is not something expected but they do.

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Arranged Marriage, Trust Issues, Smut, Light Angst, Falling In Love.

Canon To Modern Tumblr Tag

Levi and Mikasa are sent to a modern world all of a sudden, they need to survive with all the new technology. The rest of the 104th are sent years later, having missed each other, will Mikasa and Eren make the first step?

Tropes: Dimensional Travel, Fluff, Comedy, Hurt/Comfort, Pining.

I have other brainstormed AUs, Hogwarts AU, 19th Century AU, Heartbreaking AU, Euphoria AU, Painteer!Mikasa x Tourist!Eren and others that I do not have plans for at the moment, but I might explore later on.

A/N: With a tragic couple like theirs, it's only expected to have so much potential lol got a lot of work to do!

[brodorokihousuke]

Brodoroki's Big-Ass Post of Apollo Character/Plot Headcanons

because I said I was gonna do it, and by god i'm going to commit. and commit I did. this is 1.7k words long. on-brand for me tbh

I'll probably make a subpage of my blog to post this in a... more refined manner? I'll definitely do as much for my RP blogs. But having it as a post is nice too.

I will note that a lot of these things have barely any backing canonically. It's just what I've come up with over the years. Additionally this is subject to change or gain additions.

ALSO spoilers for all of AA456.

PLOT-RELATED HEADCANONS:

Pre-AA4

Thanks to him being sent to America on his lonesome, as well as his own eventual assumptions regarding the situation, Apollo has fairly intense problems related to being abandoned by, separated from, or otherwise losing people he is close to.

Partially due to this, those that he comes to see as role models often gain a sort of parental status to him, maybe a little more quickly than they should.

He has problems making new friends, thanks to how prickly and focused on his own things he tends to be.

Clay was his only friend, pretty much up until he was hired into the WAA. (yess i know capcom just doesn't care to mention the other ones he probably had but I chose to imagine it this way)

Clay is also the only person he willingly spoke with about his past in Khura'in. Due to this, he was also the one to help him through adjusting to America, on a language/accent/cultural basis.

Apollo is likely at least decent acquaintances with Clay's father, but isn't that close. They're at least on good terms.

Figured out how the bracelet worked much earlier than implied in the games. Has a rather deep curiosity regarding the object's origins (much stronger than the curiosity regarding the identity of his biological parents).

He can take his bracelet off, it just requires at least one person to help him pull it off.

AA4

Because of the parental thing noted above, Apollo saw Kristoph as at least a father-adjacent figure, up until his arrest... but the familial connection wasn't something he could completely get rid of. So, up until whenever Kristoph is executed (assuming that ever happens), Apollo visits and speaks to him in prison. Phoenix is never told about this, nor is anyone else. Even Clay wasn't aware.

He had a much brighter and cheerfully energetic personality prior to his first trial, but the brutal reality of everything that happened on that day turned him a bit bitter. He does still show that side of himself sometimes, but only rarely.

After Turnabout Corner, the Kitakis and Apollo (and the WAA in general) stay on good terms. Wocky assumes he and Apollo are great friends, though Apollo probably thinks less... Anyways, the office often receives gifts of baked goods from their bakery, due to this.

While Apollo did consider Phoenix to be a sort of parental figure fairly quickly, him being a cryptic asshole for the entirety of the game was not lost on him. At least until the start of AA6, his feelings on the man remain mixed, though he refuses to talk to him on the matter.

He is, however, at least happy to be part of some sort of family unit.

Since Apollo really had no guardian of sorts, Kristoph had been listed on many of his emergency contact forms. Thanks to a mix of not immediately liking Phoenix and forgetfulness, Apollo never really ended up changing it. Of course, since having a contact in prison doesn't really work... his contact, unbeknownst to anyone involved, has defaulted to, of course... Klavier.

AA5

Phoenix's attitude change was initially met with extreme distrust by Apollo, which wasn't helped by the sudden appearance of Athena (whom Wright had apparently been working with for a while now). Apollo and Athena likely talked about it at least once after the latter sensed the annoyance in his voice and cornered him about it.

Even though it's implied that no one met Clay before his death, Apollo likely introduced him to everyone at least once, with the guy maybe occasionally stopping in to the WAA.

Took off from work (the first time in months) to watch the rocket launch. Which ended up, of course, being a rather poor idea.

Since he's basically alone, couldn't take his bracelet off (see note in pre-AA4). Hence, eye bandage. He likely figured out the silly depth perception (?) thing by accident at some point, so knew that was his only option.

Aura likely pulled him aside while he was investigating to speak about the case, slowly easing into his opinion regarding Athena. They continued to occasionally speak over the next few days, meeting every time Apollo visited the space center.

Prevented himself from grieving at all before everything was over. Barely let himself rest as he didn't want to give himself any time to think about it.

As the bombing happened, Apollo was standing with his back to the explosion, though was thrown on top of Juniper as a result of the blast. His injuries included various burns and flesh wounds (shown below), as well as internal bruising, general bruising, and possible fractures/contusions.

(ignore the jank anatomy. all i meant for that to be was a diagram ngl)

Spent about half the day in the hospital before getting himself (against everyone's wishes) discharged early. He was absolutely in an excessive amount of pain, but as with his grief, he refused to let himself deal with it until everything was over.

Getting knocked out the following day gave him a concussion. It made his memories of the preceding days murky at best, as well as causing him to act with more irritability and less focus.

He was put in the hospital again, of course. By evening, he was out once more.

At the end of his testimony in Turnabout for Tomorrow, when Phoenix finally proves that Athena absolutely did not kill Clay/that the culprit is Fakebright, Apollo relaxes, gives a very genuine thanks to his boss, before collapsing at the stand. He reached his goal, after all, and let himself give in to all the pain and exhaustion he felt... while scaring the shit out of everyone in the courtroom.

His bandages stay on for the next two months, to some degree. For at least the next month, Phoenix just about forces him to take a vacation, with even a (probably not serious) threat to fire him if he finds out he's doing any work.

Sort of assumes everyone in the WAA hates him for a bit after the game ends.

Apollo grows closer to Klavier after the game ends, wanting a friend to fill the hole that Clay left who also isn't a WAA member. Whether their relationship is entirely friend-level or romantic-level depends on my thoughts at the time... but they are at least good friends who meet once a week to talk over things.

As an extension of this, Apollo may at some point speak to Klaiver regarding his past in Khura'in, just needing someone to speak about it with.

Speaking of his past, Apollo briefly gets incredibly hopeful/desperate for Dhurke to show up after the end of the game. With Clay gone, he longs for the man who raised him, to just spill his guts about all his issues, to be comforted fully. He feels awkward thinking about talking to Phoenix on a personal level, and he doesn't want to break down in front of his closest non-coworker friend (Klavier). Of course, this never happens, and Apollo soon grows bitter regarding his past once more.

Scars from the bombing cover his arms and some other spots. Prefers long sleeves afterwards, as he doesn't like to look at them or explain them.

AA6

Apollo still keeps up with news regarding Khura'in, just barely. He also practices writing and speaking the related language, enough to stay fairly fluent.

At least one keepsake from the country was also kept, even though Dhurke hadn't been fond of the idea. While still bitter about his whole situation, Apollo has kept it safe this entire time. Not sure what exactly it is, but it's likely something deeply personal. Maybe a little craft or carved figure Dhurke gave him? An eagle, maybe, since I've implied that's one of his favorite animals.

Athena and Trucy likely picked up Apollo's prickly-ness regarding Khura'in at least once, though he always refuses to explain himself. While they stop asking after a certain point, they're definitely curious.

This curiosity becomes much stronger after the incredibly suspect behavior of both him and Nahyuta during the Magical Turnabout. Both men absolutely had odd tics and tones to their voices while speaking to one another during the trial, and with the ladies being both the co-counsel and defendant, they'd get a front-row seat to it all.

Given the comments Apollo & Nahyuta make to one another at the end of the trial, along with everything else, they can assume the two were very close at some point in time, early in life. Athena and Trucy likely talk in private to speculate on this (and might drag Phoenix or even Blackquill into the conversation).

While the games leave it pretty vague, I do think Apollo genuinely considers Nahyuta and Dhurke (and sort of Datz, in a weird uncle sort of way) to be family. Vice versa, as well. While Dhurke's death leaves him devastated, he's happy to be in contact with the two others, as well.

Building upon something mentioned above, even though they really barely talk about it in-game, the occurrence of Dhurke Dying not even a year after Clay leaves him in shambles. After the decision to stay in Khura'in, he quickly starts to regret his decision, breaking down in front of Nahyuta after the latter checks on him, when he doesn't leave his room for an entire day. They have a very long, serious but heartfelt talk about both of their lives, and their hardships, and everything. It lasts hours, and is emotionally taxing on the both of them, but leaves them more accepting of everything that has happened as of late.

Actually remembers when that one photograph of him, Dhurke and Nahyuta was taken, even if barely. It was the first time he had seen a camera, at least a modern one.

MSC. HEADCANONS

Likes spicy food.

Knows a few low level magic tricks, thanks to Trucy teaching him.

Would rather be busy than idle. Troubling thoughts bother him more when he has nothing to do. Thanks to this, he didn't mind offhandedly doing chores around the WAA... but he started to get annoyed when people started to expect such a thing from him 24/7.

Favorite season is fall. Summer is a close second.

Frequently gets too little sleep, though it doesn't seem to adversely affect him...

...though it does make him prone to napping in odd places.

Doesn't like coffee. If he's drinking anything, it's tea.

Low tolerance to alcohol. Barely drinks it anyways.

Favorite animal is some sort of eagle or hawk.

Okay at cooking.

Bi, demiromantic. Never has been in a relationship before the games.

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

The Rescue

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven,

Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.

A/N: Guys this is a very long chapter with a lot going on please put on your seatbelts, settle in, because it gets wild.

Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,

Specific Chapter Warning: R explains the trauma she dealt with as a child, SMUT. Oral (F receiving), Fingering (F receiving), Praise, Dirty talk, partially protected sex (F on the shot) Aaron has a slight breeding kink, cream pie,

Present Day

David waves one final time before slipping into his car, the parking deck of the quantico office quiet and still in the late hours. It’s nearing 12am, you’re mentally taxed, your brain begging to shut down but you can’t stop fidgeting in the passenger seat beside Aaron.

Aaron’s face is hard set, his eyes gauging your every move. “What do you want to do?” His voice is soft, filling the quiet cab, “I can take you to your neighbor’s if that would make you feel better…” There’s another option he would like to give you, his own nerves firing in overtime, afraid to let you leave his sight.

You’re staring out the window at the concrete walls, you feel hallow, like something inside your body has shattered and you’ve lost all of the important pieces. “I…” you like your lips, trying to find your voice. “Anna said she was okay with Bruce, right?”

“Yes.” Aaron draws out the word, searching for your face in the darkened glass, barely able to make out your reflection. You look torn down, the strong woman he has known chipped away to reveal a scared little girl, running from whatever darkness haunts her past. “We can go wherever you need to.”

