#anyway this came over me and i had to write it

[purinfelix]

you're here, that's the thing ˚⟡˖ ࣪ - franco colapinto

summary: your boyfriend tries his best to make your schedules, as a racer and student, work - even when miles apart w/c: 900

a/n: it's finals season for me and i needed to write something self-indulgent as a break from cramming forgive me 🙏

Being a full-time student was one thing, but being a full-time student in a relationship with an extremely clingy boyfriend, who also happened to be travelling the world to race in Formula One, was a whole other challenge.

You and Franco had had some time to adjust to a long-distance relationship since you started dating, having such different lives, and managed to make it work for the most part. But now, with him having to wholly commit to his racing and finals season rolling around for you, it put a strain on your relationship that neither of you was ready for.

It was a strange paradox - the less free time you had outside of classes and studying, the less you were able to spend talking to him, and the more you wanted just to drop everything and fly to where he was. Your morning texts and voice message updates stopped being enough, and before you knew it you struggled to go longer than an hour studying without sending your boyfriend a message to whine and complain.

You were fully aware of how immature and irresponsible this was, but this awareness did little to stop you. And it didn't exactly help that Franco seemed to share the same sentiment, telling you again and again how hard it was for him as well, how racing seemed almost impossible without you there to cheer him on. It hurt, but the two of you just had to do everything you could to get through it - for you to focus on your studies and for him to try his best at racing.

All this came to a head one Sunday though, the afternoon before one of your final exams and - because of the time difference - the night before Franco's next race. Sitting in your dorm alone, surrounded by piles of textbooks, notes and scattered pens you felt a sudden jolt of vulnerability and before you knew it you were reaching for your phone.

"Can you call?" you typed quickly to your boyfriend, your eyes lighting up upon seeing the three dots begin moving almost instantly.

"My gosh, I was just going to ask you the same thing," he replied, and before you knew it your phone was springing to life with a call from him. Clicking accept, you couldn't help but smile widely at the sight of his face.

"Hi," you say, almost shyly.

"Hi baby, how are you?"

"Good," you pause, "stressed."

He nods understandingly, "You're holding up okay, hm? Taking care of yourself?"

"Of course, Franco," you laugh at his almost motherly concern, "and you?"

"Nervous, of course."

"Well, that makes two of us." You pause after speaking, for some reason this call is turning out less enjoyable and more awkward than you hoped.

"I'm sorry, I'm just really tired," you hear your boyfriend say and when you look up you can definitely see it, his eyelids half closing over deep, dark circles under them.

"Do you want to sleep? I have to study anyways."

You watch as he chews his bottom lip, thinking of what to say though once he finally talks his voice is small, almost like a confession. "But I wanted to talk to you."

"We are talking Franco, and we can talk tomorrow once you rest."

This doesn't seem to quell his worries though, his brows still knitted in thought. "I just feel so useless knowing that you're struggling and stressed and I can't even keep you company like I normally do."

You nod sympathetically until an idea pops into your head. "We can keep the call on, carry me over to your bed - you'll sleep and I'll study."

Even through the fatigue pulling him down, Franco nods enthusiastically, doing as you say. You watch him sink into the plush white bedsheets of whatever hotel he's in, and whilst you feel a little jealous at his ability to rest right now, you turn back to your desk and start pulling out your notes.

"You'll be okay," you hear him mumble.

"What do you mean?"

"With your exams," he smiles sleepily, eyes flitting as he watches you pick up your highlighters and pens, "you're the smartest person I know."

"I don't know how much that's saying, you didn't even finish high school baby."

"Hey! I was trying to be nice," he says, feigning offence though there's a soft smile across his face.

"You're right, I'm sorry," you laugh, "you'll be okay as well, with your race tomorrow."

"I hope so."

"I know so."

"I wish you were here," he sighs, looking at you earnestly and all you can do is give him a nod in agreement.

"But for now," you wave your pen to hint at the fact that you need to get back to cramming and he seems to get the hint.

"Right, right, you won't even know I'm here," he assures you.

And despite that, the entire night passes without you once forgetting it. Not that he's distracting or anything, in fact he falls asleep mere minutes after telling you that - leaving you to work peacefully for the rest of the night. Instead, his presence, even as he sleeps, even through a screen and halfway across the world, is enough. You find yourself smiling as you study because maybe having a long-distance boyfriend, even one as clingy as Franco, has been a blessing in disguise all this time.

[obxsummer]

loml (loss of my life) // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: jj up and leaves in search of his dad after receiving a weird letter and kiara witnesses a showdown between you and rafe that reveals more about what happened between the two of you than you wanted to share.

warnings: angsty angst angst, ptsd, rafe cameron muahaha, szn 4 spoilers

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything

--

Let’s do a little recap, okay?

In the last 48-72 hours, a lot of shit had gone down. And now, the seven of you were rehashing the details, so, might as well share them. JJ bid off the last of the gold, Wes Genrette gave y’all five grand to find a necklace, you and JJ found the necklace but managed to land in the hospital, Wes ended up dead somehow, Topper’s girlfriend almost killed you all, Cleo got kidnapped, JJ got interrogated by Shoupe because Kooks take no threat lightly, and now Terrance was dead in your living room.

Yeah, dead. In the living room.

So, that’s what everyone had been up to. For the most part, anyway.

You slept. You slept for 14 hours with no interruption and no intent of doing anything else as rain battered against the windows. The last few days didn’t feel real and you were terrified the moment you tried to get going again, something else would go wrong.

The rest of the Pogues handled things while leaving you to rest, to which you were extremely grateful. Cleo climbed in bed with you at some point, sobbing into your chest as you held her tightly, allowing her the space to let out all emotions.

After laying Terrance to rest, the lot of you were heading to Charleston in hopes of figuring out what exactly the amulet inscription said. There was of course the matter of the property tax and zoning change lingering over your heads while all of this was decided.

You hung back with JJ while he fixed the Twinkie, agreeing to prep the store for your departure and handle business until you had to leave. It wasn’t anything too heavy on your brain but it kept you occupied enough to prevent thinking about worse things.

“Babe.” JJ came flying into the covered dock with a rush, practically tripping on his own feet to get to you.

“What’s wrong?”

The instant concern on your face made him feel guilty. You’d been jumpy, rightly so, after everything happened. Especially now that the cops were aware of JJ’s threat, it was only a matter of time before someone came looking for you in retaliation.

He held a piece of paper in front of your face, waving it around chaotically where you couldn’t catch a glimpse of the writing. “I gotta go. I gotta- look.”

“Breathe.” You put your hands on his shoulders to keep him upright. “What is it?”

“A letter, from Wes Genrette. Said my dad would know, I gotta find him.”

“Your dad?!” You repeated in shock, hoping he was lying or at least misspeaking. “Jayj, your dad left.”

He shook his head, jumping forward to kiss you like his life depended on it. Fingers slipping into your hair, he repeated his action before pulling away. “Gotta trust me, baby. Be careful, alright? Go to Charleston, stay with John B. I’ll be back.”

You nodded in response, holding on to his fingers as long as you could before he pulled away and ran down the dock to the HMS Pogue. You hated not know what he intended on doing, but like he said, you had to trust him. No matter what, you trusted him. And maybe it would bite you in the ass, but you had to try.

Not long after, the remainder of the group returned from their ceremony for Terrance and found you in the shop. You sat on the counter where you’d been in a daze while watching the water.

“What’s up?” John B asked as he tapped the counter surface and climbed up next to you, recognizing the look in your eyes enough to know you weren’t fully present. The group piled in the area, taking their own spots.

“JJ left,” You explained directly. “Came running in here spewing all this shit about his dad, took the HMS, and left.”

Pope frowned at the news and grabbed a bag of chips to munch on. “Ohhkay. Are we supposed to wait on him or?”

You shook your head. “He said go. He’d catch up later.”

“Are you okay with that?” John B watched you carefully, knowing last time you’d left JJ in Kildare with no way to get ahold of him had terrified you. He promised to never do that to you again, to make sure you were comfortable and in the right state of mind to make those decisions yourself.

You looked over at your brother and shrugged honestly. “He said it had to do with his dad, John B. I don’t like that.”

“He said to go,” Cleo repeated as she dug her knife into the wood of the support post. “We should go.”

You licked your lips and took a deep breath. She was right. JJ was fully capable of handling himself, and with the dirt bikes here, he could catch up easily if he wanted. Nodding, you looked at John B. “She’s right, we need to go.”

John B nodded when you didn’t budge. “Alright, we’ll go load up the Twinkie. Meet us up there, when you’re ready.”

The group followed your brother up to the house, giving you some space and time to wrap up the shop and get your things together.

“Hey.” You looked up to see Kiara standing a few feet away from you, her fingers tangled together in nervousness.

“Hi,” You returned the greeting and climbed off the counter, shifting behind the register to collect the cash from today and lock up.

Kie walked a little closer and cleared her throat. “I just…um. I wanted to say I’m sorry, for the other day on the beach. I shouldn’t have lashed out on you like that when you had a good point.”

Your hands moved absentmindedly to band together the few bills you’d collected for the day before tucking them in the lockbox and hiding it in the safe. Kiara continued to try and explain herself, which you appreciated, but it wasn’t necessary.

“Kie,” You interrupted her softly with a small laugh, “It’s okay, girl. I promise.”

“I just got really scared,” She admitted sheepishly and tugged on her curly hair. “I saw us getting attacked, again, and someone going to jail. And I… I can’t do that again. Not after everything that’s happened.”

“I get it Kie, really. I mean, at first, I was upset because why were you mad that I was trying to defend us but to be honest, there’s so much more going on right now that my mind is clouded with.” You weren’t trying to come off rude, but the way she immediately switched on you as if she wouldn’t have lost her mind over dead baby turtles…

“Are y’all done?” Your heart dropped at the all too familiar voice and you looked up to meet Rafe Cameron’s eyes. He smirked at your shocked expression and he took a step closer making you take one back.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice was shaky and you refused to break eye-contact with him. The pocket knife slipped between your fingers as Kiara moved to stand behind you.

Rafe scratched his head as if his presence was a normal thing and he wandered around the shop, running his fingers across the shelves. “Uh, yeah. Do you—what you don’t think I’m just a customer coming to shop?”

“Rafe,” You snapped, your tone having a bite to it to let him know you weren’t down for games.

He fiddled with random items as he crossed the wooden floor to get closer to you and Kie. “I’m just looking for my sister.”

“She doesn’t want to see you,” Kiara answered as her fingers wrapped around your elbow. How Rafe managed to get in here without any of your friends noticing, you weren’t sure.

“Well, she’s my sister, okay? I can come have a little chat with her if I want,” He dismissed with a scoff. He grabbed a snow globe in his hands and your mind suddenly went to the ways he would probably kill you with it. “That was a really nice performance yesterday at the break. Really fun to watch, it was awesome. You know this place is on the chopping block, right?”

“Let me guess, you’re behind that or something?” You sneered at his nonchalant attitude. “I don’t know why Sofia puts up with you.”

Rafe flipped around pretty quick at the mention of the girl’s name. “You really ran your mouth to her huh? Took me a while to convince her that things had changed.”

“Did you drug her too?”

He was quick to close the gap between you, hands pressing against the counter that barely separated the two of you. “No, no. She uh, told me about your little problem, though.” Rafe motioned toward your abdomen with a hint of a smirk on his face.

Your eyes burned with tears as you realized what he was referring to, and you’d never felt betrayal like this in your life. “Fuck you, Rafe.”

He groaned and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes like his brain had flipped a switch. “Fuck, that’s not- no. No. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.”

“You did!” You spat as tears fell down your cheeks. Kiara’s gaze was burning into the side of your head as she watched the two of you argue, no words coming to mind as she watched you cry. “You always mean it!”

Pope clocked your distance immediately. He knew you wouldn’t be super warm and energetic after coming back from the Camerons’, even less so with John B in prison. He knew that, but there was something off about it. You weren’t just hiding away to cope, you were hiding in pain.

From the subtle wincing, the paleness in your skin, and slow movements, something was wrong. At first he chalked it up to getting your nutrition back and sleeping properly, but when it didn’t improve, Pope knew he needed to step in. 

It didn’t come to that, though. You’d pulled him away from plotting on how to catch Ward and Rafe and into the hushed space of your room. As much as you wanted to handle it all on your own, you knew if any of your friends could keep things down low and quiet, it would be Pope. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, his voice soothing and concerned as you paced in front of your bed. 

The darkness in your eyes was so sad, and so terrified that Pope was worried you were too far past where he could help. You stopped in front of him, hands shaking as you laid out the details of your concern..

“I need your help, Pope. Please, I don’t know what to do.”

Rafe paced a few steps and shook his head. “You know, I came here to try and do you a solid, a-and you just push my buttons every time that-“ He paused and let out a deep breath. “I want to be better. I want to try and be a good brother, and fix what happened but,” He snapped his fingers in front of your eyes and you stumbled back. “You guys always wonder why you end up at the bottom of the food chain, it’s…it’s sad.”

You almost choked on your tears and attempted to give him the most menacing glare but it was useless. Stabbing you in the heart would’ve been less painful than this.

He walked around the counter to face you directly and you decided then you had nothing to lose. If he killed you, it would be welcomed at this point. He’d shredded you down to bones and still couldn’t stop taking digs at the scars left behind.

Every movement of his body screamed addiction withdrawal, and while you hoped he could be better for Sofia, you didn’t believe he could change. You wished the light in his eyes would fucking burn, that you didn’t have the empathy to hope for him to get better but God, you did. You wished Rafe Cameron would’ve been a better person. And you wish the world wouldn’t have been so cruel to him that he could’ve been better to you.

Rafe’s hand was shaking as he placed it on your arm gently. His face contorted when you gasped like he’d burned you and he pulled back. Instead, he reached into his pocket and held out a small card between his fingers. “I… this is my business card. Tell Sarah to call me, I think I can help. Or… or if you need anything to help, okay? I’m not your enemy.”

Silence hovered the three of you, Kiara’s fingers in your back pocket as you stood eye to eye with the person who ruined your entire past and most of your future. He must’ve realized you had nothing to say and dismissed himself from the store without another word.

The second the bell rang with his exit, your knees gave out and hit the floor. You gasped and heaved for air, threatening to throw up the breakfast JJ had made you.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Kiara reassured as you sobbed. “He’s gone.”

You forced a deep breath in your lungs and held it as long as possible. You were so sick of crying and feeling useless when everyone else seemed to take it all in strides and you were left a broken piece at the starting line. Life was so cruel to you, and now, more than ever, you wanted to give up on trying to run from the impending reminder that Rafe Cameron scarred you in more ways than one.

“Breathe,” Kiara reminded you as she scanned your eyes for any sign of pain. “John B!”

The yell for your brother had you clamming up as you jumped to stop her. There were so many tears on your face and you looked so scared. “No, don’t call John B.”

Kie shook her head, utterly confused and concerned by your actions. “You’ve gotta tell me what’s going on.”

You whimpered and laid back on the floor with a shaky breath. “I will, but you have to swear on your life not to tell anyone. Not John B, none of them, okay?

