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

[artemiss-moonchild]

.

[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

[lvscoups]

just friends ; choi seungcheol x reader

summary choi seungcheol's been your best friend since elementary school, and now you're both eighteen, about to leave for university. the last thing that you want is to go to university as a virgin, so he offers to take your virginity. surely this won't make either of you question your feelings for each other, right? wc 5k tags slow burn, childhood best friends to lovers (somewhat), barb seungcheol, underage drinking/smoking, pwp, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, afab!reader, 18+ MINORS DNI

eighteen. what an age- when you were thirteen, you thought that by now you’d have a hot, popular boyfriend, have gone to hundreds of parties, have a huge friend group who would all go to the mall and travel together, and maybe even have a scholarship to harvard. but you started university in three months and you had nothing to show for it. it would keep you up at night, all the dreams you had when you were younger, and how few came true. you only had a couple of friends, a shitty job at a convenience store, and the last party you’d gone to was for your niece’s 8th birthday. what weighed on your mind the most, though, was that you still didn’t have a boyfriend- and you were still a virgin. university was your last shot to really live out those dreams, to go to parties, hook up with strangers, go clubbing.. but, god, the last thing you wanted was to lose your virginity to some random person you’d meet at a house party. but high school was over, and, really, what relationship could you establish with a man in a couple of months that would make him someone you’d want to lose your virginity to?

“seungcheol’s here for you!” your mom yelled from the kitchen. you came running to the front door with a smile on your face- he’s back from his vacation, fucking finally. “so we’re going to the beach?” you asked as soon as you saw him. “yeah, i think miles and his girl are coming, rosie is bringing some people too.” he smiled. “are you ready or are you gonna make me wait an hour again?” “the latter, i didn’t think you’d be coming so early.” he follows you to your room, sitting on the side of your bed as you pack. oh, choi seungcheol. your best friend since… sixth grade? you’ve watched him come and go through different relationships- he was someone you envied, living the guy version of the life you wanted for yourself. out of the handful of house parties you’d been to, he’d dragged you to almost all of them. you didn’t know what you’d do without him, he was always there for you, the one who introduced you to almost all of your friends, who would help you cheat on tests. without him, you’d be regretting your high school experience even more. “let’s go?” you pull your duffel bag over your shoulder, looking at him. “finally,”

he was one of the only people you knew who had his own car- his father got it for him for his seventeenth birthday. it wasn’t the best, but it was really nice. you were pretty sure it was a ford or something similar because it had one of those big open trunks people use to put wood and furniture in. no idea why he needed one of those, because he was always showing off how he was strong enough to carry anything by himself, but it was still cool. the two of you would put pillows and blankets in it and lay down, talking and drinking together, listening to music on your cheap bluetooth speaker. you got into his car, leaving your duffle bag at your feet, setting up your playlist and the aux while he started up the car. “i can’t believe you didn’t take me with you to the bahamas, you bitch.” you joked. “luggage costs are crazy, i already spend so much money on you,” he teased back. “it’s an hour drive to the beach, by the way.” “no problem,” after your playlist started up, the two of you drove in silence, partially. there was some small talk about the bahamas and a lot of you singing along to nicki minaj, who seungcheol always managed to sneak into the queue. “me and kim broke up,” seungcheol said during a particularly quiet song, his eyes still on the road. “and you didn’t tell me?” you replied, looking over at him with a shocked expression on your face. “yeah, i dunno. it just didn’t…” he trailed off. “it wasn’t a big deal to me.” “i liked her! remember when she gave you all those leftover cookies from… was it her church’s bake sale?” “yeah, i guess.” he stared off. “she was nice, i dunno why it didn’t affect me.” “god, remember when you broke up with sierra? that was fucking crazy.” you turned back, looking at the road, too. “sorry. why’d you…?” “it was her.” “shit, sorry.” “no, no, it’s fine, really. i lost interest and stopped talking to her as much and we called about it and decided to break it off.” “just like that?” “well not just like that. it wasn’t like i stopped talking to her all of a sudden.” he turned to you, smiling. “use your brain, dumbass.” “school is over, i don’t need to do that anymore.” you laughed. “but really, that’s crazy. i’m glad it’s not… bad, but, like, you two dated for a while.” “i wouldn’t say three months is that long,” he replied. “at least i’ll have a hot boy summer, or something. ewww, sorry. that was so bad.” “it was. but you’re right, have fun! emma’s single now, too. maybe you two can get together.” “i think i’m fine. i don’t know if i even want a girlfriend right now. maybe i’ll meet some hot twenty year old at uni. who knows.” he paused. “is emma really single?”

he turned onto a more bumpy, dirt road, and soon the sounds of the waves and music came closer and closer until the beach came into view. “parking’s gonna be a fucking nightmare.” he sighed, looking at the hundreds of cars parked throughout the parking lot. you picked up your phone, unplugging the aux cord to call rosie. “where is everybody?” you asked, putting the phone on speaker. “we’re near the playground and this barbeque thing. leia, where are we?” you could hear some people talking in the background. “leia’s sending a photo to you right now. bye!” “bye,” you hung up. “here, there’s a photo of the map… we’re at the entrance, right? we need to take a left until we see a washroom. can we stop at the washroom? i really need to pee.” “okay, be quick, though.”

after another half hour, you finally parked. “what did we bring?” you asked seungcheol as you both stepped out of the car. “just drinks and our swim stuff. don’t worry, just go ahead- i’ll carry everything.” you took your duffle bag and trudged through the sand- your cheap dollar store flip flops felt like they would break at any moment during the long journey, your heels burning every time they would touch even a bit of sand. “hey!” you called out, waving to everybody once you finally found them. “y/n!!” rosie replied, getting up and running to hug you, making you both fall on the ground. “ow, shit!” you exclaimed, getting up and laughing off the burning pain of the sand hitting your back. “sorry we took so long- cheol is on his way with everything. parking was crazy.” “can’t relate, we’ve all been here since six,” leia laughed. “miles and the other guys are in the water, we were gonna get lunch soon if you wanna come, though.” “i dunno, i think i might just settle in first. get comfy.” “totally fair, we can wait for you.” leia looked over to the water, where you could make out a bunch of guys swimming and splashing each other with water. “i don’t think the guys are getting out anytime soon, so don’t worry at all.” “thanks,” and then you heard seungcheol’s voice- well, his whine. “the sand…” he groaned, trudging towards you. when he finally reached you, he dropped the blue cooler and other bags down on the ground. “shit! that was torture…” “your fault for not asking for help.” you said, opening one of the bags and taking out a beach towel, laying it on the ground. “come on, sit down. tell the girls the news!” “what news?” rosie asked excitedly. “yeah what- oh,” seungcheol said. “it’s really not a big deal, y/n. me and kim broke up, that’s all.” “WHAT?” leia shouted. “tell me everything!” you got comfortable, sitting cross-legged under an umbrella while you listened to seungcheol recount everything.

“can someone help me with my sunscreen?” you asked. “rosie?” you turned onto your back and wiggled your shoulders. “no, you perv!” she laughed. you pouted jokingly before seungcheol approached you. “you can’t do anything by yourself, huh?” he teased, taking the bottle of sunscreen and opening it, putting some on your back and rubbing it in. “nevermind, seungcheol’s definitely the perv,” rosie replied. he laughed, and you closed your eyes, your head resting in your hands as you let the sun warm your body, waiting for seungcheol to finish. after a while, he hit your back gently a couple of times. “you’re welcome.” “thanks?” you replied, getting up. “let’s swim?” you asked the rest of the group. rosie and leia got up, taking off their sandals and flip-flops, agreeing immediately. “i’ll watch everybody’s stuff, since nobody else will.” seungcheol replied, sighing and crossing his arms dramatically. “thank you!!” you all called out to him as you ran off to the water.

the sun had set, and the air had gotten cooler. it was dark outside as you all laid together on the beach towels, the big, blue cooler seungcheol had brought now half empty. of course, seungcheol hadn’t drank a thing, despite his seemingly endless whining about just how bad he wanted to drink, how jealous he was of everyone who was drinking, how he wished you could drive.. it just went on and on. you hadn’t drunk, either, in forced solidarity with him. neither had miles’ girlfriend, bea, who was everyone else’s designated driver. you and seungcheol were lying down together, both wide awake from the chocolate starbucks doubleshot you’d shared an hour before. you both stared up at the sky. “it’s, like, two months until you leave.” seungcheol remarked. “a little less, right?” “yeah, but same thing. i can’t process it.” “i wish you’d been accepted. we could have gone together, rent a studio apartment. it’d look so cool. you’d have one side and it’d be, like, red or something, and mine would be… i dunno. it’d be cool.” “we should. maybe i’ll go online and move with you.” “that’d be so cool.” “i can’t imagine what it’ll be like without you.” “you can still call me. it’s not like i’m dying, stupid.” “yeah, but… you know.” “yeah,” silence. you shifted your attention somewhat to the conversation the rest of the people were having- something about how prom went, but you couldn’t really focus on it. “i’m leaving high school as a virgin.” you said, breaking the silence. “oh my god, you are. holy shit, that’s hilarious.” he started laughing. “i have no idea what i’m gonna do.” “what do you mean? you’re not gonna be the forty-year-old virgin or something. you’ll just lose your virginity to some college guy.” “i don’t really want that.” “don’t you wanna have fun in college? you mentioned that a lot.” “yeah, duh. but i don’t wanna lose my virginity to some random man.” “too late for you to not do that. you shoulda tried to get a boyfriend before high school ended.” “ugh, you don’t get it.” “what don’t i get?” “i dunno. this is weird.” more silence, but from the corner of your eye you saw him nod.