“I’d… I just…” you take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. There have only been a few hours between what happened and now, and each one has been filled with flourished activity. You haven’t had time to stop and process what has happened, your brain now catching up to your body. Your head throbs slightly, the few cuts in your palms sting when you close your fists, your eyes hurt from crying so much. But the worst of it all is the war raging in your mind, the struggle of keeping it all in or letting it all out a constant battle that you seem to be losing more and more control over.

“Why don’t we take a ride?” The suggestion breaks through your thoughts, making you turn towards Aaron. His face is so soft, an expression you’ve never seen before, and you aren’t sure if you want to hate it or long for it.

“Okay…”

And so he does just that. He drives into the city, the street lights zipping by, barely illuminating dark houses and empty streets. Aaron drives with no real destination in mind, taking random turns, navigating the roads as you sit in silence. Eventually one of his hands come to rest beside your thigh, the flash of light on his watch catching your attention.

It’s a reminder.

An offer.

Salvation.

An hour passes in stark silence before you take your first deep breath, the noise loud in the small space. “Thank you… for saving me.” You force your voice to steady out, grappling for the mask you so carefully constructed all those years ago to shield the rubble of your true form.

“Do not thank me.” Aaron responds, rolling to a stop at a traffic light. You’re unfamiliar with this part of town, but it looks like a nice area with large lawns and small houses. “I just want you to talk to me.”

Your lips press together, glancing down at his large hand. Slowly you let your own hand slip off of your lap, tentatively touching his pinky with yours.

“I… it’s hard… and messy.” You whisper, watching how his fingers twitch but he makes no move to take your hand.

“I understand… but please, let me help you.” The light above suddenly cascades the car in neon green, and Aaron’s drives on, his face stoney and a twinge of desperation in his voice.

You turn your gaze back to the window with a deep breath, the cracks in your soul widening as you speak.

“I… I had a fairly normal childhood when I was younger. Very typical suburban family, my mother stayed home with me while my father worked at a mechanic shop. Happy, picturesque family…” You swallow thickly, choking on the pressure building in your chest. “I was 8 when my mom died… she was hit by a drunk driver and my dad just… he couldn’t handle it. He loved her so much that when she died he snapped. He started drinking and I… he would drink so much that I would find him passed out for hours on end and I was still just a child…”

A dark bitter laugh leaves your lips, shaking your head as you lean back into the seat. “Then one day he seemed to wake up. Instead of being mad at the world and God, things that felt no retribution from his anger, he decided that he needed something that would. Me. The night she died she was on the way home from seeing her mother. It was so late but I missed her, she had been gone for two days. I begged her to come home.”

You can still see that night vividly when you closed your eyes, the old house filled with police officers, the broken sound of your father’s begging screams. The female officer who had taken you to your room to explain that your mother would not be coming home as she sat with you on the floor surrounded by coloring books and stuffed animals.

“He told me my emotions caused everything. That if I had just sucked it up and been strong she would still be with us. He made me believe it, and… I still do to this day. From that moment on he had decided to train me to be better.”

Your fingers inch farther across Aaron’s knuckles, and finally he flips his palm, lacing your fingers through his. The feeling of him squeezing your hand settles your rolling stomach.

“Our house was a fixer upper, the guest bathroom had never been completed so my dad… painted over the small window, put foam over the gaps to the door and threw me in. I…” Your grip tightens, your throat restricting. You look over at Aaron’s normally stoic face and see barely restrained rage. “Hours and hours I’d spend in that room…. As I grew older it grew worse. He’d keep me from school… have me do everything my mother used to do. Clean, make all the meals, laundry. By the time high school rolled around I had missed so much school CPS has been called. The case was dropped in an instance because my dad charmed the woman over, said I was a run away most of the time since my mother died.”

Aarons grip on the wheel is white knuckled, his lips pressed into a hard line as he focuses on the road ahead. “I was beat with a belt that night. It gave me the courage to leave though. From that moment on I worked my ass off to get here… I just… I didn’t want there to be another kid like me… I know what my father did was wrong but it’s so ingrained in my head that every emotion I let slip through could be my undoing, could be the reason the next bad thing happens to me or those I care for… I can’t… I can’t let that happen again.”

You glance over to Aaron, who’s silence is becoming unnerving as his thumb strokes over your own. Finally he pulls your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles for a long moment before he speaks.

“I’m sorry. I know those words do little for what you have been through… I also know you don’t want to be pitied, and I’m not going to do that. You are extremely strong, Y/n. You have over come something that most people would let consume their lives, steer them to destitution.” He licks his lips and glances your way briefly, noting the solemn look on your face. “You know my opinion on your emotions, and I think you’re wrong about believing they can only bring you harm or failure. You’ve done so much involving them already you just haven’t realized it yet.

You have accomplished things that others only dream of, you alone and no one else. Your father played no role in this, he didn’t train you to become the woman you are, that was there all along. And I know deep in my heart that your mother is watching you with pride.” Your heart, the damaged organ that it is, swells from the praise and the thought of your mother. Your eyes burn and you’re surprised you have anything left to let out. But then again it’s years of buildup all coming to a head.

“Is he the reason for these?” Aaron gestures to your thigh, and you nod slightly.

“He threw me into the bathroom once and some of the tiles were broken… I can’t really feel the area anymore but I have what I guess you would call a phantom pain every now and again.”

Aaron brings your hand back for another gentle kiss, the delicate action such a contrast to the gleam of fury in his dark eyes. “My brave girl.” And for whatever reason, those three words break you. Maybe it’s because Aaron is seeing you, and not a facade, maybe it’s the perception of the fact that you are brave, or maybe it’s the simple claim that indicates so much more than ownership.

Comfort.

Safety.

Someone to rely on when you need it the most.

You clamp your other hand over your mouth as you sob, leaning into his shoulder as you feel everything fall into you all at once. Letting another person hold the weight of your world for just a little bit.

Aaron turns into a parking lot, into the first spot he can find before killing the engine and wrapping you in a tight hug. The consul is digging into your ribs, his hold is a little suffocating, but you bury your face into his chest anyways.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Are you sure?”

Once you had finally calmed down Aaron offered you his guest room for the night. You were an hour away from home but only 20 minutes from his. After a long moment of hesitation you agreed, much to his visual relief. But now standing in front of his door you feel your reservations creeping back in.

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.” He pushes the door open and steps into a dark room. Your breath unintentionally hitches, your eyes scanning the deep darkness until light floods the area. “I have a security system installed. We will get you the same one for your home.”

The beeping of the alarm would have went completely unnoticed had Aaron not said anything as he fiddles with the control panel on the other wall. He turns once it goes silent, watching you as you linger in the doorway, doubt and fear waging in your eyes as you scan over his simply furnished apartment.

“It’s okay. I promise.”

He’s warm reassurance makes you feet ease into the room, the door shutting firmly behind you. You’re entire body is rigid, arms slung around your center like you’re holding yourself together with your own white knuckled grip. Aaron bites his lip slight before stepping closer, gesturing to the rooms behind him.

“What would you like to do? Are you hungry?”

You tug slightly at your necklace, opening your mouth only to find the words are stuck deep in your throat.

“Y/n?” He steps closer and your eyes snap to his.

“I… I don’t know what I want to do… my head is pounding and I just… I can’t figure it out, I can’t decide.” Your stare is helpless, eyes flickering back and forth between his brown ones. It’s your way of asking for his help without letting the words out because if you do you’re scared of what you will become after that.

Something in his face shifts, it’s ever so slight but you can see it in the way he shrugs out of his coat, tossing it on the back of the couch. You can see it in the way his shoulders roll back and the lines around his eyes soften. “I know baby.” He closes the distance between you, cupping your face between burning hands and you physically feel the tension draining from your jaw. “Let’s get you cleaned up okay? We will go from there.”

Aaron leads you through the apartment, flicking on the lights as he goes, he walks you into his bedroom, a space as simply furnished as the rest of his home; and towards his joint bathroom. “Why don’t you wash your hands and I’ll find you something to wear to bed?”

Even though he is phrasing everything as a question you know he’s giving you the guidance you need, not making you over think or pick what needs to be done first. You nod your head and he gives you a soft smile before ducking out of the restroom.

You glance at your hands, the nurses had cleaned your hands enough to remove the shards of glass but there is still blood caked between your fingers and under your nails. Turning on the water you test the temperature before easing your hands under the flow. A soft hiss leaves your lips at the sting but you find yourself leaning into it.

You don’t notice Aaron standing in the doorway, watching as your hands tremble under the steaming water. “Here.” You jump faintly at the sudden rasp of his voice, finding him in the mirror.

He steps by you, his hand skimming your waist and your attention zeros in on the touch. Aaron grabs a rag from the shelf over the toilet, gently pushing you from in front of the sink. He wets the rag and turns to you, reaching for your hands without another word and begins to wipe away the blood and grime.

His hands hold yours softly, and you never knew he could be so gentle. Your eyes can’t leave his face, the concentration making lines appear between his brow, his eyes squinting slightly.

Aaron glances up at the feeling of you watching him and your cheeks flush, having been caught but still unable to look away. Once finished with your hands he rinses the rag, cupping your face once more as he runs the rough material over your cheek, cleaning away the stains of makeup.

Your eyes flutter, something in your body thrumming to life with each swipe of the cloth. “Aaron…” You don’t even mean to say his name, the syllables just fall so easily from your lips and he stills, eyes boring into yours.

“Sweet girl.” He breathes back, and your insides twist sharply. The tension is undeniable, the feeling of him so close forcing your body to react. You inch closer, your eyes dropping to his lips, watching as a smile curves the corner of his mouth.

The rag falls to the counter, his hands pulling you in the rest of the way. You’re nearly on your tiptoe, your hands finding his arms to steady yourself. He brushes a soft kiss against your lips and you whimper, the sound high in your throat and he breaks, deepening the kiss with hunger.

Electricity shoots through your body, pinging off of every nerve, setting them all ablaze. His hands move to your waist, bunching up your shirt until his palms meet your warm skin, and you shudder at the feeling. Aaron moans, the sound deep in his chest and you whimper as it travels through your bones straight to your core.

Pressing you backwards, Aaron walks you out of the restroom, hands wandering the plains of your back. You stumble against him, letting him lead you to the bed where the backs of your knees brush the king sized mattress. Your heart pounds in your chest, but when Aaron breaks the kiss to look down at you, he finds no hesitation in the dewy set of your eyes.

“Can I?” His voice is husky as he tugs at your sweater and you offer a small nod. He kisses you again, knocking the air from your lungs as he helps you pull your arms free, backing away to slip the cotton over your head and throw it to the floor. You’re in nothing fashionable, a simple black t-shirt bra but the hunger in his gaze is undeniable. “You’re so beautiful.”

Your hands find his chest, going for the buttons of his white shirt only for Aaron to grab your wrists, pulling your hands to his lips to kiss your palms. “Aaron I…”

“Do you know how hard it was to work today? Knowing you’re just a few feet away from me?” You shake your head, swaying slightly on your feet. “All I was able to think about was you. How your lips taste, how you moan my name, the way you looked underneath me in the morning.”