If Kiara wasn’t so rattled by the last twenty minutes, she would’ve probably agreed with crossed fingers for your safety. But seeing you like this, so raw in front of her after she’d yelled at you for expressing your feelings, she nodded. “Yeah, okay. Okay. I swear.”

It took a few more deep breaths to settle enough to speak without hiccuped sobs seeping in your words. And so you told her. You told her what happened in the Camerons’ house, how Rafe had left you with more than surface level scars and how you’d never forgiven yourself for giving up, for letting him win.

Because some people only got one chance at family, and Rafe Cameron had taken that from you before you even had the slightest idea what life would mean without it.

--

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything

a/n: broke this chap into two parts to give you more original content in the next one! more insight into the reader's time at the cameron house ;)

[skywalkerslvt]

puhleasee write more sub peter parker stuff 🙏🙏 its so good

pairing: college!peter parker x reader

CW: dry riding, cumming in pants, sub peter, 1.3k words

summary: dry riding peter while he tutors you

a/n: submissive loser nerds who have never felt the touch of a woman drive me crazy i swear it's the whole reason ive never been able to pay attention in math/science courses. anyways hope u enjoy!! (btw requests r open guys keep sending stuff i need the inspiration)

Peter had been trying desperately to stay focused on tutoring, but every second that passed made it harder. Each time you leaned over the table to look at his notes, your perfume wrapped around him, making him dizzy. His gaze flickered down to the dip of your shirt without thinking, lingering at the curve of your chest before he forced himself to snap his eyes back to the paper. But the soft glow of the desk lamp seemed to conspire against him, highlighting your skin in a way that made every detail stand out.

He cleared his throat for what felt like the tenth time, a flush creeping up from his neck to the tips of his ears. You pretended not to notice, but each nervous shift of his chair, each pause when you moved, told you that you had his full, undivided attention-and not on the calculus problems in front of him.

Peter's voice faltered as he tried to explain a formula, his fingers tapping erratically against the book's edge. "So if we take... um... this equation and..." He trailed off when you reached across him to grab a pen, your arm brushing against his in a way that sent a visible shiver down his spine.

You pulled back and raised an eyebrow.

"Pete? You okay? You seem... distracted," you said, feigning innocence as your fingers traced the rim of your water bottle. The way his eyes flickered down to the movement made your smile widen.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine!" he said, the pitch of his voice betraying him. He pushed up his glasses, trying to look anywhere but at you, but the heat in the room was palpable, and the tension strung tight between you two.

You leaned forward, closer than before, letting your hair fall in a way that brushed his arm. "Are you sure? You seem nervous," you teased, drawing out the words just enough to make his eyes dart up to yours, wide and startled. The flush on his cheeks deepened, and his fingers curled into a fist on his thigh.

"I'm... I'm not," he mumbled, eyes flicking away, but his body betrayed him. He shifted uncomfortably, and you didn't miss the way his breath quickened when you subtly ran your foot up his leg beneath the table.

"Hmm," you hummed, biting your lip as if in thought. Your gaze dropped, just for a moment, to where the fabric of his jeans was noticeably tighter. You hid a grin, leaning back in your chair as if you hadn't just clocked the way his jaw clenched. "You should keep explaining, Peter. I'm really trying to follow."

He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, and nodded hastily. "R-right. So, the derivative here..." His voice shook, and you reached across, placing your hand over his to stop the tapping. The contact made him jump, eyes going wide like a deer caught in headlights. You tilted your head, fingers sliding up his wrist just a little as if absently.

"You're shaking," you whispered, watching the way his eyes fluttered closed for a second. The tension was unbearable now, and you could feel his pulse hammering beneath your touch. Peter opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, only a shallow breath as you leaned in even closer, your chest pressing lightly against his arm.

Finally, the anticipation was too much for either of you. Without warning, you stood up, only to swing a leg over his lap and settle down, facing him. His gasp was immediate, eyes flying open as he looked at you, bewildered and overwhelmed.

"W-what are you...?" he whispered, but his hands hovered at your waist, unsure whether he should touch or stay still.

"Keep talking," you ordered softly, brushing your lips against the shell of his ear. You felt the tremble that ran through him, the way he squirmed beneath you, already hard and aching.

"I... uh... I c-can't," he stuttered, eyes squeezed shut as your hips rolled against him, sending a jolt through his body. The way his chest rose and fell, the hitch in his breath, and the small whimper he tried to suppress were everything you needed to hear.

"Try," you teased, nails tracing down the front of his shirt.

Peter's breathing came in ragged gasps as he tried to pull himself together. His fingers twitched at your waist, aching to hold on but hesitating as if he couldn't quite believe this was real. The way you were looking at him, so close, so purposeful-it was a lot for his overworked mind to handle. You watched him struggle, enjoying the flush that travelled from his cheeks to the hollow of his throat.

"Come on, Peter," you murmured, your voice dropping to a low purr. "You were doing so well before. What's next in the problem set?" Your tone was playful, but there was a challenge in it that made his pupils dilate.

"I-I..." He started, but a soft moan slipped out as you shifted your hips again, pressing down just enough to make him choke on his breath. His eyes opened, wide and pleading, and for a moment, he looked like he was ready to say something coherent. But you leaned forward, brushing your lips against his jaw, and whatever resolve he'd gathered shattered instantly.

"If you stop talking, I stop moving," you reminded him, running your fingers up his chest until you felt the rapid thudding of his heart beneath your palm.

He bit down on his lip, trying desperately to remember where his train of thought had been before your touch turned him into a trembling mess.

"T-the derivative. We need to... evaluate.." His words broke off into a whine when you pressed down again, rolling your hips slowly against him, making sure to drag out every second of friction.

"Good boy," you praised, and his reaction was immediate-his eyes fluttered closed, mouth falling open as a shudder wracked his frame. He had never felt anything like this before, every nerve in his body alight with a mixture of desire and helplessness. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging just enough to make him gasp.

"I don't think you're focusing, though," you said, almost mockingly.

"I-I'm trying," he whimpered, eyes glassy as he tried to meet yours. The way he looked up at you, so wrecked and needy, made your stomach tighten with satisfaction.

"Try harder," you said, slowing your movements to an agonizing halt. He bucked his hips involuntarily, a high-pitched sound escaping him as he chased the friction you'd just taken away.

"Please," he begged, and the word came out so raw and broken that it sent a thrill down your spine. You couldn't help but grin as you took in the way his chest rose and fell, how his fingers had finally dug into your waist, desperate to keep you there.

"Oh, now you're begging?" you teased, leaning down so that your lips were almost brushing his. His eyes stayed locked on yours, wide and glassy with need.

"I-I'll do anything," he confessed, voice cracking. "Just... please, don't stop."

The sight of him beneath you–cheeks flushed, glasses slightly askew, and eyes filled with desperate submission— was more than enough to spur you on.You leaned back, shifting your hips in a way that made him moan so loudly that his own hand flew up to cover his mouth in shock.

"Don't hold back now, Peter," you whispered, moving with more intent as his body tensed beneath you. You could feel how close he was, the way his muscles tightened and his breath turned erratic. The anticipation built until finally, the last remnants of his control slipped, and with a shuddering gasp, he fell apart under you, eyes wide as he reached his peak.

You watched the realization dawn in his expression, a mix of awe and disbelief as he came down from the high, breaths coming in short, ragged bursts.

His gaze met yours, still hazy and dazed, before you tilted his chin up and whispered against his lips, "Tutor me again tomorrow? "

[honeyhotteoks]

just had the most delulu thought about yunho and wanted to share......... so i was watching protective!yunho compliations on tiktok trying to get his facial expressions and mannerisms right for something i'm writing, and a lot of these edits are like thirst traps over him looking serious/angry etc.

i was just reminded about how after isac when yunho was visibly upset with himself doing archery, he came on pm with atiny after and was surprised at how many people expressed that they liked when he looked angry. and the thing that i was absolutely obsessed with was first how surprised he was, but then second how quick he was to discourage fans from liking that side of him. he directly pointed out that people shouldn't want to see him angry, that they shouldn't like that part of him and he should be more careful to keep that in check in the future. but i've also noticed he enjoys teasing atiny when it comes to him getting jealous, especially lately like in lives when people brought up his brother or one of their handsome managers.

i think it's safe to say everyday that goes by this man is growing more and more into his potential for like true dom behavior. a man who's aware of what his anger or seriousness does to his partner but also is deeply cognizant that actual anger and actual aggression in a partner isn't something to admire? a man who enjoys playing with jealousy but keeps it light and keeps it teasing? truly i think as he gets older and grows more obviously confident and sure of himself (as we all do in our later twenties and beyond) i think these traits keep popping up that just translate so perfectly to real dom potential.

i'm not saying that he's actually pursuing or practicing any of this necessarily, i certainly think we're all much more chronically online and aware of kink subculture more than an idol in sk, but in the right circumstances i think he could really shine in that role with a partner and it makes me absolutely fucking dizzy. like you know, you KNOW he would be 10/10 at aftercare given how aware he is. everyone always writes him as the golden retriever happy go lucky puppy and to some extent he is.... but my god i am telling you behind the scenes this man is serious, he's working, he's focused, and he's extremely aware and self aware of what's going on around him.

i don't know maybe i'm in the delulu deep end or maybe i need @whatudowhennooneseesyou to confirm or deny based on this man's star chart but anyways yes have this headcanon

[dpspcehntr]

XAVIER: An Introduction

Pairing: Xavier x Reader

Zayne | Sylus | Rafayel

Word Count: 0.5K

Warnings: wet dreams, mutual masturbation, oral (f receiving)

Welcome to part 4 of this series! This series is me introducing you all to how I write for them. Requests are open and feel free to leave a comment cause I love them and read them. It also keeps me motivated!

A/N: I had way too much fun writing this one. I kinda put some of my own fantasies in this one so it was really fun to write. I wanted to post him first originally but I am glad I waited! This idea came to me when I finished my Halloween asks. Anyway! Enjoy!

"I had a dream about you last night but I'm too embarrassed to tell you what happened."

You snuggle into his chest while a movie plays on low volume. His arm was snug around you tracing circles on your back.

"No fair! I tell you all my dreams, especially the ones about you!"

You pout and squeeze his waist a little tighter. He clears his throat and grabs your arm. He lightly pushes you off his chest so you can look him in the eyes. His face was a bright shade of pink and he couldn't look you in the eyes.

"Oh it was that kinda dream. Well now I'm more curious."

You lean into him, inches away from his face. Your breath hot on his face as he blushes deeper.

"I want to recreate it."

He finally lifts his eyes to yours, his breath coming out in pants. It must've been some kind of dream for him to be so worked up.

"Y-you were standing over me and ah- uh you were r-rubbing yourself right in my face. I-I was jacking off and you licked my cum of-off my chest."

You at him in his ruined state, already getting hard, lost in the recollection of his dream. You slide off the couch and stand in front of him. You slowly slip off your shorts and underwear. His eyes growing more and more desperate as you revealed yourself to him. You kneel on the couch.

"Like this?"

You stretch your leg over to the arm of the couch, positioning yourself right in front of this face. You slowly start to rub your clit as a whimper leaves his lips.

"Yea just like that."

He quickly rids himself of his shirt, reaches in his pants and pulls himself out. He grips himself in his hands and slowly begins to pump himself in time with you. With your other hand you slide your shirt over your breasts and roll your nipple in between your fingers. You toss your head back with a wail and increase your speed. He follows suit pumping himself faster. Here you are locked in pleasure with each other lost in thought of the other. You slip a finger inside of yourself nearly buckled over in pleasure as he whimpers your name over and over.

"Xavier, I'm close."

"M-me too."

You pump your fingers harder into you, your orgasm teetering right on the edge. You feel his face inch closer to you, his breath hitting your clit. His tongue licks a stripe from your clit to your opening and you clench down on your fingers. You groan out as you gush over your fingers and his face. Feeling you cum over his face he blows his load over his stomach with a whimper. You collapse on the couch next to him and catch your breath. You look over at him, pupils blown, his lower lip swollen from biting it. You lean over and hover right over his stomach.

"Like this?"

You stick your tongue out and lap up the cum on his skin with a hum. He tasted sweet and you made sure to clean up every drop.

"Fuck. Yea just like that."

You sit up and pull his face in for a kiss, letting him lick the inside of your mouth and you moan. He pushes you back onto the couch and hovers over you. He kisses down your body, ready for round two.

[cloudycleric]

mike wheeler is actually so gay. thinking about this on my s1 rewatch today. things between him & el weren't even remotely romantic until lucas brought it up. everything he knows about girls or a romantic relationship with a girl doesn't come naturally to him & he basically has to ask for advice whenever he has relationship issues.

in st4 he didn't even sign the letters "love, mike" which is absolutely crazy how we just brushed over that. it's not like he's el & might not know to sign letters with "love" yet he doesn't do it anyway. legit writing "love, [name]" was the first way i ever learned to sign a letter. & adding onto that EL EVEN KNOWS TO SIGN WITH "LOVE". ???

it baffles me how people like,,,, don't pick up on all this. legitimately. ALL of the other couples in stranger things paired together normally or had the relationship come normally, & when there's issues between the two, they can solve it without outsourcing for help all the time. because they truly understand the other person as well as the type of relationship they are in.

max & lucas? fell in love pretty naturally in a way that flowed & didn't feel forced. they are also portrayed in s3 to have "more" issues than el & mike, yet lucas always wins max back, & knows exactly how to. jonathan & nancy? not forced at all, came together naturally. when they have relationship issues, they understand each other enough & trust each other enough to get through it.

mike & el aren't the same way. they get along just fine, until they relationship turns romantic in some way. think about it--when el dumped mike's ass, sure they didn't talk for awhile, but they seemed to share a genuine connection of friendship. when they are in a relationship, everything seems strained.

i think i talked about maybe a year back about how el & mike were even showcased to be actively bringing out the worst in each other, especially in s3. this can be seen in s4 as well at rink-o-mania especially, when el portrays her whole life in california as a lie. they always seem to work better together when there isn't a romantic connotation on their relationship (all of the beginning of s1, until the bathtub).

all this to say that byler endgame, cause i was sitting last night listening to sad mgmt songs & trying not to think about the election & i just kept thinking about how mike & will were built for each other, like it would be so cruel for him to be friendzoned by the person he's loved for years, & yelled for whenever he was in the upside down. breaks my heart.

since that's such a shitty ending for him, & we know that will DOES have a happy ending, i don't see how in anyway byler doesn't end up together.

[castiwls]

coach .ᐟ

Paring; patrick x reader

Synopsis; your sons tennis coach is the bain of your life. You hated Patrick zweig - that only made you that much more attractive to him.

Requested;

Notes; i feel like i cant write him properly still :( something feels off

Masterlist

“Can Patrick come?” 

Your son’s voice cut through the quietness of the car, his head peeking up from the switch in his lap. He sent you his best puppy dog eyes as you met his gaze through the rearview mirror for a moment.

“You want Patrick to come?” You clarified as you raised an eyebrow. He nodded enthusiastically before looking back down to his game. “Mhm.” A long-suffering sigh left your lips as you focused back on the road.

Great.

Of all the people your son could grow an attachment to he’d just had to pick one of the most insufferable guys you’d ever met. It had taken you all of five minutes to decide that you were far from keen on the tennis coach your ex had found for your son. 