“what did you mean, about all of that stuff you were talking about earlier?” he asked on your way to the car. “what stuff?” “me not getting you wanting to lose your virginity or something. or not wanting to lose your virginity.” “oh.” you paused. “like, i dunno. i kinda wish i had a boyfriend or something. like i had had more of a life in high school. and now i have to just settle for losing my virginity to some guy i’ll probably never talk to again.” “isn’t that what you want?” “no, that’s what you don’t get. like i wanna have fun and, like, hook up with people or whatever. but i don’t wanna lose my virginity to a random person. that’s different.” “yeah, i get that.” “but, like, in a month and a half, you can’t really get a boyfriend. even if i did, i don’t wanna lose my virginity to someone i’ve known for less than two months.” “yeah.” you got in the car and waited as he started the engine. in the meantime, you set up the aux again. after a while, he broke the silence. “i can do it.” he said. “what?” “i’ll do it. if you want me to,” he added. “there’s so many weirdos out there. if they find out you’re a virgin they might, like, take advantage of you or something. we can do it, get it over with, you know?” you paused. it wasn’t a comfortable silence. “sorry. i don’t wanna overstep a boundary or anything.” he added, again. “no, no you didn’t. well you did but not in a weird way or anything. it’s just…” “yeah, i get it. i’m sorry.” “no, no, no. seriously, you’re fine. i’m not opposed to that idea or anything.” “yeah?” “yeah.. i mean, it’s better than what you said- losing my virginity to a weirdo or something.” “so then…?” “it’ll be weird, but let’s do it. i might change my mind but for now, let’s do it. yeah.”

you’d never thought of seungcheol in that way. maybe in your darkest, most desperate hours, but that was it. it wasn’t like you didn’t take notice to how huge his biceps were, or his fucking crazy jawline, or how perfectly everything on his face complimented each other, but.. you did that platonically. it would just be weird to do that. but now that the two of you had agreed to have sex together, you assumed nothing could be weirder than that. so you tried to will yourself to like him, or that’s what you told yourself. it wasn’t gonna be an enjoyable first time if you didn’t at least have some attraction to him, you thought. so you’d find yourself thinking about him a lot. at night, your mind would wander to his hands, his arms, and sometimes your fingers would brush against your clothed pussy, playing with it, imagining it was him. of course, it was all a part of your effort to have your ideal first time, at least, as ideal as it could be, considering it was with your best friend and not your imaginary boyfriend, and after high school had ended. you assumed sex was better when you were attracted to the person it was with, so it only made sense to create some attraction to him.

“have you ever.. thought about what you wanted?” the two of you were relaxing in the back of his car, where he’d put up pillows and blankets again. you’d brought some chips, and the two of you were drinking and eating, talking about whatever. “like, sexually?” you replied. “i guess. i mean for your first time.” “i don’t know. something romantic, in a bed, at night. i don’t wanna eat food first- i think that’s kinda gross. kissing someone after eating? ew..” “is that really it?” “yeah, i guess. i don’t really mind the rest.” “okay, okay.” he nodded. “i don’t wanna ask too many questions, it’s just… i wanna make sure that it’s special.” you blushed. “thank you,”

you’d arranged a date- the twelfth of august. you were leaving by the twentieth, so it seemed like a good time. it was the last day of july when you made the decision, and you found time flying by. seungcheol came over a lot more than he usually did, which was already a lot- he was your best friend, after all. as the twelfth grew closer and closer, you began to notice smaller things, like the way his eyes would linger on your chest and the flush that would appear on his face when you two were especially close. you pretended like you didn’t see it, the same way you assumed he pretended he didn’t see you looking at his arms a little too long when he crossed them. it was all a part of your shared, unspoken effort to make your first time more enjoyable, of course. the two of you were friends. just friends.

he’d invited you to the birthday party his family was having, but you didn’t feel like intruding on something like that, so instead you went to the party miles was throwing for him that night. bea picked you up in her car- you were nervous about the ride if you were being honest. it was the first time you’d ever driven in her car and you’d heard that she’d had to pay for the entire repair fee for her mom’s car after she got into a car accident. she swore that she’d learned her lesson but you would be lying if you said you weren’t scared out of your mind every time she took a turn. the party was small, with just your friend group and then some other friends, and then friends of friends. you stuck with leia, sitting beside her and listening to her talk about the date she’d gone on the day before. eventually, leia ran off with another guy, and you went to the front porch. two girls were sitting on the front chairs, and you took a cigarette they offered you. you weren’t a smoker, but you didn’t have anything else to do. you recognized the one who offered you the cig as bea’s sister- it was crazy how similar they looked. same hair, same nose, same lips, except she was at least five inches shorter than bea. after a while, seungcheol came out to the porch, too. you began to sing happy birthday to him, and the other girls joined in, too. after clapping, he asked you, “what’s up?” “huh?” “i was looking for you, i haven’t seen you this whole time. where were you?” “oh,” you paused, stubbing out your cigarette on the ashtray in between the two girls. “i was hanging out with leia, then i came here. i didn’t wanna be in your way, it’s your party.” “we’ve been friends six years, come on. you can’t be serious.” he moved away to another corner, out of earshot from the other girls. “come on,” he whispered. you followed him. “you’re friends with everyone else here, too. it’s kinda weird to just stick to your side the whole time. i don’t wanna seem like that kinda person.” “okay, fair, but i don’t think the people here think you’re like that. they all know you.” “okay, okay.” you said, holding his hand. “let’s go back, then.”

it was on the ninth, while you were at his house, eating leftover pizza and watching youtube, when he put his hand on your thigh. he was talking to you about a game he’d started playing, putting his pizza down so he could really tell you about it, and when the conversation drifted off into something else, his hand was still there. you knew if you did anything even slightly implying you were uncomfortable, he’d move it- seungcheol was always looking out for you. you let his hand rest there for a while until he had to get up to grab something. while he was gone, you thought to yourself about it. by the time he was back, you’d made up an excuse for everything- including an excuse for why you gently moved his hand back to the same spot it was before.

august eleventh, he came over. he was sitting on your floor, head resting against your bed, which you were lying down on. “you’re sure about tomorrow?” he asked. looking up at you. “yeah. why wouldn’t i be?” “i just wanna make sure.” he smiled. “no pressure at all.”

and then it was nine p.m., august twelfth. your parents were conveniently gone for the night, to a family friend’s house to celebrate something or other. you didn’t know and, honestly, you were so nervous that you didn’t really care. he knocked at your door and you nearly fell on your way there. “hi,” “hi.” he leaned against the doorframe slightly, smiling. “you’re sure?” “yeah.” you both made your way to your room, your face hot. “i’m sorry, i have no idea what to do… i thought we could watch a movie or something?” “yeah, of course.” he sat down on your bed. “don’t worry about it, really.” you sat down beside him, grabbing your laptop and opening up netflix. after you settled on a movie to watch, you both got comfortable and you hesitantly rest your head on his shoulder. to say it was awkward would be an understatement. it was petrifying. your palms were sweaty and your heart was racing and this was all before he even touched you. it was an hour into the movie when he put his hand on your thigh again. it was summer, so you were in shorts, which made the sensation all the more incredible, you felt his hand move up slowly until he was toying with the hem of your shorts. “can i take them off?” he whispered in your ear. “yeah,” you put the laptop down on the far edge of your bed, and he slid your shorts off, holding up your legs just slightly. you turned to look at him, and there was his face. maybe it was the adrenaline rush or maybe it was something more, but you closed your eyes and soon found your lips on his. you’d had your first kiss already, but this time it was different. you found yourself melting into the kiss, your hands in his hair his hands cupping your face, before you felt his hands moving and you shifted on top of him. he pulled away. “is this okay?” he asked. “yes,” you whispered, pulling him back into the kiss and letting him put his hands under your shirt. the sensation of his hands on your breasts left you feeling even more horny, grinding down onto his crotch. eventually, you pulled away, standing up on your knees and slowly sliding his jeans off of him. he took the opportunity to gently push you onto your back, getting on top of you. he kissed you one more time before slowly leaving kisses all over your body, moving from your face to behind your ear to your neck, sucking on your breast. “you’re gorgeous,” he whispered, his voice deeper than usual. he moved back to kissing you, and you felt his hands go under your underwear hem. you found yourself moaning into his kisses as he rubbed your clit, then slowly put one finger into you, his palm still on your clit as he inserted another. “you’re… really good,” you moaned, after a little while, he took his fingers out, and you still found your walls closing around nothing, “is it okay if i put it in?” he asked, his voice still low and husky. “mhm,” you looked up at him. maybe you were caught up in the moment, maybe it was the moonlight peeking from the sheer curtains on your bedroom window, or maybe it was something else entirely, something that wouldn’t go away when the sun came back up, but just the sight of him in the darkness, his long black hair just slightly obscuring his face as he looked up at you through his long lashes, made your eyes almost water. at that moment, all that you could think about was how lucky you were, how grateful you were to be in this situation, and how happy you were. “are you okay?” he breathed, snapping you back to reality. his brows furrowed, the lust in his eyes being replaced with concern. “y-yeah, i’m great.” you smiled, looking up at him. “just making sure.” he reached into the pockets of his now discarded pants, closing your laptop before grabbing a condom out of the pocket, opening the packaging, and putting it on. he held your hand as he positioned himself in between your legs, slowly sliding into you. “let me know if you’re uncomfortable.” he whispered. you closed your eyes, and the stretch of your walls hurt at first- but soon the pain turned into pleasure, the most pleasure you'd ever experienced.

you moaned as you leaned up to kiss him, using your free hand to bring him closer to you. he shifted a bit, suddenly thrusting into you at the perfect angle and leaving you a mess, moaning his name and when you weren’t, you could hear him moaning yours. it was such an intimate moment and the way he was fucking you was so perfect that you found yourself forgetting that he was your best friend. you were whispering praises to him, telling him how good he was and how big his cock was and all these things you would never have expected you’d be saying to choi seungcheol, but here you were. his thrusts got more sloppy and his kisses became more messy and passionate and you knew he was about to come. soon, you did too, and the sensation left your head blank. you felt him pull out of you and lay down beside you. “you want me to run you a bath?” he asked. “yeah,” you looked over at him. “thank you, cheol. that was…” “amazing? life-changing?” he joked. “mhm,” you kissed him. “i’m really glad we did that.” “yeah. come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

he left after making sure you were all good, kissing you one more time before going. you didn’t think much of anything that night, but when you woke up your mind was racing- that was after you were able to confirm that the night you just had wasn’t a dream. you assumed seungcheol’s mind was racing, too, because aside from sending you some tiktoks and occasionally talking to you about something or other, it was radio silence from him. you were torn about it- on one hand, you were massively grateful. you knew it’d be awkward to talk to him after everything. but on the other hand, you were almost hurt. it was definitely irrational, and you knew that, but you almost felt like he didn’t talk to you because he didn’t like you after the two of you had sex or, worse, he had just been using you. then he called you, three days after everything. “hello?” “hey,” he said. “sorry for not talking to you for a while.” “yeah,” “i needed some time to think about things. it’s not like you did anything wrong though. i still need time, i’m calling to tell you that this has nothing to do with you,” he paused. “really, you were incredible, and that was one of the best moments of my life. and i don’t want to stop talking to you. i just need some time to myself for a bit.” “thank you,” you blushed. “but… yeah, that’s fine. don’t worry about it. but don’t take all the time you need. i leave in, like, five days.” you laughed, though there wasn’t anything funny. “yeah,” he replied, his voice somewhat… sad? you couldn’t really pinpoint what it was. “you gotta promise me that we’ll hang out at least once before then, ‘kay?” “okay,” he paused. “i gotta go, though.” “bye,” “see you,” he said before hanging up.

the phone call left you frustrated for the next few days, which only worsened how sad you felt to be leaving your home and your town. rosie and leia were constantly coming over, but, as much as you loved them, it wasn't the same as hanging out with seungcheol.

you'd been invited to leia's house on the nineteenth, to watch a movie or something. she drove you there, suspiciously giddy with excitement, and once you arrived at her house, you realized there was something more going on. she opened the door for you, and instead of being greeted by her parents and nobody else, you were greeted by a whole crowd of people. somehow, leia and rosie had managed to gather everybody for a surprise going-away party- even your cousin was there. you made your way through the crowd, talking to everybody, so happy from seeing all these people you loved and had spent your teenage years with that you forgot about everything with seungcheol entirely. in fact, you forgot about everything with him throughout most of the night. but then you found him, sitting alone and playing some game on his phone, and he looked up and saw you, and you immediately knew something was up. "can i talk to you?"

he took you to a bedroom and closed the door behind you. "i wanted to tell you something." he said. the two of you sat side by side on the edge of the bed. "i know it's really late to tell you this, but i figured because you're leaving tomorrow this is… my last chance to tell you." he paused. "i don't think it was just because of that night and i don't want you to think that, either. it's also not because of kim, even though the timing would make you think that… i was really thinking about this, and i think… i don't know how to say this, but…" you looked at him and he looked at you and suddenly it all clicked in your head. every little thing you made some stupid excuse for, like how you could only think about him when you touched yourself, or how you couldn't pull your eyes away from his crazy huge arms, or how your heart fluttered when you both made eye contact. it all made sense to you know. "i love you too, cheol."

