#if you have your own thoughts please please share

[luveline]

would you be able to do hotch’s adult daughter meeting the team?

—Hotch introduces his daughter to the team. 1.3k

“Aaron?” 

He’s grateful you didn’t call him Mr. Hotchner, but dad might not hurt. “Everything okay, honey?” he asks the phone. 

“Sure, um. This might be presumptuous and, like, embarrassing for me, but my last class got cancelled and I was wondering if I can come to your office today?” 

He feels his brows rise of their own accord. He checks his watch. You’ve picked a good day to want to come. “Sure, it’s quiet here.”

“You don’t want me to explain why?” 

��Presumptuous and embarrassing for me, I thought it might be to see your dear old dad.” 

You laugh funny on the other side, like Jack when he’s surprised. “Kind of. I do want to see you, but I was wondering what it’s like. In the FBI, I mean.” 

“You’re interested?” 

“In working there?” you ask. 

“It’s fine if you were, you don’t have to worry.” 

“It looks too intense for me, but… yeah, I guess I want to know what you do all day. I don’t know anything about that part of your life, and it’s such a big part of it.” 

He’s trying hard to say Yes to you at every opportunity, and this yes is easy. He sends a car to get you because he can, preparing himself for a lot of fawning and surprise. The BAU team, namely, Spencer, Derek, JJ, Emily, Dave, and Penelope, know who you are, but the office itself has little knowledge of you. There was chatter the day you turned up here unannounced. You haven’t been to the office since. 

He exits his office and finds Spencer, Emily, and Derek in the bullpen doing their paperwork, among other things. Derek’s peeling an orange. Spencer has his nose in a book despite a hand on the computer mouse. 

“Are you ready?” he asks them. 

“For what, the round table?” Emily asks. 

“Y/N’s coming into the office.” 

Three backs straighten in unison. “The kid?” Derek asks with a grin. He’s the only one who’s actually met you, and it drives the others mad with jealousy. 

“My kid, yes,” he says. He can’t help smiling. “She wants to see what we do. Please don’t show her anything with blood or gore, though. Please.” 

“Scout’s honour,” Emily says, standing from her desk to brush herself down. “Out of everything that’s happened when I started here, is it strange that this is the craziest?” 

“It’s up there,” Spencer says. 

“It’s certainly the nicest surprise I’ve had,” Aaron says, not quite missing the look Emily and Derek share even as he spots you at the office doors with your visitor’s pass clipped to the belt of your skirt. 

He walks to meet you, lest the sheer sea of faces intimidate you. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

You pull your jacket tighter around you, but it’s not a warm thing —if anything, it seems to be a stiff cardigan, grey and white plaid with ornate buttons. “It’s freezing out there.” 

“You’ll feel much warmer in a minute. The heat has been on high all day, JJ’s orders.” He slips his hand behind your back and shepherds you to the bullpen. “Honey, these are some of the members of my team. Supervisory special agents Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid.” 

“Emily,” Emily says, thrusting her hand forward to shake. 

“Spencer,” Spencer adds, managing to escape a handshake as Derek steps in. 

“Derek Morgan,” he introduces himself, shaking your hand with a warm smile. “I can see now why you were reluctant to tell me what you were here for.” 

Your smile goes sideways, like you’re startled, but pleased nonetheless, “I– honestly, I thought you’d make me leave if you heard what I had to say. It’s still not believable.”

“You sound like him,” Spencer says. “Not masculine, but–”

“Mellifluous,” you and Aaron say at the same time. 

“Exactly.” 

“Freaky,” Emily says, though her smile is brilliant. 

When Aaron sat the team down to tell them, it wasn’t because he necessarily wanted to. He loves you as any man loves their child even if he still has mountains to learn about you, and the urge to brag about you doesn’t go away, but he was hoping he wouldn’t have to answer so many questions about you at the time. As far as anybody in Aaron’s life knows, he and Haley haven’t ever split, it was a private parting, and so the first thing he sensed from everyone was a shift in image. “I didn’t cheat on Haley,” he’d said quickly, with a suffering sigh, “we were broken up at the time.” 

“Like, on a break?” Emily had asked, cringing. 

No, not really. Aaron assumed he and Haley were broken up permanently when he slept with your mother, but that brief relationship cemented for him that he loved his now-wife. Now that the team know he’s not an adulterer, the only thing he has while presenting you to them is pride. 

“Y/N’s class was cancelled today, so I’m going to show her around the office and give her some insight into what we do here,” he says, catching your attention with a grin. “It’s not as though you need today's lecture, hm? She’s nearly the top of her class.” 

You shake your head at him, beaming but mortified, “Don’t.” 

“If she didn’t work so hard–”

“He’s trying to get me to quit my job,” you tell the others. “He’s overbearing.” 

“We know,” Emily says. 

“I just think that now is a time for studying, and you’ve worked hard enough already.” 

You shift marginally closer to him. Most people wouldn’t notice, but Aaron does, and he suspects his team do to. “I’m fine doing both,” you say. 

He’s sure he’ll win the argument one day. For now, he escorts you through the office to the round table, then his office, pulling you into Rossi’s office for a charming hello and then to JJ’s, where you’re greeted with excitement and a disarming amount of love. Aaron forgets sometimes how much he and his team have been through together. You really are a good surprise. 

“Where are we going now?” you ask, following Aaron down a long corridor. 

He smiles. “You don’t have a sensitivity to high-pitched noises, do you?” 

Your confusion is plain on your face. Aaron takes you to a familiar door, placard reading in big, black letters: PENELOPE GARCIA, BAU TOP TECH AND DATA ANALYST. It’s surrounded by pink heart shaped stickers. 

He knocks the ajar door politely. “Garcia?” he asks.

“Sir?” Penelope says back. 

He eases open the door with his foot. Penelope turns in her chair, blonde hair in windswept curls, her lips painted a pink-orange. 

“Garcia, this is Y/N, my daughter.” 

Penelope’s mouth falls open. “I know who she is,” she says, nearly monotonous. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say. “I’ve heard so much about you. I love your trinkets,” you add, nodding at her wild desk. 

Penelope gives Aaron a pleading look. He nods. 

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god!” Penelope says, rushing forward to throw her arms around you. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

You laugh and bow gently under her weight. “Me neither,” you say sincerely. 

“Oh my gosh. Oh my god,” she says, pulling away to smile at Aaron, “she sounds like you, you weren’t kidding! How is it possible that she sounds like you?” 

“Strong genetics?” he suggests. 

“I’ve never been this happy in my life,” Penelope says. 

He watches you take Penelope’s excited hand and thinks, that makes two of us. 

“You’re so adorable, I’m looking for Hotch in your face but you don’t look like him at all. But your clothes! You’re so cute, like a baby politician!” 

“I’m almost twenty three.” 

“So young,” Penelope fawns. 

[jadedbirch]

Gather around, my young friends and fellow dinosaurs, let me tell you about some BULLSHIT no one ever tells you about. I'm talking about menopause and perimenopause. Now, menopause has a very stringent medical definition. You have to not have had a period for exactly 12 months and a day to be considered in menopause. All the bullshit before that day once you start going through The Change is considered perimenopause. Here's some bullshit you might experience that people actually talk about when you're in perimenopause:

- shorter time between periods

- irregular periods

- hot flashes and/or cold flashes

- fucked up sleep

- OMG NIGHT SWEATS

- Vagina as dry as the Sahara desert

- lighter periods and/or endless bleeding like it's The Flood but it's in your pants

- lack of interest in Adult Fun Times

This time of joy can last anywhere from a couple of years to a god damn decade and there's no medical way right now to predict it.

Here's some of the REAL bullshit they don't tell you about but your dinosaur aunt is here to let you know:

- You can start perimenopause in your 30s, don't listen to idiot doctors who tell you you're "too young" because they don't know your body like you do.

- Perimenopause will make you HELLA DUMB. Seriously, I'm talking Bigly broken brain. Brain fog? Check. Short term memory? Wave goodbye to it. Ability to make words form out of thoughts? Yeah, good luck to you.

- Perimenopause can cause horrible fatigue because in addition to losing estrogen, you're also losing testosterone. Oh and that also leads to muscle wasting, cool cool.

- Things might suddenly hurt more because estrogen is known to be neuroprotective.

- If you're super lucky like I am, and like to collect rare illnesses, you might even get Burning Mouth Syndrome 💀

- And meanwhile, while you're going through this bullshit, you'll be getting gaslit by doctors who are operating based on 30 year old debunked data about how HRT causes breast cancer (not really) and that they shouldn't put you on it until you're in actual menopause. (Data shows starting HRT early can potentially prevent Alzheimer's in later years.)

- There are entire online clinics right now (I use Midi Health) focused on providing care for peri and menopausal patients and they will happily prescribe you HRT even if your regular PCP or OBGYN do not (if you meet the criteria). I've been pretty impressed with how holistically they view the patient. For full disclosure, I learned about them from my integrative health doctor and they do not accept Medicare (yet).

I'm 46 years old right now and I've been symptomatic for perimenopause for the last 8 years, although it's gotten the most dramatic in the past 2 years or so, which I hope means I'm almost done, holy hell. Yeah I was on the early side, but if it can happen to me, it can happen to you, so it's never too early to think about these things. And I hope to at least spare some of you the mind-fuckery I've been through because no one told me about most of this stuff, including my own mother who just DOESN'T REMEMBER what happened to her and now I completely understand why. And because I also have a connective tissue disease, I used to just dismiss my pain and fatigue as being caused by that illness rather than the loss of hormones.

Anyways, this is why we need Elders in our lives, so they can do Grandma Story Hour like I just did and validate you when the entire medical field tries to gaslight you. I hope you've found some or all of this educational/useful. Please share with your friends because we really do NOT talk about this stuff enough. (Ewwww Moon Blood!)

Stay well, and don't let the bastards grind you down!

[itgetsbetterproject]

On Trans Day of Remembrance, we honor the memory of those lost to anti-trans violence. We also asked our It Gets Better community what trans youth should remember, right here and right now. Here's what they said:

🏳️‍⚧️ "For my trans daughters and for every other trans person out there, You are perfect, perfectly perfect right now, in this messy moment, in this happy moment, in whatever moment comes next. You are loved by people you haven't even met yet. Do not get caught up in the hurt when there is so much joy to be found, do not let the noise hold you back, you are meant for greatness. For some greatness means waking up and having breakfast, going for a walk, doodling or thinking happy thoughts and that all in itself is great. Please believe me you are not alone." -lisasevajian

🏳️‍⚧️ "70 million people voted to protect your rights. You are valued. You are loved. Do not give up." -thethestralsociety

🏳️‍⚧️ "We have always been here, and we're not going anywhere anytime soon." -beansonofficial

🏳️‍⚧️ "You're seen. You're human. You are loved. You are not alone. Do not give up hope. You deserve all the best things in life and you should get to live them without fear, hate, guilt, harm, or silence." - destiny_d_melton

🏳️‍⚧️ "You are not alone even when it might feel that way. Things are hard and it can be so scary. But know that there are people who truly care who are fighting for you." -heatherand2girls

🏳️‍⚧️ "It gets better. Don’t give up. Gather the people you trust and support each other. You are a gift, you have a gift. Shine your light proudly and brightly. But know that you don’t need to. You are not responsible to change others perceptions or beliefs. You are loved, needed, and necessary." -michaeljohncreative

🏳️‍⚧️ "I love you so much and I will never cast you aside. You are NOT expendable." -fitnessvalkyrie

🏳️‍⚧️ "There is community out there for you always. Don't ever give up, we are here fighting with you." -transaffirmidaho

🏳️‍⚧️ "You only legally have to live with your bio family until you are 18, and then you can go make your own family. Also, high school only lasts 4 years. You can get through it!! It will be okay." -lisathecatdude

🏳️‍⚧️ "Keep going! As trans youth, we need to grow to be elders and to keep sharing our stories and to keep going!" -archer.39

🏳️‍⚧️ "Even in red states, you can find support and allies. We do care. Also, if you’re overwhelmed, it’s okay to focus on the community you feel safe with and take a mental break from advocating." - katseye325

🏳️‍⚧️ "We need you alive! You are our future. I made it to 29. You can be 29. My therapist is almost 60. You can be 60. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are our rights! You are seen, valued, heard, and loved." -Mr. Trans Indiana

🏳️‍⚧️ "Half this country still voted to support your rights! There are some loud voices spreading hate, but there’s so much more love out there. You have so much worth and value just being who you are. We’ll get through this and things will get better." -lady_hades_xiii

🏳️‍⚧️ "It will be worth it. All your struggle, all your pain. You’re going to get through this. It’s gonna be okay." -madd.0xx_

🏳️‍⚧️ "You are already role models to your peers, and to all the trans youth that come after you. You are the generation that will change the world, you already are the change the world needs…and your trans-aunty will always be here to support you, as my trans role models did for me. We are a family; dynamic, diverse, and inclusive: welcome to the family." -mxashleys

Read more and add your own here.