All of those things felt like a lifetime ago, and as his teeth nipped your skin just over the pulse in your wrist, you realize you would do anything to relive it. “I need you.” Your voice is a desperate, soft plea; your eyes alight with need making his lips curl.

“Then let me take care of you.” He whispers, his grip tightening slightly. You lick your lips, his gaze darting down for a breath before snagging your eyes again, there’s so much lust and need swirling in the depths of his brown irises that you find yourself lost in them. “Let me show you how you deserve to be treated, princess.”

“Please.” It’s a soft breath of a word, but it’s all that’s needed.

Aaron kisses you so forcefully that you’re sure your lips will be bruised, but you don’t have time to care as he suddenly pushes you. The bed springs squeak under the sudden impact of your body, the air leaving your lungs in one big whoosh. Aaron’s fingers expertly pop the button of your jeans, and your blood buzzes with excitement as you lift your hips, helping him pull them down and off your legs, taking your shoes and socks with them.

There’s something about the way he is suddenly above you, still fully dress in his work clothes where as you’re laid out scarcely clad in your underwear set, with nothing to hide behind. It’s a display of dominance that sends a rush of wet heat to your center.

Aaron smiles down at you, his hands making their way up your thighs, spreading your legs for you to display the soaked gusset of your grey panties. The moan that rips from his throat makes your stomach clench, your teeth impaling the pink flesh of your lip.

“You are all I have been able to think about,” He whispers, his fingers curling into the band of your panties as he moves to his knees. “And now I finally get to have you.” Aaron pulls your panties down your trembling thighs, laying you bare before him as he slips one of your legs over his shoulder.

His warm breath fans over your soaked lips, your vision going hazy as you prop yourself on an elbow to see. He looks sinful between your thighs, dark eyes looking up at you through darker lashes, his hair tussled, jaw hanging open slightly. The anticipation makes your stomach swoop and the breath in your lungs freeze.

You’re given no warning before he ducks his head, his tongue licking a fat stripe from your entrance and catching on your clit. You gasp at the sensation, your head falling back against the bed. Aaron wraps his arm around your thigh, holding you still as he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue, your legs threatening to squeeze his skull.

“Oh fuck…” You moan, your hand finding his short hair and tugging almost painfully, back leaving the bed. Aaron smiles against you, his teeth nipping at your folds before he lazily fucks his tongue into your dripping hole. “Oh god, Aaron…”

“You taste so fucking sweet.” His arm tightens on your thigh, his other hand tracing patterns on the inner skin of the other. You squirm at the feeling, your eyes pinched shut as waves of arousal roll through your body. Aaron’s dark eyes travel up the expanse of your body, seeking your face but he can only see the way your chest rises and falls with each gasping breath, your head tossed back as noises of pleasure fill the room.

His cock pulses in the tight confines of his slacks, the need to feel your wet heat wrapped around his aching member nearly driving him insane.

“Fuck, please Aaron…” You aren’t sure what you are begging for as your orgasm begins to swell under your skin, pulling your muscles taught. A part of you wants to feel embarrassed at how easily he has been able to bring you to the brink, but the sounds of his moans between your legs quickly floods the thought out.

“Cum for me baby, make a mess on my face.” It’s dirty and mind reeling all at once, your jaw going slack as your hips grind up to meet his mouth. Aaron slips two fingers to your opening, gathering the combination of slick and spit before easing into you.

A soft whimper accompanies the sudden intrusion, your hips undulating to take more of his thick digits as your orgasm creeps ever closer. He sets a steady rhythm, slow and deep that leaves stars dancing around your vision and with one final swirl of his tongue as his fingers curl into that spongy spot deep in your walls you break.

Your orgasm rips through your body like a bolt of lightening. Your limbs lock and your back bows up, your lips form a perfect ‘O’ as waves of pleasure crash over you.

“That is, that’s my good girl.” Aaron praises, keeping his pace steady as you moan his name like a prayer. It’s a few more seconds until your body collapses back onto the bed, your fingers falling from his hair taking a strand or two with them. Aaron pulls away, standing back up licking your slick from his fingers with a grumbling groan.

Climbing back up your body he creates a trail of kisses that leave you feeling hot and desperate, a distinct emptiness between your legs as he settles over you. Aaron cups the back of your head, lifting you to meet his bruising kiss. The tangy taste of yourself is heavy on his tongue as he explores your mouth, your still trembling hands finding his back and pulling him closer.

The hard ridge in his slacks presses against your heated, slick core, grinding slowly. You whimper into his mouth, hands trialing up his back, scratching at his shirt. You break away with a gasp. “To… too many clothes.” Going for the small plastic buttons Aaron lets out a soft laugh as your fumble over them.

“Easy princess. All you had to do was ask.” He sits back on his heels, your legs draped over his thighs and you watch mesmerized as his fingers easily work the buttons free, revealing his chest full of dark hair. You manage to twist your arm behind your back, freeing the clasp of your bra and quickly throwing it somewhere in the floor to join the growing pile.

Aaron groans at the sight of you, his mouth watering as he thinks of every spot he wants to cover with bites and bruises. Starting with your breasts. He leans over you, snagging your wrists and pinning them to the bed.

You bite your cheek, surprised that you welcome the weight of him above you, that you like the feeling of him pinning you down, leaving you to his mercy. You find your mind slipping more, every worried thought falling into some unreachable place that can remain in the dark.

Clearing his throat lightly, Aaron licks his lips. “Maybe I should have asked this sooner but… when was the last time you were with someone.?”

An awkward but none the less important question to ask, even if he is seated between your trembling thighs, staring down at your naked body.

A new flush spreads over your cheeks and you shift against the bed, against the hold he has on your wrists. “I… I was in high school.”

A moment of shock steals his features before he can school his face back. “Do you take birth control?”

You squirm again, chewing the inside of your cheek as his thumbs rub over your galloping pulse. “I.. Every three months I go get a shot. It’s better than taking a pill every day that I might forget.” You explain weakly, searching his face.

Aaron nods, shifting his weight on his knees, his cold belt buckle pressing into your thigh. “I can always grab a condom if that makes you feel better.” One hand leaves your wrist but you don’t dare move as he places it on your lower tummy, spreading wide. “But I have to admit, the idea of fucking you full of me is very, very exciting.” Your breath catches, eyes widening and Aaron’s grin turns devilish. “You think so too.”

All you can do is nod slightly, a thrill working through your body that makes the hairs on your arms stand on end, gooseflesh cascading over your skin.

Sitting back, Aaron releases you completely to fiddle with his belt. The brown leather hisses through the belt loops and when he stands he takes his pants and boxers down in one swoop. Your eyes instantly fall to the hard member standing up between his legs and your thighs clench.

His cock is long and thick, the dark hairs at the base trimmed neatly like the rest of him. A few veins run along his shaft, the prominent one on the underside pulsing slightly. He takes himself in his hand, pumping once, twice, to relieve some of the ache, the mushroom head a light shade of pink.

You whimper at the sight of him, the need in your belly almost painful. “Aaron… I want you.” Your voice is sultry, your eyes glazed over when you finally look at his face. He smiles crookedly as he slinks back onto the bed, his eyebrow cocked.

“You can have me, princess. Every part of me is yours.” The words scorch through your chest right to the very center of your soul and you find your legs falling apart, your hands still gripping the sheets above your head. “Come here.” Instead of covering you with his body, Aaron lays down beside you, turning you so you lay on your side as well.

“What?” He pulls your back flush to his chest, his hand slipping over your thigh and dragging your leg on top of his. You whimper when you feel the smooth heat of his cock glide through your wet folds, your back instinctively arching into him.

Aaron’s arm tucks under your head, his other hand free to roam your body as he rocks his hips, slipping his cock between your folds with ease, gathering your slick. “So wet baby, so ready for me aren’t you?” He breathes, pressing kisses along your shoulder and neck. You whine and press your head back into his shoulder, exposing your neck more. “That’s my girl. Are you going to let me mark you up? Show everyone just who you belong to?”

You nod without a thought in your head, “Y-yes… please Aaron.” He smiles against your skin before nipping the delicate area, turning the skin a deep shade of red as he closes his lips over the spot. You moan loudly, rocking your hips back against his, the steady glide of his cock bumping into your clit driving you wild.

“So fucking pretty.” He whispers and you force yourself to turn your head and look at him. When you do your heart jumps to your throat, his hooded eyes burn with lust but there’s something else swirling just below the surface, something that makes your head groggy and your body melt into his.

“You belong right here.” His voice is deep and rough and it makes your jaw slacken. Your chest squeezes, butterflies erupting in your stomach, beating at you with their wings as his hips draw back. The round head of his cock presses against your entrance, his hand tightening on your hip. “I’m going to enjoy every moment of watching you come undone for me.” He presses forward, stretching you around him and your nails dig into his forearm with a whine. Aaron’s gaze never wavers from yours, caught in the depths of your irises. “Then every moment of piecing you back together.”

Leisurely Aaron rocks his hips, slipping deeper and deeper into your wet heat. Every inch has your back arching, the ridges and bumps rubbing along your walls in the most perfect way. Your eyes slip nearly shut, your breath puffing across his pink lips and your only awareness is of Aaron. How his muscles bunch under your hand, how your body sticks to his from the heat radiating between you both, how his fingers dig into your flesh guiding your hips back to meet his as he sinks home.

Never have you felt this full, the stretch burns and it boarders on painful but you wouldn’t want it any other way. Ecstasy skirts down Aaron’s spine, making his own groan slip free and his cock twitch. You jump at the feeling, your breath wheezing in your lungs and he smiles, repeating the motion.

“Aaron… oh fuck.” It’s all you can manage, head falling back into the crevice of his shoulder, one arm wrapping up around his that pillows your head. His name is a soft, sweet beg and it has Aaron’s stoicism crumpling.

“Tell me what you need, princess. I’ll give you everything.” His breath is warm against your ear, your eyes starting to water for reasons you can’t explain the longer he stays seated inside you. His hand continuously strokes your side as you fight for your words, kisses littering your jaw as the seconds pass.

“I need… I need you to move, Aaron.”

There isn’t a chance in hell he would make you beg twice, slowly he pulls back, ensuring you feel every part of him before pushing back in. Your jaw drops, uninhibited moans falling past your lips at the steady rhythm he sets. Aaron slips his hand to your cheek, caressing you with his thumb in time to each deep thrust. “You take me so well, my cock was made just for you wasn’t it?”

It consumes your body like a wild fire, burning intense and bright, cracking through your skin which each grind of his hips. You cling to him where you can, your eyes rolling back into your skull, and he uses the opportunity to turn your face back to his. Aaron kisses you with no sense of urgency, no rush to throw you to the end, he claims your mouth the same way he claims your body; with a measure of patience and understanding that leaves you reeling.

You break away first, moaning his name and his hand travels down your neck, cupping your heavy breast as his lips find your neck. His long fingers toy with your pebbled nipple, sparks flying into your stomach with each pinch and roll. Your leg tightens around his thigh, your breath coming faster as your body arches into his touch.

“I’m… fuck I’m going to cum.” You breath into the warm air, your cunt fluttering around his cock rhythmically.