“I don’t know…” You sighed hoping your son would simply drop the topic. Why did he want his tennis coach to come to dinner anyway? That surely had to be breaking some sort of code, either that or it would just simply cause more drama amongst the other parents at the club.

They already believed your son got special treatment. One mum had once claimed that the two of you must be hooking up at least if the way he looked at you was anything to go by. Sure you’d noticed his less-than-subtle glances as he checked you out - his grin only growing at the scowl he’d get back - but you were not sleeping with him.

“Please.” He pleaded looking back up. “I’ll do the dishes and clean my room?”

The car came to a stop outside the courts. “You do that and you hoover for a week.” You turned in your chair shooting him a look as he nodded. “I mean it.”

“I will. I will.” He nodded so fast you thought he was going to make himself sick for a moment.

Shaking your head with a small smile. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

⋆��˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

“Don’t let this go to your head.” You said taking another sip from your glass. Patrick held his hands up as he found your gaze. “Hey! I’ve been good.” He raised an eyebrow watching you for a moment. 

He’d all but jumped at the chance when you’d begrudgingly approached him explaining that your son (for reasons you had no idea) wanted him to come to dinner. 

Patrick knew damn well why your son had made that specific request. You were by far the hottest person he’d met at that damn club and your kid was pretty cute too. Maybe he was wrong to bride a 9-year-old with the promise of £20 and a new trick shot but hey! It had worked out for them both. 

“Loosen up a little.” He grinned as you placed your drink down. “You’ve been glaring at me for the last hour.”

“I’m trying to will you away.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

“Well, you’re still here so…”

Patrick hummed sitting back in his seat. He pointed a finger at you, waving it around slightly as you frowned. “I know you like me. I know that because otherwise, you would have said no.”

You scoffed. “Just because I’m giving my son something he wants doesn’t mean I liked you.”

Patrick smiled, the same one that made your stomach flip - not that you’d ever admit it. “Whatever you say, Sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that!”

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

You’d unleashed a monster. 

Patrick’s advances had only worsened since that damn dinner. His eyes seemed to linger on your chest for a moment too long as you handed him the cash before dragging your son away ignoring the way you could feel his eyes boring through you.

Other than that he’d been… okay.

Until right now.

“Why are you at my front door?”

“Suprise.” He smiled leaning against the doorway. You leveled him with an unimpressed look at he looked sheepish for all of a minute. “I was just passing by and decided to say hi.”

“Mhm.” You nodded letting out a sigh. “He’s at his dad's.”

“It’s not him I wanted to say hi to.”

Patrick shot a look down your path before peeking over your shoulder and into the house. “Nice house…very you.”

You frowned shifting slightly. “What do you want?”

Patrick huffed rolling his eyes. “God your no fun.” 

Part of him loved it. The challenge of cracking that cold exterior just enough to weasel his way in. He’d seen your softer side, the way you acted around your son was almost a polar opposite of the glare you seemed to always be levelling him with.

It was hot.

He was many things and determined was one of them. He would crack your walls if it was the last thing he did. 

“I know this is all an act. The whole I hate you thing.” He leaned slightly closer, his forum almost looming over you. “You’re playing hard to get. Other guys might have just called it a day ya know? Been on the end of your glare one too many times and decided to call it quits.” His hand slowly curled around your own.

“Unfortunately for you, I’m just as stubborn as you.”

You hummed, trying to ignore the heat swirling in your stomach because you would not fall to Patrick Zweig’s charms. You’d spent the last year doing everything in your power to keep him away yet he’d somehow weasled his way into your life.

“You don’t know anything about me.” 

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to your lips for a moment. 

“Oh yeah? I think we can change that.”

[mc-lukanette]

Luka was still a child, far too young to worry about much of anything, yet he worried anyway because Marinette seemed worried. While she still engaged with him during their usual playtime and listened eagerly when he showed her the new toy he'd gotten, she felt distant and was more quiet than usual. It was a problem, not only because she was his friend and he cared, but he liked hearing her talk and ramble to him.

She wasn't doing any of that while she was so distracted.

He didn't ask about it - Juleka had told him once that girls were allowed to have their secrets, and he didn't know if this might be one of them - so he tried to find other things for them to do, hoping it might interest her more. They took a break to eat, went for a walk around the Liberty to see if the flowers needed watering, then searched for something to watch together.

He was starting to lose hope that he could cheer her up when she suddenly spoke partway through their movie search.

"Magic's not real."

He looked, seeing her hunched over with a movie in her hands. Not knowing why she'd say such a thing, he asked in reply, "Why?"

She pouted, fidgeting with the movie as she explained, "I had to write stuff for school about the story of someone we look up to. I was gonna do the tooth fairy, because Santa has a hard job too but the tooth fairy's tiny and works all year."

He nodded along silently to her story, agreeing with the logic. "Then what?"

"I wanted to know where they got all the money for kids' teeth, like a job, so I sneaked onto the computer when no one was around and..." She let out a groan, slumping and falling back onto the floor. "They're not real."

It was a shock to him too, though Marinette had been through it first without any support, so he can't imagine how it was for her. "But magic can still be real, right? Just not the tooth fairy."

"Santa's not real either!" she shouted to the empty space in the room.

Luka slowly realized how much she'd kept inside the whole time.

"I just wanted to give him the cookies I made last Christmas," she said, rubbing her face tiredly, "but then I caught Papa dressed up like Santa!"

"How'd you know it was him?" he asked with a tilt of his head.

"It's Papa! No one else looks like him."

That was fair.

"I thought maybe Santa was sick from the North Pole cold and sent Papa clothes so no one knew, but... the clothes were so cheap!" She threw her hands up, nearly sending the movie across the room in the process. "They just did it to trick me if I tried to meet 'Santa'!"

Marinette knew her fashion, so he believed her. He imagined that she'd let the Santa clothes go for all that time and it was only after yet another disappointment with the tooth fairy that she gave in.

For his own part, Luka had believed in Santa, but not that he was the one delivering gifts. According to his mom, Santa abandoned his wife, leaving her to do all the gifting, and she'd "throw him overboard" if he ever came back. He'd always wondered why the other kids told different versions, but if it was just a story, then it made sense.

A sympathetic, "Oh," was all he could say. It wasn't easy for him to grasp that magic wasn't real as, while he'd never seen people fly or cast spells, he always thought it was pretty magical that he and Marinette met and became best friends.

"And if magic's not real, fairytales aren't too," Marinette concluded, gently tossing the movie aside.

It landed in front of Luka and he finally got to see what she'd been holding that started all this: a typical princess movie with a prince, a fairy godmother, and a witch-y villainess. He frowned, picking it up and turning it around to look at the back as well.

He trusted Marinette, so it must've been true that magic and fairytales weren't real. He was torn, because while it was sad that he wouldn't be seeing "real" magic in his life, it was weirdly comforting that life didn't work out the way it did in fairytales.

He'd always thought that Marinette was cute enough to be a princess, or at least the girls in the movies who became princesses. At the same time, the only boys the princesses and those girls tended to be around were princes, and Luka wasn't a prince; he wasn't even close. He wasn't rich, he wasn't royalty, he couldn't do a ballroom dance, and he hadn't defeated any evil dragons.

But if fairytales weren't real, then he could stay with her. That was one good thing.

Marinette sat up, defeated, but not enough to ignore fixing her bangs and checking the tightness of the hairties holding her pigtails in place. Luka blinked, briefly distracted by the trail of freckles underneath her sad, half-lidded eyes.

He was sure they hadn't done any art or crafts that day, but she must've before she'd gotten there, as her freckles were sparkling like they'd gotten glitter onto them. His nose scrunched in thought, wondering how he could've missed that when she'd gotten there.

"I wanted to be the knitting fairy when I grew up. I wanted to make clothes for everyone that was super comfy and didn't go out of style," she mumbled, her hands tightened into fists against her chest. "A-and make it so bullies would have clothes that never fit and were always really itchy!"

Her eyes flashed with frustration, looking more blue than usual. Luka went closer to sit down next to her, wanting to comfort her but not sure how.

"You can still make clothes," he pointed out. "You'll be good at it."

"But—!" she began to protest, turning fully to him. "I had other stuff I wanted to do with my magic! Like—ah... nnn..."

"Marinette?" he called, alarmed as she started to shake. He knew intuitively that it wasn't from rage.

She shut her eyes tight like she had a headache, squeezing herself in a hug. She opened her mouth to respond to him—

Only to disappear spontaneously in a cloud of thick, pink mist. Luka recoiled, staring at what looked almost looked like cotton candy in cloud form that Marinette had been lost in.

Without a thought as to if it might hurt him or not, he thrust his hand inside desperately, hoping to pull her out. He tried to grasp at where her shoulder had been before, but couldn't feel anything except for the bizarre, almost fuzzy feeling mist. Still, he noticed that the movement had cleared some of it, so he waved his arm about rapidly to try and clear as much of it as he could.

A very Marinette-like cough sounded from below, her voice filling him with relief as she called out, "L-Luka?"

His arm pulled back, the mist separating and fading away into nothingness. He looked down towards the source of her voice, thinking that she might have collapsed despite him having not heard it, but that's not at all what he ended up seeing.

Sitting on the floor just as she'd been before was a wide-eyed Marinette, but small; small enough for him to carry around in both hands. Her pigtails had rounded and gained little hair accessories that reminded him of tiny pincushions, while her outfit had changed to a pink, fluffy minidress.

Most notable, however, were the glowing white fairy wings that were coming out of her back. He covered his mouth with both hands in shock.

"You're magic," he said, though it was muffled behind his palms. Even if Santa and the tooth fairy weren't real, at least his inclinations about their magical meeting still made sense.

"W-what?!"

She jumped to her feet, noticing how little she rose up, then turned and twisted every way possible to look at herself, which was when he noticed that she also had pointed ears. Even as tiny as she was, Luka was observant enough to catch the tidal waves of emotion passing over her face one after another. She was surprised by the change, but the wings and new clothes made her giddy, then she swapped to being horrified.

"Ah, but—but there's no tooth fairy!" She put her hands to her cheeks in distress, so fast that they made a slapping sound. "If I was gonna be a fairy, I wanted someone to teach me! Does that—" She gasped. "—Does that mean I'm the only real tooth fairy? All by myself?! I don't have any money to give to other kids!"

Luka fretted as she paced in a tiny circle on the floor, two children entirely lost without direction.

"Or do I have to be a fairy godmother? Do I have to go find a girl to godmother to? What if I pick the wrong girl?!" She whined, the pacing picking up as she threw her arms about. "And I don't know anything about being a god, or a mother!"

He didn't know anything about what was going on, but he didn't want her to worry so much. Perhaps impulsively, he put a hand out to block the path she'd been pacing.

Marinette nearly bumped into it, but stopped just in time. She stared up at him with her wide eyes pleading and confused.

"Maybe you don't have to be anything?" He shrugged helplessly with one arm, hoping for the same as her. "Did it come with rules? Like a board game or a toy you build?"

She perked, realizing that he meant an instruction manual, and immediately started patting herself down. There weren't many places for a guide to be put on her, though he noticed that pockets seemed to magically form when Marinette tried to search for some.

"...No," she concluded when she'd run out of spots to check. "I-I don't think so?"

"Then it's gotta be okay," he said; more decided, really. He might not have fought off dragons, but he would hide and defend her if any sort of fairy police came to scold her for rules they didn't know about. His mom had always been a rule breaker and encouraged him to break them in cases like these.

Well, she didn't describe a situation like his best friend transforming into a fairy, but it fell within the category, he was sure.

As Luka tilted his head to fully take in Marinette, he saw her glancing over her shoulder at her wings. She arched her back, shoulders tensing as she closed her eyes, but the wings only fluttered briefly before she gave up.

"You wanna fly?" he wondered aloud.

"Yeah? No—yeah?" She blushed, getting up on her tip toes to try and make herself seem taller. "You'll hurt your neck if you keep looking down."

He unconsciously touched the back of his neck, having not given an ounce of thought to that. She was the one who suddenly changed, so why was she thinking about him? He looked around, trying to get a gauge on how the room must've looked to her, then suggested, "I can pick you up?"

"Mm?" She hadn't considered the possibility.

He laid his hands on the floor, palms facing up, and raised a brow as if to ask, 'is this okay?' Marinette stared at his hands, taking a few steps closer and looking them over like they were a puzzle, then slowly raised a leg and started to get on. He kept perfectly still, not wanting to jostle her, though she still fell forward due to his hands being a more uneven surface than the floor.

He would've helped had his hands not been preoccupied for obvious reasons. He was vaguely upset at them for being uneven in the first place, as if he'd had any control over that.

He waited for her to sit up and get her bearings, then started to stand up. He kept his eyes on her all the way to the coffee table, walking carefully so as to not trip or bump into anything. When they did reach it, he lowered his hands and she jumped off a couple inches away from the table, falling down slowly like a feather to both of their surprise.

"Oh." Marinette glanced at her wings again, as if she could belatedly check if they had fluttered automatically during the fall. Luka had been watching, so he knew it was just how her new body worked.

He sat himself down on the floor, his arms on the table for support so he could lean towards her. "Do you wanna change back?"

She pursed her lips at him, rubbing her chin, then cheek, and finally the back of her neck. "...I dunno? How?"

He racked his brain, tilting his head from side to side like it might help the thoughts move around more quickly. He recalled their conversation and tried to piece together any connection to her changing. "You were thinking about being a fairy? And magic?"

He didn't know how saying that helped, but she picked it up from there. "So... I have to think about being a not fairy? A not fairy without magic?"

He shrugged.

Since they didn't have any other alternatives, she went with it. Putting her teeny tiny hands on her teeny tiny hips, she shut her eyes and tried to focus. It did feel like a shame to try and change her back when she'd just turned into a fairy, but it was just as important to know what she could and couldn't do.

Nothing was happening though. Her brow twitched, her feet shifting in place impatiently. She swayed from side to side, not unlike he'd done earlier while thinking, then she opened her eyes to look up at him. Letting out a whine from her throat, she turned her back to him and tried again. He didn't know how that was supposed to make it easier on her.

Nothing again. She was still a fairy, still just as tiny, and she turned back to him with the same gleaming blue eyes, pointy ears, and glittery freckles.

"I can't," she said. "Not yet."

Yet? "What's wrong?"

"I'm still thinking about magic." She hesitated, then stepped closer and reached both of her hands up. "Come down."

The words alone were a demand, but the tone made it a shy request. He obeyed, bending over and letting his chin rest on his forearms.

Going close enough to his face that he had to cross his eyes to watch her, she stepped off to the side next to his head, putting a knee on his forearm as she leaned forward. While he couldn't see where she was reaching, he felt her fingertips against his cheek, at the hair in front of his ear.

"If I just have to think about it hard..." she murmured to herself.

He was really curious, but resisted asking in case it broke her focus. Was she performing magic on him? Was that why it felt so warm where she touched?

"Ah!" she yelped, startled, but what came out as shock quickly turned to delight. "It...it works! It works!"

"Marinette," he protested with a whine of his own, unable to stand the suspense.

"Sorry! Here, here..."