[hannieehaee]

HI!! how are you??

do you mind doing a poly seventeen relationship with vernon and chan and they spoil her alot?? (smut tho)

thank you!! i love you and your blog <3

18+ / mdi

content: bf!vernon and bf!chan, smut, afab reader, oral (f receiving), handjob, mentions of m receiving oral, mentions of shower sex, etc.

wc: 886

a/n: i couldn't help but write them bickering bc i i just know they totally would in real life.

masterlist

"dude, what the fuck? i thought you guys were going to work today. hyung, you literally have a solo song coming up!"

chan's whines were not enough to get you to stop kissing vernon's neck as you cuddled into him on the couch, nor where they enough for vernon, apparently. his hands were very intent on feeling every inch of your tits, something which you did not want chan to take away from you.

"just did some recording from the home studio," was all vernon said in reply, hands now reaching your ass to pull you on top of him, lips finding yours in a kiss.

"i will not be a third wheel in my own home," he grumbled, "move over, you've had her all day."

he made his way to the couch, sitting on the other side of you as he fought vernon for your attention. after a bit of back and forth, vernon gave you one last kiss before leaving you in chan's arms, pleased enough to have had you to himself all day.

it's not like chan and vernon never shared you at the same time, but they just so happened to both be a little possessive. they preferred to take turns to ensure they could each be fully satisfied. and you? you had no complaints.

"i'm gonna go make some hoco. want some, baby?" he asked as he headed to the kitchen.

"mm, yes, nonnie," you interrupted a heady kiss from chan to respond.

"for me too!," said the aforementioned boy before kissing you again.

vernon chuckled and shook his head as he left, taking note that he should probably ask you to shower with him later. he wanted the last word after chan had his way with you.

~

"oh, but this is fine? weren't you complaining we took a day off without you literally yesterday?"

now it was vernon's turn to walk in on you and chan. however, this time you were located in the bedroom, with chan deep between your legs as you sat at the edge of the bed.

"sorry, baby. i might've convinced him to stay home since you'd be gone today," you mumbled in between gasps.

"c'mere, baby. my hand is all yours," you gestured him to sit next to you as your other hand held onto chan's head, leading his movements against your cunt.

vernon needed no further encouragement, undoing his pants as he walked over to bed and took a seat next to you, kissing you and letting his hands feel up your tits as you began working him with your own hand — god, he really was a boob guy.

"mmm, missed you today," he hummed between kisses.

"me more, nonn- ah! sorry, channie, fuck, you're being so good for me, baby."

wordlessly, he had demanded for attention while his tongue was deep in you. it was the classic competition for your affection.

"fuck, baby, keep doing that. gonna fuck you later, okay? fuck you to sleep, shit, yeah?", mumbled vernon against your lips. his orgasm was close, you could hear it in his voice. he must've been tired from practicing all day.

"mhm, shit. please," you pleaded before turning your attention to the other boy, "channie, shit, 'm gonna cum soon."

he murmured incoherent words into your folds, nose nudging a particularly sensitive spot as he sped up. you were so into your own pleasure you hadn't realized the poor boy had been using your shoe to hump in order to release his own tension.

you hoped he wouldn't cum from it. you had way better plans for him as soon as you got vernon off with your hand.

a high pitched cry was the last thing you voiced against vernon's lips, soon followed by his own grunts of pleasure as he dirtied your hand with his spunk. he was insistent in kissing you throughout both your orgasms, sometimes not even landing on your lips, but still within the ballpark. it was a disorganized mess, as it usually was with vernon.

chan waited patiently until the two of you got a fill of each other. he'd been enjoying the show you and vernon gave him, lip caught in his teeth up until he reached up to you and stole you away from vernon, instead giving you a taste of yourself through the remnants of his lips.

"stop, i'm the one you should be kissing right now," he complained as vernon chuckled beside you, getting up to get a rag to clean himself with.

"i know, channie," you coo'd, "i'll make it up to you, okay, baby?"

getting up, you held out your hand for him with a smile, leading him to the restroom connected to your room. before entering, you turned back to vernon, nodding at him to follow along and giggling when he lit up at the invitation.

"i'll suck off whoever washes my hair," you proposed once in the bathroom.

you were met with a whiny back and forth between both men, insisting they were the best at washing your hair and that the other had already gotten more than enough attention from you.

in the end, it didn't really matter. you had more than enough in you to satisfy both of them. you just liked to see them bicker over you.

[tjwritesfanfics]

Three's company (Spencer Reid & Chip Taylor)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (ft. Chip Taylor)

Summary: Spencer finally says yes to your request for a threesome and you choose his twin brother, Chip.

Rating: Mature 18+ only

Warning: Threesome, oral (male receiving), masturbation, p in v sex (Unprotected. Guys you know the drill. Be safe)

Words: 983 (Not a long smut sorry)

Main Masterlist | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Other MGG Characters Masterlist

“You can tell me”

“No, I really don’t think I can.”

Spencer ran his fingers over the skin of your hip, enjoying the view of you post orgasm. The topic of different things to try in bed came up and when you thought about it, you knew you couldn’t bring up your wildest dream… again.

Spencer doesn’t share well. He never really has, but when you asked to have a threesome he hesitated and when he said he would think about it, but it depended on who it was, and you said his twin brother, he flipped.

“No way! I won’t share you with my brother.”

His words echoing in your head even now when your brain is on a high from the new thing Spencer learned to do with his tongue. Sometimes bringing up the idea of watching porn with your boyfriend was beneficial.

“Is it the threesome thing?” Your silence was enough of an answer for him. You could see him enter a deep state of thought, genuinely thinking of if he wants to share you with not only another person, but his own brother. His TWIN brother. The men in his family were really good at giving, a fact he was unhappy to know about his father and brother, and what if Chip was better than him? 

Though he doesn’t know what makes you weak in the knees. He could try with all his might, but Spencer would be the end for you… Right?

In the end he knew he would give into your desire, even if he wasn’t that comfortable with it, because Spencer would give you the moon and the stars if he could.

hich is how he found himself agreeing to your request. Your squeal of happiness was the immediate reassurance that he made the right decision, but then a few days later when you were on your knees, in HIS favorite purple lingerie no less, sucking on his brother’s dick, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“After all that happened to you, Chippy, I just want you to feel worshiped.” Was the reasoning you gave to Chip as you slid down to your knees in front of him, wiggling your hips for Spencer’s view from where he sat in the recliner you requested be in the room, and undoing Chip’s jeans.

You whimpered at how hard he was already, the tip a bright red. And without warning you had swallowed Chip whole, his brother’s head falling back and letting out a loud moan.

Spencer smirked a little at the sight, knowing how warm and wet your mouth was and what it was like to experience it for the first time, despite the little green monster sitting on his shoulder telling him that he should tie Chip up and make him watch as Spencer fucked his woman into submission.

But all he could do was palm his erection to relieve any form of pressure. He told you that he would go along with this and do as you wanted.

And right now you wanted to devour his brother’s cock while he seemed to lose his mind.

“Oh fuck!” Chip moaned, his hands searching for a perch in your hair, gripping harshly which caused you to moan around him, the vibrations sending him over the edge, his cum spilling into your mouth.

You pulled back, swallowing what you could before turning to Spencer, opening your mouth to show him that you finished your meal.

“My good girl always knows how to please, huh Chip?”

Chip nodded, his cheeks flushing at the authoritative voice that came from his twin. While they were the same in looks and everything, they were also so different. Spencer was smart and Chip was a bit dumb, sweet, but dumb.

And it seems that they were also different in the bedroom as well, Spencer seeming to stay in complete control despite the little minx currently crawling towards him and crawling into his lap.

And Chip? He came so fast that it was almost embarrassing, but no one had ever had their mouth on his dick before. He wasn’t used to the sensation.

But one thing was for certain, he wanted more. Though it was Spencer’s one rule, no fucking his woman, he wanted to defy his brother and have you.

He wouldn’t, because he respected Spencer, but god did he want to. Just the thought of taking your tight little pussy had him hard again.

Your mewl pulled Chip out of his thoughts, his eyes seeing that Spencer had already started what he wanted to do, panties of the lingerie pushed aside, his brother’s cock buried deep inside of your cunt as you rode him with all your might, which even to Chip he could tell that it wasn’t for you.

Spencer’s smile said that he noticed Chip’s stare and as if it was what he was waiting for he planted his feet firmly on the ground and fucked up into you. You screamed at the sudden force, falling forward and submitting to Spener’s assault.

Chip couldn’t stand it anymore as he wrapped his fist around his cock, pumping in time with his brother’s trusts. Faster and deeper, Chip couldn’t tear his eyes away from the spot where Spencer’s cock disappeared, the wet slick of your pussy glistening in the dim light.

The three of you moan in sync, the sensation becoming too much to handle. Chip came first, his cum spurting from his tip and over the floor, you shortly after, Spencer’s assault of your G-spot having you seeing stars.

A few more thrusts and Spencer came deep inside of you, painting your insides white with his release.

As much as he hated to admit it… That was the hottest thing the two of you have done in the bedroom in a long while.

Maybe Chip can join again, but only on his terms.

(Banners by cafekitsune)

[al0velyuniverse]

Body Shots

I woke up in a cold sweat to write this and it went from a short little paragraph to a four part series, please enjoy

●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●

Pt.1 | Pt.2 |

CW: Drinking (duh), drunk sex, (oral male!receiving), exhibition (kinda? In a loose term), mentions of Simon sharing you with the team

The first time you suggested body shots you were in your boyfriend Simon’s apartment drinking with his team. 

Johnny and Gaz sat at the kitchen counter, chatting about something unimportant. You and Simon sat on the couch, but he was turned away from you talking to Price. You were feeling incredibly bored so you spoke, “I think body shots could be fun right now., don’t you boys?” When the words left your lips all conversation ceased and you could see all of their eyes light up, thinking they’re about to not only see you topless but they get to lick you. What nobody excepted; however, was for you to gently push Simon onto his back on the couch. When you asked, Gaz scrambled to find and hand you the supplies without a second thought. The room was silent except for the quiet radio as everyone watched you pull Simon’s shirt up, sprinkle a trail of salt onto his chest, and place a lime wedge between his lips. A strained “fuck” left Johnny’s lips when you moved to straddle Simon. You could have sworn you saw Johnny and Gaz adjust themselves in sync when you leaned down to slowly lick the salt off of Simon’s chest. You threw back the shot of tequila with ease before taking the lime from Simon’s mouth with your own. With a self satisfied smirk on your face and the attention of all four men in the room you sat back up properly. “Anyone else want a turn?” Unfortunately nobody else would get a turn that night, Simon demanding they all get lost. You stood to let him physically push everyone out of the door, laughing at the chorus of ‘boos’ and complaints that you two received. 