“Cum for me, take what you need and cum all over my cock.” Aaron’s rhythm doesnt falter in the slightest, the pump of his cock hard and slow hitting spots you’d never dreamt of finding. His hand leaves your breast, trailing down your stomach slowly circling your belly. You moan at the feeling, his lips pulling into a smile against your skin. “This little part right here, this part of your beautiful belly, drives me mad.” His hand presses down into your lower stomach slightly and you see stars at the sudden pressure, feeling his cock against rubbing against your muscles. “Imagining you heavy and round-.” Aaron groans as your cunt tightens, your breath uneven like the sudden stutter in your hips. “Pregnant with my baby.”

A guttural version of his name leaves your lips as you snap in two. The fire inside your body turning into an inferno, consuming you entirely as you cling helplessly to Aaron. Your head is flush with his shoulder, your foot hooked around his leg as your pussy spasms and coats his cock with cream. Aaron’s pace suddenly falters and he moans loudly, the feeling of your velvet walls clamping down around him nearly his undoing.

Slowly you drift back to yourself, gasping for air and shuddering as the aftershocks rock through you. You lick your lips, about to say anything when suddenly Aaron is pressing you forward, rolling you onto your front. He slips free of your pussy and you whimper, letting him adjust your pliant body to his needs. With your chest pressed to the bed and your ass thrust into the air Aaron groans at the sight of you. Your thighs tremble in effort to keep yourself up right, sweat gleams across your back and shoulders, flushing your skin a beautiful shade of pink. “You’re doing so good for me.” His hands graze over the globe of your ass, settling on your hips as he nudges your knees apart, adjusting your stance. You make a soft noise in your throat, fingers finding hold in the bedding. “I know baby, you’re being such a good girl though. I know you can take it, just relax for me.” Your brain hardly keeps up, picking out the important words in its state and your body melts into the mattress with a sigh. His cock aligns with your opening, teasing until you whimper, rocking back trying to impale yourself on him. Aaron smiles, sweeping your hair off of your neck and into his fist. He's gentle as he tugs at the strands, testing the waters and you moan, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

"That's it baby. Just like that." He draws out the words as he sinks into your heat. The angle is so much different than before, the head of his cock rubbing along the front wall of your cunt and you gape at the sensation. Your grip tightens on the bed as his hips become flush with your ass, giving you a moment to adjust.

"Oh fuck... Oh fuck." You mumble, electricity skimming up your spine as Aaron pulls back until only the tip is left.

"Beg for me." The words are a laced growl and you simper below him, the hold on your hair growing tighter.

"Please, please Aaron I want- I need you so bad. Please fuck me." You don't know where the words come from, somewhere deep and primal in your guts but they have never felt so right.

Aaron's hips snap forward, sinking into you at a punishing force and you cry into the air, the need and pleasure curling back into your stomach with a vengeance. To say Aaron is fucking you into the mattress is an understatement, the hold on your hip is bruising and the grip on your hair is punishing. The lewd sounds of sex fill the air, wet squelching as his cock sinks into you, the slap of skin against skin and the unmistakable moans of pleasure.

"Such a good. Fucking. Girl." He breathes, his body curving over your own, husky moans falling from his lips as he pounds into you. "Fuck baby, you're squeezing me so hard. Are you gonna cum for me? Gonna cum all over my cock?"

Your head tips back a smile curving your lips at his praise and you nod what little you can. "Yeees! Oh god yes Aaron.” You hold onto the sheets with white knuckled force, your moans and gasps mixing with his grunts making an intoxicating song. He growls low in his chest, his teeth bared, sweat gleaming on his shoulders and forehead.

“I’m gonna cum Y/n… I’m gonna make you mine. Again.” A harsh thrust makes you keen, your head tilting back making your neck strain. “And again.” Another one leaves you gasping, your mouth falling open. “And again.”

You snap simultaneously, his hips slamming into your ass as you cry his name. His cock switches, painting your walls with ropes of milky cum, your cunt squeezing every last drop free as you shudder and collapse. Lights dance behind your lids, your orgasm moving through your body with such force you are scarcely aware of the moans falling from Aaron’s kiss bitten lips.

“Mine. My good girl, my pretty little thing.”

It takes a few more moments before Aaron is able to roll onto his back beside you, grunting slightly at the burn in his hips as you let out a soft moan, stretching out your soar muscles. Aaron pulls you into his side easily, wrapping an arm around your waist as your head finds his shoulder.

You both lay like that for several minutes, basking in the afterglow of it all as you try to catch your breaths. Your brain hasn’t quite caught up to your sated body, letting the euphoria and calm take the lead for a while longer.

Aaron is the first to break the soft silence. “We need to get you cleaned up.” A soft noise of protest leaves your lips, your limbs too heavy to move. A smile in his voice makes your own lips curl, “I know. But we need to. There’s going to be a lot going on tomorrow.”

With that you can’t argue, so you allowed Aaron to slip from your grip, the sound of water running in the bathroom filling the quiet. Moments later he’s back, helping you into the restroom on unsteady legs where a warm shower awaits.

When he steps in behind you, you only have a moment to be surprised before he pulls you under the stream of water. The shower is small with just enough room for the both of you, but you find no protest on your lips as Aaron begins massaging his fingers through your hair.

You sigh blissfully, letting your weight rest against his chest as he works away the agony of today, but also a little off of the mountain that has weighed you down for so long.

“I don’t care about the contact.” His deep voice is sudden making you jump slightly.

“What?”

“I don’t care about the contract.” Aaron runs his hands down to your shoulders, turning you slightly so you can gauge his face as he speaks. “I care about you, the contract was… is a piece of paper to ensure neither of us got hurt. We don’t need it.”

You scan his face, his dark eyes reading so much more than he is saying. “What… what do we do then?” Your throat works as you swallow, butterflies eating once more at your belly as Aaron cups your check.

“Whatever you would like… but… I like the idea of you coming to me with your problems, of taking care of you, of you being mine.” He curls your necklace around one of his fingers, tugging softly and a new heat flairs at the bottom of your spine. Aaron’s dark eyes scan your face, trying to read your thoughts.

“I…” You swallow, the reality hitting you. These last few days had you thrown through the wringer, forced out of your comfort zone, and brought dark secrets to light. You’ve struggled and cried and raged all while finding comfort and passion and acceptance in ways you didn’t know existed before Aaron Hotchner knocked on your door one dark morning.

You nod your head slowly, licking your lips as you run your hands up his chest, the water spilling over his shoulder and the mist sprinkling your cheeks. You press in tighter and Aaron cups the back of your head, angling it ready to capture your lips at a moment’s notice.

“I can still call you ‘Sir’?”

A large smile breaks across his face, wrinkling the corners of his eyes as he cups your face, bringing you closer. "You can call me whatever you would like, little one..." His palm slips into your wet hair, tangling his fist into the strands and giving a soft tug. "As long as I get to call you mine." He laces the word with a growl and crashes his lips to yours with surprising force, need instantly flooding out the exhaustion from your system. You gasp against his lips, whimpering a soft yes as his tongue sweeps over your own.

"Good girl."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Thank you all so much, once again, for sticking with me through this story. This has been the most grueling, but rewarding thing I have written, and I am just astounded by the love it has received! I plan to make a few blurbs off of this story so fill free to check in ever now and again but if you would like to be tagged in future tidbits please feel free to leave a comment! 💜💜💜

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Tag List: @kneelforloki @hmett20 @axionn @ncis0mrs0gibbs @morgthemagpie @zaddyhotch @little-miss-cherry-cola @fandomawesomness @heart-breaker8 @aad1993 @obsessed-oops @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @rosiehale23 @emptybagofchips77 @icarusgloom @imr0nni3 @cashtons-wife @mojo366 @mrsgweasley @hotchners-wifey @lelevs @normaltuesdaynight @tgskitten @char-jlhewitt @shinebrightlikeafanbase @emobabeyy @bunbunbl0gs @turtleshavesoulmates @mrs-ssa-hotch @balariie @eveyez-exe @nachofriess @aangell333 @wisdomcrys @sabage101 @prettymothgirl

[nerdy-frog98]

Okay I’ve had several days to think about it, and I’m not upset about Eddie’s cheating storyline anymore.

Nobody asked, but HERE’S why.

Eddie is an incredibly traumatized character. The military experiences (+ his dead friends), losing his wife so suddenly & without closure, and a couple near death experiences will do that to you! Add that to parents trying to take his child away ON TOP OF feeling like he needs to give Christopher a mother at any and all costs…? Maybe a little bit of Catholic guilt sprinkled in there too.

Season 5 was not my favorite for a myriad of reasons, but one thing I did like about it was Eddie’s complete mental breakdown. It felt like a long time coming... BUT. His mental breakdown didn’t even really scratch the surface of his issues, and there are still a lot of things he needs to face before he can truly be at peace. One of those things is Shannon.

The effect that Shannon’s loss had on Eddie has, in my opinion, never been explored properly. We got a little of it in season 3 with the illegal fighting, and then hints of it again when he was with Ana, but it never felt like closure to me. It felt like season 6 tried to give him closure (through Marisol), but it wasn’t satisfying because it was more or less a duller version of what happened with Ana. “Moving on” for his sake, but with no real emotional repercussions. Maybe this is just a personal opinion, but his story has felt like a ticking time bomb to me since the moment he broke up with Ana. His breakdown in s5 wasn’t the real bomb though.

Now imagine being Eddie, a guy with a lot of unresolved guilt and feelings for a woman who died right in front of him. Imagine you see a woman with that dead wife’s exact face. I can honestly say I have no fucking clue what I would do in his position. What he did- erasing Marisol in his first conversation with this lookalike Kim, then later lying to Buck to meet up with Kim- is morally not okay. Sure. Would any of us act in a rational way though?

I’m not meaning to justify cheating, but I do genuinely believe this is one of the only ways that stubborn ass was going to figure out his issues in a way that might actually help him move on. He’s being delusional with Kim, and once the ball drops, I believe there’s a great big breakdown waiting for him on the other end.

People often accuse Eddie of being the most boring of the 118, and I hate that assessment so goddamn much. Eddie is probably one of theee most complex characters (besides Buck) in the entire show. He’s self-destructive, kind, loyal, patient and impatient- he’s a good father and a good friend, and he’s FLAWED. That is why I love him so much.

My initial disappointment with him partially stems from me wanting him to have a singular season of PEACE, which…I realized wasn’t possible without blowing up the bomb first (would’ve preferred to disarm the bomb but I’ll take what I can get).

[new-tella-us]

Seduce Me Situations!

Cause I'm bored.

Yall for the drama? For the angst? I am! On today's SMS we ask how would the boys react Mika attempting to sacrifice herself to the Demon Lord to save them?

Lets set the scene. The war is being lost, you're probably on the bad route or -if the DL is dead on that boy's route- a different bad route where the DL is too strong. But for whatever reason the DL is willing to make a deal with the S/O; maybe it's to make the son of choice suffer, maybe the S/O got something the DL wants, if we're going with my Mika lore, it's probably her angelic origins and him wanting a piece of that power. Regardless, this deal might spare the boy of choice and give the rebellion more time but it puts the S/O in immediate danger from the one guy that all five of these men have beef with.