She was excited now, a far cry from the anxiety she'd shown when she first transformed. She moved back to where he could see her better, and this time he could watch as she slipped her fingertips through his bangs.

Like, well, magic, his hair changed from black to blue where she touched. He sucked in a breath, watching it spread further until she was satisfied, then she moved onto another lock of his hair. He had to grip his arms, forcing herself to stay still and not spring upwards from her contagious excitement.

She continued until his hair was dyed blue at the tips all along the front, then stepped back and jumped, limps spread in joy as she fell slowly back down. "Ta-dah! I'll do the back later too!"

He popped back up immediately, running his hand through his bangs to feel her work. Mesmerized by how simple the process had been and how perfect the magic dye job was, he let out a long, quiet, "ohhh."

She bounced up and down, then pointed at one of his hands. "Those next, those next!"

He followed the pointing to stare at it, not sure what she meant, but he wanted to know with action, not words. He leaned over once more to watch as close as he could, resting his hand flat on the table.

Marinette knelt down in front of it, placing her hands under his. With a small, "huph," she pulled it atop her lap as much as she could, then reached out towards his fingertips.

He realized what was happening before she'd started, based on where she'd touched: one of his black fingernails. She traced her hand around the outline of his nail, fixing the tiny mistakes and spreading the nail polish further in places he'd missed when he'd done it himself.

She tried to move over to reach the next fingernail when she was done with the first, but he moved his hand for her, offering her each finger at a time and then his thumb. She was elated, which he could understand for the sheer coolness factor of it all, but something in the back of his mind reminded him of everything she'd been saying, as well as what she was cut off from saying due to the transformation.

When she was done with his hand, he swapped it out for the other and asked, "What was it?"

"Mmm~?" she hummed, half of her attention on his nail polish.

"The other stuff? The magic that wasn't for the clothes," he clarified.

She stopped tending to his nails for a moment, beaming at him and answering with her full chest, "Stuff for you!" She waved her whole arm to gesture at his hand, then up at his bangs. "You kept talking about dyeing your hair, and how long it took to do your nails. I knew if I had magic, then I could do it for you!"

And that's exactly what she was doing: she couldn't have even thought about being human again until she knew that she could use magic to cure him of what was essentially a mild inconvenience. He could only stare at her, speechless, at how a big part of her wanting to be a fairy involved him.

She was amazing. The best possible friend he could've asked for. Human or fairy, she was just as magical.

"Done!" she declared as she finished the nails on his other hand, standing up to look it over one more time. "And it'll be our little secret!"

She didn't even want credit for it, another shock to his system.

"Thanks," he managed, finding his voice again. He admired his nails and bangs one last time, reminding himself to look in a mirror later to see the latter in full. "It's so cool. Really cool."

Her smile would put the sun to shame; him being happy never failed to make her happy too, which only heightened the effect this was having on him.

It occurred to him then that, if magic being real meant that fairytales might still be real too, he didn't have to worry anymore. Marinette was a fairy, not a princess, so the rules he'd imagined didn't apply to them, and she'd made it clear that he was important to her.

He might not've been a prince, but he felt like a king.

[daybreakerangel]

I am going to discuss about the Hazbin leaks because I can, and I want to think about something that NOTHING to do with the election. This is just me rambling.

Lucifer being a dick to Alastor out of nowhere make me dislike him to bit. Al is just minding his business and Lucifer insecure ass calls him Bambi and shit. I do not even like Al that much and I understand why he said fuck it and quit. I would too.

That song with Rosie and Al has racist lyrics in it with Rosie telling Al to act like a dog and that he is a part of her zoo. I know all the overlords are slave owners but having lines like that referring to a mixed Black character is a CHOICE.

I am TRIED of the bad dads/daddy issues in the Helluva. Every single father minus Millie’s dad are horrible or neglectful people. Lute saying Adam never liked Abel makes me mad. Are you telling me the FATHER of humanity did not give a fuck about his own son? Bullshit. I am fine with Adam being a shitty person to everyone around him but his saving graced should have been his family. He is the first father, I guess his is the root of all daddy issues too. 🙄

Anyway, I am glad Abel is plus size like his father. Adam is the carrier of the fat gene. Lmao. I wonder if people will debate if Abel is or is not fat too! /s

People are thinking that Abel is probably gay given his Santa Claus line in Emily’s Heaven song and Adam’s dislikes of his own son is because he is a homophobe. The idea of this being canon is probably likely. Given his line about finding Charlie and Vaggie’s relationship “hot”, I guess he is the type of homophobe that fetishizes WLW relationships but hates MLM ones.

This is just me thing, but I dislike when homophobia is in Queer media. I just want more queer joy stories than queer people facing bigotry stories. I just Adam maybe was more of a politically Incorrect villain than a politically correct villain.

Adam being a misogynist in Heaven was already weird, but it tracks since Lute was not allowed to be the new leader, misogyny is a part of Heaven’s core values, I guess. Him being a homophobe would be awful; homophobia exists in Hell (for example: Kate Killjoy) but in Heaven too? Queer people cannot escape homophobia even in paradise?

I liked to think Adam came up with exterminations to just let out the anger he felted because of Lucifer basically fucking up his line and to protect the family he still had from Hell’s uprising. Abel not expressing any real emotion when learning that his father was murdered and just saying “RIP” is just sad. If Abel knows his father dislike him, why he is taking up his father's role as the leader?

Adam being a shitty person is fine, but he never cared about his own son. Was he always piece of shit since Eden? BOO!! Bad character writing! Adam becoming morality fucked up makes more sense than "He was trash since the start of his creation!" Are you telling me that Heaven knows Adam is shitty and never corrected that behavior to the point he became a manchild? No wonder no one gave a damn by his death, he was rotten from the start.

Eve is still IMA and same goes for Cain and the rest of his children. I swear when Eve finally makes her appearance and she says that Adam was an abuser, I will start to dislike him.

I am glad that Adam is dead. I really hope that he never comes back, I just feel like his character will go downhill even more. I like the idea of him becoming a sinner as a punishment for all the bullshit he done and that he would never allow to enter Heaven. I wanted Adam to SUFFER. I hope sinner Adam stays in fanon.

Lute's song has a cool instrument, but I wish she had more character out of Adam. I do not really care about her being heartbroken by his death because we did not see their friendship that much, so it does not have that much emotional weight to it.

Adam's rizz levels were off the charts to have Lute loses her mind over HIM out of all people. I like Adam but nah he is not boyfriend material at all. It is nice to a character having a crush on a plus size character, Lute wanted that fat man BADLY. It would have been nice if imagine Adam was maskless. It gives me that vibes that Lute only like him when he had the mask on instead of his actual face.

My relationship with this show is complicated. There is stuff in it I like and stuff I just dislike. The writing of the show being all over the place is fascinating but also awful. If the fandom was not so creative and writes these characters with so much care, I would not be here. I am more a fan of the fanon content than the actual show sometimes.

I feel like when Hazbin ends, it is going to remember in such a negative light and a prime example on how to not write a story or characters.

I feel like I will not be a fan before season 3 airs, I hope that does not happen but yeah. If you see a whole bunch of Hazbin shit being listed on the secondhand market after Season 2 is over, that will probably be me.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Say What You Wanna Say

Summary: Y/N is incredibly nervous to tell her dad she's Bi. How will he react?

Pairings: Teen!Reader x Dean (Non romantic pairing)

Warnings: None. Some angst. Mostly fluff. Coming out. Bisexual reader. Papa!dean.

Word Count: 1,212

A/N: About a week ago I received this anonymous ask for a fic about Dean's daughter telling him she's Bi. I was happy to write it, but warned the lovely anon that it might take a while for inspiration to hit as my muses have been off lately and not playing nice.

Then this morning I got this response from them, and it absolutely charged my brain for this fic and it just came pouring out. More proof that #kind words fuel authors.

On a slightly separate note, I just wanna thank everyone who's been so kind to me regarding my creativity stall and mental health hiccups. All your words (whether in the form of well-wishes or kind comments on fics!) have made a difference, and they are so very appreciated.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this fluffy fic. To the lovely anon who requested this - I hope it's what you were looking for. I went with a teen reader around 17 or 18 (she mentions choosing a college) just because it felt right for me in the story. But feel free to age her up or down as you'd like. Thanks for jump-starting my creative juices. (Sorry I said juices.)

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Y/N walked into the library to see her dad bent over a massive, old, leatherbound book. At least, she hoped it was leather. You never could tell with books in the bunker. One time when she was six she’d managed to sneak her way into the shelves in Room 7B and picked up a harmless looking book. Turned out to be a cursed book bound in dragonskin and she'd exhaled flames for a full day before her Auntie Rowena had gotten there to undo the curse.

She never went wandering through the shelves again.

But the book her dad was reading seemed innocuous enough, even though it had him scowling darkly at whatever he was reading. She couldn’t tell if he was angry, annoyed, or just concentrating. That scowl could mean a few things. The problem was, the conversation she had planned sort of called for him to be in a decent mood.

She considered turning around and coming back when she had a better read on his frame of mind, but just then Dean’s hunter senses kicked in and he looked up and caught her standing in the doorway.

She waved a little lamely. “Hey Dad.”

He grunted at her and went back to scowling at the book. 

She took a few steps into the library. “Something in there that’s bothering you?”

Dean shook his head. “No, it’s just pissing me off cause it’s not helping me figure out…” He trailed off and took another, closer, look at a sentence, skimming his finger along the page before shaking his head again and slamming the book closed. 

“Whatever, piece of shit.” He said, rubbing a hand down his face and then looking at Y/N. “What’s up kid?”

But Y/N was convinced now wasn’t a good time and she just waved at him dismissively. “No, nothing important. You’re obviously busy. We can talk later.” 

She turned to leave, but froze in the doorway when her dad’s deep voice called out to her.

“Hey! Nope. Stop. Turn.”

Y/N slowly turned back to face him to see he’d leaned back in his chair slightly and folded his arms over his chest. He lifted one hand to point at the chair beside him, turning slightly towards it.

“Sit. Talk.”

Y/N opened her mouth to once again tell him they’d talk later, but his raised eyebrow brooked no argument and told her she wasn’t getting away without talking to him. She contemplated making up something else to talk to him about. Something that wasn’t as likely to send him into a tailspin, but it wouldn’t work. Her dad saw through her lies way too easily. 

Nope. This was happening.

She walked over slowly to sit down beside him, tucking her feet up under her on the chair and twisting her hands in her lap. When she hesitated to speak, Dean unfolded his arms and leaned forward slightly.

“Talk to me, kiddo. What’s going on?”

Y/N shrugged. God, I don’t know how to start this conversation, she thought.

But she could see her dad’s scowl turning to worry in his bright green eyes which made her feel guilty so she smiled at him. It didn’t make the worry leave his gaze, but he offered a small smile back.

“Are you okay, baby? Did something happen at school? Did someone do something? Do I need to kick the shit out of someone?”

Y/N chuckled and shook her head. “No, Dad. School’s good. It’s fine.”

Dean nodded. “Okay, are you…are you changing your mind about going to Kansas State? Cause we talked about this, and I thought we-”

Y/N cut him off, shaking her head and waving her hands back and forth. “No, no, nothing like that. It’s not…it’s nothing with school. Look, just…” She cleared her throat. “Let me just try to say it, okay?”

Dean’s eyebrows settled back into a frown, the little double line of worry staying etched between them. He shrugged. “Okay, baby.”

His casual use of that endearment brought a dampness to her eyes. God, I hope I’m still his baby when this is done. She thought.

She took a deep breath. “So, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this for a while now, a couple of months anyway, but I’ve just…I didn’t really know how to bring it up. I mean, I think, it’s actually something I’ve wanted to talk about for a couple of years, but I just kept denying it. But I can’t anymore, I can’t just pretend, and I don’t wanna and…”

She trailed off slightly, looking up at her dad and seeing only confusion and concern in his eyes. She exhaled the words out quickly.

“I’m bisexual.”

She watched understanding erupt in her dad’s expression as his eyes widened and his mouth slackened. He stared at her, just blinking for a few seconds and then he nodded slowly.

“Wow. That’s…that is not what I was expecting to hear.”

Y/N swallowed over and over, nervousness making her stomach ache. She was ready for the barrage of questions and possible challenges that were bound to come her way.

So, she was slightly thrown when he took a deep breath and spoke one word.

“Okay.” He said with one corner of his mouth lifted.

It was her turn to frown. “Okay?

His half smile turned into a full one. “Yeah, okay.”

“What does that mean?” Y/N asked with confusion.

Dean chuckled. “It means what it always means, kiddo.”

“So, okay…like, you’re fine with this? You don’t have…I don’t know, questions or arguments. This doesn’t bother you? I was expecting a bit of caveman in your response, to be honest. I mean, it doesn’t make you feel weird, or like…I don’t know…bug you?”

Dean pushed out his lips and raised his shoulders in a shrug. “Hey kid, I’m Gen-X, nothing bugs us.” 

Y/N scoffed and he laughed and conceded. “No, I don’t know, maybe if you’d told me twenty years ago, I wouldn’t have known what to do. Or it might have felt weird to me, or made me uncomfortable or awkward or something. But I learned a long time ago to let people be who they are, and I especially want you to be just exactly who you are. You’re an incredible kid, which means every part of you is incredible.”

He leaned forward and cupped her cheek. “Seriously, baby. I’m really glad you told me, and if you’re happy, I’m happy.” He kissed her forehead and she threw her arms around his neck and held on for dear life, tears of relief and happiness flowing. 

“Thank you, Daddy.” She whispered.

When she pulled away, he held the back of her head in his big palm, the way he had when she was little. “Love you, kid.” He said gruffly.

“I love you too, Dad.” 

His eyes were a little watery as he sat back in his chair and cleared his throat. “And, you know, if you end up dating a chick, or marrying her, that’s one less asshole I have to punch in the jaw as a warning not to mess with you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and chuckled. “That’s very progressive, Dad.”

Dean smiled brightly. “What? You gotta allow me a little bit of caveman.”

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[trashrattt]

I totally think Code lyoko should have it's talked about reboot, mostly because

- when it came to Carthage, the most canon explanation from Franz himself, the explanation only lasts about 1 minute and 25 seconds, and nothing else comes of it

Sure, we knew why Xana was created, but like, Franz never really said Xana stopped it as it was his main intended purpose, why Xana was made to begin with, so like, that's a real issue in canon consitering Franz wanted to stop the project but never got to consitering Xana gained autonomy and all

And like, Carthage was kind of hinted at to be a bad thing too, you'd think that could be a real issue in universe

- spent 3 whole seasons building on this one character only not to do much with it at all and give him a really bad rep in universe afterwards

Okay, you know me, I like William an abnormal amount, but with all things considered, he wasn't a character to begin with, neither was a plot device imo

Yeah, he absolutely has no personality, argue with the wall if you need to

So like, yeah, he got posessed, but then what? Sure he was used to try to throw Aelita into the Digital sea, but like, tarantulas could do the same thing with those long ass arms, they could just use them as bats

And you've literally seen megatanks push her closer to the digital sea when she used a energy field as a sheild of sorts, so really, what was the point of him to begin with of other monsters could do the same thing no problem

And after a whole season of dawdling around, the writers rushed the whole "set him free" arc after ignoring it for basically the whole season, like there wasn't any episodes besides cold sweat where the characters actively try to break him free, you'd think there would be a little more give from the characters considering how #depressed Yumi was

(and yes, I know the show says, "I made ___ program" but let us see the FAILURE!!!!)