[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! 💜💜💜

*~*~*~*~*~*

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).

[dsmp-lainey]

changes i’ve made to the dsmp canon in my personal rewrite:

-c!sapnap is a cis woman who likes dressing masc, her story and personality stay the same she’s literally just a woman now lol

-c!eret and c!karl are both transfem (eret is non-binary she/they and karl is a trans woman)

-sally was NOT just a salmon she was a nymph who’s animal side was a salmon, fundy inherits his fox traits from her as that’s his animal side, he cannot shape shift like she could though

-c!eret and c!george are cousins who’s family lived on these lands for long before everyone else arrived, that’s why ruling them means so much to them. c!eret originally joined the revolution because wilbur said they would assist in taking back the crown once they were independent but once dream made the offer of the throne in return for betrayal eret took the quicker option. (also c!george also has cool glowing eyes in this because it’s a family trait, also both my c!george and c!eret are black, eret has very dark skin and wears long braids mostly, george is a little lighter and keeps his hair shaved short mostly)

-c!dream only has one canon life left from the first moment we meet him, we never know how he lost the others just that part of his obsessive need for control stems from his paranoia of losing his last life

-c!wilbur lied in the letters he wrote to c!phil during the revolution and in pogtopia, he never told phil he lost any of his canon lives, phil thought when he stabbed wilbur he would have enough time to haul his body off to a safe place to calm him down before he respawned, he was shocked and horrified when he saw that was wilbur’s final life

-c!wilbur is a lot less human than he presents himself to be, his father is an angel and his mother is a goddess, he has lived far longer than the age he appears already at the start of the smp and could likely far outlive most other characters in terms of natural lifespans. his refusal to wear armor is partially influenced by the fact that he heals far quicker than others, therefore his insistence on others not wearing armor is a rather selfish demand since he knows others are risking more than he is when going without.

-c!techno grew up under a horrible dictatorship, that’s the largest contributor to his anarchist beliefs. he wears his crown as a symbol of the fact that he will never let someone else rule him ever again.

-c!tommy is religious like in canon but he primarily chooses to worship Lady death (mumza/c!kristin), she has shown him her favor many times in various ways over the years and was who guided him to wilbur in the first place. tommy has a elevated level of both respect and fear for c!phil throughout the smp no matter what because he is deaths angel.

okayyyy those are just a couple of them but i hope y’all like, PLEASE let me know your thoughts and what other hc and story changes you personally have cause i love hearing them!

[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.

[feralcreaturescave]

Find Me in Between the Lines

“Would you teach me?” “What?” “To read as you do.”

“There are not a lot of wizards that suffer blindness,” he replied with a chilling intonation. “I suspect you can learn of other things that may be more useful than this.”

“Is it so bad I’d want an excuse to spend more time with you?”

Word count: 3.9k

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x F!Reader

A/n: I only posted this story on AO3 and Tumblr, if you find this anywhere else- it wasn't me!! Link *here* for the rest of the series this story is from!!!

Ominis Gaunt couldn’t remember a time in his life where he was fond of people. Not even his family made it into his good graces, no matter how much effort he attempted to include them in his personal affairs. The only person he could think of that showed him the true meaning of familial love was his own aunt: Noctua Gaunt. He was told she was a great beauty with wits to match. She shared the pale blond hair of their father’s side and dark eyes that witnessed many of the Gaunt’s dark secrets. In his loneliest moments, Ominis tried to picture what Aunt Noctua would look like. Whenever she spoke to him, he always heard the smile in her voice and the lightness within her heart- a trait that was regrettably limited to only one of the Gaunts. 

The rest of his family had not been so kind. 

Noctua would often send him letters laden with treats local from wherever it was she was visiting; she would ask how he was, what he was up to, what were his current favorite books.. The letters stopped years ago and Ominis was left with silence. It took him weeks to work up the courage to write to his father about her and to his surprise he received a letter back, albeit with a short and curt response. 

‘I do not know.’

He was left to guess what really happened, until a few days ago where an unfortunate event transpired. 

Noctua Gaunt’s remains were laid to rest in a part of the school that hadn’t seen life in thousands of years. In the pursuit of truth did she perish within the confines of Salazar Slytherin’s scriptorium. A fate that Ominis himself had resigned to until Sebastian and his new friend found a way out. 

“Ready?”

“I’m ready.”

A pause, then- “Crucio!”

The details were secured within his mind and rose to perfect clarity whenever he required. He remembered covering his ears as she screamed. He wondered if that’s what his siblings heard? With a sound that horrible- why didn’t they stop on their own accord? It didn’t help that her body was cold when he caught her, breaking her fall. Her speech had been slurred so much that he had a difficult time translating what she was saying. His worst fears had come to surface that day. There were stories of the Cruciatus Curse that haunted him late into the night. Stories that involved people losing their minds had the curse been inflicted on them long enough; that was if they survived the initial bouts of pain. Some had their bodies simply give up due to the duress. 

They were the lucky ones. 

The ones who survive would have their minds reduced to nothing. Not even a single thought would light up their heads, nor inspiration nor recognition could be formed ever again. 

The House of Gaunt was naught but a shadow in his memory with mere ghosts that haunted its walls and called him ‘brother’ or ‘son’. Family was a foreign and strange concept; though of course, that all changed when Sebastian Sallow, and his sister Anne, came into his life. The days he spent with the two of them brought the most warmth to his days and he loved them for it; and despite Sebastian’s callous claims that Ominis didn’t care enough about Anne, he did. Though no cure was worth delving into whatever hole Sebastian found himself in.

A hole I helped him find. The quill in his hand had nearly snapped at the thought that intruded. He hated himself for allowing the secret of the Scriptorium to be leaked, but Sebastian’s friend had spoken such sweet promises and reassurances that he didn’t mind at the time. He was partially grateful that he finally learned the truth about Aunt Noctua and was given a chance to perform a proper send off near the lake where he stacked stones smoothed by the waters atop each other. He left a bouquet of her favorite flowers by the makeshift cairn and inhaled the familiar scent of Narcissus lilies that once resided within his aunt’s perfume bottles. There wasn’t anyone that comforted him the day he held a small ceremony to say farewell to the only blood relative that saw him more than a burden. He told not a soul, not even his closest friend, when he remained in the Undercroft and cried.

He straightened his back against the wooden chair and forced himself to refocus on the task at hand. Turning the page seemed achingly loud and he took more care to flip them apart as he fingered through. There was nothing quite like a location that forced people to be quiet no matter the circumstance. He found solace within one of the tables towards the back. From the cooler ambient, he knew it was one that lay concealed in shadows. This was one of the best spots where few bothered him, that is, until he heard someone walking his way. 

A subtle waft of something floral snuck into his nose. “What are you doing here?” 

“How did you know it was me?” The voice of the new student whispered softly to him. 

“I have to recognize people from something besides looks.” She was quiet and he hastily added: “Don’t look too far into it.”

“How can you recognize Sebastian?”

“His walk. No one else could convincingly brandish that amount of swagger without making a fool of themselves.”

She laughed. “You’re right on that.” Something shifted that sounded a lot like heavily bound books. “May I sit with you?”

“Why?” his question shot out like a spell, quick and with reflex.

“I, er, I was looking for a quiet place.”

“It’s a library,” he responded coolly. “You may find quiet places almost anywhere that aren't occupied.”

There was no response for a few seconds and he imagined she had already left, until she spoke softly again. “I understand. It was nice seeing you, Ominis.” Her footsteps had begun to recede until he spoke up.

“Wait.” The footsteps stopped. “I.. I’m sorry. Please, take a seat.” A chair next to him moved and groaned as weight was introduced upon the cushion. The first time he had met her, he was rather sweet and welcoming. But the instant he learned that Sebastian introduced her to the Undercroft without alerting him had left sour grapes on his tongue. He also heard rumors of Sebastian spending time with Hogwart’s latest mystery out of school grounds. It was enough to send an ugly tendril of insecurity with no small part of jealousy added into the mix. Has Sebastian tired of him already?

“..How are you? I didn’t think I’ve asked yet.”

Ominis scoffed. “I should be the one asking that. Not you.” Her screams surfaced into his mind from memory. “You were out cold. Sebastian and I were nearly hysterical.”

“Is that so?” she chuckled softly. “I don’t remember a thing beyond closing my eyes and drifting off into sleep.”

“Quite so. We haven’t argued like that in a long while.”

“Regardless. I’m grateful to both of you for not leaving me in the Scriptorium.” She paused. “Whose idea was it to sneak me into your dorm?”

“Mine.”

There was stunned silence. “That’s not who I expected,” she admitted shyly. “The Slytherin Common Room is gorgeous, makes me wish I’d been sorted in.. Imagine my surprise when I woke up in bed with Sebastian. We were so close I could count the freckles on his face with ease.” 

“I bet he would have enjoyed that.”

“You think so?”

“He fancies you.”

“I believe it’s more because he needs me for something than that.”

“You’re far too gracious. He’s been beside himself with worry. All he could talk about was how you looked when you sat limp in my arms..” Ominis trailed off, realization striking him. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding him?”

“He’s noticed, has he?”

“Yes. And he won’t stop pestering me about it. I would consider it a personal favor if you talked to him and requested that he stop.”