The canon answer (as in Michaela has been asked this question and gave an answer) is that the boys are fighting tooth and nail to get the S/O back. There is no way in HELL they're leaving her in the hands of their maniac father. But let's expand on this. If the S/O accepts the deal, gets captured and the boys are basically back at square one with one less S/O, what are they going to do?

Have you ever wanted to see James go from calculated to fucking FERAL? Cause that's what will happen. Like no plan, just rage. Hot, unrestrained rage and fear. He knows he has days at MOST to save his S/O before something horrible happens to them and that's not enough time to plan. He's damn near ready to storm that castle again and rip his father's head off. For once, the other brothers have to talk sense into James.

By contrast, Erik would be all plan. And when I say all plan, I mean all levity in his personality is gone and he is crazy efficient. He's got every move and alternative action planned in his head, unlocking his inner Kalipo with being three steps ahead of everyone. No cocky smile, no quick jabs, just a man with a goal that he will achieve and he will mercilessly cut down anyone that dares stand in his way. He'll get his S/O back alive and well.

Oh the rage Sam would feel if his S/O was in the grasps of his father. But also the terror, panic and a bit of shame. Sam is a very protective man in my eyes, being unable to protect his loved ones would send him spiraling. It is going to be a bloodbath as he storms back to the castle to get the S/O back, no one and nothing can restrain the dragon released from his soul.

Matthew panics of course. Especially if this was adjacent to his bad end so the deal was partially to free him from his father's mind control. Imagine snapping out of being puppetted only to realize that the only reason you could is because your partner sacrificed themself. Nah that would make him run back desperate to fix his mistake and save his lover. I can actually see him accidentally hurting something in himself that can't be fixed just from him using too much of his powers for far too long. That is how desperate he is.

Damien, simply put, is not losing for long. He'd probably rather die. He isn't falling back, nor can he be dragged out of from the mansion. His father has taken everything from him, he's not allowing another loved one to suffer under the Demon Lord's hand like his mother did. So no matter how many times the S/O says to save himself or how many times Damien gets attacked or pushed back, he gets right back up. He's getting up until he gets his lover back and kills the Demon Lord, or until he physically can't get up anymore.

[che3rslove]

please tell me more about omega!pat. Who do you think presented first? How did Pat react? How did Art react? If you think it’s important how did their families react, or did they say anything?-tomatotales 🍅🐿️

i think art presented first though pat wasnt very far behind! and i think patrick took it really hard, probably didn't leave his dorm room for a few days. I dont think he wanted to talk to anyone, including art who mostly just sat with him in silence and comforted him.

art wasnt as shocked as everyone else, maybe a bit surprised but he knows his friend. art was more upset at patricks reactioin to his own presentation, honestly i think it became a big source of insecurity for both of them

i agree with you about arts family being more traditional. i think his family treated him differently after he presented and it made being at home unbearable. the whole situation gave him some issues he carried with him into adulthood, i honestly dont think he likes talking about anything having to do with his gender. tashi made him being an omega a huge part of his personal brand, and i think theyve had a few fights about it. there are very few omegas who are professional athletes, in fact art is the very first omega to win the US open. he's very proud of that despite everything.

patricks family was kinda the same way. his mother and sisters didnt treat him any differently, nor did his cousins, aunts/ uncles. his family owns a media corporation and patricks father quietly took patrick off the list of possible successors after he presented. patrick probably wouldn't have been in the running anyway, but it still hurt. when pat started wearing scent patches no one said anything. he chose to present as a beta and never corrected anyone who assumed he was anything other than an omega, which is a lot of people.

patricks career troubles are partially tied to his gender insecurities due to the confidence issues they cause, and losing so much just confirms them I think.

[schadennorth]

SALESMAN HCS PLZ 🙏

HELLO HI YESSIR

✶ headcanons - the Salesman from Squid Game LONG post below because i'm so normal about him <3

☞ i’m on the fence with what his real name is. the placeholder i’m using in crying lightning right now is Min Dakho, but we’ll see if i stick with that. i was going to call him minjun but it doesn’t really fit to me, if ykwim

☞ achillean (i genuinely can’t picture him being attracted to women for the life of me). i may headcanon him as transmasc or somewhere on the gender non-binary spectrum but i’m still rolling that thought around in my head (this is all because of the one time i was zoning out and my subconscious screamed TRANS SALESMAN! with zero elaboration)

☞ i lowkey have an entire made up backstory for him that goes something like

he was a strange kid, having grown up very neglected and poorly socialised; this is partially because didn't go to preschool as his parents couldn't afford to send him

later had a younger brother who he constantly felt inferior to, as his parents diverted their attention to him and were blatantly biased towards him

when he was in his teens, his mother passed away from a terminal illness which wasn't detected or treated in time

after her death, his father became an alcoholic and was eventually fired from his job, effectively leaving dakho as the sole breadwinner of the family

to get money he started throwing hands in fight rings with other young adults (i bet on losing dogs or whatever. /ref @calindean LMAO) and taking on multiple part time jobs

he eventually saved money to send his younger brother to university. despite his resentment, he still cared about him and would rather die than let his future be wasted like his was (Dakho definitely had the potential and intelligence to further his studies, but didn't have the opportunity to)

when his younger brother was away, Dakho was drafted into the games and began working there

his father spent all the money he'd earned on gambling, and eventually joined the games himself (and as we know Dakho solved the problem of his deadbeat dad by shooting him in the head)

there is a longer, more detailed version of this hiding in my notes app, but i plan to make a bunch of drawings to accompany it and then show it all off in a longer, separate post so that’ll have to wait haha

☞ he enjoys psychoanalysing people and observing their behaviour (especially to figure out how their thought processes work and what pisses them off), but this comes with the downside of him being painfully aware of his own mentality and all the things he perceives as 'wrong' with himself

☞ I DO NOT fw the cocky self-confident bastard interpretation of his character.. gi hun hit the nail right on the head when he said he puts his mask on and does whatever his masters tell him to. it's all a facade. inside he is PATHETIC and needs acknowledgement to the point where he'd willingly reconstruct his entire being to get it (but that's just my opinion idk)

☞ generally leads quite a hedonistic lifestyle outside of the games; in he back of his mind he knows that he's been so absorbed into the morals of the games that he essentially does not own his life anymore. as such, spends his time outside of recruiting pursuing things he wants to do, in some feeble attempt at deluding himself into thinking he's still his own person

☞ to continue my previous thought i'd think he's very very conflicted, constantly at the mercy of the two polarised perceptions of reality that crash against each other like waves eroding a cliff face in his mind; one half of him very much knows that he's been brainwashed and views some warped version of the world, while the other part of him is violently in denial and strongly prefers to believe that the games' morals are objectively correct (i could write a whole essay about this but i'm also lazy </3)

☞ he's definitely a compulsive liar. he'll make stuff up for absolutely no reason, and he'll remember all the lies he's told to the point where he mistakenly starts believing they're the truth himself (especially if he told them a long time ago)

☞ i have a stupid crack headcanon that he knows online slang and will unironically use it to piss off his coworkers at the games, but that's mostly just a silly joke. all fun and whimsy!

anyways yes i'm done yapping about him for now thanks for reading. stay alive salesman nation

[m4nlov3r]

any Domina headcannons? 🥺

(I’m starving for Domina content season 3 needs to release NOWWW)

YESYESYES HES MY FAVORITE BOY

A Compiled list of Lux's Domina headcanons cuz hes literally me:

• He was completely sheltered from his brothers //excluding Epi// until age 10, and doesnt really know them well, nor does he like them.

• IZ has a 'plan' he goes through w/ all his kids to brainwash them bc hes a cult leader. Domina is the *least* damaged from this and is the most likely to return to a "normal" life after heavy therapy.

• IZ also has *✨special✨* ways he traumatizes all his kids. Domina was 'given' to Epidem as a test subject at around age 8-10. He didn't know they were siblings.

• None of the quintuplets were 'given birth too', they were all artificially made by IZ bc in a world w/ THIS much magic influence you cant tell me thats **not** possible.

- Because they arent *technically* humans, and Domina was the only brother who got a fake heart thats more like a shitty prosthetic than a demons heart, that aforementioned 'test subject' bs? Yeah, Domina doesnt have real blood. All his blood was slowly replaced by a Darkness magic variant, making it black, and giving him the same healing properties given to his brothers by the demon hearts.

Summoar lighthearted 1s:

bc im sure u didn't just mean my super edgy body horror hcs

• A rare time when Domina was granted to leave Walkis, he went with the Walkis six to visit Charles mother, and she absolutely loved him, spoiled him rotten, and left him confused with a lot of extra apple pie to take home.

• In combat or training, Domina often helps the others. Specifically, he helps Kenny alot, obvi, bc ice is just frozen water.

• Despite both being traumatized from being abused, Lévis and Domina are the only two who are aloud to come in close contact with eachother. //i am a DIEHARD lévis x domina shipper i apologize(not really)//

• Charles acts like the mother of the group //for obvious reasons// and bc Domina is the youngest //16, while the others are 17 and Charles is 18// and *arguably* the most traumatized, he gets babied by Charles the most.

• He doesnt really know how to be a normal person, so when they all first hungout outside the school, Domina had no idea what was going on, kinda exactly like Mash's first time out w/ his friends, they both enjoyed it.

• Domina jokes that he like Lovie more than Lévis, Lovie plays along and it pisses Lévis off ALOT.

• Post-eclipse arc, Domina quietly laughs at Kenny's puns more.

and just 4 tha hell of it, 1 moar sad one :3

Doom is the second least traumatized by their father, bc after he was born with a disability, IZ just neglected him in favor of his able-bodied children. Doom subtly tried to protect his siblings from their father, yet ultimately failed until Domina, tho it wasnt rly him stopping his father.

Doom realized Mash could deafeat their father and save Domina, at least, thats why he suddenly gave up fighting at a point. He met someone stronger, lost, and was sure his father would lose too.

This goes a little more in depth on how i think Doom's Master Cane works, butttttt he threatened the judge/ whoever to not put Domina in prison cause hes **16** and can still be healed from his issues, at least partially.

There ya go :D thank u 4 the self indulgent ask X)))) 🦴

[agendabymooner]

colour me your colour || toto w. x ofc (4)

Summary:  Tilly Marie nearly loses faith in her passion as she refuses to listen to everyone who told her to quit. Everyone but one. And it’s the man she met years ago at a racing event she didn’t want to attend. Who would have thought that her father’s partial ownership of three brands could take her to the zone of Mercedes and meet the love of her life?

Chapter summary: Can you actually fall in love fast? or is Tilly just fortunate enough to catch Toto's attention and gain his respect and determination in span of a day? As of this point, she might as well host a slumber party as Daniel and Lewis continue to pester her with the most important topics of her life right now: her family and the hypothetical ones she'd make with Toto.