Even then, when he came back, the characters all decide "fuck this, you ain't shit to me" and dropkick him back to his life without any support, like dude lost months of his life without something he either remembers or blanked out on

- character writing in season four

Okay, this isn't really a reason why, it's more of saying "Why did you make your characters worse, we deserve better"

Because Odd in season four just became an absolutely terrible person, man

Constantly throwing his freinds under the bus just for some scheme he pulled or literally abusing the fact that he knows about Lyoko as a point to say to the others "This is why we're friends!!!1!@1!!" Even though at this point their friendship is downright terrible, like to the point where they just want to get Lyoko dealed with so they can fall apart like a poorly put together cup with scotch taped all over it

Imo nobody seemed to like each other as opposed to season 1 and 2 where they talked casually, like they had an actual friendship going on, not like "so, what's new on Lyoko, I want this shit dealt with today..." they were actual friends who did stuff together and had fun, I miss that :<

Anyways that was a more personal take, but season 4 just leaves a bad taste in my mouth with that rushed ending of theirs

Uhm oops, this was a long rant of what I dislike about the show, I was supposed to make this post simply to tell you guys what I'd propose for a continuation

Here's what I'd do:

Consitering Carthage was an abandoned idea from the depths of season 2, we build on that again

I'm imagining a non-terribly written Evo mixed with the chronicles, like bitch I actually love the idea of Ulrichs dad being tied in with Carthage simply because like, it would make so much sense (absolutely don't pull a chronicles though making EVREYONES mothers under the sun being tied in, that was stupid)

I'm also thinking, the antagonist we have is still a program, but it isn't Xana like in main series

Sure, they're simular, but it's a remnant from Carthage that has the same ideas as Xana, but worse (this is all first draft, but that's like the main idea that could work)

Also, give Will and actual personality this time, not just this "I'm soooooo sad" attitude that any traumatized character has, he has the potential to be COMPLEX!!!!

Kids cartoons nowadays are getting complex so don't say "Oh no they can't, it's a kids cartoon"

Anyways I'm hoping they build off of Carthage because that would be a PERFECT continuation aauaghh

Enjoy (?) My unexpected rant, idk

[gumnut-logic]

Thoughts on Tracys

Well, I did dig into my fic folder and did find the ‘Thoughts on Tracy brothers’ fic and yeah, I left it at just Scott. Sorry. Must see if I can continue that one at some point now that I even know it exists.

But I did find something else. This is me in early 2020, before Covid hit, fortunately, as I had an infected foot at the time and could barely walk.

-o-o-o-

I was re-reading part of my Kermadec fic and encountered the bit where Scott comes across the hot spring and it occurred to me the difference between Scott and Virgil as to how they interpret their environment. This led me to thinking about characterisation and point of view and how you write a character to sound like themselves. Then, because I’m lying idle around the house with a mild headache and a bung foot, I pondered how each of the five brothers might interpret the same scene. I sat their idly constructing scenes in my head and how this might illustrate how a character thinks.

So, now because I’m still sitting around the house with a mild headache and a bung foot, I thought I’d give this exercise a go...cos actually writing one of my many wips would be far too logical ::headdesk::

Anyways, five brothers, same beach, same time of day. Let’s see if I can make them sound like themselves....and not end up writing another wip :D Note: these scenes are separate and unrelated to each other...just flotsam my brain threw up. Guess which brother is which?

-o-o-o-

His running shoes hit the sand hard, gouging holes in the pristine surface. The air was still and clear, the ocean quiet, his breathing drowning out the sound of the waves. This was his third lap, but his first step onto this beach. He usually avoided this patch of sand because it was Virgil’s favourite and often the place his brother came to be alone. But today was a day that wouldn’t see Virgil outside the villa. Not today, not tomorrow, not for some time at all.

His breathing lost its regular pace and he had to force himself to concentrate harder on his rhythm.

His feet hit the sand and he kept on running.

-o-o-o-

There were times being a brother of the commander of this outfit really sucked.

One foot after the other. Scott may feel exuberant at this time of the morning, but honestly, this time should not exist.

He was only awake because the smart ass had called a drill. God. He ran a hand through his hair and guzzled the coffee that was automatically poured into his face.

He swore Scott did it because of his comment about Thunderbird One’s erotic symbolism yesterday. But hey, he was the one who had compared Two to a pregnant turtle.

Turtles lay eggs, you idiot.

But that hadn’t been enough, so he’d resorted to a dick joke.

And had been dragged out of bed at 5am.

Ergh.

His staggering finally led him to the beach and the moment he stepped onto the sand, the breeze caught him and brushed away his frown.

A sigh fell from his lips and he closed his eyes.

The sounds of the ocean caressed his ears and washed away the aggravation. The calm seeped into his bones and his shoulders dropped.

But he kept his grip on his mug of coffee.

Another sip.

Another grateful sigh.

And a plan began to form.

-o-o-o-

Before he knew it the sun was peeking over the edge of the planet and the stars were fading.

His butt and back were damp from lying on the sand.

There was dry seaweed in his hair.

He reached up and untangled the mess, frowning as it caught and pulled. Ow.

It wasn’t often he used a beach for stargazing, but he hadn’t had the energy to climb the stairs to the observatory and to be honest, he wasn’t looking for a specific event, more just comfort in the familiar.

He had come out here in the early hours, his circadian rhythm still slightly off and done his best to connect with what he loved.

He had forgotten the inconveniences of sand, mosquitoes and was that a crab?

He shifted his leg out of reach and clambered to his feet.

The sun flashed everything gold, including him.

A sigh and he turned to walk back to the house.

-o-o-o-

One of the advantages of living on your own secret tropical island is that he could run around in whatever clothes he wanted and not have to worry about what the public might think.

A pair of flip flops and his swimwear, mostly because it was just after his morning laps. Specimen bags in hand, he headed down to the beach to check on the morning’s finds.

The ocean was still puking up stuff from the storm that passed to the south of the Island two weeks ago and he was making sure to check the beaches every morning to see what treasures might surface. One of the things about cyclones is that they churned the ocean as much as the land and often interesting things appeared with the tide as a result.

Fortunately the storm hadn’t actually hit the Island itself and the beach was on the protected side, otherwise there may have been no beach left to comb. This time the conditions were perfect and he wasn’t going to miss out on the opportunity.

Clambering around the Island in flip flops would probably earn him several frowns from several quarters, but to be honest he didn’t care.

From the moment his feet hit the sand, he was discovering and cataloguing. Three different types of sponge all seen before. A nasty chunk of the rare kelp from that isolated patch to the south, damn. An array of shells of which one he was unable to identify. He grabbed that one for identification purposes and one other simply because it was pretty and he knew a brother who might like it.

He found the waves tossing about a large chunk of broken coral and he swore. Damn. Cyclones were nasty to reefs and they took eons to repair.

The worst find was a relatively small mola mola. The young sunfish looked like it had been caught up in an argument between the surf and the volcanic rocks of the island.

He carefully picked it up and placed it in a bag, commemorative words for a life lost passing through his mind as he sealed it tight. Size and details would be sent to the NZ DoC south of their island for research purposes.

Reaching the end of the beach he turned back and trailed his feet in the water. A glance at the rising sun and he headed back.

-o-o-o-

He bounded onto the beach and kicked the sand with his foot. This was so unfair! Why couldn’t he do what everyone else was doing?

He stomped his feet into the sand and took some satisfaction in the deep divots his feet left behind.

The water was whispering as if to herald the rise of the sun.

He didn’t like it.

It mocked him.

Why? Why? Why?

The question bounced around his head and just fuelled his anger.

There was a roar and the island shook as behind him Thunderbird One leapt into the air. Further in the distance he heard the deeper rumble as Two ignited her rear thrusters and a moment later the great green ‘bird appeared over the palm trees and shot off into the distance, Thunderbird One darting down to escort her.

Both were lit up by the sun.

His heart was caught between pride at the sight, and the anger that he wasn’t with them.

As they disappeared in the sunrise, he glared after them.

-o-o-o-

Okay, that exercise did not go exactly the way I had planned, but I hope you enjoyed these little snippets. I hope you can tell which bro is which. I haven’t really gone to any effort to hide them and I’m kinda hoping it is obvious. Maybe take note of the bits of information that give it away?

Or which bros I’m better at writing, maybe :D

Fun to write. I hope they are fun to read.

::hugs you all::

Nutty

(Yeah, well, my brain is weird, I can’t help myself)

[rubysunnday]

but who could stay?

a/n: i'm erasing colin's 'lover boy' atttidue (or however you describe it) because it was the least colin thing i've seen imo. like, my man travels bc he doesn't want to be the ogling of the ton... anyways

summary: Every time Colin Bridgerton returned from travelling the world, there was always an urge inside him to run away again as soon as he could. There was only one woman who could make him stay. Y/N Barrett waited for Colin, but he never stayed long enough for her to tell him her feelings. Now she is engaged and about to enter a loveless marriage arranged by her parents. All she wants is for Colin to stay in London long enough to realise the truth of their relationship.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

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Every year, after the debutantes had walked in front of the queen, there was a garden party. Open to everyone, it gave the debutantes an opportunity to further make their mark on the ton as well as allowing other attendees to catch up with friends after a few months away from London.

Colin had been away for longer than just a few months. As soon as Anthony had married Kate, he had been on the first ship over to France.

It wasn't that he didn't like London - he did. Nothing would ever compare to his home city - the gas lamps in the November fog, the bright blue skies after days of endless rain.

Yet, he never felt at peace in London. There was always an urge inside him to up and leave. To travel as far away as he could and not stop until he fell off the edge of the world.

Perhaps it was fear of comitting to a life in one place. Perhaps he was just trying to escape the future that had been planned out for him since he was born.

Perhaps, he had yet to find a reason to stay.

Now that he was back in town, the urge to leave had resurfaced once again. Everywhere he looked, women were staring at him, debutantes were waving and gaving him coy smiles.

Colin awkwardly smiled back and then promptly turned around. He always felt uncomfortable when the attention suddenly became solely on him. He wasn't entirely sure why - he liked women and he liked flirting - but when every woman in the ton came at him at once, it felt predatory.

He knew they were only interested in him for his money (or what he had left of it) and his name. None were interested in Colin the Explorer or Colin the Writer.

Except one.

"Colin!!" Y/N Barrett exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as he walked toward her. "You are back at last!" She reached up and wrapped her arms around Colin's neck, pulling him in for a tight but quick hug. "You could have told me!"

"Apologies," Colin said, smiling at her as she stepped back. "I only just made it back in time for Francesca's debut."

Y/N's gloved hand trailed down his arm. "I am glad you are back," she told him, squeezing his hand once more before letting go. "It has been dull without you."

"Anything exciting happen whilst I was gone?" Colin asked, offering his arm to Y/N - a silent invitation to promenade around the gardens.

"Well, Alice Carey got married to Lord Carlson and then promptly gave birth to a son about four months later." Y/N raised her eyebrows at him. "Easy math there."

"Indeed," Colin muttered. "Has anyone called her bluff yet?"

Y/N shook her head. "No, she has been 'unwell' the last few months and has yet to reappear amongst the ton." She tilted her head to Colin and lowered her voice, "but rumour says she is pregnant yet again... with another man's baby."

"Has Lady Whistledown written of these rumours?"

"You and I both know she will not," Y/N replied with a quick roll of her eyes. "Not only had she not been seen since last season, she has changed her column entirely and now writes exclusively in support of the debutantes! I do not understand how you can go from writting rumours and scandal and causing the public downfall of several well known figures to... well, promoting other women!"

"Perhaps she has had a change of heart," Colin suggested.

"Leopards rarely change their spots, mon ami," Y/N said softly. "Anyway, enough about scandal and rumour," she extracted her arm from his and turned to face him, "how are you?"

Colin stopped walking. He looked at her, her gentle smile, her bright eyes. "I am... okay."

"Just okay?" Y/N asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

"I want to leave again," Colin admitted quietly. "Already, women are staring at me and eyeing me up as if I am their dinner. It makes me incredibly uncomfortable, to be honest. I know that all they want is Colin Bridgerton and not just Colin."

Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile. "Does it help that I am only interested in Colin?"

Colin found his lips curving up into a smile. "It does," he told her, "more than I can say. Which reminds me."

He reached a hand into the pocket of his coat - a coat that Hyacinth had kindly nicknamed his 'pirate coat' - and pulled out a dark velvet bag pulled taught by a silver tassel. Colin held it out to Y/N and she took it with her lilac gloved hands.

"You bought me a present?" Y/N exclaimed, holding the bag as if it was glass.

"I did not want you to feel left out," Colin said, his smile widening as Y/N stared in awe at the bag.

"Colin, it's beautiful!"

"Oh, the bag isn't the gift," Colin said quickly. "The gift is inside the bag."

Y/N's cheeks burnt with embarrassment. "Oh, yes, of course."

She carefully pulled open the bag and turned it upside down, tipping whatever was inside into the palm of her hand. Out tumbled a pair of silver embroidery scissors, engraved to look like a bird.

"Oh, Colin, they're gorgeous," Y/N whispered. "Where did you find them?"

Colin's smile grew. "A shop in Spain. They had other types but... well, they were different."

He had to confess, he was utterly delighted at her reaction. He knew Y/N loved her embroidery - she had endless baskets of thread and material and often sat in the park working on her current project. For his birthday, Y/N had gifted him a hand embroidered waistcoat featuring different birds and flowers from across the globe. Colin had taken it with him on his travels, wearing it as often as he could.

So, when he had seen the little embroidery scissors in the store, he knew he head to buy them. He had carried them around for six months and now, finally, they were in her hands.

"I have needed new scissors for a while," Y/N told him, her eyes still focused on the scissors. She gently turned them over in her hand, the metal glinting in the sunlight. "Thank you, Colin."

A voice interrupted the moment, carrying across the garden. "Y/N, my love."

Y/N looked over her shoulder, giving the man who had called her name a smile.

"Who is that?" Colin asked, looking at the man - who was signifcantly older than Y/N.

Y/N sighed as she turned back to face him. "Mr Catesby. The man I am courting," she told him softly. "Mama set us up. I have been out for three years and she expected me to be married in year one and having a baby by year three."

She was trying to smile but Colin could see that it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Do you love him?"

"I do not think love is possible," Y/N told him, glancing over her shoulder again. She turned back to Colin. "Friendship, perhaps but never love."

Silence fell around them for a moment. All Colin wanted to do was reach out his hand and hold hers. But he knew he couldn't. This was how it would be from now on - always near his side but just out of reach.

"I should go," Y/N said softly. "Thank you, again, for these. I will cherish them, I promise."

Y/N turned around and, with one last glance over her shoulder at Colin, walked toward Catesby and her future with him.

Colin couldn't look away. He knew he should because, really, what was staring going to do.

Y/N didn't look happy or sad as she stood next to Catesby, putting her arm through his. Whilst she smiled and laughed, none of it reached her eyes. She was pretending and Colin was the only one who could tell.