When the door finally shut Simon whipped around and grabbed you by the hair, using his grip to push you to your knees with one hand and undo his fly with the other. “Think you’re cheeky huh? Think it’s funny to let ‘em think they get to put their mouths on you, just to be a fuckin’ tease and make ‘em all watch you take the shot instead?” His words surprised you for a moment, he wasn’t mad that you implied his team could put their mouths on you…oh no, he was pissed because you made them think they could and then denied them. The realization sent chills down your spine, but before you could get any words in either to tease him or poke at the idea of him sharing you Simon was forcing your mouth open. “C’mon luv, open up for me. You were so eager to use your mouth earlier. Let’s see you do it again yeah?”

Simon laid his leaking tip on your tongue when you stuck it out for him. You looked up at him with those pretty doe eyes you knew made him crazy as you slowly took more of him into your mouth. The taste of his pre-cum mixing with the aftertaste of the shot you had just taken caused you to let out an involuntary moan. As if acting on some primal instinct Simon pushed your head as far down as you could go, 3/4 of the way his pushing was met with resistance “come on sweet’eart…swallow. Swa-yeah, attagirl.”” You manage to get those last few inches down your throat, your nose brushing against those pretty blonde curls at his base. Your hands reached up to brace yourself on his thighs as he started to move your head, using your mouth like his own personal toy. The gagging and slurping sounds that emitted from you were downright filthy, and your looked matched the sounds. Saliva covering your chin and dripping down onto your chest. After what felt like forever but was probably just a few minutes or so your boyfriend pulled you off of him with a satisfying ‘pop’. Your chest heaved as you attempted to catch your breath. Simon let go of your hair and moved to sit back on the couch, you didn’t dare move a muscle.  Once he was comfortable he looked you over and patted his lap. The simple non-verbal command and you stripping your bottoms and moving to straddle his lap.

You were already soaked and both of you knew it. “You this fuckin’ wet just from sucking me off dove?” His words were accompanied by the feeling of his finger sliding across your slit, gathering up some of the wetness that leaked from you. The gentle touch alone had you bucking your hips, an action that was quickly halted by Simons free hand gripping your thigh. “Wait” His voice dark and rough and had that ’don’t fuck with me’ tone that made your stomach do backflips. You watched with wide eyes as Simon brought his finger to his lips and sucked your slick off of his finger. “Fuckin’ divine you know that luv?”  Your response came in the form of a desperate whimper and another attempt to grind your aching cunt against his cock. It was right there, so close and still wet from your saliva.

Simon let out a chuckle before lifting your hips a little so he could properly position himself, lining up with your hole in a practiced manner that came from far too much couch sex. He helped you slowly lower yourself down onto him, letting you accommodate to the stretch. “Thats it. Thats a good girl, just like that,” When you were properly sat you both let out a shuddery breath. No matter how many times he fucked you his size was still a shock to your body that you had to adjust to, but once you were ready your hips became an unstoppable force. Not that Simon would want to stop the way you bounced up and down, moved back and forth, greedy walls gripping him and trying to suck him back in every time you pulled up even a little. It was absolute heaven for both of you and it was bringing you closer to your orgasm faster than you cared to admit. 

Your moans raised in pitch the closer you got to your orgasm “Simon..Si..Simons please im-“ He covered your mouth with his hand quickly. “Not yet, please…just a little longer, wanna fuck your cunt for just al little longer. You can wait cant you doll?” You whined in protest but nodded nevertheless, you couldn’t say no to him. Especially when his eyebrows scrunched together and his eyes squeezed shut as his hips rammed up into yours, the feeling making you borderline delirious. Simon didn’t tell you that you were allowed to cum yet , at least not verbally. Instead he reached a hand down between your bodies to rub at your poor sensitive and neglected clit, it was too much. The please making your head spin and hips falter. “S’okay dove, let go for me.” Thats all you needed to absolutely fall apart on top of your boyfriend, his own Orgasm following soon after.

One satisfying and much needed shower later Simon was tucking you into bed and pulling you close to him. As you drifted off to sleep you could hear him mutter about how well you did and how good you could be for his boys.

[certified-sleep-deprived]

hi! I was wondering if you could do an Agatha harkness x reader comfort fic for self harm? it's totally okay if not!! 🫶🫶

Hiya!! I wouldn't mind at all! As someone who used to struggle with SH, it was kind of nice to write a hurt/comfort for it. If you guys need someone to talk to, my dms are open :')

I have been very slow with this because of tech week, performances for a play, and then getting sick, sorry!! I'm getting to all my requests I promise yall. This one was a bit shorter than I intended but I still enjoyed writing it

°Agatha with a s/o who sh's°

Warnings/notes: mentions and descriptions of self harm, blood, angst, hurt/comfort, soft Agatha for the win

She couldn't believe what she was seeing. You, there on the floor of the bathroom, were mid-way cutting your wrist with a knife as you stared at her with wide eyes. Your arm was covered in dripping blood as it started pooling on the floor. Tears spilled out of your eyes as she kneeled down beside you on the rough, tiled floor.

Her hand gently placed itself over yours that held the knife, and she softly pried it from your blood soaked fingers. You let her do so, as you know you couldn't fight her.

The knife was placed in the sink, and she took your injured arm in both her hands, not seeming to care about being covered in your blood.

"Agatha-"

"Why...? Why would you..." She cuts you off.

She is at a loss for words as she chokes on a sob, tears of her own spilling down her face. Guilt hits you like a freight train, and you hang your head in shame, and you try to take your arm away from her but she doesn't relent. She grabs your hips and uses them to pull you into her lap so she can have an easier time cleaning up your wounds.

The next ten or so minutes as she cleaned the cuts was full of winces and gasps of pain as wet paper towels and peroxide dragged and seeped into your cuts; it felt like acid was burning at you when the peroxide was used to clean any dirt. As soon as she was done cleaning your cuts, she made sure to press gentle kisses to every single one of them, like a dog would to its own wounds. She wraps your arm in moisturizing medicine and gauze to prevent it from opening or drying out overnight.

As you attempt to get up, she doesn't let you, but instead she picks you up and brings you to the bed you two share. She places you in a sitting position, and you can't meet her gaze the whole time. Noticing this, her voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

"Doll, look at me, please?"

She tilts your chin up, and she sees the redness of your face and the glassy look of your eyes that mirrored her own. All that is in your gaze is guilt and pain, and her heart aches at the sight. You try your best to avoid her gaze, but it's impossible with how close she is holding your face to hers. A thumb gently rubs your cheek, and instinctively you lean into her hand with fresh tears flowing out of your eyes. The same thumb wipes some of them away with tenderness.

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to, but know I'm not going anywhere. Okay?"

You nod at her words, and you take a deep breath before speaking to ground yourself.

"Its just... shit has been so stressful lately with my job making me stay later and raising my workload, all the deadlines, and then seeing someone from years ago who I had a falling out with today didn't help."

She looked you in the eye the whole time you were speaking, tentatively listening.

"I haven't cut in so long, but I relapsed just like that" you say with a snap of your fingers.

"How could I let myself slip". You weep for your relapse.

Her mouth opens as if she was going to say something, but no words come out. Not like they could as you spoke again before she could get the chance.