Content warning: Age gap, brief use of explicit language, discusses the 2014 austrian gp, flirtatious banter, mutual pining kind of romance, platonic relationship with Lewis Hamilton and Daniel Ricciardo, fictional family and business involved (Hearth family and Hearth Automotives Group). NO PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS INVOLVED SORRY

Note: Thank you all so much for the 50 followers! I honestly have been writing these just because I didn't have anything occupy my time and it's a good idea that I posted them up here. knowing that you're enjoying my brain's ideas, it fuels me even more into writing. As of this point I'm currently writing a spin-off for Rush and this series so keep an eye out, I suppose. I hope you all enjoyed today's race because I certainly did (Albon was way too fucking good this weekend, I shit you not). And I hope Alonso's 2nd place makes up for the Father's Day that I'll never get to spend with him. Enjoy xx

masterlist

iv. fast lane but not the race weekend kind

“Regards,

Tilly Marie F. Hearth…”

That should be okay, I tell myself silently as I put away my laptop. It’s only 6 pm, and I already wish to retire to my bed early. 

I can be doing a lot, but instead I’m moping inside my hotel room while I’m waiting for Lewis. Being on a paid vacation is nice; I don’t have to do anything and deal with people. But at the same time, I’m craving more tasks to occupy my time because truthfully, I do NOT want to be stuck in a hotel in Silverstone with nothing to do. I spent my early 20’s being away from people, but now I’m entering my early 30’s, I’m slowly thinking that I probably should’ve done more than attend festivals by myself or with my sisters.

None of the people I was around with earlier had looked my way until after they'd been told that I was working in communications and was a boss’ child. The staff from the other teams also did the same—but some of them knew who I was already and had already made themselves comfortable. Just how I wanted.

But then again, this is my first day. And Sunday would probably be my last considering that I’ll be back to my stuffy office the next week. 

I can take up the role as a consultant for communications. My father did offer me that role for Ferrari, Red Bull and McLaren—telling me that I can do so much more in Formula One than my no-good employers. 

Bunch of bullshit, I curse out. He wouldn’t let go of his legacy like that. 

I already told him about writing for magazines or simply writing in general, but he still placed these executive positions in front of me as if he knew I’d give in. Sad fact is that he actually is right; I’m close to giving up on my job. If The Devil Wears Prada didn’t warn me the first time, Lauren Weisberger should have at least taken both of my shoulders and shaken them. 

It didn’t hurt to think about balancing Formula One and journalism out. After all, it’s what I can do as a journalist—know enough about racing and engines and ensure that my knowledge is being shared through my writing and published works. 

I try my best to relax in my bed, lying flat on the mattress with my hands resting on my stomach. The silence is deafening and I can hear my steady breathing. My eyes are growing tired as they continue to look up at the ceiling of my room. 

For a moment, I debated whether or not I should come downstairs for dinner with Lewis. If there’s anything that I know about him, he takes his dear time to get ready—and I have an endless closet at home. That’s telling you a lot. 

A knock on my door makes me stand fast and rush to open it. Daniel Ricciardo stands there with a grin.

“Oh you,” I blurt out.

Displeased with my response, Daniel cries out, “I’m not terrible all the time, Tils.” 

“Sorry,” I shake my head as I correct myself, “I meant that I thought you were Lewis.”

“He phoned me and said we should head down instead of waiting for him,” he shrugs as he sticks his arm out and offers, “let’s go?” 

I nod and head to where my flats are, slipping them on with ease as I grab my keycard and wallet. 

Daniel only pulled his arm back when I wrapped my arm around it. We descend to the ground floor where the restaurant is located. 

A host takes us to a four table seat at a corner. Seeing familiar faces from the venue, I nod at them as a greeting before I find myself sitting across Daniel. 

Soon enough, Lewis arrives and we begin to talk about today’s events. Forty five minutes had passed, and we found ourselves conversing in front of our already empty plates. 

Daniel asks about my family and all I can tell him has something to do with my mother’s side of the family. I guess out of the wealthy people in my family, I can understand my mother’s connections to the automobile industry. My toxic trait is that I despise my father but love my mother.

The difference is that my mother loves us more than anything and cares for our half-sister more than he does. 

But it seems Daniel has focused on a different matter.

“Your mother is— you’re a Ford, Tils,” his eyes widen like an owl as his mouth gapes open. I can practically see a fly entering his mouth. 

“My mum is,” I laugh, looking at Lewis as he, too, laughs at Daniel’s shocked expression. 

“Mate, she’s a Ford,” Daniel reaches out to nudge at Lewis and gestures at me. “You carry that information around just like that?” 

“She’s not really putting it out there for everyone to know,” Lewis chuckles, sipping on his water as he puts it down. “Besides, if you were really into racing you probably have heard about her dad or mum’s family one way or another.”

“I don’t really go digging for information about old money families,” Daniel rolls his eyes as he looks at me again, “you don’t look like you’re happy to be here. For someone who came from families who are into cars.”

“My father insisted on having me work for his teams,” I tell him, “I’m not exactly the brightest for motorsport. I prefer the media more than what my father wishes me to pursue.”

“Have you raced before?” 

“I had a karting career at some point,” I shrug, “or at least I started at the age 4. Mum didn’t agree with it and I should’ve started at 7, but my father insisted. I was already competing by 7. My sisters were too, but some preferred equestrian over racing.”

“If my dad was a twat, I’d stop it just to spite him too,” Daniel says as I raise my brows at the statement. He then corrects himself, “What I mean is I’d pursue the karting career for me, not for him.”

“Gotcha.”

Lewis pipes up, “Blanche is a pretty decent woman. You should see her, mate.” He turns to look at me and asks, “Is she coming this weekend?” 

“With Aimee and Sylvie,” I nod in confirmation, “I’m not quite sure about Stevie yet but she wouldn’t want to miss out on your home race.” Not elaborating any further, I return to the topic, “My father is absolutely baffled when I quit karting but he can’t do much because Poppy, my mum’s dad, was still alive. So between him and Poppy, he chose not to interfere.” 

“But you’re still here on behalf of your father though,” Daniel points out.

“It’s to secure my position and family’s future,” I tell him with a sigh. I look at him then back at Lewis before I say, “Whether I like it or not, I still need to do my part regardless of how much I hate the surname. It’s an obligation that I can’t avoid but it’s alright. It’s not just for me— it’s for my sisters and my future children.” Wow, I’ve only been friends with Daniel for a month and I’m already airing out my dirty laundry to him. Is this what happens when your friends are your sisters and just Lewis?

“You’re taking your elder sister role way too seriously. You can’t even catch a break,” Daniel says incredulously. 

I can only nod as I agree; my mother’s capable enough of worrying about them and I should just be doing whatever I want. She cares for my sisters as much as I do but being cut off from my father’s side of the family isn’t something that I’d allow. 

It’s not as if my sisters don’t want to join me at the trackside; they want to keep an eye on one of each team in fact. They want to be able to know what kind of thing our father brags about. But much like me, they don’t want to be on the track itself—they’re better off being models because that's what they wanted to be. They’ll join me soon enough, they just need to make a career out of modelling and come to work for the driving teams whenever they’re ready. 

“They’ll be in a lot of magazines soon enough,” I shrug nonchalantly. “I’d like them to do that first unless they feel like carrying a headache coming from either Brown or Horner.”

“There are three of them,” Lewis chuckles, “if anything, those three would outnumber your team principals. With you alone I got scared, could you imagine Sylvie? She’s feisty.” 

“It’s not just to keep them sane,” I roll my eyes, my foot underneath the table kicking Lewis in the leg. The table shakes lightly. “I just started working in this kind of industry. What kind of a big sister would I be if I’m just as clueless? I need to know more, especially if I want to be able to teach my potential kids about it.”

Lewis, the piece of shit, decides that this is the right time to joke about it and say, “I didn’t know you’re already thinking about a future with my boss, Tilly.” 

I snap my head to Lewis’ direction too much that I’m thinking I just got a whiplash. My glare hardens when Danny and Lewis’ faces turn red from laughing too much. 

“You ought to quiet down, boys,” I hiss, not wanting to look at the people who are giving us the unnecessary attention being gathered by their laughter.

“You have to admit,” Lewis breathes deeply to refrain from laughing again, “you two got along well. Was it because of Dubai?” 

“I told you that in confidence,” reaching down in his thigh, I pinch it as he whines quietly. He slaps my hand away as I say, “You’re a shit secret keeper.”

“Wai— what about Dubai?” Daniel, clearly not understanding what’s going on, asks as he looks at me while he expects a context. 

I muttered to him, “Met Toto Wolff in 2006. Spoke to him and all that.” 

Lewis nearly cries in laughter as he speaks, “She told me about it years ago. She never knew his name–or she refused to tell me who. She said he was attractive alright but—ow, stop it, Tils.”

I pull myself away from Lewis and sit back straight on my seat as I claim, “He doesn’t remember nor think of me like that, Lew. He’s just a silly crush.” 

“Is he?” 

“He was,” I correct him even if I’m wrong. It’s like Toto Wolff got an on-and-off button in my life. One moment he’s there making me blush the next thing he’s already gone. 

“You’ve been single for as long as I know,” Lewis huffs out, “why don’t you try dating again anyways?”

“With your boss?” I raise a brow, “Are you that obtuse?”

“What? He isn’t bad,” Lewis shrugs, returning to his usual composure as he crosses his arms, “the opportunity’s right there. Why are you adamant on not taking it?”

“Because she doesn’t want to get on Christian’s bad side for fraternizing with the enemy,” Daniel jokes. 

“I’m gonna kill you, Daniel,” I threaten him emptily, making him giggle again. 

“I’m repeating what you said!” He cries out, still laughing as he laughs obnoxiously. Men! Seriously.

“He’s quite interested you know,” Lewis states, his arms now crossing as he leaned against his seat. “He’s playing 20 questions with me whenever you leave. I’m not sure if he’s interested in me winning or you.” 

“He’s not interested like that,” I insist, “I’m sure he means well because I just popped up all of the sudden today. Nobody likes to step on the wrong foot of a newcomer. You’ll just make an enemy.”

“Yeah, sure,” Daniel scoffs haughtily, “the guy who’s been asking Christian questions about you left and right— the same person who doesn’t like Christian— isn’t interested.” 

“I haven’t been in a relationship with anyone since 2004,” I scowl, trying to keep my voice quiet as I say, “What makes you think I’ll be able to have an interesting relationship with him?” 

“He isn’t subtle about wanting to spend time with you,” Lewis answers, “what did he say again? You’re welcome to be in our paddock anytime? Does that ring a bell?”

Of course I do, I almost huff out, it’s one of the things that I intend to do. Be able to spend enough time admiring his team…

“I know men,” Daniel adds, “and with the way of how he’s looking down at you during the interview? With the heart eyes making contact with another pair of heart eyes? Yeah, that man is in loooove~”

“Like it’s a fast lane.”

Now I can’t deny it. 

I like being around Toto Wolff, more than anything. Speaking to him is like a breath of fresh air after stepping out of a cigar lounge. He’s a gentleman; I’ve always wondered how he’s not married. Women deserve him. Yet he’s here, being the most eligible bachelor in the grid following Fernando Alonso. God, I will snatch him up if I can even meet his level. I doubt he likes his women like me… trashy trying to be classy.