“I will. I just need some time to think about things.” 

“Very well. I’m sure you and Sebastian have your own secrets.” He knew full well that there was a hint of jealousy in his voice. A part of him hated how quickly Sebastian took to the new fifth-year, while another part of him was merely curious. 

“You and I could have some as well. I’ll confess something..” He heard her clothes rustling and assumed she was making herself more comfortable. “Yes. I’ve been avoiding Sebastian. I’ve been cursed before- by people far worse. But none of them scared me like he did.” She swallowed and continued, breathless. “I know you have to mean it when you cast you-know-what. But it’s a different sort of pain when it comes from someone you care about. I hope that makes sense.”

Ominis knew exactly how that felt. 

“Never mind all of that,” she urged. “I’m more curious about that magic you were using earlier on one of your books.”

He felt hot behind the ears. How long was she standing there to watch him transcribe the letters inside his book into Braille? It was not as if she was working up the courage, surely? “It’s a spell my aunt helped me develop,” he started tentatively. “It changes letters into Braille and vice versa. Since not all of wizard kind suffers from my ailment, it’s rare that I find any book that suits my particular needs.” 

“Your aunt sounds like a spectacular person.”

For the first time in a while, a warm smile lit up his face. “Yes. She was.”

“Would you teach me?”

“What?”

“To read as you do.”

At that moment he didn’t know how to react. Maybe he should be angry? Suspicious, perhaps? He settled for a probing question. “Why?”

“Because, it seems handy.”

“There are not a lot of wizards that suffer blindness,” he replied with a chilling intonation. “I suspect you can learn of other things that may be more useful than this.”

“Is it so bad I’d want an excuse to spend more time with you?”

And just like that, the ice had drained from him. Clearing the fields as the sun did for the frost-bitten valleys come spring. It was replaced with embarrassment and the irresistible urge to make up for the way he’d been treating her. Hesitantly, he slid over a book and began pointing out the alphabet in order. “This single dot means A.. These mean B.. When you put them together..” He appreciated that she was silent as he taught her each letter one-by-one with only a short hum to let him know that she memorized the latest letter down the row.

“This may take some time to get used to,” she whispered.

“It’s not so difficult,” he murmured back. “Just like with any concept you must learn. The symbols come first, then understanding.” Sliding the book over, he felt her arm move up, brushing against his as she passed her fingers to the page. Her movements were quick, unsure, and Ominis sighed. “Start from the left towards the right.”

His patience rescinded and without thinking, he searched until he found her hand. Only then did he realize how cold his skin was compared to hers. Ominis refocused on his task. Taking her through the motions, he showed her how he would usually read. Starting from the top left, skimming all the way to the right before shifting to the beginning of the next sentence. 

There was surprise in her voice. “I don’t believe I can learn that fast.”

“Sebastian tells me otherwise. Now try again.” She mimicked his movements, going down the list with his finger close to hers. 

She spoke as she read along. “The… Go..Goblin R.. Rebellion of… 1612..” 

“You’re doing well.” 

“Only because I’ve read this passage before and memorized it.” 

“Then let’s do something you haven’t memorized.” He took another book entirely and flipped to a random page. His wand tapped the page. “ Intra Intellegentium! Try this- no peeking.” Her fingers found the page and he listened as she struggled to sound out the words. 

“‘H’..h, right? Let’s see. ‘H..o..” She paused, her finger rubbing over a specific set of bump again. “Ominis-”

“Horklumps,” he confirmed after running his hand over it. “‘Horklumps can be found in varying numbers depending on humidity, light, and if someone had perished on the spot they sprouted on.’”

She laughed to herself. “I may need some practice.” 

“Indeed you do.” He let her memorize the alphabet on her own just as curiosity burned through him. “In the Scriptorium, Sebastian mentioned that ‘between the two of us, he was starting to feel left out’. What did he mean?” 

She was quiet for a bit, then- “I won’t lie to you again, Ominis. But that is something I must tell you about another day. I’m sorry. I can’t risk having you involved, too.”

'Too'? Is it another one of Sebastian’s games? “What are you talking about?”

“Ominis,” she insisted. “It isn’t wise that I involve more of my friends than I need to. Trust me. When it’s all over, I’ll tell you. I promise.” He heard her begin to pack up her things. “It was nice spending time with you.”

There was no time to respond as her hurried footsteps told him she was in a rush to head to whatever grand adventure she had waiting. He sat for a moment before packing up his things and departing himself until he stopped and blinked. Ominis felt as if he was hovering in a dream as his thoughts came as fast as someone who tried to run through muck. Did she just call him her ‘friend’? 

***

“What does she look like?”

“Sorry?”

“Your friend. Describe her to me.” 

He heard Sebastian shift his weight as he sat up in bed. “Why do you want to know?” Suspicion had made his voice lower in tone. “You never seemed to care much before.”

“I’m curious.”

“She looks like a girl.”

“Come off it, Sebastian.”

“She has a face.”

“Very well. If you insist on continuing this charade then I’ll ask her myself.”

Ominis pulled the sheets over him and turned his back to Sebastian’s voice.

“Wait-” he heard him sit up more. “Is she talking to you?” Ominis didn’t say anything. “Ominis. Has she said anything to you recently? Why isn’t she talking to me?” When he didn’t reply, he heard Sebastian let out a disgruntled sigh before he too pulled his cover over him. 

The next day, she found him in the library once more. He memorized her hurried footsteps and found it amusing how they never seemed to slow down no matter where she was headed. Their spot was almost exclusive again as they both made themselves comfortable. Only the sounds of light tapping on an ink pot and quills scratching against paper accompanied the peace. Ominis reached forward to where his ink pot was and felt his fingers brush against something warm.

“Sorry,” came a low murmur. 

“It’s alright.” Ominis set his quill down. “I must ask: why do you insist on spending time with me?”

“You’re the only one who doesn’t think to ask me anything besides peace,” she answered and sounded so earnest that he felt as if she was telling the honest truth. 

“Are you leading me to believe that everyone you’ve met has thus asked you for a favor?”

“Yes. I don’t mind lending a helping hand, but it gets exhausting. Sometimes I would like to simply sit down and read and not be bothered-" her voice sounded muffled and he assumed she covered her face with her hands as he only caught tidbits that sounded like 'goblins', 'poachers', 'magic', and 'keepers'. 

“You and I are alike in that regard then. I enjoy my silence.” Ominis thumbed through the pages of his copy of the ‘History of Magic: An Unabridged Guide’. “Actually, I may have to break that accord.”

“What is it?” There was a cautious edge to her voice.

This made him chuckle. “Don’t worry. I won’t ask you to delve into old ruins in search of a family heirloom or fight another troll. I simply wish to know what you look like.”

“I- hm.” She hummed. “I don’t know where to start. Shall I start describing the color of my hair?”

“Here-” he motioned for her to come closer. “This is much more simple and straightforward.” At first he hesitated, but when he felt her warmth come closer, he had a blossoming sense of bravery. 

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Hold your face out,” he said with such simplicity and calmness that even the tone of his voice surprised him. Reaching forward, he felt around the air until he came into contact with skin. The flesh under his fingers went rigid under his touch and he quickly urged her. “Calm yourself. I simply wish to learn what you look like. I can’t say I fancy picturing myself talking to a mannequin for the entirety of our relationship.”

At his words, she relaxed and let his hands see her face. 

His index trailed upwards to follow the hairline and felt her hair and how soft it felt, next, he accidentally brushed against her ears and didn’t reprimand her when she told him that it tickled. Her eyelashes tickled him back in revenge when he passed over her eye to the bridge of her nose to her other eye. His palm lay flat on her cheek with the rest of his fingers stopping there to let the thumb go on without them. Next came the tip of her nose before going down to press against her lips. His heart seemed to catch in his throat when his thumb grazed her bottom lip. For a second he believed that she pushed her lips against his finger and left a kiss there, but both of them said nothing to each other in that moment nor the one after. Ominis pulled back, a silent ‘thank you’ was uttered under his breath. 

“Do you know what you look like?”

“I haven’t had the pleasure,” he stated curtly.

“May I do you the honor of describing you, then?”

“You may try.”

The sound of scraping wood grated his ears as her chair was being pushed closer to his. A presence was more noticeable at his side where she leaned in to get a better look. She hummed, tapping her fingers against the wood and seemed to take what felt like ages to decide where to attack first.

“You are very handsome,” she concluded. 

Ominis felt he would sputter his words and kept his mouth clamped shut instead. “Your skin is pale. There are moles here-” her finger traced over his face and tapped where the marks were, “-here and here.” She traced down the bridge of his nose. “A pointed tip, and sharp lips that seem to always be fixed into a frown. You truly do have an air of austerity about you.”

“I do not-”

“Shh.”

The finger was placed against his lips and remained there until she was sure he wouldn’t open them again. She traced along his jaw now and in that moment he felt what she must have when he was examining her face. For lack of better description, he felt naked beneath her scrutinizing gaze. 

“Rather sharp jaw,” he heard the frown in her voice. “It seems you were blessed with looks at birth. Are you aware of what the other Gaunts look like?”

“I’m told my family possesses some sort of allure. Mother always praised my older siblings on how handsome they were.”

“It’s an apt description. You are.” The bell tower announced the time somewhere in the far distance, a sound that was followed by a chair scraping against wood. Warmth left his face like the sun retreating behind a large mountainside. “I’ve got to go. I’ve an engagement I must hurry to.”

“I wasn’t aware you and Sebastian had something planned today.”

“Because we don’t. It’s.." she hesitated. "Complicated.” Her finger seemed to tap along the wood of the desk in a nervously paced rhythm. 

“Will you keep another secret for me?”

“I suppose I can. What is it?”

“I’m meeting a goblin. He has information I need and working with him might prove beneficial. Just don’t tell Sebastian this yet.”

“I shan’t, but-” He raised his brows. “You’re aware he’s not overly fond of goblins after what happened to Anne, correct?”

“Yes, I know. I will tell him in time, just not now. I fear his reaction may be a bit too much to handle at the moment.” She sighed heavily. “Still, it feels good to get that off my chest. Thank you for listening. You’re a good friend, Ominis. We should spend more time together.” With that, he heard her take off towards the front of the library. 

***

I hope my owl finds you well. I’ve transformed the letters into Braille and hope with sincerity that you cannot make sense of it. Should you ever find yourself in dire need of a reading partner, find comfort with the knowledge that you may ask me. 

It’s also my displeasure to report that the time I spent with you in the library was not as bad as I previously imagined and that I do not mind repeating the experience. 