"I'd understand if you want to leave or anything. I won't judge or blame you."

~~~~~~

...what?

Her expression changed from that of a gentle one, to very confused as her nose scrunched up. Before you could get on a rambling train, she pulls your face to hers for a gentle kiss. It didn't last long before she pulled away and made you look her in the eye.

"Now why would I do that? You think I would really leave you, especially in a time where you need me?"

She continues holding your face in her hands, rubbing your cheekbones with her thumbs in a gentle caress.

Your gently pushed down on your back, and she lays on her side, facing you. A hand places itself on your bandaged arm and lightly strokes the length of it.

"I'm here for the long haul, no matter what happens. Im going to be here for you in your highs and your lows, darling. I won't leave because of you... harming yourself like this."

Your heart swells at her words, and you can't help the guilt train that hits you in the face, because she's staying with you even with your flaws. Agatha seems to have noticed the shift in your already guilty expression, as she cups the underside of your jaw, forcing you to look at her.

"Dont let anything eat away at you. Everyone had their was of... destressing, I guess you can put it. It isn't a way I endorse, but I can help you find a better way. That's why I'm here."

She looks at you with glassy eyes, brushing some hair out of your face tenderly. Your gaze flicks down to her lips and back up. She does the same and smiles, catching your gaze again as her lips find their way to yours. Her usual rough nature is pushed aside in this moment, a soft side reserved only for you as she tries to ease your pain.

"Let me be your shoulder to cry on. Don't do this when you have a bad day, come to me. I feel like such an awful girlfriend for not even noticing how you were feeling. I've been so wrapped up in mentoring Billy lately that I haven't even spared any of my time for you..."

She traces her fingers along the underside of your jaw as she talks. You grab her hand and you trail kisses from her finger tips up her arm before speaking again.

"Don't feel awful. I know how much he needs your help. The boy is just finding out who and what he is, so I understand. I'm just used to hiding my feelings and masking them, so that's likely why you didn't pick up on anything initially."

You look eachother in the eyes before embracing again, occasional sniffles and sobs escape you two before you separate and Agatha gently pushes you to lay down on the bed.

"Let's get some sleep, bunny. It's been an emotional night for us, so let's rest."

All you can manage is a nod as sleep starts to creep up on you like a fox. Agatha slips into the bed beside you and pulls you close so she is spooning you. The last thing you hear before you fall into slumber is a soft 'goodnight' from behind you, and then a tender kiss on your head.

[winchesterwild78]

Heaven

Master List

Characters: Dean x Reader (wife), Sam x Reader (in-laws)

Warnings: Mention of deaths, nothing too major, some fluffy stuff 

A/N: I got this idea from a post I saw @jackles010378 post. Dean has died and he meets you, his wife on the bridge. When Sammy comes, you give them their time. 

Very short story 

All work is my own, don’t take it. Reblogs and shares are welcome 

Minors DNI 18+ 

I sat on the porch of the bar with Bobby, drinking a beer. The two of us reminisced about how we met, and how he introduced me to Dean. 

It was love at first sight for me. Who wouldn’t fall for the one and only Dean Winchester. He was an amazing hunter, an incredible protector, and damn was he good looking. His jeans fit him perfectly, his shirt was just tight enough to show off his toned chest, and his biceps and bowed legs made me weak in the knees. 

Dean had so many walls up when I first met him. Who could honestly blame him? He had been through hell and back and shouldered so much from a young age. I never got the chance to meet John, and that was a good thing, because honestly, I definitely had some choice words for him. 

The day Dean finally let some of his walls down, was after a particularly hard hunt. I had gotten hurt and Dean was angry. At first I thought he was angry with me, but quickly I realized he was angry at himself for letting me get hurt. “Dean, it wasn’t your fault. It was mine. It’s not your responsibility to protect me all the time. Going left when I should have gone right was my choice, and my choice alone.” I remember touching his chest and feeling his heart beat wildly and his breath hitch. The look in his eyes had me holding my breath, and then he kissed me.

That was almost ten years ago. We had been through so much together, and after that night, we were inseparable. Dean and I had sex that night. No, it wasn’t making love or taking our time. It was primal and full of need and desire. It was raw, messy and loud. All the years of hunting together, the tension that had built and the angst from the hunt, just poured out in between those sheets that night. 

Dean took me in ways I’d never been taken, and I fell deeper in love with him. I was sure the morning light would bring regret from Dean, but I was wrong. The next morning when I woke up in his arms, he told me he didn’t want anyone else but me. We had been together ever since. 

About a year after that night Dean and I got married. We tried to have children, but it wasn’t in the cards for us. The biggest reason, I died in a car accident about a year ago. 

Dean tried to make a deal to bring me back, but no demon would deal with him. Jack let me go back and see him, I begged him to move on. Jack gave me 24 hours to be with Dean to say our goodbyes. We spent the whole time together, most of it in bed. We made love, over and over again, and Dean took pictures of the both of us together. He said he wanted to make sure he had pictures to hold on to if he couldn’t hold me. 

When it was time to say goodbye, Dean kissed me and told me he’d see me soon. I told him I didn’t want to see him too soon. “Dean, please move on. Live your life. Fall in love again, and have those babies we wanted. You deserve that, Dean. I want that for you. I love you.” Dean cupped my face, “Baby, I don’t want anyone else. You’re it for me. I love you, Y/N.” He kissed my lips one last time and then it was time for me to go. 

When I got to Heaven and Jack had taken over, I ran into Bobby. Seeing me was met with a mixture of excitement and sadness. He knew since I was there, that meant Dean was alone. Bobby pulled me into a big hug, “Hey, baby girl. I wasn’t expecting you here so soon.” “Yeah, I was in a car accident, I was hit by a truck running a red light. Imagine that, a hunter dying in a car accident and not on a hunt.” 

I made my rounds seeing loved ones and visiting different places in Heaven. Jack appeared on one of my walks, “Hey, Y/N. Go to the bridge. You have a visitor.” I looked at Jack oddly, but started to walk towards the bridge. As I approached I saw her…Baby. The beautiful, sleek, black car that held so many memories for Dean and me. Then I saw him, leaning against the side.

A soft gasp leaving my lips, “Dean.” He turned and looked at me with a smile on his face, “Hey sweetheart.” I ran to him and leaped in his arms. “Dean! I’ve missed you so much baby.” He looked exactly the same, strong jaw, beautiful green eyes, strong arms and so incredibly handsome.

He pulled me tight and close to him, “I’ve missed you too, sweetheart. So much.” “Dean, what happened? Why are you here so soon?” Dean sighed, “It was a hunt gone wrong, we saved the kids, but I misstepped and ended up impaled on a piece of rusty rebar. It went right through me.” 

A tear slipped out, “Oh Dean, I’m so sorry baby. As much as I love that you’re here I know Sammy misses you.” “Yeah, I’m sure he does, but he’s got Eileen and I’m betting he’s going to marry her. You would have loved her. She’s so good for him.”

I smiled softly, “Well maybe he will get out of the life and they live a normal life.” He smiled and nodded, thinking about his baby brother getting out of the life and living the life he deserved.

Dean and I spend the rest of the afternoon talking and catching up. We climbed in Baby and went for a drive. 

The windows rolled down, music up, Dean’s hand in mine and me  sitting next to him. This was definitely Heaven. 

Dean parked the car and had me slide closer to him. His lips on mine and hands in my hair. “God I missed you sweetheart. It’s been too long since I’ve felt your lips on mine. I’m so sorry we never had those babies we wanted. We would have made some beautiful kids.” Dean chuckled. 

I cupped his face, “Dean, it’s okay. I had you and that was enough. Besides, if we had kids and I died, you would have been left with them to raise alone. Now with you gone, who would have taken care of them? My life with you was incredible. With or without children. I had you, and you were enough.”  

“You were enough too, sweetheart. More than enough. I feel so incredibly lucky to have you as my wife. I love you.”

A few minutes later we slipped into the backseat to make up for lost time. It was incredible and felt even better than I remembered. A few hours later we were dressed again, kissed and slipped back into the front seat. 

Dean put the car in drive and we drove towards the bridge again. We climbed out of the car and he leaned against the door, pulling me into his arms. My back was to his chest and his arms wrapped around me tightly..

We talked about everything and then silence. Dean and I could always be with each other in comfortable silence. He just held me. An occasional kiss to my neck or head. 

As the sun was starting to set, Dean looked up and smiled. I looked over to where he was and saw Sam. “Hey Sammy.” Dean said with a slight chuckle. “Hey Dean, Y/N.” 

Dean’s arms let me go and I walked over to Sam and hugged him. Then Dean pulled him in for a hug. I smiled when I saw the brothers embrace. 

Sam began telling us about his life after Dean died. What felt like minutes to us was over 40 years on Earth. 

Sam told us he left the life, went back to Stanford and became an attorney. He and Eileen got married and had a little boy they named Dean. Dean smiled when he heard that. Then he told us he died as an old man surrounded by his family. 

Dean beamed with pride. Sam was Dean’s first son and everyone knew it. I kissed Dean and hugged Sam. “I’m gonna let you two catch up. I’ll meet you later at Harvells, Dean.” 

Dean pulled me close, “I love you, sweetheart.” “I love you too, Dean.” As I started to walk away I turned and looked back at my husband and his baby brother. They smiled and nodded at me. I knew they needed time together. 

I had plenty of time left to spend with Dean and in his arms. After all, this was Heaven. 

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@mandee7

[ducktoo]

First love…till not?

Aespa’s Giselle x M!Reader

Note: uhhh this is gonna be some angst stuff

You knew it was coming.

It was inevitable, really. The moment you felt the coldness settle between you like a frigid barrier, a silent warning that all was not well.

This wasn’t what you imagined when you thought of love as a kid, all those times you ran across the playground with her, climbing trees and scrabbling through dirt together, shoulders bumping and laughter rising. Those were the days when the world felt simple, like it was just you and her against everything else. But somewhere along the way, things changed.

She changed.

Each day felt like a new level of hell with her, a twisted game of push and pull that you never signed up for. The little comments that once felt like playful teasing morphed into daggers aimed right at your heart.

“Are you really going to wear that?” she'd scoff, eyeing your outfit with disdain. “You know I can’t be seen with someone who dresses like they’ve just rolled out of bed.”

You tried to laugh it off, but the sting lingered.

And then there were the late-night texts, the ones that should have been sweet but instead came wrapped in barbs.

“You’re still at home? Wow, I figured you’d have outgrown that loser phase by now.” She’d dismiss your attempts at conversation with an eye-roll emoji, as if your thoughts were nothing more than noise.

But it didn’t stop there. Every time you shared an accomplishment, her reaction felt like a punch to the gut.

“Nice job, I guess. But did you really think you’d be the best? Get real.” The first time it happened, you’d been so proud of yourself. Now? It just made you feel small, insignificant.

And it wasn’t just the words. Her actions stung too.

When you invited her to your family’s gatherings, she’d show up late, tossing off excuses with a smirk, leaving you to face your relatives alone while they questioned your choices.

“You’re not going to let them set you up with anyone, right? I mean, look at you,” she’d say, and you’d feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

When you confronted her about it, you’d been hopeful, thinking maybe she just didn’t realize how her words affected you.

“Aeri, it hurts when you talk to me like that,” you’d say, voice trembling slightly. But instead of a comforting response, she’d laugh, brushing you off.

“It’s just how I am. If you can’t take a little heat, then maybe you shouldn’t be so sensitive.”

Every insult chipped away at your self-esteem, leaving you feeling raw and exposed. You found yourself hesitating to share anything with her, fearing her reaction would cut you deeper. Wasn’t love supposed to lift you up? Instead, she made you feel like you were constantly on the edge of a cliff, teetering between despair and defeat.

The breaking point arrived like a thief in the night. You were sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when Giselle plopped down next to you, scrolling through her own feed. “Why do you spend so much time staring at that? It’s embarrassing to watch,” she said, her tone dismissive, like she was talking to a child.

“Just catching up on things,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, but she rolled her eyes, the frustration bubbling up inside you.

“Just admit it—you’re wasting your life on this junk. You should be out doing something worthwhile instead of living in your phone.”

And that was it. That was the moment everything fell into place—the endless string of insults, the constant belittling, the nagging voice in your head that told you you were never good enough. You were exhausted, drained from the battle of trying to please her while she tore you down.

“Why do you talk to me like this?” you finally asked, voice soft but strained. “You… you didn’t used to. We didn’t used to be like this.”

For a moment, a flash of something crossed her face—surprise, maybe. But it was gone before you could even grasp it. She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Maybe you’ve just stopped living up to expectations. People change, you know. Or did you think you'd be the same forever?"

And there it was, her words hanging in the air like poison. You could feel your grip slipping, whatever shred of patience you’d been holding onto breaking apart. It felt like all those memories—the good ones—were slipping out of reach, fading like distant dreams.

With a deep breath, you gently pried her hand off your wrist, letting it drop. "I loved you, Aeri. So much. But… this isn’t love anymore. It can’t be."

For a moment, the silence was unbearable. She just looked at you, her gaze flickering between a hundred emotions that she was probably fighting to hold back.

But you couldn’t stay. Not this time. Without another word, you turned, letting the pain settle in your chest as you walked away. You didn’t look back—couldn’t look back—because if you did, you weren’t sure you’d be able to keep going.

And as you stepped out into the open air, the weight of it all came crashing down, the memories, the love, the heartbreak.

It was over.

-

The days after the breakup passed in a blur. It was like walking through a fog where time lost meaning, and every step felt heavier than the last. You’d try to distract yourself, burying your head in anything that didn’t remind you of her—work, friends, even old hobbies you’d forgotten about.

But she was everywhere, haunting your thoughts like a ghost you couldn’t shake.

Every morning felt like waking up with a hollow ache, like something vital had been ripped away and left behind a void. You’d lie there, staring at the ceiling, and the thought of her would drift in, unbidden. You’d remember the warmth of her laugh, the way her eyes used to light up, the small things you’d loved about her before everything went cold. But then, as always, the memories of her words would resurface—the cutting remarks, the icy looks, the way she seemed to take joy in tearing you down. It was a twisted mix of love and hurt, a scar too deep to simply fade.

Yet, every time you felt the familiar ache start to ease, you’d see something that reminded you she’d moved on faster than you could even breathe. A passing rumour, a social media post, or friends mentioning her out at parties, laughing and smiling like she hadn’t lost a thing. It felt like a punch to the gut every time, like she’d left you struggling while she skipped off, unbothered.

One night, as you were out with friends, someone casually mentioned seeing her with someone else, some guy you vaguely remembered from school. “They looked close,” your friend said offhandedly, not knowing the silent chaos those words set off inside you. You forced a smile, tried to shrug it off, but inside, it felt like reopening an old wound. She had already moved on, it seemed. To her, whatever you’d had was just another chapter easily closed.

But for you, it wasn’t that simple.

You’d thought you’d hate her for it, for how quick she seemed to erase you from her life. But all you felt was numbness—a hollow ache that refused to fade. You wanted to forget her, to move on as easily as she had, but that scar ran too deep. It was the kind of hurt that sat heavy in your chest, that kept you awake at night, wondering if you’d meant anything to her at all.

-

For Giselle, it was different.

She had always been good at compartmentalizing, at locking away her emotions somewhere they couldn’t hurt her. To her, breaking up felt like ripping off a bandage—quick, clean, and necessary. She had convinced herself that it was better this way, that maybe her words hadn’t been that harsh, that maybe you just weren’t strong enough to handle her. It was easier that way, to justify it as your fault.