But it turns out, my cynicism is unnecessary. I find myself thinking a lot about the things that could be. In an empty elevator, I wait as it slowly closes. But the call from outside forces me to keep the door open until the person catches up. 

The man makes it inside as he stands tall, trying to catch his breath. There’s no way in hell—

“Tilly,” oh my god. I’m seeing too much of him today. 

I turn to my left as I dumbly ask, “Bonjour, what floor?” 

Toto looks at me with confusion in his face, probably wondering if I’m playing stupid or just stupid in general as he looks past me and says, “You’ve got it.” 

Wow, not only am I seeing too much of him, I’m also on the same floor as him. 

I nod and look back at the front, I can see him through the reflection from the doors. His polo remains unbuttoned and his hair unruly after running his fingers through it. I can see traces of sweat dripping down his forehead. I probably shouldn’t do a physical examination on him.

I look at him and ask politely, “Have you had dinner yet?” It’s a polite thing to ask, right? Like I’m not coming off as desperate to speak to him?

“Ah,” he keeps his mouth shut for a second and answers, “it is something to take up in my room, unfortunately.”

“Is it?” I ask out of curiosity, “You could have joined others for dinner?” 

“Busy, as always,” he smiles sadly, “it’s an endless battle.”

“Quite a shame,” I tell him with a shake of my head. “Do people know time zones or just business hours or is it just something written on papers?” I ask no one in particular.

“My brain doesn’t shut off the moment 7 pm hits,” he tells me with a rueful smile. “It calls for work all the time. So, no. I don’t follow my own business hours policy.” God, I feel sorry for him. 

“It’s like a wire, Toto,” I nibble on my bottom lip, not knowing how to express my empathy without looking like an arse, “you can’t plug it back in if you’ve something to prevent it from happening. Like a baby proof.” 

“You’re right,” he laughs. “What do you suggest I should do? The baby proof, I mean.”

I watch him as the door slides open, thanking him as he gestures for me to walk out of the lift first. Then my mouth does not stop speaking, “Have a dinner away from your work, for instance. Never hurts to isolate your work once in a while,” he laughs at that, “read a book? I love reading novels— I am currently skimming through Das Parfum. You can even time your break before going back to work because I can assure you that habit isn't good.” 

“Do you understand the German language?” He asks me. Mentioning Das Parfum clearly piqued his curiosity. 

It was smart of me to bring it up. When he told me earlier that he came from Austria, I knew I could talk to him in so many languages. Like I knew what I should say next. Like a mastermind.

I'm such a fucking mastermind.

My mouth quirks up and I answer, “Wir haben schließlich viele deutsche fahrer.” We have a lot of German drivers, after all.

He nods at me like he listens to everything I tell him. As if he’s following an order or he’s rather impressed with my pronunciations. Nice. 

Our conversation leads us in front of my hotel room. 

I look at him and gestures to the door, “This is my bat lair.”

“Bat lair?” He chuckles.

“My little humble abode,” I joke. “I can unfortunately hear my bed calling for me. I have to go.” 

“Right,” he nods as I open my door and step inside my room. Telling myself to get my shit together, I turn around to see him still waiting for me to head in. That was a surprise. 

I suggest, “One way to turn your stressful work day around would be breakfast. If you’d like, you can have one with me tomorrow?” 

“Are you asking me on a breakfast date?” He teases, watching me fall apart with my face flushing red. He stops eventually and answers, “I would be more than happy to accompany you before we head out.” 

“Okay good,” I laugh nervously, “I’ve no one else with me anyways so there’s that… does seven sound okay?” 

“You can ask me for anything I think I’ll say yes, liebling,” boom. There goes my heart once more. He grins gleefully as he says, “I know a place nearby. Would you like me to pick you up tomorrow?” 

“As far as I know I’m the one who asked you first,” I roll my eyes in a joking manner, smile escaping my lips. 

“I’d love to have you pick me up but I know the place,” he tells me with a shrug. “Besides, it’s by the tracks. We can head down there together before they start piling up for the day.” 

Not wanting to fluster myself anymore, I nod almost eagerly and he exclaims, “I’m looking forward to it.” 

“Have a good night, bello. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, schatz. Sweet dreams.”

Oh I really am going to have the sweetest dreams ever. Trust me. 

[katealpha]

Hot Take

I ship Raya and Sisu over Raya and Namaari. Here’s why!

• The biggest reason. Sisu has an adorable, scrimblo human form that she can change into at will. Raya’s got the best of both worlds.

•Sisu and Raya would be around each other much more often, depending on what you’d have Sisu doing after the events of the movie. In my headcanon, Sisu went right to Heart after helping relieve Kumandra, and effectively became Raya’s roommate. Namaari on the other hand is a princess of another land and having her own responsibilities, may not have as much time for Raya.

• Sisu has nowhere near as much negative baggage as Namaari. Namaari is partially the reason why the Druun returned to Kumandra, and half of the reason why they were nearly screwed forever, with six years in between these two events of the two hating one another’s guts. Personally I’m not too sure what kind of romantic relationship could spawn out of those events. In Sisu’s case, Raya spent a quarter of her life trying to find her, and all her life fascinated and revering her. When she’s woken up, Sisu isn’t exactly what Raya had in mind, but she’s still the first positive social interaction Raya’s had in literal years.

• Sisu’s presence in her life made Raya a better person. The other biggest reason for me is that Sisu simply completes Raya in a way I feel like Namaari doesn’t. In the movie Raya distrusts everyone around her to an almost absurd degree. While her worry is understandable, Sisu is able to get Raya to lighten up and give people a chance after she had previously stated that she’d completely lost her hope in humanity. Sisu’s positive influence eventually got Raya to find hope that her father’s dream could become a reality, and she ended up adopting Sisu’s more forgiving attitude, and let go of the hatred she had for Namaari and her people.

•Losing Sisu sent Raya into a frenzy. While losing her father seemed to have traumatized her deeply, losing Sisu to that very preventable accident Namaari caused made Raya nearly kill for revenge. I think that says something about how deeply she felt about Sisu despite only knowing her for a few days at most.

•Her own death and the consequences of being revived can serve as something Raya and Sisu can overcome as a couple. Some people were bothered by how Sisu dying and coming back didn’t seem to have any consequences. I agree with this sentiment, which is why in my headcanon, Sisu is not only severely traumatized by the event, but has a chronic pain in her heart where the arrow hit her. This in my headcanon is the catalyst for Raya and Sisu forming a much closer bond. Trauma is something Raya knows all too well, and her having to help Sisu overcome it like the dragon once did with her, I feel can not just be very wholesome, but lead to bigger things.

•I just think Raya getting together with the titular “Last Dragon” is just a neat idea. Heroes falling in love with the things they’re sent to find on their quest is one of those tropes I really like, especially when that love is reciprocated, and Sisu is a character that very much represents the love that Raya loses and gains back over the course of the movie.

So that’s that. Personally I’d love to see more Raya X Sisu arts, as well as an official ship name like Rayaari. I don’t have anything against Rayaari, on that note. Raya getting with Sisu is just my own preference, and there are plenty of reasons why Raya and Namaari can work.

So what shall we call this ship? Risu? Saya? Raysu? Siya? Definitely let me know what you think of this.

[wherevenusholdssomeofficespace]

Lawrence and Candace

I think Lawrence and Candace's relationship is severely underrated. While to a certain extent it's partially because we spend less time with just the two, but what we do see is incredibly sweet.

The first episode we really get of them together is Lawrence teaching her how to parallel park. And then driving together in a Lawrence. While he's initially nervous, he tried to not let it get it to Candace, and by the end he's having fun, and has completely confidence in her. He's really proud of her and it's clear they both mean a lot to each other. They really are father and daughter with a lot of the same expressions throughout the scene. He really is proud of her.

The second episode I can think of is with the father daughter race. They always lose, and Lawrence's laid back personality contrasts with Candace's competitive one. But while Lawrence spent most of the episode, not actually with Candace, it makes it clear just how important Candace and Lawrence's relationship to each other. Lawrence enjoys spending time with Candace. Sure Candace doesn't LIKE losing, but she's still committed to it despite her usual aversion to potentially humiliating events.

In My Sweet Ride, we have Lawrence fixing up an old car just for her. She doesn't even have her license yet. Sure, he falls asleep part of the way through. But he genuinely was like, I'm going to build a car for her. Not only that, the same one he had as a kid.

It's not like they have a perfect relationship. Candace is A LOT and Lawrence is very laid back and often doesn't really get what's going on with Candace exactly. And Candace is often annoyed and impatient with him. But it's clear they care a lot about each other and are more willing to be patient with the others eccentricities. Even when Candace is complaining about her dad's stories she's still usually, somewhat, respectful.

Now I'm going to get a little bit... fanficy but bear with me.

Now in regards to in show, the Flynn-Fletchers are meant to show a healthy blended family dynamic. While this can come in many forms in reality, in Phineas and Ferb it comes in the form of what is functionally a nuclear family. Mom, Dad and three kids. Anything outside of that isn't important and is in fact probably takes away from the message that they are just like any other family.

But that doesn't mean I don't think it's worth completely ignoring. I mean, this is where fandom comes in isn't it?

We know from a line in Skiddley Whiffers that the Flynn-Fletcher kids have known each other for at least 6 years (or since the boys were about 3 or 4, and that Ferb has lived in the US for over half his life (so since he was 4 at most). While it's not clear exactly when Ferb moved to the US, or when Lawrence and Linda got married they've been a family for a while. Ferb and Phineas have known each other most of, if not as far, back as they can remember. To them this is pretty much how it has always been. This isn't true for Candace, who is 5 years older than Phineas, who therefore probably has some memories of a time before Lawrence and Ferb. While Lawrence already had a toddler son, Candace would have been a grade school aged girl. Phineas, at the very least, is very personable and gets along well with almost anyone.

But Candace is a very anxious person, and seems to have been an anxious kid too. "When I was small the world was such a strange place", the first line of Ducky Momo is my friend tells us one of the VERY few things we know about little Candace was that part of the reason for her attachment to Ducky Momo was that Ducky Momo comforted her when she was an anxious little kid. Now, the details Flynn-Fletcher family's backstory are unimportant, but no matter how things went down its very likely that Candace did have some big "confusing" changes in her childhood based on the two things we DO know: She and Phineas are full siblings, and Lawrence and Ferb came into their lives when Phineas and Ferb were at most 4.

This is CANDACE we're talking about there is no way she wasn't anxious about something. Whether it be not trusting Lawrence, or not thinking Lawrence would like her, there is very little doubt in my mind that Candace would take a bit to be completely comfortable with Lawrence. If Phineas and Ferb wasn't, well Phineas and Ferb, it would make for some easy drama for there to be tension between Candace and Lawrence by the time of the show. Phineas and Ferb isn't that kind of show of course, but that doesn't make their relationship any less sweet.