Sincerely, 

Ominis Gaunt

[agendabymooner]

colour me your colour || toto w. x ofc (2)

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: It's 2014. Tilly fills up the position temporarily as Red Bull's Communication Liaison and meets the man she spoke to all those years ago in Dubai... only for her to realize that he's her best friend's Team Principal. Lewis Hamilton is more than amused with her situation, if anything.

Content warning: Age gap, mentions of an absence of a father figure, brief use of explicit language, mentions of nepotism, discussion of mental health and burnouts. Platonic!Lewis Hamilton content, Platonic!Daniel Ricciardo content. Fictional family and business involved (Hearth family and Hearth Automotives Group). One character is fictional but came from a family (Ford family). NO PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS INVOLVED SORRY

Note: This is actually my demon time. I took a break from posting too much Danny Ric even if I love him sm (this fic needs attention a little bit). Should I make him go feral and chaotic again? I dunno. But anyways, here's for the Toto stans. Please tell me what you think in many ways - reblog and reply even! Enjoy xx

ii. tilly marie wants to go to hell

Tilly Marie. 

That is the name that hides everything that relates to my life and purpose. Truthfully, everyone knows who I am, but I act like a stranger to everyone who works in the location during the races. Everyone has heard of my name but never really knew what I look like. Of course, they would know who I am. I’m sharing my surname with the man who partially owned three teams— all through his shares. 

Julius Hearth is a billionaire who invested much more in motorsport than he should have in his racing career. Instead of becoming a professional driver, he remains a billionaire, relatively close to creating a monopoly in the racing industry. 

A greedy man, they call him. He dislikes the idea of being unable to control his businesses. He could have sold his shares before, yet he keeps a tight grip over each of his holdings and keeps his position in each team as an executive. He’s not even the one at the race right now. He has his daughter act on his behalf and play his part in keeping his teams popular. 

The surname Hearth is practically engraved in each team’s zones. I hate it. Wherever I go, even if I hadn’t attended a grand prix for a while now, eyes would settle on me. Everyone knows my name. I hate it. It should have been Ford instead, maybe I would have allowed it.

And so I stuck with Tilly Marie. Tilly Hearth catches the eyes of everyone in the racing industry. Tilly Marie is just a woman with access to three zones and additional pit access from her friend. Tilly Hearth is for business— for handling problems and solutions in media outlets and communications.

Now that I think of it, I remember considering quitting my job before I was even told to attend the British GP. Have you ever been so exhausted from doing what you love? Or is that something not really something you desire?

I enjoy writing fashion and design articles for everyone’s entertainment. But to be told you’ll be given a better angle on the following magazine issues and still drooling after that promise? Now that’s just an embarrassment. 

Everyone I’m close to knows how badly I am treated at the company. Their sympathy came with advice to leave the company. Yet, despite the gratitude that I felt, I refuse to resign. I have faith in my career. They’ll give me a better angle soon enough. Or not.

One of the many people who told me to quit is here standing behind the gate. His tightly braided hair is covered with a branded cap. His chest is covered in a white polo. He stands there with a cheeky grin as he holds his arms out. Lewis Hamilton never failed to make me smile.

He engulfs me with a tight embrace and lifts me slightly in joy. We have not even exchanged words yet, but I am already smiling widely. 

“Oh, Tilly, I thought you wouldn't come!” Lewis exclaims once that he puts me down. I straighten my slightly wrinkled skirt and look at him with a questioning frown. “You’re going to watch me win in person this time!” 

“You act like I don’t see you almost every month,” I scoff, shaking my head at his pout.

“You haven’t attended any of my races for almost six years,” he points out, referring to his championship when he was in McLaren. That’s how we met. My father was bored and had decided to buy a part of McLaren, Lewis’ first team. I hung around him more often during the past few seasons while I consulted with my father’s other teams - Scuderia Ferrari and Red Bull. Lewis values our friendship more than his team, as we remained friends after he departed from McLaren. 

I was going to protest and defend myself, but he cut me off before I could even talk. “You were working hard at Vogue, I know,” he rolls his eyes before he wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer as we walk down the Mercedes zone. He still has an assistant with him, and she’s nice enough to ensure that Lewis isn’t doing something stupid like getting our photos taken by paps while his arm is around me. I can see the headlines we’ll make if they see me.

Tilly Hearth’s Comeback Spiced Up by Forbidden Romance as She Snuggles with Mercedes Driver

The Lifestyle of the Rich and Famous: Lewis Hamilton Seen Cozying Up with the Hearth Group Heiress

He continues, “I love you. You know that, right?” 

I nod as he playfully scolds me, “Then why aren’t you listening to me? To your three sisters, even? You’re writing a smaller piece in a magazine for how long? Six years? Why don’t you quit and find a better opportunity?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” I frown, slightly shoving him away while his arm remains wrapped around me. I try kicking him in the leg, but he quickly avoids my attack as he laughs. People that walked past scowl at us. “I knew I should’ve stayed on the Red Bull pit.” 

“In my year of winning? At the British GP?” He scoffs haughtily. “You wound me, Tilly Marie.”

“And while I’m against the idea of staying in your paddock, I’m glad we can agree on calling me by that name so I'm staying because I love you that much,” I grin, kissing him on the cheek as we arrive at the Mercedes hospitality. 

Indeed, I haven’t attended a race for a while now. Putting more time into my job would give me a way to a promotion or an opportunity to publish a meaningful piece in the magazine. But as years go on, I’m slowly backing away from that optimism. So being in this event… yeah, I think I’ll choose this lifestyle once more over that god-awful thing I call a career. 

Still, why haven’t I quit yet? I have little faith in them. I might as well resign. But this advice came from other people. It didn’t come from me. They cannot change my mind, and I wish I’m not this stubborn and stupid. I wish Lewis would bang my head against the wall to get me to quit. 

I know that I have more options if I quit. But even then, I know my options will come straight from my surname and father. Nepotism follows me wherever I go; even if it’s inevitable, I try to control the fire before it spreads. I know that using my name will not help me learn more. 

Even Lewis knows how much it’ll affect my career in a different industry. One that isn’t racing. It’s bad enough that everyone knows me by name, but to use it proudly? Yeah no. Lewis keeps me humbled by calling me Tilly Marie. I love him because of that. 

All of those thoughts have left me alone when I hear a voice ring out behind the two of us. One that calls for Lewis, which has my friend turning around. Out of curiosity and instinct, I immediately turned around to see who called for him. 

Would it be a shame to admit that the man you met eight years ago looked as handsome as before? No. Maybe not. 

My eyes respectfully move from his attractive face down to the polo that he’s wearing. Slight chest hair peeking out from the unbuttoned collars as my eyes finally look at the title on his chest. 

Team Principal

Mercedes AMG Petronas

While it’s not something to be ashamed of, admitting that the older man is attractive will cause bloodshed. One that would begin with Lewis. 

I must admit the man in front of me makes me nervous now that I have grown older. My legs will turn jelly if I hear his accent again. 

“Ah, you have a guest,” the older man smiles at me almost charmingly. 

My legs didn’t turn into jelly. But I wish I had gone to hell earlier than expected because of the heat I can feel on my face. All because of this man. 

Lewis doesn’t catch the reddening of my cheeks. Instead, he nudges me with a grin, saying, “Of course I have. You know how I want people to watch me win.”

“I like that confidence,” the man chuckles, probably still staring at me while my eyes remain on the floor. 

Lewis nudges me again, leaving me to clutch the strap of the bag that nearly fell off my shoulder. I glare at him, and he doesn’t see it as he introduces me, “Tils! This is Toto Wolff. He’s the Mercedes team principal. Toto, this is Tilly Marie. She’s a friend.” 

I can’t longer avoid his eyes as I look up at his dark eyes. I have forgotten how to speak briefly before I clear my throat and greet the man, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Wolff.” 

His stare isn’t intimidating. That’s what I think, but my body says otherwise. Suddenly, the hospitality feels 30 degrees celsius hotter because of his look. 

But he doesn’t say anything about my obvious situation, and with Lewis not saying anything, I assume he doesn’t notice. The team principal then extends his hand in my direction as his accent leaves a tingling sensation in my ears with the words, “It’s lovely to meet you. Miss…?” 

Oh um. Shit. 

Suddenly the roller coaster in my stomach fades as I stammer, “Hearth. Tilly. Tilly Marie.” I immediately reach for his hand to shake as I shudder slightly. God, those hands are cold. I still shake his hand like a fan excited to meet her idol. Lewis, god loves him, has immediately put a stop to it by putting an arm on my side. 

Not realizing I'm still holding his hand, I immediately pull away and offer Toto a sheepish smile and apology. I’m 28, turning 29. I’m not 18. I’m still acting like a child. 

But my internal dialogue is interrupted by a hum coming out from Toto. He watches me move in one place, assumingely unable to reply for a moment. He's thinking of something and it's unnerving.

The silence doesn’t last long as he finally asks, “Are you Julius Hearth’s relative, by any chance? You look a bit like him.” 

I immediately answer, my voice slightly cracking, saying, “Yes. Yes. I’m the eldest daughter.” 

Knowing my family history, Lewis winces at the title I used to describe myself. Even he knows that this is a sore spot for me.

“Ah,” Toto hums in understanding, nodding at the response while he looks around. It seems our surroundings don't interest him, all while people around us are beginning to whisper at the drop of my name and relationship with a prominent figure in the racing business. 

Nevertheless, he ignores the whispering and instead tells me, “It’s surprising to see you here, Miss Hearth—“ 

“Just call me Tilly,” I immediately interrupted him with the insistence of a worried person. “Tilly works just fine.” 

He doesn’t blink at it, even if I can tell he has a question or so at my insistence. He continues regardless, “Well, Tilly, it’s surprising to see you here, in a rival team’s hospitality.” 

I only laugh at that. I laugh at him like he’s an idiot. Or the other way around. He’s calling me an imbecile in his head now, I tell myself as I watch his brows wrinkle slightly.

I tell him, “I’m here as a friend of your driver, Mr. Wolff. And I can hardly be biased about teams seeing as Julius purchased some shares from almost each. There are no playing favourites in my book.” 

“Is that right?” He asks with amusement in his voice. 

“I like to play fair,” I shrug and offer him a grin, “besides, I’m not as good at interpreting races as he is. I’m only here to keep their head checked before they can lash out in front of the cameras.” 

He likes that response even though I mentioned I have limited motorsport knowledge. He chuckles again, nodding in my direction and at Lewis, who I have almost forgotten is with me. 

He doesn’t say anything to me anymore and tells Lewis, “Remember your interview.” 

“Yes, sir,” Lewis nods at him. 

Toto looks at me again and suggests, “Miss Tilly, you should be in our zone more often.” 

For once, my face hasn’t flushed. I offer him a grateful smile and joke, “It’s a bad idea to give me such a privilege. I suppose you’ll see more of me then, Mr. Wolff.” 