The first few weeks were easy enough. She threw herself into her life, meeting new people, going out more, laughing louder, living harder. To anyone watching, she seemed fine—more than fine, even. But every so often, in the quiet moments, she’d feel the echo of your absence, a strange emptiness that crept in like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

She would scroll through her phone, accidentally stumbling upon old photos of you and her, looking so carefree, so close. Her thumb would hover over the screen for a second, maybe two, before she would snap out of it, closing it out and shoving the memories back down. Those images, those memories—they belonged to a time that was over, she reminded herself.

You were just someone she’d grown out of, that was all.

But as the months went on, that hollow feeling gnawed at her more than she wanted to admit. She’d be at a party, surrounded by people, laughing and smiling, but somehow, she’d feel like something was missing. She’d catch herself looking for you in the crowd, expecting to see your familiar face, only to be met with strangers. She’d brush it off, remind herself that she’d made the right choice, that she’d only been honest with you, even if the truth hurt.

But every so often, in the quiet of her room, she’d find herself staring at her reflection, wondering if she’d been too harsh, if she’d let go of something too quickly. She hated admitting it, even to herself, but there was a part of her that felt like she’d lost more than she wanted to.

-

As for you, time passed, but the scar remained. You’d tried moving on, had even gone out on a few dates here and there. But no one quite fit, no one felt like home the way she had. You were left with memories that haunted you, moments that hurt to remember but felt impossible to forget. You knew, deep down, that she wasn’t the same girl you’d grown up with, that the person you’d loved was long gone.

And yet, the weight of it sat heavy, like an invisible chain holding you back.

You stopped going to the places you used to frequent together, stopped listening to the songs you both loved. You thought distance would help, that if you could just put enough space between you and her memory, you’d finally be free. But the scar she left was too deep. The memories didn’t fade; they stayed with you, a constant reminder of a love that had turned bitter.

The worst part was, you realized, that you still loved her in some twisted way. The memories of her, of the good times before everything fell apart, were a part of you that you couldn’t let go. She was a scar you couldn’t heal, a ghost you couldn’t escape.

And maybe, just maybe, a part of you was afraid that you’d never be able to let her go entirely.

-

Giselle wasn’t sure what went wrong.

One moment, she was heading home after yet another bad date, heels clicking against the pavement as she clutched her phone, scrolling through a string of half-hearted messages from the guy who’d seemed like a good match on paper but ended up as anything but. He’d been polite, decent-looking, even funny at times. But the entire night had felt… hollow. Forced. Empty in a way she couldn’t quite put into words.

She barely noticed her own steps changing direction, her feet carrying her somewhere familiar, somewhere she hadn’t been in ages. And before she knew it, she was standing at the edge of the old playground where you and she had spent countless afternoons together, racing down slides and swinging as high as you could go, daring each other to jump off at the last second.

The place hadn’t changed. The swings still creaked in that comforting, rusty way, and the worn-out slide was the same as ever. A wave of nostalgia hit her, stirring something deep inside. She almost smiled, but the ache in her chest was too sharp.

What had she even been thinking, she wondered, letting you go like that? She’d told herself it was your fault, that you’d been too sensitive, too weak. She’d built up a wall, convinced herself she’d done the right thing. But standing here, she felt the cracks in that wall spreading, threatening to bring everything down with it.

Her hand brushed over the chipped paint of the slide, a strange sadness bubbling up. She could almost see you there, hear your laughter, the way you’d tease her for being afraid to jump off the swing while you soared through the air without a second thought. Those moments had felt so simple, so… real.

She realized, with a sinking feeling, that maybe she’d lost the one person who had ever truly understood her.

She glanced around the empty playground, a hollow sense of regret settling in. She had dated since then, had gone out with people who showered her with compliments and treated her well enough. But none of them had ever made her feel the way you did. None of them had seen her the way you had. She tried to shake the thought away, but it clung to her, a stubborn ghost that refused to let go.

-

Meanwhile, you were… okay. Better than okay, actually.

It hadn’t been easy, getting over her. For months, the weight of her memory had felt like an anchor, dragging you down, keeping you tethered to a past that hurt to remember. But somewhere along the way, you’d managed to shake it off, bit by bit. You’d thrown yourself into new things, surrounded yourself with friends who brought out the best in you. Life was lighter now, free of the constant ache that used to sit heavy in your chest.

You’d learned to enjoy your own company again, to go out without the shadow of her looming over you. You went to new places, met new people, tried things you’d never thought to try before. There were days you didn’t think of her at all, days when you felt like yourself again, like a weight had lifted and you were free to be whoever you wanted to be.

One night, while out with friends, you found yourself laughing so hard your stomach hurt, genuinely, for the first time in a long time.

It was strange, realizing you didn’t miss her anymore.

The ache had faded, replaced by a sense of peace, a quiet acceptance of what was and what could never be again. You were okay with it. You were happy, even.

You hadn’t looked back at the old playground in months, hadn’t let yourself go back to the places that reminded you of her. You’d finally put that chapter behind you.

And it felt…liberating.

-

Back at the playground, Giselle sat down on one of the swings, her hands loosely gripping the chains as she rocked back and forth, letting the memories wash over her. She could almost hear your voice, the way you’d laugh as you tried to push her higher, always challenging her to go beyond what she thought she could. Back then, she’d loved that about you. Now, she felt the loss of it, sharp and unrelenting.

She was supposed to have moved on. That’s what she’d told herself, what she’d wanted to believe.

But in the quiet of the night, alone in a place filled with ghosts of what used to be, she felt the sting of regret settle in her chest like a wound that wouldn’t heal. It was different from her other breakups, the kind that left her with nothing more than a faint memory, forgotten after a few weeks. This one hurt in a way she hadn’t expected, a scar too deep to ignore.

Maybe the both of you were childhood friends? Maybe the both of you were each other's first love? Maybe this was you two's first break up?

It hit her, suddenly, how much she missed you. How much she missed *everything*—the quiet talks, the shared laughs, the way you’d been there for her, even when she pushed you away. She’d tried to bury it, to pretend it hadn’t mattered, but now, sitting alone in the darkness, she couldn’t escape it.

And maybe, she realized with a bitter smile, this was the cost of letting someone who truly cared about you slip away. The echoes of what could have been lingered, haunting her with every swing of the chains, every quiet creak.

She wondered if you’d forgiven her, if you’d moved on the way she was supposed to. The thought hurt more than she wanted to admit, but she knew she’d never get an answer. You were out there somewhere, living a life she wasn’t part of anymore. And she had no one to blame but herself.

The playground was empty and silent as she rose from the swing, feeling the weight of her own choices settle in, unshakeable.

-

The tunes whistled from your mouth were light and airy.

You decided to take a break from your routine one evening, heading out to grab some groceries. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the streets as you walked down familiar paths, feeling at ease in the skin you were slowly rediscovering. Life felt good, lighter without the weight of your past relationship clinging to you. The grocery store was just around the corner, and as you pushed through the automatic doors, the familiar sounds of carts and chatter surrounded you.

You grabbed a basket and began making your way through the aisles, casually tossing in essentials—bread, eggs, some snacks for your late-night snacks. The mundane act of grocery shopping was comforting, a small, simple pleasure. But as you rounded the corner into the liquor section, you froze.

Giselle.

Arms full of booze, like she was gearing up for a rough night. She wore the same careless look she’d always worn, lips slightly pursed, eyes focused on the labels with a calculated indifference. And then, without thinking, you let out a small, involuntary laugh.

It was almost comical, really.

After everything, after the breakup and the haunting memories, here she was, acting like nothing had changed. Like she could just keep moving on in that easy, self-assured way of hers. But something about the way she clutched that last bottle, fingers trembling just slightly, caught you off guard.

“Hey,” you found yourself saying, before you could think better of it.

She looked up, eyes widening slightly, then narrowed into something unreadable. “What are you doing here?” Her tone was sharp, almost mocking. Same old Giselle. She gave a short, cold laugh, tossing her hair back as if to brush you off like you were nothing more than a fleeting inconvenience.

“Just… groceries.” You shrugged, feeling the awkwardness settle between you. But something kept you there, rooted to the spot. Despite everything, you couldn’t walk away.

She watched you for a moment, her mouth twisting into something almost like a smirk, but there was a crack in her facade that you could see now—a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. She tried to hide it, tried to carry herself with that same arrogant pride, but it was different. Her eyes looked hollow, a little desperate.

Without another word, you took some of the bottles from her, your hands brushing for a second. She didn’t resist, didn’t argue. She just looked away, almost embarrassed, and it was the most real she’d been in a long time.

“Let me at least walk you back,” you said, more of a statement than a question. "You don't want to just sleep on the street now, right?"

“Suit yourself,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Not like I need your help, though.” Her voice was cold, dismissive, but the flicker of pain in her eyes betrayed her. She’d always been too proud to show any weakness, to admit when she was struggling.

The walk was quiet, filled with that uncomfortable silence that you both knew too well. She stumbled once, catching herself on your arm. You didn’t say anything, just steadied her, feeling the weight of everything left unspoken between you. Her grip tightened, and you could feel her fingers digging into your arm, like she was holding on to something more than just her balance.

After a while, you realized where you were headed—a nondescript hotel on the edge of town, the kind that began to run down after a few years, the kind with rooms that can be comparable to a prison cell. She let go of your arm, a bit too quickly, her face flushing as she fumbled with her keys.

“Staying here?” You couldn’t keep the surprise out of your voice.

“Just for now,” she replied, jaw clenched, defiance in her eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Why not just… I don’t know, go home? Or crash at a friend’s place?” You tried to keep the curiosity out of your tone, but the question hung heavy in the air.

She scoffed, but it sounded hollow, forced. “Why would I? I can take care of myself. Don’t need anyone.” But her voice wavered, just slightly, and for a second, she looked like she might break. She didn’t want to admit it, but you could see it in her eyes—she was struggling.

You sighed, a mix of frustration and pity welling up inside you. “Aeri… what are you doing?” You shook your head, feeling the weight of everything come rushing back, all the hurt, the pain she’d put you through. “This is just… horrible. Why are you even putting yourself through this?”

Her eyes flashed, that old arrogance flaring up. “What, you think I need you to tell me what to do?” She crossed her arms, glaring at you, but you could see the hint of desperation beneath the bravado.

“Actually, yeah,” you shot back, feeling your anger rise. “Because this? This isn’t strength, Aeri. This is you hiding, pretending like you don’t need anyone. Like you didn’t just ruin everything because you couldn’t handle being honest.”

She laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter sound. “Oh, and you’re the expert now?” Her voice was mocking, but her eyes betrayed her. “You don’t get it. I did it for us. I thought… I thought if I made you think I was all you had, that you’d never leave.”

You felt your chest tighten, anger flaring up like a wildfire. “All you had to do was be real with me! All you had to do was let me see the real you, not this… mask you wore every day. You broke me down, Aeri. And for what? Some twisted idea that I’d stay because I had no choice?”

She looked away, her hands clenched at her sides, her mouth a thin, stubborn line. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think you’d actually go.” Her voice was barely a whisper, filled with a raw vulnerability you’d never seen before.

“Well, I did. Because you left me with no choice.” You felt the weight of those words, felt the pain they carried. “And now… it’s too late. I can’t go back to who I was with you. You broke that part of me, Aeri.”

She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but no words came. Instead, she just stood there, staring at you, her pride shattered, her arrogance stripped away. And for the first time, you saw her—really saw her—raw, broken, and alone.

You stepped back, letting out a shaky breath. “Goodbye, Aeri. Our love was great…until it wasn't. ”

As you turned to leave, you heard it—a faint, choked sound, like the start of a sob. You didn’t turn around, didn’t let yourself look back. But in that moment, you knew. She was crying, silently, the first real tears for everything you’d both lost.

And you walked away, leaving her with the fragments of a love that could never be whole again.

[luveline]

oh my god Jade I love coworker James!!! can we please see Remus and Sirius actually catching them !:)))

thank you for requesting! fem, 1.3k

James Potter is eating his lunch in peace when you find him in the staff kitchen. It was nice to eat in silence —he won’t get any of that now. 

“Hi, lovely,” he says. 

“Stop,” you say instantly, pulling the fridge door open to extract your lunch. James watches the curve of your shoulder, your arm, even your leg as you bend to grab your Tupperware before straightening out. 

“What are you having?” 

“Can’t we eat in mutual, agreeable silence?” you ask. 

James thinks about it, but when you’re around he can’t seem to keep his mouth shut. “No, maybe tomorrow, though.” 

“Brilliant.” 

You sit down —in the chair next to his, he’d like to point out, and not the one opposite— and open your Tupperware. You have a salad with what looks like diced tofu, grilled and honeyed, salt and pepper cracked over dressed leaves of kale and lettuce. 

“That looks good.” 

“You’re so healthy, I thought I’d outdo you,” you say, popping your foldable fork from the Tupperware lid. 

“You’ve managed it.” James is eating chicken katsu in wraps with a chilli sauce, lettuce, and finely sliced tomato. For his afters, he has three bags of crisps and a tangerine he’s going to share with you, two slices to one.

For a little bit, you both chew and say nothing. After a few minutes he reaches under the table to hold your thigh. A few minutes more and you’re letting your leg fall against him, smiling around bites of salad. 

“Do you wanna come over tonight?” he asks. 

“Maybe you should come to mine?” you ask, a shade of timid. “I know you’ve never been, it’s not nice as yours is, but at least Sirius won’t walk in on us.” 

James wonders if that means what he thinks it does, or if you’re just sick of being kissed and then shot away from. If it means the first thing, he really needs to ask if you want to be his girlfriend. Like, today. He’s worried you’re gonna say no, but he doesn’t want you thinking that intimacy from him is casual, because it really won’t be. 

“We can get dinner first?” he suggests, feeling along your knee gently. 

“Where do you want to go?” 

“Where do you want to, pretty girl?” 

You shift ever so slightly in your chair. “I don’t know. Where’s somewhere nice? Or do you want casual, like, the Chinese buffet by the cinema? It’s quite nice in there.” 

“I wanna go wherever you fancy,” he says. He’s flirting, or not flirting but affectionate, his voice velveteen as he ducks his head. He wants to find your hand and kiss it. He loves kissing the tips of your fingers, but it’s a sure fire way to get you to lean away from him. He knows you like it, evidenced by your smile, and by your willingness to give him your hand again the next time. “Do you think we can just–” he shouldn’t ask here, should he? He does it anyhow. “I want it to be a date. Like, a proper, actual date we own up to.” 

“Like we tell everyone we went?” 

“Not right now, not if you don’t want to. Just between us then. It’s a real date.” 

Something moves in your neck. You bite your lip but let it fall back into place as you say, “Yeah, okay. A real date.” 

“Okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah, okay,” you repeat. “I’d really like to.” 

“You would?” he asks softly. 

You turn in your seat to check the door, before leaning into his lap, and pressing a quick, careful kiss to lips, just a little to the side and up, your mouth aligned to the corner of his and the skin beneath his nose. 

“So, somewhere nice, then,” you say as you sit in your seat properly. 