There's no way of knowing exactly how things went down, and quite frankly I don't need the show to confirm anything to me. Whether Lawrence somehow miraculously got Little Miss Anxiety herself to immediately like him and trust that he liked her unconditionally, or if he had to earn her trust because Candace worried he would hurt her family, or that he would leave because he didn't like Candace, the result is the same. Candace could not have been an easy kid to start parenting as an elementary schooler. This is a girl who went to Mars because she thought everyone hated her, got 50 patches in one day and joined the fireside girls to see a band, read all of Sherlock Holmes in one night. She is, quite simply, A LOT. But Lawrence and Candace ended up close by the time of the series.

There is a disconnect between them. Lawrence doesn't really always understand what Candace wants (in part due to the same sort of emotional oblivious Phineas also has). But that same disconnect exists between every member of the family to a certain extent. But ultimately Lawrence and Candace ARE father and daughter. She expresses annoyance with him, but he patiently keeps trying anyway. He may not have realized she still liked her Mary MacGuffin, or that constantly losing upset her, but he still makes an effort. To Candace, Lawrence is just her somewhat embarrassing, often boring, dad. But Candace still enjoys spending time with him and the things he does for her. And he's proud of Candace and loves spending time with her too.

[a-problematic-writer]

I want to talk at length about The Ocelots. So... [Under a Read More for your convenience]

First off, I'm a firm believer that Aiden and Lukas are exes. No, you cannot unconvince me. It cannot happen. They're exes. This much I know. Chill, Chill. You can interpret them however you want. I believe there was a mutual romantic bond there though. They were childhood friends who fell for each other!!!! And broke up because Aiden got jealous and broke everything off after Lukas spent some time helping Jesse. [Think Aiden had always seen himself as inferior to Jesse subconsciously or maybe even partially consciously] I think, for Lukas, he figured he and Aiden would live in his little cottage--away from [Aiden's] adoptive father. I firmly believe Aiden dropped the bag on that one. And that's when Lukas' disdain for Aiden, Maya, and Gill started. 'Cause Maya and Gill took Aiden's side. However, in their defense, Lukas HAD seemingly left to be with the new heroes [and did I mention he didn't come after them during the witherstorm? Oops.] It's a whole mess.

Lukas was there by choice. He didn't feel stuck there. It wasn't because they were the only friends he knew. He genuinely enjoyed them and was the same about the rivalry with Jesse's team. He thought the others were a bit overzealous and did shoot them down when it got bad [aka borderline bullying], but he's arrogant and he poked and prodded too. I like Lukas better as a flawed person. I don't like that his arrogant side isn't explored. Let him be nasty! Let him be flawed but ultimately at his core a kind person!!! Love that shit!!

Maya and Aiden are siblings. This is just a personal take. They've always screamed siblings to me. Aiden is Maya's adoptive older brother. Though, she'd never say he was adopted. In her eyes, he IS her brother. End of sentence. They are blood-related to her. Aiden feels the same. That's his little sister.

Gill is the new kid to the ocelots having taken Petra's place when she and Aiden had a falling out. [That falling out being over how jealous Aiden was over her hanging out with Jesse, Olivia, and Axel and picking on the trio in retaliation] He gives blacksmith's son to me. Was likely gonna take over for his mom when the time came. He may be new but he quickly clicked with everyone and though Aiden was the slowest to warm up [fighting with the fact he's technically replacing Petra his ex-best friend] he DOES see Gill as a good friend.

Aiden does care about his friends. Perhaps too much at times. Enough to get jealous, a lot. He's scared of losing them. Already knows he isn't enough. He wasn't for his bio parents or even his adoptive parents. He's got a MASSIVE superiority complex and RSD and mild BPD. He's a mess. But he does care. He just has a TIME going about it healthily. I believe he is someone who under it all is timid and surprisingly kind. I do NOT believe his behavior in episode five is how he's always acted. Why? Petra can help me with that one. She says, and I quote, "He seems different, scarier." Thus telling me that he's not usually like that. And I will die on this hill.

Alright, I've rambled incoherently for long enough be on your way now.

[nesiacha]

Hi! ~ Since you are the only person, that I know of, who has read biographies about Billaud, would you explain me what happened with him to make he own slaves? Most importantly, did he really actually own some or was the whole thing misinterpreted? Because I personally find it hard to believe someone would forsake his ideals to that point, but who knows what passes through people's mind... He wouldn't be the only one to betray the core values of the revolution; still, it's not something I would have expected from someone like him.

Hello to you too!

Unfortunately, my response might not fully satisfy you, or only partially. As I mentioned in my post, I am waiting until I can acquire Arthur Conte's book Billaud Varennes to better prepare his defense, which I will publish at that time. I hope you understand why my response will be brief. It is easy to defend Billaud Varennes' career, and one can even defend his actions on the 9th of Thermidor. What is difficult is his owning slaves.

Billaud Varennes and Collot d'Herbois were condemned to "la guillotine séche," which means deportation (ironically, Barère managed to escape—what a surprise, I say sarcastically). However, according to reports, neither man opposed this, showing their courage and adherence to the law despite all the criticisms leveled against them (I’ve revealed part of my defense for Collot; and I can’t believe I’m giving a compliment to Collot, it’s horrible).

Initially, the beginning was very difficult, as one might expect (Billaud almost died of illness, Collot did die from it). Subsequently, the conditions of their detention were eased (in fact, the relaxation occurred during Collot's lifetime with Jeannet-Oudin, a cousin of Danton, according to Billaud Varennes' memoirs).

Later, due to this relaxation, he settled as a farmer, and he, who had been for the abolition of slavery, reversed his stance and bought slaves and sold them. It seems he got along poorly with his slaves except for Virginie ( alias Brigitte who will follow him everywhere) . Yes unforgivable betrayal, disapointment, I won’t defend on this, and I am agree with all users in Tumblr who mentionned it, he got even friend slavers ... Here is how he presented her to his father in a letter: "I must tell you that I have had, with me, for eight years, a housekeeper to whom I owe the prolongation of my sad existence, through the incredible care she has taken of me during the frequent and acute illnesses I have experienced here when I was in absolute abandonment and destitution. So, as soon as the return of slavery occurred, I bought her, paid in cash, and immediately gave her freedom. Therefore, I do not presume that my family will find it wrong, after the precious services this girl has rendered me and continues to render daily, through the order and economy she maintains in my house and the supervision and good conduct she ensures among my negroes, that I try to save her from misery, in case she should lose me, by guaranteeing her the enjoyment of the property here that I can dispose of, and which rightly belongs to her, having at least as much contributed as I did, through her work, to earning it..." Furthermore, Billaud Varennes bequeathed everything to her. However, I read somewhere that he bought her when she was a child, and other Tumblr users have mentioned this too. Apparently, she lived until 1874, which supports this thesis. I hope he didn’t force her like Napoleon did with Marie Walewska... I am waiting to get the book Billaud Varennes by Arthur Conte because I think I will have more details on Brigitte (I know it’s another era, but I found it weird that Danton married Louise Gely given her young age, and weird too in some ways, the relationship between Camille and Lucile Desmoulins, especially considering that Camille had a platonic love for Annette Duplessis).

Nevertheless, it is important to highlight that Billaud Varennes refused Napoleon's pardon. Yes, it may seem insignificant to some, but for me, it means a lot. It took courage and conviction, especially since correspondence between his family and him was difficult due to the distance. I want to highlight a letter from Nicolas Billaud in 1800: "My only wish before dying is to be able to embrace him once more and to see you all reunited. God willing, before that time, I will have that satisfaction. I am sure that, in this circumstance, you will make all necessary steps to make this happen." and from Henriette-Suzanne Billaud: "I desire, like your father, to embrace you before dying." How many of us would set aside our convictions and accept the pardon of a military dictator just to see our parents one last time? Or simply to see the homeland where we grew up? Not many, and I don’t blame them (after all, Félix Le Peletier, a revolutionary I admire, accepted Napoleon’s pardon after being deported by him, and we can hardly blame him). Then he settled in Haiti and even became an advisor to Alexandre Pétion. Haiti, this land where slaves fought to be free (even though Pétion is very controversial, first allying with the French, then only after Toussaint’s deportation, joining nationalist forces; there are still controversies about him, so I will refrain from arguing about a character I don’t know well). His accommodation was apparently a two-room hut; this shows he was still rightly considered competent and that he lived his last years with disinterest. In fact, he decided to die at his laundress's house, accompanied by Brigitte in a poor cabin, and died peacefully. I like to think that in some way, after renouncing his ideals on slavery, he somehow reconciled with them at the end.

There is a repellent effect of his exile compared to Napoleon’s. The beginning was very violent and harsh for Billaud, who accepted it as a legalist, did not escape even though it was tough, and his exile is seen as a bit more unjust, especially since they wanted to make him a scapegoat like Tinville, Robespierre, Saint-Just by the worst opportunists such as Fouché, Barras, Tallien... Apart from slavery (and maybe for serving Pétion, who apparently suspended the Constitution), he remained true to his convictions and finally died in poverty but very surrounded, free in the company of people he appreciated. He resumed politics as a counselor at the end in his life.

Napoleon’s initial exile was very easy; just look at Elba. Then, since he was not a legalist (euphemism), he returned for the Hundred Days, which would be more catastrophic in the long run for France (for once, I agreed with Germaine de Staël). Then he was deported to Saint Helena, with much less freedom (logically, conditions are always toughened for someone who has escaped, but I say he benefited from a clemency he did not grant to his opponents, the slaves who were atrociously killed, the deportations,etc, so ultimately he is very lucky in my eyes), and he no longer had a political voice. In fact, there were only a few loyalists left; he died much less surrounded (and I don’t blame Marie Louise for moving on with her life and refusing to join him). He, who had a taste for luxury, must have felt the difference, even if it was preferable to that of a peasant. No need to decipher the moral of this story if there is one.

Moreover, between a Billaud Varennes even at his worst regarding slavery (or Danton or even Collot) and Napoleon, it is clear that I would not choose Napoleon. Napoleon unlike the propaganda said is a man with bloody methods (just looking at Jaffa,Haiti, Guadeloupe,etc) just like the worst revolutionnary like Fouché in 17993-1794, and he is a dictator.

Sorry for the long paragraph; I cannot say everything about Billaud Varennes since I have used up much of my defense that I am building for him, but I hope this will suffice (at least I haven't exhausted his defense before deportation and even some points about Collot). I hope you will all forgive me! But maybe it will change when I will finally the book write by Arthur Conte.

P.S : I translate the letter in english but we all know that it is in French.

Sources :

www.amis-robespierre.org

Collot d’Herbois légendes noires et révolution- Michel Biard

Mémoires inédits et correspondance accompagnés de notices biographiques sur Billaud-Varenne et Collot -d’Herbois par Alfred Bégis ( à prendre avec modération)

Jacques Guilaine Billaud Varennes

For the affirmation that Camille Desmoulins love in a platonic way Annette Duplessis, see Hervé Leuwers Camille Desmoulins or in one of his videos on Camille and Lucile Desmoulins in Youtube.

At least it is a better exercise for prepare the difficult defense of someone like Billaud Varennes after his deportation :) with these everyone could correct me if I said a wrong thing before the final defense :)