"You have to look away at some point," Francesca said softly, appearing at his side.

Colin swallowed heavily. "I know."

Francesca reached down and held his hand gently. "Why won't you?"

"I don't know," he eventually replied, forcing himself to look away and at his younger sister. He forced himself to grin at her. "Come along, I'm hungry."

Days turned into weeks and soon Colin hadn't spoken to Y/N for over a fortnight. He had seen her across the room at parties and balls, always at the side of Catesby.

Even though she wasn't happy, she still looked beautiful. Her dresses shimmered in the candlelight and when she did laugh, Colin could just picture her smile along with it.

Ever since he had found out she was being courted, Colin had retreated into himself. He spent long hours in his study, writing and drawing and wondering about what could have been.

His heart broke that little bit more the night of his mother's ball when Catesby announced their engagement. Y/N had smiled, sparkling under the lights once more in a dark blue gown and matching silk gloves. But Colin knew better. He could see how tense she was, how loosely she held Catesby's hand in hers - the way her eyes kept straying over to him.

Benedict and Anthony flocked him as they approached to give their congratulations. They bowed together and Colin was grateful that his brother's did all of the talking - speaking loud enough and quick enough so that neither Catesby nor Y/N's parents noticed Colin's silence.

Y/N did, though. She held his gaze the entire time and there was so much sadness within it, so much regret, that Colin nearly ripped her from Catesby's grip and pulled her to his side, threatening the man with a duel if he dared come closer.

Instead, he maintained his silence, giving a brief bow when they were finally dismissed. Colin refused to look back, focusing his gaze on the table of lemonade and sweet treats jutting out from the far wall.

"Colin, are you alright?" Benedict asked, raising his eyebrows slightly at his silent brother.

"Yes, why would I not be?" Colin said, picking up a glass of lemonade from the table.

"You are being unusually sullen and silent," Benedict replied.

Colin turned around to face his brother. HIs gaze flittered past him and over to Y/N. "Nothing's the matter."

Benedict caught Colin's wayward gaze and turned his head. His own gaze softened a little as he turned back to his brother. "It isn't too late," he said quietly.

Colin laughed humourlessly. "Really? She is an engaged woman, Benedict."

"Were you even around last season?" Benedict raised his eyebrows. "Anthony almost married someone else entirely - he got as far as the altar, Colin."

"That was different?"

"How so?"

Colin let out a frustrated sigh. "Because it just was. Who is to say Y/N would even be interested in my hand?"

"Who's to say she wouldn't?" Benedict looked at his brother. "Answer me this. Every time you come home, you immediately have the urge to flee again. Do you still have that urge when you're with Y/N?"

The silence that followed answered Benedict's question perfectly, Colin knew that. He eyed his brother. "I cannot do that to her, Benedict. I cannot."

"Well," Benedict sighed, "you are a better man than me, brother." He squeezed Colin's shoulder and turned to go, leaving him alone by the refreshment table.

Colin looked over at Y/N again. She had moved and was now walking onto the dance floor, hand in Catesby's. It hurt him more than he was prepared to admit. Yet, it would be so easy to walk over to her and take her hand from his - to confess all his feelings in a flurry of words and doe-eyed expressions. But the scandal that would cause - the ramfication's that could have on Y/N... Colin couldn't do that to her.

It would also be easy to simply walk away, leave the country and pretend he had never met her. Colin knew that nothing he did would ever mean he could forget her. He thought about her everywhere he went, from the churches of Florence to the waters of Athens.

Colin groaned quietly. He tilted his head back and swallowed the rest of the lemonade in a big gulp, wincing at the bitter taste. He set the cup down on the table and stepped away from the wall.

Weaving through the crowds, he spotted his eldest brother standing by the open french doors, Kate by his side. Colin heistated for a second, not wanting to darken Anthony's door with his issues. But the last time he had struggled with issues of the heart, he had given him some startlingly clear advice and he needed that again.

"Colin!" Kate exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as he approached. She pulled her arm from Anthony's and hugged Colin tightly.

Colin squeezed her back as hard as he dared, knowing Anthony was watching his every move like an over-protective swan. "How are you?" He asked, reluctantly letting go.

Kate puffed out her cheeks, hand straying to her stomach. "Coping," she replied. "He, however," she nodded at Anthony, "is not."

"I am allowed to be stressed," Anthony muttered, hand resting against Kate's waist. "It is very overwhelming, but exciting," he added, noting his wife's worried look.

Colin instantly felt guilty. He knew Anthony was overwhelmed. Trying to run the household, keep an eye on Francesca and Eloise all whilst being concerned for his wife and unborn child was more than enough trouble.

"What's wrong?" Anthony asked, noting Colin's distant gaze.

"Oh, nothing," Colin told him with a shake of his head. "Sorry, I should -"

Kate reached out and grabbed his hand by the wrist, pulling him back to them. "Colin, stop." She gave him a gentle smile, cupping the side of his cheek with one hand. "Come, let's go for a walk."

Kate put her arm through Colin's and let him lead her out into the gardens of Bridgerton House. It was still daylight, though the sun had descended. A few couples stood around the grass and patio but it was otherwise quiet.

"I assume this is about Y/N," Kate said, pulling her purple silk shawl tighter around her arms.

Colin nodded, leaning against the stone balustrade. He crossed his arms, a heavy sigh escaping him. "I do not know what to do. I should have stayed, made my intentions clear but I did not and now... now I do not know."

Kate pushed herself up and onto the balustrade, sitting on top of it, her feet dangling down. "What is your heart telling you to do?"

"To steal her away from him and marry her tonight," Colin admitted. "But I cannot do that."

"Why not?"

"Because she is engaged. I cannot bring that scandal to her, Kate, I just..." Colin closed his eyes. "What if she does not return my feelings and I ruin her one chance at marriage?"

"But what if she does?" Kate said softly. "What if she does return those feelings and she spends the rest of her life with you rather than a man she does not love?"

Colin looked at her. "Can I take that risk?"

"Anthony and I were plagued by scandal last year," Kate said quietly, hand resting on her slightly swollen stomach. "Things should never have gone as far as they did but it did not stop us from finding our true happiness. If you want her, Colin, then go and get her. She is right there, waiting."

Five minutes later, Colin was back inside the house, searching everywhere for any sign of Y/N.

He still wasn't sure if he had the courage to tell Y/N the truth. Whilst he knew she wasn't happy, happiness was a minor issue when it came to marriage. The status and money Catesby would give her was more than Colin could ever hope to offer in a lifetime.

But he could give her happiness and he could give her love. Surely, that was worth something?

Yet, as he stood against the landing wall, watching Kate and Anthony waltz together, he knew what he had to do.

Y/N stood by herself, near the table laden with food. Colin spotted her as soon as he walked down the stairs. She wore a dark green gown, one that matched his jacket perfectly.

He tried to approach her first thing but his mother grabbed his arm and whisked him off in the opposite direction, gabbling at him about eligible women and debutantes and flowers.

Y/N had noticed Colin as soon as he'd walked in the room. His jacket matched her dress and all she wanted to do was approach him and ask him to take her far away from here.

She was overwhelmed with wedding preparations and plans for her to move to Catesby's estate in Dorset. Her mother had not allowed her a moment's peace. Sleep refused to come at night and Y/N lay awake, regret and panic growing inside her as the date of her wedding grew ever closer.

The engagement had been a shock. Y/N herself had not actually spoken the word 'yes' aloud, her mother had done that for her. She had blindly followed along, allowing Catesby to place the ring on her finger and brag to his friends that he would soon be a father.

A father. Never mind a husband or a man in love. Just a father.

Because, whilst he was not a bad man, all Catesby wanted was a son to continue his line. That was all Y/N was to him, all this relationship was to him - making an heir.

Y/N had known this marriage would never be one built on love. But a foolish part of her had hoped that, maybe, they would find love together. Seeing Catesby now, flirting with other women and bragging to his friends, she knew that there would never be love.

She plastered a smile to her face as yet another person approached her to congrulate her on her engagement. Exhaustion was beginning to pull at her body, the sleepless nights and endless trips to the modiste finally catching up with her.

"You could at least try and look happy," her mother muttered, suddenly appearing beside her.

Y/N sighed softly, blinking the pull of sleep away. "Sorry."

"Honestly, when was the last time you slept, you look dreadful."

Thank you, mother Y/N thought, trying not to roll her eyes.

"I need you to look beautiful for this wedding," her mother continued, "there is a lot riding on this marriage for this family. Do not mess it up. Ah, Lady Cowper!" Y/N's mother crowed, rushing over to greet her friend.

Y/N needed to leave. She glanced around the room, checking that everyone was preoccupied and then made a swift dart for the corridor running behind the stairs. The room had been warm when she'd walked in but it had only gotten hotter in the hours since. Her head was aching, her heart was pounding and her hands would not stop shaking.

She didn't know what had come over her. There was no reason for her to be acting like this - all she was doing was getting married. But there were so many things wrong with the marriage and with Catesby and with her mother's obsession of wanting a grandchild that Y/N could not go through with it.

The corridor was quiet and signifcantly cooler than the ballroom. Y/N leant her back against the wall and took a deep breath in, desperate to calm herself down and reinstate her happy facade.

"Y/N."

Of course, Y/N thought, turning her head and watching Colin Bridgerton approach her. Of course he appears now.

"Colin, I do not -"

"I have to talk to you," Colin said firmly, coming to an abrupt stop at her side. "Please."

Y/N closed her eyes. She felt sick. The pounding in her head was only getting worse and she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten anything.

"Please, Y/N, I beg -"

"Yes, alright!" Y/N exclaimed, silencing Colin. "Come with me."

She led him back up the stairs - not an abnormal sight since many guests had seeked solace in the front room of Bridgerton house - and down the corridor into an empty room.

"Colin, whatever you want to say to me, please make it quick," Y/N told him, pushing him into the room and pulling the door to. "I cannot disappear from my own engagement party for long."

"You do not love him."

Y/N frowned at Colin. "I told you this earlier -"

"Just... say it again."

"No, I do not love him," Y/N told him, her voice soft. "But that does not mean I can walk away from this marriage."

"What if you had someone else to walk to?" Colin asked, moving toward her.

Y/N stared at him. "Colin, what do you... why..."

"The reason I travel, Y/N, is because I have never felt at home anywhere," Colin said. He took a deep breath in, steeling his nerves and forcing himself to not back down. "Every time I came back, I would have the urge to run away again until I reached the edge of the world. But each time I came back and I saw you, I suddenly felt as if I finall had a reason to stay."

Y/N felt as if all her air had been stolen from her. She stared at Colin - that was all she could do. Here he was, confessing his heart to her and all she could think about was how angry her mother would be, how much scandal it would cause and also how much the room was beginning to spin.

"I could not let you go off into this marriage without giving you a choice," Colin continued, moving a step closer. "I love you, Y/N, I have done for a long time. I wish that I had not spent so long away because maybe things could have gone differently. Perhaps this would be our engagement ball instead. Perhaps it still can be.

"I know that this is asking a lot of you and I know that with this choice scandal will come. But I will stand by you through it all, Y/N. No matter what the ton say, no matter what they do, I will not leave your side. You deserve to be happy and you deserve the right for this to be your decision."

Y/N looked at Colin. Hope was clear as day in his eyes. She had wanted this confession from him for so long and here it was. The circumstances were awful and scandal was calling and her parents would hate her and the ton would give her the look they reserved only for the worse offenders and -

"Y/N? Are you alright?" Colin asked, concern replacing the hope in his eyes. Her skin had lost colour dramatically quick and she was beginning to sway.

Y/N swallowed, nausea growing. She blinked, looking past Colin and at the window. No, that too was spinning.

"Is the room spinning for you?" Y/N asked, her voice quiet.

Colin frowned. "No. Is it for you?"

"A little," Y/N admitted. "I think I might need a moment."

She took a step forward but the room tilted dramatically to the side and hazy black spots filled her vision. Y/N mentally braced herself to hit the carpeted floor and for her body to ache but hands wrapped around her waist, guiding down.

Colin knelt on the floor, resting Y/N's back against his chest. He was never great when it came to dealing with poorly people - his siblings could attest to that. He himself was a terrible patient, incapable of waiting until he was better and always pushing himself before he was ready.

But this was Y/N - his Y/N. Her skin was clammy and lacking colour and her hand was shaking as she tried to grip his. And he had no idea what to do.

They couldn't simply stay in here, someone else might walk in and then there would be a whole other scandal.

Then, an idea came into Colin's head. There was one place he knew no one would stray into. One place that would shield them for just a little longer.

"Come on," Colin whispered. "I've got you."

He put one arm around her shoulders and slipped his other under her legs, lifting her up into his arms. With one foot, he nudged open the door. The upstairs corridor was quiet. Colin snuck out, keeping his footfall as light as he possibly could.

His bedroom wasn't far away. In fact, it was only three doors down the corridor. As he pushed open the door, Colin thanked his past self for forgetting to close the door properly.

It was cooler inside than it was anywhere else in the house. His windows were open, the net curtains blowing gently in the summer breeze. A small fire crackled in the hearth, giving off enough light to chase away the darkness.

With as much care as he could, Colin lay Y/N down on his bed, laying her head on his pillow. He absently brushed his fingers along her cheek as he straightened and her eyes slowly opened, looking up at him.

"Has the room stopped spinning yet?" Colin asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand resting against her leg.

Y/N hummed softly. "Partly," she told him. "I still feel awful."

"When was the last time you ate?"

"I do not remember," Y/n replied. At Colin's raised eyebrows, Y/N let out a tired sigh. "Mama has kept me so busy and I have hardly slept these last few weeks. Oh, Colin" she said, her head finallycatching up with what had just happened, "I can only apologise for -"

"Do not be silly," Colin told her, reaching up and taking her hand in his. "Our bodies can only handle so much."

"But fainting? That is just... mortifiying!"

Colin chuckled. "When I was in Spain, I fainted in the middle of dinner with a very important noble because I had spent too long in the sun and not looked after myself. My face was bright pink and sun burnt and I felt awful for days after." He shook his head, laughing softly. Colin squeezed her hand. "What I am saying is that we all forget to look after ourselves sometimes. You have a better reason than me, however."

Y/N pushed herself up, letting Colin pull her forward until she was sat cross legged on the bed. He kept a steady hand on her upper arm until she gave him a reassuring smile, confirming that she wasn't about to spontaneously collapse again.

"If this engagement is making you this unwell," Colin said quietly, "is it worth it?"

Y/N sighed softly. She rubbed the pad of her thumb back and forth across Colin's knuckles. "No, it is not."

"Then what is holding you back?" Colin asked. He leant his head forward, seeking her gaze. "Tell me."

"I am scared," Y/N admitted with a small shrug, looking down at the bed. "I am scared of the consequences that will come with calling off this engagement."

Colin gently tilted her chin up until she was looking at him. "What else? Because there is something else, I can tell."

Y/N swallowed heavily. She closed her eyes for a moment. "My mother is determined to make this work," she said softly, opening her eyes again. "She keeps reminding me about how much is riding on this marriage, the things it will do to our family. I am terrified of her reaction if I do not go through with it. What if my family disown me? That will be an even bigger scandal than calling off the engagement!"