“Call me Toto, liebling,” Toto tells me with a wink, “besides, I won’t complain if I see you here— I might as well snatch you up from Red Bull and McLaren, hm? Or is Ferrari also a competition I have to fight for?” 

He turns around and leaves the premise, walking away from us with a big smile while Lewis and I remain silent. 

There’s a scoff that leaves Lewis’ mouth. I watch him shake his head and ask, “What? Did I do something?” 

“No, no, love,” Lewis answers, chuckling in disbelief as he says, “I can’t believe I just watched my boss hit on my best friend.” 

“Who says you’re my best friend? Sylv, Steve and Aims are my best friends,” I scoff. 

“Stevie, Sylvie and Aimee are your sisters, love. There’s a big difference–whatever, you were just flirting with my boss!” He exclaims, making other people look at us at the abrupt loudness.

I wish I had gone to hell earlier.

[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.

[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.

[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)))) 🦴

[rauhallinen-hauki]

so I finished the fic that I wrote about in its cover art posts. it is a dialogue heavy shepvance marriage proposal story. there isn't any hardcore violence or detailed erotica in it, so I can post it here without putting a mature label on it. it is also on ao3

I doubt this post will show up in the tags, but as always, warnings for past depression, mentioned suicidal ideation, a brief implication and mention of sex, and a single mention of masturbation in the text

about 6000 words under the "read more". I'm really sorry if the read more doesn't show up

An assumed epilogue

Summary

The Resistance's leading lady proposes to a former HECU corporal. Seemingly redundant conversations follow.

Notes

Set in a post-Combine occupation Earth after a hypothetical Half-Life 3. This hypothetical Half-Life 3 takes the storyline of Mark Laidlaw's Epistle 3, with the changes that Alyx doesn't kill Judith and that she and Gordon close the Combine's portals to Earth, both returning to it. The G-man is driven away by them and ultimately loses interest in Earth, so by extension, in his employees on it. Return to Ravenholm (Opposing Force's canceled sequel) happens, somewhere between Episode 2 and Half-Life 3. Adrian eventually ends up working for the Resistance, basically as a forest ranger.

I don't actually think any of that would happen in the real Half-Life 3 (if it ever comes out). Nor do I think Alyx and Adrian meeting each other, let alone being a couple, will ever happen officially. And this goes without saying, but neither do I think nor want my personal take on these characters and world to be the "definitive" or "canonical" interpretation.

Written for many reasons, but mainly because it helped me process some things I've been going through. Also written because these games and especially this pairing mean a lot to me. I wanted to see these characters getting to live in a relatively "happy ending" scenario. Or at least get them some closure. I had scrapped this fic for good, but upon revisiting it almost two months later, I revived and subsequently finished it in a couple of days. Doing so has brought me further closure in some things.

All possible corniness, purple prose, repetition or overuse of phrases and words, and general redundancy in the text is intentional.

Partially based on personal experiences.

***

  It's not that she needs to do this. She's been dating the Resistance's unofficial-official 'alien fauna* shepherd for almost three years now. Too little time for some, but enough for her to know that what is going on is something special. Even the Vortigaunts said it: it is a strong bond, vortal or not.

  It's not that this will make that bond better, or validate it, or whatever.

  No, she just thinks it'd be at least nice to ask. She wants to find out. Get the intrigue out of her head. But how?

  It's a sunny evening at White Forest. Alyx and Adrian are on a walk, talking. Alyx does most of the literal talking; Adrian leads the way. One of Alyx's hands holds one of Adrian's, caressing his knuckles with her thumb. Her free hand rests on her utility belt.

  But as they walk through these groves that they've walked a thousand times before, so familiar yet at this moment so alien – not in the way Xen or the Combine Overworld felt alien – Alyx's steps falter. The grasp on the belt tightens slightly.

  Between Alyx's stories, Adrian asks: "...Are you okay?"

  "Yes. Just a little tired," Alyx says with a smile, hesitantly letting go of Adrian's hand to readjust her headband. "Guess I'm still not used to this summer heat, huh?"

  "Mmm. Is that why you've been at the garage so much?"

  "Yeah."

  Adrian curiously raises an eyebrow, as if about to ask something else, but is reassured for the moment. He slows down his pace.

  They fall into a comfortable silence. But Alyx's heart flutters with the force of a hurricane. Her mind spins, a maelstrom of thoughts cascading onto it.

  She thinks about her father. How he was always there with great advice. She never got to ask him in detail how he felt when proposing. And how did mom feel? She thinks, despite how useless it is.

  If only they were both still here, when almost everyone, everything is...

  She takes deep breaths. Welcomes the clear, earthy air in her lungs. It rained last night. Not acid rain nor metallic shells filled with headcrabs. She stops thinking about her parents. She does, however, think about their wedding. About her father's and Dr. Kleiner's stories of a small party with some family and close friends.

  Maybe she and Adrian will do the same. Blast some Rainbow and Kyuss since the radio has been fixed, and since it can be used without fear of attracting unwanted attention. Go plant some zinnias. Ah, and gardenias. Adrian has always been fond of those.

  Well, of flowers in general. His gaze lingers on the blossoms speckling the trees' branches. Then it lingers on her. Like usual, he catches her staring.

  Alyx combs her hair with her fingers and winks at Adrian. Adrian looks away, faking sheepishness. Alyx grins. So...

  How do you ask a sweet guy like him how to marry you without coming off as too hyped up? I don't want to pressure him!

  Gordon answered her calmly in straightforward sign language: "Do what feels right, be honest with him like you always have." Other fellow rebels gave her words along the same lines of that. Barney casually rolled his eyes and said: "Just ask him already!"

  But how do you do it? Get on one knee, hope for the best? What if she overwhelms him, makes him uncomfortable...

  She thinks and overthinks, getting too ahead of herself... when she hasn't even asked.

  Come on, just enjoy the moment!

  The birds chirping in the trees. The soft breeze playing with her hair. The snarks chirping in the undergrowth. The soothing sound of Adrian's quiet, gas mask-filtered breathing.

  Then, something rustling. The glimmer of sapphires and amethysts inbetween the emerald thicket. They come to a halt, Alyx motioning with her hand for Adrian to come closer.

  A shock roach scuttles out of the bushes. Electricity makes its whole body jitter, overcharged as it is in the humid ground. Poor thing must be exhausted. Alyx stoops and takes a closer look.

  It doesn't seem hostile. Why would it be, when its species doesn't need to fight every second to survive anymore? Doesn't look like it'd want to attach itself to her arm either. It just shakes there, petrified in the shade of the bushes.

  You'll be fine. Everything's alright.

  Alyx carefully picks up the shock roach and gives it to Adrian. As much of an animal person as she is, she'd rather let the expert in bugs himself handle it.

  Adrian cradles the shock roach with one arm, his free hand petting it. Soon enough, the bug leans against his chest, buzzing with joy. The same hands that once wielded its species as a weapon now pet it with the gentleness of an angel. A brawny angel, whose strong arms know how to hold someone in their worst days.

  He's always been a hunk. But God, does he look great these days. Healthier. He's put on a few pounds. There's more energy in his steps. More of that glimmer behind the green lenses. Especially here.

  In the soft glow of the canopy-filtered sunlight, the forest's greens take on a myriad of shades. Camouflaging, mixing with the color palette of his helmet and vest's suspender straps. At a quick glance, it's like he's wearing a veil of leaves. He looks so happy. So at ease.

  The perfect moment doesn't exist. But if there was a right place at the right time, then this is it!

  Adrian puts the shock roach back on the ground. It scuttles off to adventure in the undergrowth.

  If he says no, then that's fine, too.

  Without making a sound, Alyx opens one of the utility belt's pouches, pulling something out. She holds it in her fist. "Adrian, I uh... I actually wanted to ask you something."

  He turns around to look at her. Notices the muted coldness in her tone. Subconsciously grabs the vest's straps, fidgeting with them.

  "I've been thinking lately. About lots of stuff. How fast time goes, how it flies." Alyx sighs. Same dialogue she's had with herself countless times on restless nights. The same she's managed to confide only bits and pieces of to Adrian before. "The Combine... that man in a suit... I know they're all gone. But..."

  She clutches her necklace with her free hand. She frowns. Always the same old crap rotting in the back of her mind.

  "Sometimes I just can't get it clear in my head. It's like... yesterday I was at the Borealis. Now I'm okay. We're fine. Everything's alright. And it's like I'm still not used to it."

  There is a gentle but firm touch on her shoulder. She swallows.

  "Alyx... are you really okay?"

  "I'll be alright. I'm just so damn tired." She has to stop looking into those green lenses. Into those beautiful eyes that beg for an answer she can't really explain nor give with her own gaze, so she looks down at the ground instead.

  Taking a deep breath, she welcomes the clear, earthy air in her lungs. Welcomes the sight of grass, leaves and dirt. Listens to that quiet, gas mask-filtered breathing.

  An exhale. "I know there was a lot of bullshit going on when we met."

  Most of what comes after are things she bothers to explain but not to delve too deep on. Partially because Adrian knows firsthand the type of struggle Alyx recalls – trying to move on when those you love are killed, almost dying yourself when the world faces a thousand interdimensional crises at once, said world surviving but being so ravaged it looks just like the way you feel after dealing or trying to deal with so many problems that counting them reads like a supply list, existential dread at that man in a suit, etc. Memories and thoughts that just won't shut up sometimes.

  And partially because Alyx is exhausted. Putting these last three years into words puts things into perspective: it's been rough.

  Not all has been bad. But good or bad, it's still been one big decision, or "big thing" or most often a big damn catastrophe after the other. And yes, life is cyclical. No peace and no strife last forever.

  But it can't always, always, always go so fast. Like running a marathon or climbing a tower when your lungs and limbs burn, and you gasp for air and it's like you're about to trip and fall, right? How do you live like that?

  She leans on him. "I can't keep up sometimes. It's too much."

  They fall into an otherwise comfortable silence, if it wasn't for her anxious breathing. His hand moves down from her shoulder to her waist. He pulls her close.

  "We'll figure it out" he says.

  "Yeah."

  A pause. Anxiety fading, she closes her eyes. Thinks. Probably overthinks a little, too.

  A smile teases her lips. "...Still though, I'm so glad we met when we did."

  He holds her a little closer in agreement.

  She clears her throat and opens her eyes. "Well, like I said, I've been thinking. What is it that I wanna do now, when all that's over?"

  Another pause. Why is it so hard to say the obvious all of a sudden?

  "Listen, I think you already know how I feel about you. About us. These past years have been... God, it's been amazing."