James hooks his ankle behind the leg of your chair and drags you as close as he can possibly get you without yanking you into his lap. “I genuinely don’t care where we go, I just wanna go with you.” He gestures for you to come back, his hand rising to your shoulder. “I could kiss you stupid right here, I hope you know.” 

“That’s not funny,” you say, laughing despite yourself. 

He wasn’t making a joke, but he supposes he’s coming on strong. “I could, but I won’t. I’m too nice and you probably taste like kale anyways, which would be a punishment for me I don’t deserve.”

“Not the most flavourful vegetable, is it?” 

He laughs softly against your lips. One second he’s not going to kiss you here, and the next it’s as though his body decided all on its own. He smiles too much to kiss you properly, but a kiss is a kiss. Kissing you is like electric and fireworks, and honey and sugar, and all manner of cliche things. It’s like a long day ending. It’s like your heart and his are the same, for just those few seconds together. 

“You don’t taste so bad,” he murmurs. 

“You could’ve let me have a drink first.” 

“Where’s the fun in that? Come on, kiss me again.” 

“No, no, ‘cos I don’t like that spicy sauce you put on your wraps and–”

He laughs again, you’re laughing just as loudly, tipping your head to the side as he wades in from the other. 

The kitchen door opens with a whack. You spring apart from one another guiltily, too little too late as the man in the door makes his shock known. 

“Where you just–” Sirius grins like a Cheshire Cat. “You were kissing! I knew it! I can’t–”

“Well you didn’t know it, did you?” Remus asks, giving Sirius a dirty look. “I’ve only tried to tell you ten times that I think there’s something going on with them, they’ve been holding hands. But no, Sirius Black knows everything about James Potter, like I didn’t grow up with you both too.” Remus gives his boyfriend a good glower and makes his way to the fridge.

You immediately fluster, bringing a hand to your eyes as though that might undo what’s been done. 

“We weren’t kissing,” James says. 

“No, then what were you doing, James?” Sirius asks. 

“She was checking my teeth for sesame seeds?” 

“With her tongue,” Sirius says smugly. 

“Sirius, don’t.” Remus pulls his vitamin water from the fridge and remembers himself. “Sorry, Y/N. I’m not trying to embarrass you, and neither is Sirius.” 

“Well, she has nothing to be embarrassed about,” James says, laying his hand on your arm. 

“We really weren’t kissing,” you insist. Then, sighing in defeat. “If anything, James was kissing me and I was letting him.” 

“Yes, because you so often just let me do things to you,” he says, stroking the crook of your elbow with his thumb.

“I knew it,” Sirius says happily, smirking like a fiend as Remus forces the vitamin water into his arms. 

“You did not.” 

“I was just trying to throw you off of the scent, Moony.” 

James meets your eyes, still wide with surprise. “I’m sorry. Uh… They won’t tell?” 

You tip your head. “Someone would’ve found out eventually, right?” 

Right? As in, we would’ve kept going, we’re going to keep dating, and eventually more than that? James will have to buy you a very big bouquet of flowers tonight, lest you not believe him. 

“I’m afraid so. At least that’s out of the way,” he says. 

You bring his hand to your chin. You don’t kiss it, but the action alone has butterflies like hornets bouncing around his stomach. Massive bouquet, he thinks. 

—

more coworker James

[foodtruckery]

oh my GOD you are so big brain the idea of stan resorting to prostitution when theyre trapped between dimensions and it forcing both of them to come to terms with their issues through what im sure would be a really ugly argument

why am i now imagining ford looping the way stan's voice sounded through his head. wrecked and strained and ford's stupidly big brain is happily filling the gaps in for him about what stan did to sound like that. all the gritty details of imagining stan getting on his knees for someone, how rough it mustve been for him to have slightly red eyes. did they pull on stans hair? was he nothing but a willing hole, relaxing his throat to let them in? or did he actively reciprocate? did he run his tongue along the underside of their cock and hum something meaningless just for the vibration?

and then at some point, those visualizations start veering wayyy to close to fantasies for fords comfort when he starts imagining stan kneeling in front of him. his hand is stans hair, yanking him deeper. stan looking up at him with tears pricking at the corner of his eyes from the effort. stan moaning for him just from the feeling of ford's cock shoved down his throat-

i also feel like with a multiverse quite literally endless, it might in the long wrong help ford and stan get more comfortable when it comes to their feelings for each other. hard to draw a line at incest when you see what looks like a living water fountain banging a dishwasher or some other crazy shit like that

(also please dont feel pressure to answer asks fast! youve got your own life and your own responsibilities and theres no rush to get to anything i send you i just like to chat :D)

-🐶

MY FRIEND!! thank you for being patient with me! the last week and a half have been WILD and i have been chomping at the bit to get to my ask box! i'm sorry it's taken so long to get to this (and tbh i had kiiiind of hoped i would be done with this piece so i could share when i responded but fuck it! we'll get there! i wanna talk!) but i need you to know that this fuckin ask has absolutely been fueling me through the like. 6600 words i have written of this damn idea so far hahaha. so in exchange for all the lovely inspiration, i will tell you a bit about what i will hopefully be able to finish soon-ish here! cause like. YES. absolutely just love the idea of ford slowly figuring out what's going on and getting caught up on all the little details -- like what the fuck does the dick look like on a dishwasher, right???? how the hell did stan even figure out how to get something like that off?? is the technique applicable to ford's dick???? and honestly, i haven't delved as far into that whole train of thought as i had originally planned to (and might go back and add to it, who knows!) so i just really LOVE coming back to this ask and ruminating on all of THAT.

not to say that we aren't getting at least a LITTLE bit of it, of course! for you, 🐶, a snippet of what i've got so far because this bit in particular was absolutely inspired by this ask!

[harringtonstilinski]

The Alchemy Pt2 - Eddie Munson (Smut)

Author: @harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader Word Count: 3,793 Warnings: fluff, micro angst Requested: no | yes; i'm saying yes on this 'cause y'all wanted a pt2, lol Smut: no | yes; oral (m+f receiving), protected piv (m+f), A/N: Hi, friends! Here's Pt2! For the schmutty scene, I grabbed some descriptive words/scenes (can't think of the word i'm looking for, lol) that I've read in books. Let me know what you thought! If you like this, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

eddie munson masterlist

eddie munson playlist

FIVE AND A HALF MONTHS LATER

The past five and a half months that you and Eddie have been together has been nothing short of amazing. He treats you better than Steve ever did, takes you out on dates more than Steve did, and even does things that you want to do or talk to you about things you seem interested in.

Of course, you do all that right back for Eddie, as well. You sit and listen to him read off the newest campaign he’d written for Hellfire, you listen intently to him ramble on about new things he’s interested in, and you even try new things that he seems interested in.

You look at Eddie like he’s the most gorgeous person on the planet, and he looks at you the same exact way. The love you two have for each other grows by the second. You can’t even think about the classwork in front of you because that metal loving boy of yours infiltrates your mind.

“Hey,” you heard someone whisper. Looking around, your eyes caught Steve’s next to you. “Pay attention or else you’re gonna get called on.”

“Mr. Harrington,” Mrs. O’Donnell said. “Care to share what you’re speaking about with the rest of class?”

Steve looked at Mrs. O’Donnell, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. As he stammered, you rolled your eyes, and raised your hand and said, “Mrs. O’Donnell, he was just reminding me about picking my brother up after school.”

“NIce to see you two getting along. Now, please, a little less talking, a little more paying attention.”

You and Steve said yes ma’am at the same time before going back to your respective notes. When you began doodling again, you looked up at seeing a face in the window of the door, an instant smile blooming on your lips. Looking at the clock, you sighed. “Five more minutes,” you mouthed, not wanting to get in trouble my Mrs. O’Donnell.

The person that ended up getting into trouble was, in fact, Eddie.

“Eddie Munson,” she sighed. When she opened the door, Eddie stepped in a couple of steps. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, you know,” Eddie said, leaning his shoulder against the wall near him. “Just walking around during my free period. Thought I’d come by and see my lady.” He turned his head over his shoulder to look at you, giving you a smirk. 

Covering your face with one of your hands, you looked down at your desk, whispering, “Oh, my god,” before hearing everyone in the room chuckle at your embarrassment.

Yes, Eddie embarrassed you a lot, and you let him know every afternoon when you showed up at his house. Did you embarrass Eddie? Hell no, only because nothing really embarrasses Eddie, but you’ve thought about it once or twice.

Before you could actually fall from your desk and die right on the spot, the bell rang and you sighed a breath of relief, but as you gathered your stuff, you heard Steve whisper your name. “Hmm?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Can we talk?” he asked, looking a little… dejected? What could he be feeling sad about?

“Uhh, sure,” you said. “Just let me put my stuff in Eddie’s van and then I’ll meet you at your car?”

“Actually, I was kind of hoping you’d just meet me there first.”

“Oh.” You furrowed your brows just the slightest. “Yeah. Let me, uhm… let me tell Eddie what’s going on.”

Steve nodded before standing from his desk, notebook and pencil in hand, to walk out of the room. You followed after a moment and a head shake later, finding Eddie waiting for you at your locker.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiled.

Chuckling, you twisted the lock on your locker to the correct numbers as you responded, “Okay. Keep that nickname for your guitar,” you said, placing your school belongings into their homes. Closing the door, you looked at Eddie with all the love and affection you could muster. “I think I’ll stick with the nickname you unknowingly gave me.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

Wrapping your arms around Eddie’s neck, you didn’t care that you had a small audience, and by audience; almost the whole of Hellfire. “Love. Baby. Babe. My love.” Placing your lips on his, you sighed, waiting to do this all day.

Sure, the two of you kissed, but it wasn’t sweet like the one you were currently sharing. The ones you’d shared during the day were more chaste; short and sweet. Not sweet; long and unmoving.

At the sounds of all the kissy sounds and ooh’s and aah’s coming from the rest of the group, you split apart and turned your heads to face your friends, Eddie’s voice cutting through to say, “Okay, you’re all dead in the next campaign.”

When the group went quiet, you could see the horror in their eyes; they’d spent weeks building up their characters' healths and stats. They didn’t want to die within a couple of rolls of the dice. 

Looking up at Eddie, you ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’ll meet you at the van in a few minutes.”

“Why, what’s up?” Eddie asked, placing one of his hands on your cheek. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine, it’s just…” You paused for a moment, trying to put together the right words in the right order. “Uhm, Steve’s asked me to meet him at his car so we can talk. I’m not sure what he wants to talk about, though.”

Dropping his hand to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, all Eddie could do was look into your eyes. “You’re not…-”

“Oh, god, no!” you exclaimed. “I’m not taking him back. You have nothing to worry about. I love you.”

Softly smiling and bringing his hand to tuck a strand piece of hair behind your ear, Eddie continued to look at you. “Okay, sweetheart. And for the record; I love you, too.”

Smiling at your amazing boyfriend, you rose up to your tiptoes, placing a kiss to his lips. “You better or else I’m gonna expose your newest campaign to Hellfire and have them kick your sorry little ass.”

Placing a hand over his heart, Eddie feigned hurt. “You wouldn’t.”

As you place your heels back on the ground, your smile never faltering, you respond, “Yes, I would. Now, march your hot ass to your van, blast your favorite tape at the moment, and wait patiently for me, okay?”

“Okay, princess,” Eddie replied, cupping your cheek. He placed a sweet kiss to your lips before wrapping his arm around your shoulder, all but dragging you out of the school and to the parking lot. 

When you saw Steve looking down as he was leaning against his car, you couldn’t help but feel a little sad for him. I wonder what’s gotten him so down, you thought to yourself. Looking back up at Eddie, you kissed him before telling him you’d meet him at his van before walking over to Steve.

“Steve?”

The King himself looked up at you before quickly wiping at his eyes. Ever the comforting person that you are, you set your stuff down on the hood of his car and quickly made your way over to him, the both of you wrapping your arms around each other.

You let him silently cry on your shoulder for a few minutes before quietly asking, “What happened?”

Picking his head up, Steve whispered, “Nancy broke up with me. Turns out, she was cheating on me with Jonathan the last six weeks.”

“Oh, shit, Steve. I’m so sorry.” As his eyes met yours, you could see the question swirling within them. “Steve-”

“No, I know your answer, and I don’t expect you to dump Eddie to come back to me. I mean, I do want you to come back to me, but… as a friend, not a girlfriend. I miss you… a-as a friend.”

“Steve, it’s okay if you miss me like that, too. It’s just… I love Eddie, and honestly, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been with him. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy with you, too, but… there’s certain things that Eddie does that’s… different from you.”

“How’s he treating you?”

“I think you know that answer,” you chuckled.

The smallest of smiles appeared on his lips before he responded, “Like a princess.”

“Exactly.”

It was quiet between the two of you for about a minute before Steve said, “The way I should’ve treated you.”

“Steve-”

“No, let me get this out,” he said. “You’re an amazing girl, and I should’ve treated you a lot better than what I did right there at the end.”

“Your jealousy is what ended our relationship, Steve. You got super fucking jealous that I was trying to make time to spend with Eddie. I mean, you were hanging out with all your basketball friends, as well as Tommy H. and Carol. You never let me have free time to spend with my friends.”

Nodding along to your words, he agreed. “Yeah. I was a pretty big asshole, wasn’t I?” He chuckled at the end of his statement.

“You were. But I know that you can get back to the Steve that I fell in love with.”

Smirking at you, Steve said, “Thanks. For being there for me.”

“Steve, I’m still your friend, and I’ll always be here for you.” Giving him a hug, you welcomed the embrace you gave to him, feeling his arms going around your middle. Pulling away, you said, “I have to go. If you need anything, just call my line. You know my number.”

“Thanks,” Steve said again before getting into his car, watching you walk to Eddie’s van.

Once you got close enough, Eddie slid out from his seat to catch you as you jumped into his arms. He spun you around a couple of times before stopping to just hold you for a moment. Looking out over at Steve, he gave a curt nod, your ex-boyfriend giving one back before he drove away.

Setting you back down on your feet, Eddie’s hands rested on your waist as he looked you into your perfectly colored eyes. “How was your talk?”

“It was… good,” you said, a small smile creeping up on your face. “He just needed someone to be there for him.”

With furrowed eyebrows, Eddie asked, “What happened?”

“Uhm,” you said, taking a deep breath. “Nancy’s been cheating on him with Jonathan for the last two months. He also wanted us to be friends again, and came to the realization that he didn’t treat me the way you do. I told him I’d always be there for him ‘cause, ya’know… that’s just how I am.”

“And that’s what I love about you.”

You hummed, looking up at your loving boyfriend. “I’m starving. Wanna go to Benny’s? I got cash!”

“Where’d you get it?” Eddie asked, walking you around to the passenger seat, which Eddie has dubbed as your seat.

“Told my mom that I’d be home late, so she gave me cash.”

“What about your brother?”

Shrugging, you replied, “He has A/V Club today, so he’ll probably go to Mike’s house afterward and play some D&D.”

“Wait. He plays?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, nodding. “He loves it. He and his friends play in the basement of the Wheeler’s house. I think one of their campaigns lasted ten hours!”

“Holy shit. Sounds like one hell of a campaign,” Eddie smiled. “I would love to play with him and his friends one day.”

“You might!” you happily exclaimed. “I’ve been telling them about Hellfire, and of course the end of the year party last year was at our house, and he was telling me when you guys left that night that he wanted to be a part of Hellfire when he got into High School.”

“And he will. I’ll make sure of it.”

Chuckling, you replied, “Eddie, you’re gonna graduate by then.”

He shrugged. “You never know. Especially with Mrs. O’Donnell.” The roll of his eyes and snarl of his lip make your chuckle turn into a full blown laugh. Eddie smiled, himself, at seeing the happiness on your face. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, he said, “How about this; how about we go to the video store, pick out your favorite movie - yes, it can be a Disney movie - and then we’ll go home and watch it while snuggling up on the couch. What do you say?”

“Hmmm, I say that’s perfect,” you said, softly before placing your lips sweetly upon his.