"What if she does not?" Colin suggested. "What if everything falls into place?"

Y/N shook her head. Her eyes were glistening with tears as she looekd at Colin. "But what if it doesn't?" She asked quietly, her voice almost lost to the night air.

"Then I will stand by your side no matter what," Colin replied, taking both her hands in his. He held them as if they were the most precious things in the world - because they were. "No matter what happens, you will always have me and you will always have my family, I promise you."

Uncertainty still lingered in Y/N's eyes. Colin knew he was asking much of her but she deserved a happy, loving marriage with someone who loved her. She desered to have a choice.

"You deserve to be happy, Y/N," Colin said softly. "Do not ever think otherwise."

"You promise to stay?" Y/N asked, her voice quiet and small. She looked at him. "Because, every time I thought I was ready to tell you I loved you, you disappeared, Colin. Then, I wouldn't see you for months and... I cannot do this if you are going to leave me again the moment we are married."

Colin leant forward and pressed a kiss to her forehad, his right hand holding the back of her neck. "I promise," he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers, "to never leave you again. Together until the end of our days."

Y/N smiled at that, relaxing into Colin's hold. "Okay," she said, her voice certain for the first time all night. "Are you going to ask me, then?"

Colin released her and stood up from the bed. He moved over to his desk and pulled out a drawer, rumaging through it until he found what he was looking for.

"I picked it up in Florence," Colin said, coming back over to the bed. "Because I had decided that when I got back, I would take your hand as mine. I thought for a moment I would never get to do this but..."

He trailed off, looking up from the ring box. Y/N was still sat on his bed, her smile slowly growing. Colin clicked open the lid and knelt down on one knee, extending the box out to her.

"I know I left and for that I am deeply sorry," he said quietly. "It took me this long to realise that you were my reason to stay. So, Y/N Barrett, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

Y/N nodded, her smile reaching her eyes and crinkling the corners. "Yes," she whispered, holding out her left hand, "of course I will."

Colin pulled the golden band out, the moonstone set in the centre catching the light of the fire. He slipped it onto her finger, pleasantly surprised to discover that it fit perfectly.

"Perfect fit," Y/N said, holding her hand up. She looked back at him. "It is as if it knew."

Colin grinned. He took her hand in his, thumb trailing over the ring. "Perhaps it did."

[fandomshipsandimagines]

a long and winding road (agathario + nicky)

ok guys, i admittedly didn't have as much time as i was expecting to write this. i also haven't written anything in lowkey a couple of years, so please bear with me here.... anyway an expansion of my prior post in somewhat fix-it-fic form

He was born from nothing but sheer willpower and a mother’s love-- virtually from scratch. A baby boy brought into a cruel and unfair world, but to two loving parents. Nicholas, they named him. It was a long and painful birth in the woods surrounding Salem. It was safe, though, in their little cottage nestled among the trees. Agatha pushed and pushed through sweat and tears, gripping Rio’s hand with iron strength. Rio didn’t mind; she was too wrapped up in her own excitement to really notice. Her pain was incomparable to Agatha’s anyway.

He was born healthy. In the first instant, they were overcome with joy. She looked at Agatha with tears in her eyes and kissed her forehead lovingly. Agatha smiled back, an exhausted but ecstatic smile. “He’s perfect, mi amor.” “He really is.” Rio watched Agatha beam at the sight of the baby--their baby-- and felt her heart swell. They cleaned him and swaddled him, feeding him before setting him in the crib Rio had conjured from neighboring tree branches. Sometimes, being The Green Witch had its perks. Agatha dozed off, no doubt wiped out from the grueling experience. Rio pulled the crib next to the bed she shared with Agatha, keeping watch over them both (otherworldly beings don’t need much sleep, anyway). The now two people she loved more than anything in the world were sleeping peacefully; she would never admit it, but Agatha made fun of how Rio snored, filling the space with her presence. Now, though, it was quiet.

That’s when it settled and hit her. The prophecy that his time would be limited. Nicky wouldn’t live long. Rio had never really concerned herself with mortals, never finding them compelling enough to care about their pre-established timelines. This one was different. This was her Nicky-- hers and Agatha’s. The panic came next, then sorrow. Grief prickled in the back of her mind, sending tears to her eyes that threatened to fall. She couldn’t take that risk in case Agatha woke up. Gently, she stroked Nicky’s head with the back of her hand and watched the rise and fall of his chest. Somewhere outside, in the garden Nicky would grow up playing in, flowers bloomed. Hyacinths, black roses, Lily of the valley, chrysanthemum sprouted, adding color to the dull forest. They slept soundly through the night.

In the morning, she tells Agatha. They’ve begun adjusting to this new life, the three of them finding a routine. In hushed tones, they bicker. Rio reminds Agatha that all living things must come to their natural end, some earlier than others. Agatha, disillusioned by the fact that her lover is Lady Death, refutes that. “No, Rio. He’s not like others. Stop this, please.” She gets up and walks away, claiming she needs to stretch the soreness away. She doesn’t go far, just crosses the bedroom to where Nicky sleeps soundly in his crib. Rio watches with sadness, deciding not to push further for now. Her black heart doesn’t have the strength to tell Agatha just how limited their time together will be, and maybe it’s selfish of her, but she doesn’t want to face it either. She decides to shift her focus towards building a home with her lover and their child, determined to make these the absolute best years of their lives for Nicky. She knows that, once it’s over, the damage will be irreversible. And, undoubtedly, Agatha will not forgive her for what’s to come. She doesn’t want to lose them, not yet.

It comes up again the first time Nicky gets sick. A year later, in the dead of winter, he catches his first cold. Agatha is home with him, worrying and fussing. She’s so distraught over her anxieties that she can’t seem to master the healing spell. Her mind doesn’t think clearly enough to make the potion, and Rio comes home from work to find Agatha’s exacerbated cries as a potion bubbles and burns in the cauldron. “What’s going on here? What are you trying to make?” “A potion, Rio. He’s sick! He’s sick and I can’t fix it.” Rio rushes to Nicky’s crip to feel his forehead. He’s burning up for sure; immediately, he starts crying at the sight of his mother. She lifts him and holds him to her chest. Maybe it’s how calm she looks that makes Agatha realize this is not his time. And maybe this is the first time she starts to panic a little less, watching Rio for any sign of the end; each time she doesn’t see it, she breathes a little easier. Agatha’s anxieties never quite quell over the years. They ebb and flow, but mostly she enjoys the time with her little family. They build their home together in comfort, ignoring reality almost into oblivion.

She heads to the village one day to run errands; Rio is home with Nicky, giving him magic lessons. She leaves them as they sit on a log by the river writing in his book of plant species. She thinks they are identifying the trees around them. At the edge of the wood, just beyond the village, she spots a group of women. A coven. She stalks by at a distance, reminded of her own coven. The thought of her mother’s cruelty sends a shiver down her spine. She recoils at the memory of being punished for her curiosity, for wanting to learn magic and improve her craft. Shaken from her deep memory at just the right moment, she hears whispers of powerful magic, unknown and unheard of to her. In her haze, she must have stepped on a twig that snapped, because they see her and beckon her over. Immediate recognition of kin, they bid her sit down and join them. “Just passing through,” they tell her. Refugees from neighboring towns, no doubt persecuted and chased away for their witchcraft. Rio will likely confirm it soon. She stays a while, relishing in the comfort her own coven had never provided her. It’s here that she hears whispers, tales of a book possessing great magic. She recalls reading it in a manuscript once before her mother reprimanded her in front of the whole coven.

She returns home some time later to find Rio cooking in the kitchen. It always warmed her heart when Rio would grow food and cook for Nicky, even though she didn’t need to eat.

“Mama, you’re home!” Nicky comes barreling towards her. The hug lasts all of two seconds before he grabs her hand and drags her to the fire.

“Hi, sweetheart! That smells good. What are you cooking?”

“We’re making stew, Mama. Mom grew the vegetables, but I helped.”

“He did! He collected them as soon as they sprouted, didn’t you mijo?”

“Well done, my love. I see your lessons are paying off.” Agatha puts down her own basket and places a kiss on Rio’s cheek.

They sit together around the fire and eat the stew. Nicky goes on and on describing the plants he learned about today. His parents watch him lovingly, glancing at one another every once in a while with a smile. It was a miracle that he’d grown so quickly. It was those moments that made Rio nearly forget herself, forget that Nicky had already turned 4. She is reminded after dinner, with Nicky put to bed and her and Agatha sitting together by the fire. Her lover is curled up in her arms, and Rio feels how immense her responsibility is to protect them. She squeezes Agatha just a little tighter, planting a gentle but firm kiss to her head. Agatha lazily plays with Rio’s fingers, toying with the idea of ruining this serene moment by bringing up what she heard earlier. Eventually, Rio breaks the silence. “You seem deep in thought, mi amor. What’s on your mind?” It’s unavoidable now, and the more Agatha had been thinking about it, the more eager she felt to find this fabled book.

“When I was in the forest earlier, I came across a coven at the edge of the village. They had traveled from Andover.”

“Refugees?” Agatha nodded. Rio, sure that it had upset Agatha to remember her own past” squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“I sat with them a bit. They caught me nearby,” she smiled sheepishly at Rio. “They told stories, old witches’ fables, about The Road and a magic spellbook.” Rio stiffened. Agatha felt muscles tensing behind her and took it as a sign of confirmation that maybe these weren’t just tales.

“You know it?”

“Agatha…”

“So it’s real isn’t it? Rio, this could be the key. We could save Nicky with this!”

“It doesn’t work like that.” The serene moment was long gone, reality crashing down on them. “The Dark Hold corrupts anyone who touches it. It’s dark magic, Agatha, it’s not safe. It’ll only make things worse.”

“So you’re admitting that the Dark Hold and The Road are real.”

They quarrel, Rio denying their existence and trying desperately to convince Agatha to let this go. It’s all in vain, because once Agatha’s curiosity is sparked, there’s no going back. The trait that Rio had once fallen in love with was doomed to become their downfall. Agatha’s obsessions grow over the next year. Their once peaceful home begins to strain under the stress; tension fills the air. Agatha ventures out more often, leaving Rio and Nicky home. Rio watches her inquisitively as she walks off in her hooded cloak, keeping their son entertained with spells and stories. Agatha’s obsession begins to take over, casting a darkness over their household. She holes herself up at home, obsessing over spell books, manuscripts, maps, and lore in hopes of any insight into where the Dark Hold is hidden. By this point, it’s become clear that Rio knows more than she lets on, but Agatha stops pushing her. They’re tired of bickering over this subject, and Rio won’t contribute any more to this downfall than she knows she will soon have to.

In the evenings, they dote on Nicky, determined to make sure his childhood is a happy one. He stays oblivious, knowing only the comfort and love of his mothers. It’s not until the coughing begins that things really start to go downhill. Agatha and Rio stand in the living room, arguing in hushed tones; this has become their nightly routine, it seems. From the other room, Nicky’s room, a cough. Then another. Then comes a coughing fit. They spring to action. Rio rushes to his side, waking him and holding her in his lap. She rubs comforting circles on his back, easing him back to a relaxed state. Gods, she thinks, his time is nearly upon us. She dispels the thought, focusing instead on the vial of warm liquid Agatha brings into the room. “Drink this, sweetie. It’ll help.” The coughing quiets and he dozes off back to a deep sleep. They transfer him to their bed so they can keep a watchful eye on him through the night.

“Rio, please tell me it’s not happening.”

“Not yet. Some time remains.”

“I have to find it, Rio. This might be our only chance. Please, my love. Don’t you care? Doesn’t this affect you?”

“Well, of course it does, Agatha! I love him and I want what’s best for him. But, I am telling you this is not the way!”

“Shhh you’ll wake him!”

Rio sighs. She doesn’t know how to keep having this conversation. She doesn’t know if she can tell Agatha that his time is near, that he will only live another year. She can’t face them, knowing what she has always known. That Nicky would only live to be six. She’s not sure how much longer she can go on bending the rules of nature and tipping the natural balance. Still, she urges Agatha not to waste her energy looking for a book that won’t give them what they need.

“Agatha, he needs to feel loved. This is not love.”

“What is it then? I seem to be doing more for him than you. I don’t see you trying any harder to keep him alive.”

“That’s not fair. You don’t know the sacrifice I made for him, for you, for US. I can’t change the course of anyone’s fate. In the end--”

“Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it. We are witches. You are Death! Rio, we can’t just sit idly by and watch this happen. Not when we have magic and there is magic out there that can help!”

“That's just it! I’m trying to tell you that it won’t work, Agatha. Please, enough of this. Promise me that you will give up this obsession with the Dark Hold. Promise me that you will show him the love he deserves.”

It’s Agatha’s turn now to sigh. “I’ll be damned if this boy knows anything but love.” The conversation ends there.

Nicky’s health fluctuates over the next year, as does Rio’s schedule. The increase in witch trials begins to take its toll. Tensions continue to rise, Rio angry with innocent deaths, Agatha angry that Rio is always gone. In the time she has alone with Nicky, she devotes more time to her magic; Nicky finds it entertaining to watch his Mama. They walk the forests, Agatha singing the Ballad softly while he listens. At times, he points out different species; Agatha smiles as she listens to him. He looks so alive when babbling about his lessons. It tugs at her heart strings. They turn back when she hears the first cough. He grows tired, his factual interjections decreasing. They arrive home as the fits get more intense. Agatha fixes him the same potion, practically shoving it down his throat in fear. Rio arrives soon after, exhausted and drained; the sound she hears shakes her. “When did it start?” “Earlier in the forest, but it only just got bad again.”

They climb into bed on either side of their son, grateful that the potion worked. He sleeps quietly and calmly in between his mothers. Laying on her bent arm, Agatha places her free hand on his chest, feeling Nicky breathe steadily; Rio, perched on her elbow, places a free hand over Agatha’s. Rio falls asleep first, snoring softly beside Nicky. It’s not often that Rio falls asleep, so she takes this rare opportunity. Agatha carefully gets up, grabbing the bag she had stashed under their bed long ago. She stands over her lover and son, smiling with determination to make things right, and places a feather light kiss on both of their heads before slipping away into the darkness.

Rio doesn’t even have to open her eyes in the morning to know Agatha’s gone. And she knows exactly where she is. Her eyes flutter open and lay on Nicky, his breather slower and shallower than it was in the nighttime. Just as she’s about to wake him and check how he’s doing, he wakes himself with another coughing fit. She can hear it before she feels it, the difference in his health. It’s almost drastic, a dramatic change in typical Harness-Vidal fashion. Her own breathing picks up as she eyes her son, for the first time wanting to run away from her job. She knows it won’t be long now. She sits Nicky up and rubs his back as he coughs. When it starts to slow, she picks him up and moves them to the kitchen. He sits on the table wrapped warmly as she fetches him some water. She recreates the potion Agatha had given him last night, hoping to prolong any changes for as long as she can. She hands him the water and vial; he drinks and instantly calms down.

“Mom, where’s Mama?” The crushing weight of reality returns.

“She had to go on a work trip, sweetheart. She’ll be back soon.”