  Alyx turns to face Adrian, carefully pulling herself away. She gives him a small but warm smile. "I want to move on, make the most of what time I have left. Keep helping everyone around here. Well, everyone I can in general. 'Heal the Earth.'"

  This is so corny! But despite almost chuckling at the thought, she continues. "And I want to keep going on walks with you, holding you... just being with you..."

  Alyx's smile widens. She lets go of her necklace and cups Adrian's left cheek – her hand caressing the canister – and looks at him in the eyes. It's not uncomfortable. Not when she has finally decided, right now, what to say to that sweet, hunky unofficial-official Resistance shepherd. To that someone that has helped, helps, and will always help her figure it out.

  "What I'm really trying to ask is... Adrian..."

  Bringing her fist to her chest, she holds it up to him and opens it, a ring made out of scrap on her palm. Crafted in restless evenings thinking about him and all they have shared. She asks: "Do you want to marry me?"

  Before getting an answer, Alyx realizes that she should be on one knee. And isn't it supposed to go: Would you marry me?

  But that doesn't matter anymore.

  Adrian can only stare. He blinks. Blinks again. Only on the third or fourth time he blinks does realization dawn on him, eyes widening the longer he observes the ring. The why.

  Why she's been so much by herself at the garage. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Everyone needs their space and alone time. But now it makes sense why she's been vaguely distant lately.

  Why she's been so contemplative.

  Adrian carefully takes the ring, his hand holding Alyx's for a couple of seconds. Alyx brings her hands together, looking expectantly at him. Trying to guess the entirety of the face he's making under the mask.

  It's a simple design. She must've recycled parts from Combine structures, because the scrap metal has a subtle, strange silver sheen to it. He turns it. It's engraved with a pattern of delicate curves and hard edges. Resembling the petals, leaves and stems of a rose or a gardenia.

  It's gorgeous. Not only in the physical sense, but also for (or maybe because of) what it represents. He puts it on the middle finger of his right hand. Relishing its texture.

  Never in his dreams, not even in those his mind might've come across in the infinite void while "sleeping" in that astral Osprey, did he imagine this.

  Alyx. This funny, smart, brave, hot as hell... and yes, stubborn woman. This post-apocalyptic princess that sometimes can't process the new non-apocalyptic realm. This downright good person.

  "Honey?"

  Her, radiant in the golden sunlight permeating through the canopy, every detail he could get lost in highlighted. The streaks of red accentuating her hair, those subtle laugh lines, that mole at her collarbone. The sweetest smile. *Even when she's also been thinking about her most hellish days.

  Her, offering a piece of her art (herself) to him. Asking him to be hers.

  "Adrian?"

  Tears well up in his eyes. His heart beats in his ears, so loud he can barely hear his own quiet, gas mask-filtered sobbing. How did he ever get so lucky?

  "Adrian?!"

  "Y-yes! Yes! YES!"

  Adrian gazes into Alyx's eyes for a couple of seconds before wrapping his arms around her. And Alyx nimbly throws her arms around Adrian's neck before he can give her the tight (not too tight to hurt her) squeeze he's been holding back this whole evening.

  Bodies pressed tight together, they hug in a way resembling the ones in their sweatier, steamier moments. Not that this is a sexy situation. They just need to hold and squeeze and get good grips on each other right now.

  He leans down slightly and rests his head on her shoulder. Past the light armor that is the PCV, a tender touch settles between his shoulder blades. Trying and failing to stop his crying, he closes his eyes. Relishing the sensation.

  His hands roam her body, rubbing her back, massaging off any vestiges of anxiety. Until one hand stays on her lower back. The other holds the back of her head, his fingers running through her hair. She laughs.

  She smells so good. Of forest and sweat and a cool, specific scent. Holding and massaging and being held and massaged with the mask filtering but still taking her whole essence in... it all sends some kind of energy through him. He keeps sobbing.

  Birds and snarks sing in the distance. Then that warm, beautiful voice again. Although it sounds a bit brittle...

  "Take it easy."

  He sighs, tension leaving his muscles. His grip loosens. The hand on her lower back moves up. Stops at a spot in her worn jacket which has been further mended with duct tape. Over the hunter's wounds.

  He wasn't there for her when it happened. Not that he could've been; both unaware of each other's existence and all. Lost somewhere he can't really describe. But he still regrets it. Regretting leads to reminiscing about other regrets from around that time, in the very beginnings of their friendship. Never getting to meet Eli. Petty jealousy over Gordon. Feeling alienated without reason.

  But that's all over now. "Oh Alyx, I..."

  As he holds her, he decides (reminds himself). He couldn't do anything back then. But his regrets won't stop him from cherishing what they've built together. No enslaved alien creatures, nor inter-dimensional empires, not even that creepy government guy can change that.

  And although her own anxieties and regrets aren't something he can fight for her, he can help in dealing with them.

  Her hands on his chest, she tugs him closer somehow by the vest's straps. Heat radiates from her. And he gets completely lost in her embrace.

  "...Thanks," he manages to say. For telling him what has been bothering her, for the ring, for the hug, for everything. For so much he can't say since words won't suffice right now.

  She understands.

  Eventually, they break the hug and dry their tears. Adrian apologizes for getting overwhelmed. Alyx says it's okay and in turn apologizes for taking him "off-guard". Adrian nods.

  They continue their walk. Adrian recognizes the glade up ahead and explains which edge of the forest they're approaching. Alyx leads the way back to White Forest base.

  Between the tree trunks, the lake nestled in the middle of the mountains gradually comes into view. Its surface shimmers in the setting sunlight. A chill breeze flutters across the valley.

  "Man, is it weird..." Adrian thinks out loud, stretching.

  "What?"

  "Seeing the lake like this."

  Alyx observes the lake as well. The wind sketches the barest of ripples on it.

  "It just hits me sometimes how things change." Adrian chuckles softly. "I get sent to kill Gordon Freeman, and he ends up becoming one of my best friends. I want to beat some g-man to a bloody pulp. Now? I don't give a crap about him."

  Alyx brings a hand to her chin.

  "...I thought the sunset couldn't be calm again."

  They come to another halt. She meets his gaze. "What do you mean?"

  He looks away. He's never spoken this much in... hell, probably weeks. He's never been much of a talker in general. And he's told her the main facts before. Why tell the details?

  But she told him what's been bothering her. So maybe he should do the same. Even if that isn't the most romantic thing to reminisce about after being asked your hand in marriage.

  Adrian's voice comes out in a strangely clear tone. "The night before the mission at Black Mesa, my squad and I were having a long talk. Just shooting the shit I mean. Anyway, I don't remember how we got to the topic, but Jackson asked how we'd like to die."

  He stares at the lake again. "I guess in case the whole operation went FUBAR."

  "...Which it did," Alyx says. She can't help but think about failed attempts to overthrow the Combine over the years. About all these fellow rebels lost.

  Those from City 17 and Black Mesa East. Her father. Judith – God, what happened to Judith? Those she never knew, but who she knows would've been at her side too. Like her mother, or doctors Cross and Green. And maybe countless others whose stories never got told.

  Humans, Vortigaunts, literal or figurative animals, from Earth or Xen or anywhere else. In the end she ends up thinking about almost everyone; not only about those long gone but also about those still alive. About those in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  The chill breeze snaps her back to the moment. She stares at the lake again. It's so silent here, as if that gas mask-filtered breathing were the only sound of the valley.

  Adrian nods slowly. "Jackson said he wanted something explosive."

  "Ah, like an action hero. And what did you say?"

  "Freezing. I once heard it was like falling asleep. And that in the end, you'd feel warm." He wraps his arms around himself. "Then Tower said drowning was actually the peaceful way to go.

  ...Fast forward a bit. Or a lot. I get out of Ravenholm. Gri- Father Grigori sort of... you know..."

  "Exploded?" Alyx asks. She only knew the pastor in stories. Always amazing how much crazy stuff happened in Ravenholm. Crazy how Adrian was there too. What is it about quiet guys finding their way into these places?

  "...Yes. So there I was. Alone, tired as hell, walking through the woods surrounding the town as the sun set. Until I found a lake." Adrian pauses. Taking longer, deeper breaths. And he just keeps staring at the lake. Lost in thought.

  The more Alyx stares at the water, the more at peace she is with... something. It's hypnotic. Except it's conscious. Gingerly grabbing her necklace, she listens to Adrian as the lake is a puzzle to be solved. A machine she seemingly can't hack.

  Wow, it goes over and over and over again.

  The wind keeps sketching on the lake's shimmering surface. Its lines become more confident. Small circles and interlapping wisps. In water, the sky's purples, reds, oranges and pinks mirror, the setting sunlight dispersing. The wind draws in longer strokes. Jet black ink, brushpens dancing on a collage of amethysts, rubies, ambers and morganites speckled with fading gold.

  The more she stares at the lake, the more its surface resembles outer space. The more the wind's strokes of ink a complete darkness. Like cosmic voids between galaxies.

  It also resembles a certain figurative darkness, where the figurative gemstones lose their luster. There was a time – well, maybe more – when she wanted to swim in it. To get away from everything, escape from a wrong place and a wrong time.

  She and Gordon had returned from the Combine Overworld. The war that had waged through almost all her life was over. Except that in her heart it wasn't.

  Adrian trembles slightly. "...Everyone was gone. I had nowhere to go. No reason to go on living. So into the lake I went." His breathing hitches. An inaudible gasp before continuing. "I waded for a while. Thought my body could at least feed the pikes or ichthyosaurs. Maybe I could've swam a bit too."

  Alyx takes one of Adrian's hands and guides it to her waist. Adrian's breathing gradually slows down. He pulls her close, wrapping an arm around her while his free hand fidgets with the vest's straps. She leans on him and closes her eyes. Cracking the code.

  The darkness of the lake and the void. Same to the one in her fever dreams and nightmares of running in the woods, Advisors in hangars, vortexes of collapsing universes, citadels and black holes, trains and planes going nowhere in the nothingness.

  Some where the man in a suit said: Miss Vance, you can't afford this misery. It would have been far easier to accept an offer when given the chance. Let go of squandered investments. Sunk cost fallacy.

  Miss Vance. Will weeping over your father's corpse bring him back? Does the steel husk you call a pet really not know something is amiss... every time you insist you are alright? What would the Resistance think of their dear leader, unable to hold a coherent thought behind her reassuring smile? Hm. Is it a wonder nothing became of you and Doctor Freeman, even with the blessing of friends? Or was he always a mere indulgence, so you would feel no remorse now, here in your quarters, touching yourself to the thought of another silent man? Another squandered employee. Would this heal all of Corporal Shephard's pain? Are you healing yours?

  Does only thinking about everything fix anything? Can you keep up?

  Do you believe in living like this?

  She keeps holding her necklace, trying to focus on the warmth around her.