~~~

What ended up with you and Eddie watching a sweet innocent movie turned into a full blown make-out session right there on the couch. You both were thanking your lucky stars that Wayne was already at work. 

You were straddling his lap, sitting up as straight as you could with Eddie’s hands splayed out on your back, your tongues and lips moving together in sync. His lips moved from your own to your cheek down to your jaw and then finally landed on your neck, where he worked your sweet spot.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair. “I love it when you do that.”

Unlatched his lips from your neck, he looked you in the eyes and said, “I love that I get to do this to you.”

Smiling, you brought your hands back to his cheeks, gently cupping them before replying, “I love that you love that you get to do that to me,” before kissing his lips once more.

Feeling Eddie’s slip under your shirt and up to your bra had you stilling for a moment, pulling back a little to look into Eddie’s eyes. The two of you hadn’t had sex yet, but he’d played with your nipples, and that’s as far as you would let him go. 

You wanted to have sex with Eddie, and he you, but neither of you voiced your thoughts on the subject. You thought that your make-out sessions and  it would just happen one day while the two of you were alone. Eddie wanted to have a conversation with you about it first because he didn’t want to feel like he was taking advantage of you.

Swallowing your nerves, you breathed a quiet, shuddering breath. “Eddie?”

“Yeah, princess?”

“Are we about to, uhm…”

Playing the hair by your ear before gently cupping your jaw, Eddie whispered, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, baby. Okay? There’s no pressure.”

“No, no, I-I… I want to.” Trailing your fingertips over his bottom lip, you watched as you did, thinking about your next words before saying them, something your grandma had taught you in your youth. “I’ve been wanting to, but I was just gonna let nature take its course with it. Like, I wasn’t gonna stop you or anything.”

Lightly chuckling, Eddie replied, “Well, I was wanting to talk to you about it first, but since you’re just wanting nature to take its course with us having sex, I’m not opposed to it,” before kissing you, passionately.

Feeling Eddie standing from the couch, you wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands went to your ass to keep you from falling as your lips went to town on his neck.

Next thing you knew, you heard a door shut before your back met the mattress. You looked up at Eddie, seeing nothing but love and warmth and lust and passion and all the other words that describe the word “love”.

Softly smiling, you brought your hands up to cheeks, softly cupping them as your thumbs gently rubbed across his skin. After a few seconds, you breathed, “Have I told you recently that I love you?”

Eddie quietly chuckled, looking down at a random spot on your shirt. He loved hearing those words fall from your lips. “Everyday for three months, my love.” Lowering himself to his forearms to not crush you, he added, “I hope I get to hear it everyday for the rest of my life.”

“Rest assured, Edward Wayne, you will.” Running your fingers through his curly locks, you kept the smile that he permanently put on your lips. “Now, make love to me, Eddie.  I want to feel all of you.”

Before you could even lift your head to press your lips to his, Eddie leaned his down and gently placed his lips on yours. Your lips moved in a sweet, slow, and loving sync while shedding each other’s shirts and your bra, but before either of you could shed from the waist down, Eddie leaned back on his legs and reached up to remove the guitar pick necklace he wore.

When he grabbed your hands to sit you up, you  tried to protest, but Eddie being Eddie, he didn’t want to hear whatever it was you were about to say. “No. I want you to wear this. It was my first pick that I ever received.”

“Eddie, I-”

“Baby, you mean the world to me, and I would love nothing more than to see your beautiful naked ass wearing nothing but this,” he continued, holding the chain by the ends in between the two of you. “I love you. You mean everything to me.”

With tears in your eyes, you moved your hair from your neck to over your shoulder just  before Eddie leaned forward to place the necklace around your neck, fastening it  in place.

“There,” he whispered. “It looks better on you anyway.”

You couldn’t help the emotion that was washing over you.  “Kiss me, you fool.”

Laughing, Eddie placed his lips on yours once again, laying you back down. Neither of you knew how much time had passed before he placed his forehead on yours, lightly panting from the makeout sessions you two just had.

“Eds?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Are we gonna have sex now?”

Letting out a breathy chuckle, Eddie looked at you while his hand trailed down  your sternum and belly to the button on your jeans. “Yes, baby. We’re going to have sex now.”