“Will she be back in time for my birthday?” Rio freezes yet again. No, she thinks. It can’t be. But it must.

“But of course! She’s gonna bring you back a birthday present too because you’ve been such a good boy! We’re so proud of how well you’re advancing in your lessons. You’re our little miracle, Nicky.” He beams at this, launching into a guessing game of what his present might be. Rio smiles, trying to hide her grief. Two days later, he turns 6.

They pass the time together, Rio desperately trying to distract Nicky from the fact that Agatha was missing. She fills his days with fun and excitement, spoiling him with anything his heart desires. She blooms one of every flower he can think of, creating a meadow from empty land. They run and chase one another through the field, filling the air with laughter and screams. The running slows and they lay side by side, watching the clouds. Rio shapes them into bunnies for Nicky, who giggles and names every single one. She gets the idea for his birthday present from there. She summons a bunny on their way home and it sits on their front porch. Nicky screams with excitement. “I shall name him Senior Scratchy!” They curl up by the fire that evening, and the coughing commences again. Rio, panicking and dreading the inevitable, tries in vain to feed him potions and medicine, bending over backwards to reshape his fate. With each cough, she can feel her powers waning. While Nicky sleeps in her arms, she cries and begs silently. She holds Nicky closer and cries, kissing his head over and over again. He stirs a little, looking at her with tired eyes.

It’s then that Rio sees just how exhausted he is; she cannot keep doing this. She curses Agatha for being gone, curses the Dark Hold for not having a cure. “Is Mama back?” “Not yet, baby. Close your eyes and sleep. When you wake up, she’ll be back.” His eyes shut and he nods, almost immediately falling asleep again. She continues to cry. When his body stills in relaxation, she knows it’s time. She appears in his dream, careful not to expose her Death face so as not to scare him. In his dream, he is awake in the same meadow they played in earlier. He runs through the field with his arms out, hands brushing the grass around him. A flower in hand, he rushes to his mother. He grabs her hand and jumps up and down, handing her the flower. She holds his hand and points in the direction of the forest.

“It’s time to go mijo. It’s time for that big adventure I promised you.”

“Am I finally old enough?”

“Yes, sweetheart.” They walk off together towards the forest. He grips her hand just a little tighter, suddenly aware that the forest gets darker and denser the deeper they travel.

“You’re being such a brave boy cariño.” He smiles up at her, pleased with the approval.

Early in the morning, Agatha returns to their cottage in the woods. The air is still just as it is every morning, but it’s heavy in a way it has never been. She opens the door and steps inside. Before she sees Rio and Nicky, she knows what’s happened. Rio’s soft cries break through the air, reaching Agatha’s ears and causing tears to form in her eyes. She drops the book with a thud, her already blackening fingers trembling.

“No. Tell me it’s not true. Tell me you didn’t.” Rio cries harder. “Rio, what did you do?” Now she’s yelling.

“I couldn’t hold it any longer. I couldn’t give us any more time.”

‘What do you mean you couldn't hold on? How is that possible? You’re Death! Rio, how could you?”

“How could I? HOW COULD YOU? You missed his birthday, Agatha. You missed the past two years! You obsessed over that goddamn book instead of being here for him.”

“I WAS TRYING TO SAVE HIM!”

“SO WAS I.”

The silence is deafening. Both witches feel the blood rushing to their ears. Agatha grabs Nicky’s limp body from Rio, clutching him tightly and crying. She sits there with him for the better part of three hours, shaking and crying with rage. She mourns her loss loudly, barely registering Rio’s presence but making sure she can hear her grief. By the door, Rio grabs the Dark Hold and places it on the table. It burns the moment it touches her fingertips.

They take Nicky’s body outside, Rio’s power opening a grave and floating him gently into it. She covers him with dirt, sprouting the very same flowers that sprung at his birth. Sorrow, loss, regret, guilt, heartbreak. She’s never hated being a green witch, The Green Witch, so badly. Agatha turns on her heels and rushes off into the house the moment he’s laid to rest, tears streaming down her face. Rio stays an extra moment before returning to their home.

She hears footsteps, but she doesn’t turn around. “You took him without letting me say goodbye.”

“I gave you every chance to be with him, Agatha. I told you not to leave.”

“I left to help him, which is more than you did.”

“At least I stayed here. I disrupted the balance of nature and gave us time with him. He was never supposed to live this long, but he did, no thanks to you. I had a job to do; I didn’t want to do it, but I did it.”

“Know that I hate you. I hate you with everything that I am. I will never, ever, forgive you for this. You destroyed everything. You took everything. Fuck you, Rio.”

“Hate me all you want. But don’t think you’re off the hook either. You left him alone for days, days, Agatha. For a stupid book. For magic that wouldn’t heal. You know, he asked for you TWICE. Where were you then?”

“I don’t ever want to see you again. Leave me alone.”

“Gladly.”

With that last word, they parted ways. Rio returned to the world from whence she came, far away from mortals and Agatha. Far away from her life, her family, her son. Back to the responsibility she wished she could have left behind forever. No more playing house. She went back to being Lady Death. Agatha stays inside, studying the Dark Hold and perfecting her craft. Over the centuries, the Dark Hold corrupts her; black-tipped fingers hold the hands of coven members decade after decade, century after century, siphoning their powers and leaving a trail of bodies behind. Rio keeps her distance, not exactly eager to face what she feels she’s created. If she’d pushed Agatha harder, if she’d stopped her from leaving that night, if she just could’ve held onto Nicky a little harder, maybe none of it would’ve happened. Death herself collected the bodies that Agatha left behind; only this time, it’s not love that fills her heart at the thought, it’s sorrow.

With centuries of time at her disposal, Agatha allows herself to get immersed in her studies; the Dark Hold becomes everything to her, and the powers that grow with each kill makes her feel invincible. As her power grows, so does the veil surrounding her. At first, Rio doesn’t even bother looking for her, too heartbroken and angry to care about her former lover. Two centuries later, she feels a shift--the Dark Hold is in someone else’s possession. She decides to take a risk and search for Agatha, having allowed herself to heal from Nicky’s passing over the centuries, and that’s how Rio ends up in a little town called Westview. It’s quaint and normal, the opposite of the Agatha she remembers; the Agatha she finds is also not the woman she fell in love with. It breaks Rio’s heart even more to see the once powerful Agatha Harkness reduced to a life of delusions under the Scarlet Witch’s spell. It nearly kills her that they lost everything for nothing; no amount of killing gave her enough power, no amount of begging saved Nicky, and no amount of fighting saved their family.

“Do you remember why you hate me?”

A pause “No.”

She can almost see the gears turning in her mind. By now, Rio has learned that she lives on teetering edges. A flicker of hope replaced quickly by guilt. After all this time, she still loves Agatha, and she won’t take advantage of a weakness no matter how desperately she wishes to go back to happier times.

She loses Agatha a second time, but this time it’s on Rio’s terrain. Underground, on a fake road, Rio is summoned to a road. She emerges from the grave of a woman whose soul she just escorted--Sharon Davis she thinks, but she doesn’t really care. This magic, this Hex, forces them along the path, pushing their limits trial after trial. Deep in the dark woods, Rio takes the opportunity to express her feelings and give the closest thing she can to an apology. The boy, Teen they’ve been calling him, almost dies; emotions are waxing and waning. There’s no better time to try. Agatha storms off and Rio smiles, remembering all the times her lover would stubbornly exit the conversation.

“Agatha?”

“Hm.”

“That boy isn’t yours.” Rio is sure it hurts her to say it just as much to say it as it hurts Agatha to hear it. She doesn’t dare reveal that Teen is Billy and Billy cheated Death. She doesn’t mention that she’s going to have to take another boy from Agatha.

One by one, this new coven falls. Rio’s begun to find this chore boring, following Agatha and cleaning up after her. First Sharon (Rio really starts counting with Alice), then Alice, and now Lilia. The pieces of the puzzle are finally starting to connect. They leave Billy and Jen behind to process their losses; she takes her chances with Agatha in the empty clearing amongst the trees.They face each other in the clearing. Agatha jabs at her first.

“You took my son.”

“He was OUR son.” Rio is angry now, angrier than she’s ever been. “I lost him, too, Agatha. It wasn’t just you.” She’s crying; it’s only the second time it’s ever happened. The hot tears burn her cheeks; she feels more human than she thought was possible.

Opposite her, Agatha’s own eyes well up with tears. She didn’t want to talk about this again, not with Rio. Her vision is clouded; she sees nothing in front of her, not even Rio’s tears. Also for the second time, she tells Rio that she doesn’t want to see her face ever again. Rio leaves, agreeing to respect Agatha’s wishes. When death comes for her, it won’t be her lover’s hand she holds to cross.

The now three witches move forward to the next trial. Agatha is angry, eager to get off of this fake road. She has no interest in being around these people anymore. The next trial stops them in their tracks. It’s Jen’s turn, she thinks, it must be. She scowls at the thought; yet another obstacle in the way of getting out of here. They unbind Jen, and she helps Billy look for his brother, but the trial goes on. It’s Agatha’s turn to escape. It’s not magic she’s looking for; that won’t help her here. She is bound to this trial, to this Hex, by her grief. With no tears to cloud her vision, she sees clearly for the first time ever.

“Sometimes, boys die.”

The room goes dark, but her soul feels lighter. Just like that, the weight of a thousand lifetimes comes crashing down. Memories dance across her eyes as they adjust to the dark atmosphere. She sees Nicky running in the meadow, sees Rio holding their baby, and sees his peacefully sleeping form as they go to sleep under the stars. The lights flicker on and Agatha realizes she’s been crying. She cries for herself and for Nicky and for Rio. She mourns the loss of her family, of her happiness. She looks to the lamps above her, illuminating the exit. She turns to the room where she will leave her grief and anger.

A million realizations seem to take form as she’s exiting The Road. A child born of death was never destined to live; it was Rio’s mercy, love, and sacrifice that gave them a miracle. Wasting precious time with her boy going after dark magic was always going to be futile; and by the end, she’d become addicted to the power more than she wanted to admit. It was never going to save Nicky, but it drove her desire to move forward. Rio did her best--no, better than her best. Agatha was just as much to blame as she was. Out there in the open, she knows Billy won’t be safe for long. She emerges to find Rio back with a vengeance, ready to reap the soul of the Boy Who Cheated Death. She knows this is her moment.

Sending Billy to the greenhouse, she approaches Rio who reaches for her knife in confusion. Instead of the fight she is expecting, Agatha gently grabs her face and kisses her. Rio is almost too shocked to react, but soon melts into the kiss. Agatha does her best to convey what she lacks the words to express: that she’s sorry, that it was never just Rio’s fault, that she misses their family, and maybe there’s some hope after all. They finally pull apart, gasping for air like they've been drowning forever.

“You broke the rules.”

“For you, my love, there is no rule I wouldn’t break.” They smile at each other, basking in the comfort of the moment.

Billy emerges soon after, slow and careful to avoid ruining the tender moment. Rio looks back and forth between him and Agatha; out of the corner of her eye, she can see her lover pleading. She chooses not to take the boy this time. Agatha places a hand on his cheek.

“If you’re going to learn magic, Billy, you’re going to learn it the right way. You’re too powerful to waste it on darkness and destruction.”

“Careful, Agatha. I tend to kill my coven.”

“So do I.”

@takjdidoprdele @yakly @gracklesascendant @kamala-msmarvel-khan @ddagent @fridafolkestone @lord-luminous @cm572 @botineh @jxsmindoodles @ouroborosdisorder @ginnyssprace @autbot @sunflowerscottie @crazyballoongentleman @oldbutterfly @rhaenyratargaryendefender

[slut4evanpeters]

Dancing!

cooper day x reader

song i recommend listening to: bullet with butterfly wings by the smashing pumpkins

warnings: none! fluff fluff fluff

word count: 714

notes: excuse the unoriginal title.... ya girl is feeling so uncreative 😞 anyway this is so cute! i hope you guys like this!! vv short tho not what i usually write 😞

The weather was soft with a hint of coolness that October evening, and you found yourself at Cooper’s place, his worn and warm room dimly lit by a lamp sitting in the corner of his room. Cooper sat on the old, creaky couch, fiddling with a CD player that looked like it had survived one too many garage sales. After a moment of static, the unmistakable opening riffs of Bullet with Butterfly Wings by The Smashing Pumpkins started pouring out, filling the room with that haunting energy.

Cooper’s eyes lit up as the music kicked in, and he gave you a mischievous grin. “Oh, come on, you know you love this one,” he said, the corners of his mouth quirking up in that half-smirk that was so…Cooper.

You couldn’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it!”

He jumped up from the spinning desk chair, his tousled hair falling messily over his eyes, and held his hand out to you. “Come on, dance with me, will ya?”

You hesitated, but his hand stayed outstretched. There was something about the way Cooper’s face softened when he looked at you, like he could care less about the rest of the world as long as you were right there with him.

You took his hand, feeling the callouses on his fingers, and he immediately pulled you close. Cooper wasn’t much for traditional dancing. No, he started with a sway and then, with the beat of the music, he pulled you into a bouncy, exaggerated headbang. You both laughed, bumping into each other clumsily, and he muttered something under his breath about needing a bigger place.

The music blared louder as the song’s chorus hit, and Cooper mouthed along to, “Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage,” his face scrunching up dramatically. He pointed to you with a teasing glint in his eye, pretending to sing to you like he was putting on a show. You both burst out laughing, your cheeks beginning to ache from smiling so much.

“Cooper, you’re ridiculous,” you teased, giving him a light shove as you spun away, only for him to immediately pull you back with a playful look in his eye.

“Me? You’re the one who’s totally into it!” he chuckled, looping his arm around your waist and spinning you dramatically. He was surprisingly good at it, even if he was hamming it up for laughs. “Admit it, this is fun!”

You laughed, trying to hide the grin on your face, but he saw it anyway. He pressed his forehead to yours, and you could feel his breath, warm and close, as he whispered, “You don’t get off the hook that easy.”

As the bridge of the song hit, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for a slower, swaying dance, resting his chin on top of your head. The mood shifted for a moment, and you let yourself relax into his embrace, the two of you gently rocking back and forth to the sound of Billy Corgans gritty vocals.

“Hey,” Cooper murmured, breaking the quiet. “I… I like this, you know?”

“Yeah?” you replied softly, looking up at him.

He nodded, his eyes gentle but intent. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t really do this kinda stuff usually, but with you, it just…it feels right.”

You felt a warm flush creep over you, and before you could say anything, he spun you out, making you stumble and laugh as he caught you again. Just like that, the moment was back to being light and playful, the air charged with the same electric energy as the song.

As the song came to an end, Cooper sighed and pulled you into a loose hug, resting his head on your shoulder. “This was fun,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” you agreed, your voice soft. “It really was.”

He looked down at you, his eyes twinkling. “We gotta do this again sometime. Maybe…same time next week?”

Your heart swelled a little, and you nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

With a final squeeze, he let go, and sat back on his chair. The sound of the next track beginning buzzing in your ears as you shared quiet smiles, feeling like you were exactly where you needed to be.

[stuckinapril]

I genuinely love not having a crush like I’m not over here feeling physically sick over some mid guy being dry to me I’m literally chilling