  Adrian keeps a steady arm wrapped around Alyx. "And then I stopped wading. There wasn't warmth in the sun. The water was so cold. Too cold. And maybe I was too anxious or hungry or both, since I got this killer bellyache." He sighs. "I... I couldn't do it."

  In the darkness of her room, at hours that didn't pass at night, she thought about sneaking to her nightstand, or to the base's communal kitchen or laundry room. Where it could've been her pistol or a myriad of knives or detergent that finally did the trick of swimming out of water.

  But she couldn't get out of bed. The hunter's wounds burnt as if she was being impaled all over again. But lying there, headaches and back pain tearing her apart, always felt like drowning on air.

  "...So I decided to circle the lake. A river sprang from it, I followed it. An dirt road ran parallel. I came across a busted up shack along the way... must've been rebels raided by the Combine. I stayed there a couple of days."

  The man in a suit kept talking. But despite feeling like she'd forever fall and drift through the void, her lungs and limbs burning, she always gasped for air and replied: No.

  Because in the darkness she also came to understand its cycle. After all those eternal nights came the cycle where she learned to keep moving and sleep again. To wake up and tell those in the wrong place at the wrong time: Guys, I need help.

  "Weird place. Birds sang at the exact same time every morning."

  Alyx giggles. She could fall asleep standing here, her head resting on Adrian's shoulder. "Any other critters living there?"

  Adrian nods. "There was this cave nearby. I saw antlions for the first time..."

  Alyx takes deep breaths and lets her senses refocus on the moment.

  As she opens her eyes, his words about the sunset make sense. Or rather, she understood them all along. She just had to remind herself.

  Adrian lets out a Phew!-sounding sigh. "A certain ex-Black Mesa security guard passed by the road." He almost chuckles as he gazes into the horizon. He still remembers the ex-security guard recognizing the HECU uniform. "We scared the hell out of each other."

  "Yeah, I think I know who you're talking about," Alyx says. "But anyone who knew Otis Laurey is a friend of his, right?"

  Adrian nods, vaguely sad. Insane how things work out once you talk them out first. "He said something about owing beers and that the alien apocalypse had ended for good. He also talked about the return of Gordon Freeman and this... Alyx Vance."

  He pauses again before returning to look at her. He has also reminded himself of certain facts. "Figured I could stay at the base for a while and meet some more people. You know the rest."

  She smiles. "Say Adrian, that day... what did you think of Alyx Vance when you saw her for the first time?"

  "That she was the most beautiful person I've ever seen. She still is."

  "Funny you say that. You've only gotten hunkier since!"

  He looks away for a second as his cheeks heat up. Never before has he been more thankful for the mask and helmet covering him.

  The winds strengthens. Still a breeze, but strong enough to dishevel Alyx a little. Adrian gently tucks some of her hair locks back into her headband. He combs her hair with his fingers before it turns into a gentle but firm touch on her shoulder.

  "...We're going in circles," he says in a whisper, ashamed of himself. He stares at his free hand. At the gleam of the ring in his fingers. "Why think about it now?"

  She thinks. Thinks about all that has led to this moment. Why she's been overthinking about shock roaches and water and literal and figurative stuff in proposing to her boyfriend.

  Well, even if she didn't need to do it, she wanted to marry him. It's a decision. A step. A beginning cycle, although it also isn't because sometimes it feels like they've been married for years. A paradox in of itself.

  But she thinks about a broader one. "Because to take the next step you gotta look back."

  He curiously raises an eyebrow.

  "I mean, everyone does that, right? Get all nostalgic? Focus on the hard stuff it took to get us here?"

  She attempts to explain it physically, her hands sweeping circles and pointing to the lake and doing whatever her nerves subconsciously tell them to do. "I get why you're all shy about it. We were depressed. Think of it like uh... the ripples of the wind on the lake. The circles. Our depression and us meeting are circles. They just happened to overlap!

  And sometimes in that overlap I go, 'Damn, how the hell did I pull this sweet, awesome guy? Why is he taking me out on walks and all when I actually suck ass at everything? He deserves someone better.' I was having some of those thoughts this morning. Not that we're depressed now, but..."

  "I... I know. I get these kinds of thoughts sometimes, too."

  "Yeah. But Adrian, there's nothing wrong with that. It's okay. Really. Remember the other circles overlapping. Us dating... is one big circle. There are so many ripples in there! Like this whole evening, for example."

  She presses her forehead against his helmet with a gentle thud. Staring down at his chest, she draws circles on it with her fingers. And for a moment, she feels a couple of years younger.

  "...Remember the day we started dating?" he asks. He feels a couple of years younger for a moment, too.

  The forest was golden brown, the sun was lost in the mist. She took him for a walk to the base's small gardens after a long workday. It was the evening she confronted him about a certain letter addressed to her. Where he confessed having written it, the confession within it. Where she confessed her own figurative letters – as in, the flirting over months – addressed to him. And she threw her arms around his neck, and he was as cold as the air and as hot as the...

  "How to forget it? It's like I'm there aaall over again," she says, partially thinking out loud in admiration of the sunset they're in. She sighs. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

  He holds her a little closer in agreement. Looks at her with more of that glimmer behind the green lenses.

  Everything wasn't suddenly, completely alright after that evening. But despite being in the latter half of autumn, the sun was warming up again. And little by little, the world would regain its luster.

  She smiles warmly, mirroring his hidden smile. Goddamn. What a beautiful, calm sunset it really is.

  And there was – is – always something to be learned and to be reminded of in their countless other shared cycles, too. Making up after those rare times they have a fight. In more frequent times, both spent after having casual or passionate sex. Speaking without words. Or when taking care of alien and terrestrial fauna together; or just in hanging around, or...

  Alyx places a hand on Adrian's belly and rubs it gingerly. Thinking about the Vortigaunts, how they channel electricity.

  The energy surrounding her when being revived from the hunter's wounds. As she woke up, for a couple of seconds, she saw Gordon aglow with a bright, orange light, mixing with the multicolored ones from the Vortigaunts.

  Right know she almost palpably senses Adrian's energy. It's so vibrant here. For a millisecond, she can see its light clearly: the soft, green glow she has felt countless times before.

  She imagines that she is sharing, giving some of her energy to to him. It's a corny thought, but that doesn't matter anymore.

  A gradient of golden and red light illuminates her palms for a millisecond.

  Eventually, after a long pause of once again simply relishing the moment, before either can suggest resuming their walk, they pull away from each other. The ground shakes. Thumping, although there aren't any antlions living in this beach.

  "Dog!" Alyx exclaims.

  From up on the hill cresting the lake, Dog sprints towards Alyx and Adrian. He must've gotten worried, so he personally came to see what's taking them so long to come back home. Time just slips away on walks.

  Dog takes a laughing Alyx into his forelegs, giving her a hug. About to properly greet Adrian as well, he notices the subtle gleam of the ring.

  He looks at Alyx, who just confirms something with a nod. And he shimmies in his entirety and stomps his forelegs on the ground, the rattling of his metallic frame like a triumphant giggle.

  "You know, Dog helped me decide what materials to use on the ring," Alyx says.

  "Really? I'm not surprised," Adrian says. He gives a few affectionate scratches and rubs to Dog's metallic frame, thanking him. The robot always had a sharp eye for seemingly "useless" things.

  Adrian's eyes widen in (late) realization. He looks sheepishly at Alyx. "Now I've got to make a ring for you. Maybe we could go collect scrap together next time?"

  "Sounds good to me. Dog?"

  The metal frame rattles harder. A small cloud of dirt forms at Dog's legs. Then it subsides as Dog calms down.

  "One condition though..." Alyx says, without planning to state an actual condition.

  "Mmm?"

  "Write something nice on it for me."

  Adrian freezes for a moment. He's never been much of awriter: most of his experience comes from keeping a diary back in his HECU days. He remembers how he managed to confess his feelings for Alyx on a letter, so long and so little time ago. How hard it was to make pencil kiss paper.

  But he still journals, although he isn't the same man he was back in his HECU days. Or the one he was three years ago. Hell, even the one he was less than a year ago. Yet at the same time he is still him. It must be some kind of paradox. Thankfully not a temporal one though.

  Adrian snaps out of his thoughts with a shrug. "Sure. Anything for my radiant wife..."

  He'll write this time too. It'll just be engraving words on metal instead of paper. Something fitting for her. Like the beauty of a zinnia, or the re- (he'll figure this out in due time).

  "Hey! What wife?" Alyx quips with her hands on her hips. "Didn't I tell you to take it easy? We haven't married yet, honey."

  Adrian looks away, but Alyx can tell that he is faking sheepishness. And despite Alyx's words, without noticing it, their conversation takes a turn towards planning their wedding. Dog sits transfixed by the brainstorming.

  Rainbow and Kyuss for the reception is a must. And while it'll be an "unofficial ceremony" with no dress code, Alyx says she'd like to wear a pretty dress under her jacket. Adrian considers attaching a veil to his helmet.

  Gordon had already promised to be a bridesman to Alyx. But it works out, since Barney once told Adrian to "just tell him when it all happens," and that he'd be his best man if needed; and that he'd take care of the drinks (he keeps owing beers to everyone). Kleiner is a party animal so he'll-

  In the back of his mind, he remembers some passages from his old diary. How he used to write about wanting adventure. Change, something exciting. And he got it. But it wasn't only about enlisting and boot camp, or the Resonance Cascade and Black Mesa, or all about race X and Xen, or Ravenholm and adapting to the new world.

  It's also about these walks, and all those other everyday little adventures among the bigger, overlapping ones (ripples, circles) along the way.

  ...Man, is ex-corporal Shephard lucky.

  Dog "barks" and motions with his forelegs towards the hill.

  "Okay, okay. Let's go before Magnusson gets antsy," Alyx says. There will be time to plan the wedding. "I bet Kleiner's already made tea for everyone."

  The night is young. Despite walking and standing all evening, Alyx and Adrian have full energy in their steps. Dog leads the way back to White Forest base through the lake's shoreline.

  One of Alyx's hands holds one of Adrian's, caressing his knuckles with her thumb.

  She observes their enlinked hands. The holes in his biker-styled tactical gloves. She brings his hand to her lips and kisses his bare knuckles.

  "You DO know that I love you, right?" she asks.

  He replies with an affirming, quiet chuckle and gently nuzzles his front voicemitter against her cheek, giving her a gas masked kiss. "...And I love you too."

  And all this is just one of the unforeseen consequences of the Resonance Cascade. Two paths that under impossible circumstances still crossed, the accident that screwed the world having brought them together.

  The Resonance Cascade was the worst and also the best thing to have ever happened to them. Another grand paradox in the struggle, wonder and gift that is life.