Popping the button of your jeans, Eddie leaned back up to unzip them before pulling material, as well as your underwear, down your legs, dropping them to the floor beside him. You reached forward, popping the button on his jeans as well before sliding his zipper down.

Getting off the bed, Eddie removed his jeans and boxers, his hard cock standing at attention. Smirking while reaching into his nightstand for a condom, he asked, “Like what you see, love?”

“Oh, I very much like what I see,” you said, sliding off the bed to kneel in front of him. Without another word, you grabbed his cock while looking into his eyes before dragging your tongue on the underside of his length, feeling the prominent vein pulse.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Eddie breathed. “You gonna take my cock in your mouth?”

Not giving an answer, you took him into your mouth, closing your eyes and letting out a soft moan before bobbing your head. Sure, you’d given blowjobs before but none that you enjoyed. Even though this is your first time giving Eddie one, you were actually enjoying it… and so was Eddie.

You’ve told him stories about your hair being grabbed, or the guy facefucking you when you asked him not to do it. So, as Eddie watches you do your thing, he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. Grabbing at his own hair, he leaned his head, letting out a soft, guttural “Ffffuuuuuuuucccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkk,” and before he could bust his load down your throat, he reached down and tapped your cheek. “Stand up, my love.”

Standing, you looked confused, inwardly telling yourself that you already fucked up.

At seeing the look on your face, Eddie cupped your cheeks, a soft smile on his face. “If I didn’t stop you, I would’ve come down your throat. I want to be inside your pussy when I do that.”

“Well, I guess you better get to it then,” you said, smiling cheekily.

“Oh, I will. But, first, I gotta taste you.” 

Before you knew it, while giggling,  your back met the mattress again, your legs spreading before a gasp left your lips at the feeling of Eddie’s tongue on your aching cunt. “Fuck, Eddie. Holy shit.” Your brain was going a million miles an hour as Eddie lapped and sucked and kissed your core. “Oh,my–” Your words were cut off as your release hit you out of nowhere.

As Eddie kissed his way back up your stomach to  your lips, all he could do was smile, and as he kissed you, you could feel it on your lips, as well as taste yourself on your tongue. “How was that?” he asked, that smile ever present on his face.

“Fucking amazing,” you breathed. “Now, stick that cock inside me and make me come again.”

Without missing a beat, Eddie looked at the foil package in his hands, tearing it open before rolling the condom down his length. Looking down at his length, Eddie grabbed it, guiding it to your entrance, pressing the tip of his cock gently into you as he looked into your eyes. Once you gave him a nod of approval, he guided his cock inside of you, both of you groaning at the feeling of each other.

“Damn, baby,” Eddie gritted out, trying to keep his breathing in check. “You feel fucking amazing.”

“Oh, my– fuck!” You couldn’t concentrate on anything let alone form words as his cock pounded into you, your back arching the slightest bit. “That’s it, Eddie-” Moan. “Just like that. Don’t stop, baby.”

Eddie could feel sweat start to form on his brow, his own grunts and moans mixing with yours. “Fuck, baby, I don’t think-” Moan. “I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer.” He could feel his balls start to tighten, his impending orgasm creeping up on him. “Yeah, I won’t last much longer.”

“Keep going,”  you breathed. “I’m almost there, I’m almost–” Your own orgasm cut off  your words, your walls tightening on Eddie’s cock as he rocked his hips one, two, three more times before his own orgasm hit.

While the two of you were coming down from your highs, the only things you heard and felt were both of your heavy breathing and Eddie’s lip on your shoulder before feeling his forehead rest on yours.

“I love you,” Eddie whispered.

As you opened your eyes, a soft smile danced on your lips, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks ever so gently before replying with your own whispered words, “I love you, too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2:  hi, friends! i'm so so sorry this took forever to get out. writer' block hit me like a brick! plus, i've been reading books like crazy, and i've gone in and out of depression episode. thanks for sticking around! let me know what you thought! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Notes: i'm trying to add the character masterlists and playlists onto all my one-shots from here on out! let me know if it makes it easier for y'all to back and choose!

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak​

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

Italics wouldn’t let me tag!

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski​.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on November 21, 2024

[5-puthyyy]

River of Life (Agatha x Rio)

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 10k

Summary:

“A gift?” She repeated, stepping forward. The dead witch’s protests were easily ignored now; Death’s only focus was Agatha. Agatha, smiling at her brightly, eyes as bright and wild as her hair.

“A gift. For you,” Agatha revealed, taking her own step forward. Her lips trembled slightly, maybe from the cold or maybe from her nerves, Death does not know. But what she does know is Agatha just killed someone for her.

“Me?” Death breathed out, eyes wide and completely hypnotised by the beautiful gesture done for her.

Agatha attempted to step even closer but realised this was as close as she could get. The tip of her nose was just inches away from Death’s, the proximity immediately causing a shiver to run up her spine. “For you…my love,” she breathed out in confession, eager for Death’s reaction.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Death is a simp and Agatha kills witches to court her.

(So also a simp)

WARNINGS! -- (18+ ONLY) SEXUAL CONTENT, ABUSIVE MOTHER (physical and emotional), KILLING AND DEATH

River of Life

The first time Agatha encountered Death was as a mere babe, her eyes piercing swirls of blue, reflecting the dark forest and bright skies in which she was birthed. Her mother knew not of what she was, of what her future held, of the raw, addictive power that would always be within her grasp. But she knew something. Whether it was a feeling, a thought, or a sinister energy, she knew there would be something tragic about her babe as she looked down at her with sweaty hair clinging to rosy cheeks.

“What have I done?” Evanora Harkness whispers, her breath ragged and dull eyes tired yet impossibly wide with a feeling she was far too familiar with. Fear.

Agatha did not know it yet; did not know Magick, the world she was about to be thrown in without guidance, with a mother hellbent on making her suffer for simply existing. An abomination is what Evanora would say to her, over and over again, a twisted lullaby Agatha vowed to never inherit to her own babe, if she wished to have one.

Agatha Harkness does not recall her encounter with Death, but Death could never forget the feeling, the beat, thrum and rhythm of Agatha’s soul surfacing. Death felt the tug and pull but the feeling was new; it was not another soul awaiting collection, not one near the brink refusing to let go. Agatha’s call, to Death, was the complete opposite of the usual despair and dread. And Death made it their mission to figure out why.

Agatha had been on this plane for just a year, perhaps a few weeks more, when she took her first life. Still, centuries later, she remembers nothing of it, just the story her mother used as she degraded her, berated her, villainised her throughout her youth.

The story is a simple one, but oh-so-tragic. Whatever hatred her mother harboured for her grew into something even deeper, darker. There was no going back after that, no saving grace; each time she held her baby in her arms, Evanora struggled to feel an ounce of affection.

How could she for the person that killed her mother?

“Heed my words, Mother. There is something sinister about this child. Please, for my sake, for your babe, keep your distance,” Evanora pleaded, giving her Mother all the warnings she could possibly give.

Her Mother simply smiled at her, warm and understanding. “This child is your child, as you are mine. What you are experiencing is common, my dear. Every mother holds a little contempt for their child. After all, your body has been altered, shared, used for creation. Your identity shifted. You are no longer just Evanora Harkness, no longer just a witch, a member of this coven. You are a mother, first and foremost. And that duty is both a curse, and the highest blessing that the Divine Mother can give.”

It happened the next moon. Agatha wailed in her grandmother’s arms throughout the entire morning, ignoring the Sun’s demand for smiles. Milk? She’d spit it out and wail louder. Sleep? She’d shake the tiredness out of her eyes and wail louder yet. A kiss, a laugh, a smile so desperate for a little quiet; all mere distractions that Agatha was far too clever to fall for. She wanted one thing, and one thing only.

Her grandmother forgot Evanora’s warning. No Magick, she had said. The power may be too much, we are yet to know what she is capable of, yet to understand the effect Magick may have on her.

But the babe was so loud, so demanding, so…so wicked it drove the sanest witch to madness. She had no choice but to attempt to soothe her with Magick, just a quick lulling spell to put her to sleep, the same spell she had used on Evanora as a child. It was the tiniest drop, barely that, not wanting to harm her granddaughter. But all it took was a drop. That’s all it ever took to corrupt.

The wailing stopped, and so did the forest, their little village. The birds seized their squeaking; cows their mooing; horses their whining. At last, she felt as if she could finally breathe. But she would have treasured it more if she knew it would be her last. She began to choke as she sucked the crisp air in, eye snapping open at the swaying trees above. Was there danger nearby? Is this a spell from a witch of her past hellbent on revenge? What could she do to protect the babe in her arms?

She slowly lowered her head in between gasps, dread filling the remainder of her soul the moment she locked eyes with her granddaughter. They were no longer the river blues she had grown to love, but a purple. A shade so vivid it appeared angry and hungry. Hungry for more, and it took–No, she took, took as much as she could get all while sucking on her tiny thumb. The orange power force trailed from fingertip to cheek, the stream turning purple, and she could do nothing to stop it, could do nothing but watch as the flesh of her hand slowly sucked tight until it was nothing but bone.

At the drop of her body, the wailing began again, but it was not from the babe. She remained silent, her need finally fulfilled. Until her eyes landed on green. The colour was bright, welcoming, beautiful on the dress that caught her attention. She was but a child, flapping her hands with wide eyes at the new colour, and she then let out a squeal as another appeared. A purple azalea, sprouting out from inside the green person’s palm.

Agatha made not a single sound as she slept through the night, the flower crushed in her hard grip.

Death was typically impeccable with timing. They could sense it all; when people were ready, what they needed to be ready, when to show up for them. It was always for them. It was never something Death had to think about because it was duty and that was all. That was their…well, not really life, as to have a life means having an end to it and Death has no end. 

It is a burden weighed on their mind at times, on the rare occasion that the world was quiet. A burden, they thought, to not simply have a job but be a job, full of heavy purpose but just one, one thing to do for eternity. Yet be cursed with a mind. A mind capable of boredom, of deeper thought, thoughts that question that very purpose. This cannot be it. There has to be more, there has to be an end, though Death has been here so long they don’t remember the beginning. 

Back to time; time is duty. That is all it has ever been. But it has been a decade since…since that night, and all Death could think about was time. Why does it move slower than a chewing cow?

“By God’s bones…” Death swore, grunting as they strolled through the mist into yet another old man’s bedroom. “What is holding you back, Sir?” They asked in a monotone voice, wanting to move to the next as soon as possible.

The grey man coughed, somehow sounding dry and wet at once, and croaked. “My wife…I cannot leave my wife,” That made it the eighth time Death had heard this one in a night, the twentieth of the day, and the hundredth of the week.

With a deep sigh, Death waved their hand. “Edith will live a happy, safe, and full life. She will be at peace, so you may be.”

He coughed again, lips quivering before he revealed the real reason he could not let go. “She cannot wed another,” Of course. That made it the thirtieth out of the hundred.

Death clenched their jaw in frustration, contemplating what would cross the line of professionalism. Anger took over in the end. “Fine. Watch over her while another man beds her. Weap and suffer for all I care. The door is open for you, good sir, when you realise your wife is not a possession but her very own being! I know, sir, that thought must be entirely shocking to you, but Edith did live a life before you, and she will live another, and another, so long as she weds wilting old men thrice her age like you!”

With that, Death cut through the threshold and lept into the clouds, falling, falling, falling until there was nothing. They landed in a pile of leaves but felt nothing of the impact. They felt nothing, always, destined to serve and nobody can truly serve if they feel. 

The calls never stop, not really, but throughout the aeons, Death had learnt which ones to ignore. Time, again, is an all-powerful source. It can heal anything and everything. It had been a couple of minutes at the most and Death could feel old Jack passing through already having had the time to think about Edith’s happiness and his own need for peace.

But this next call, Death could not ignore, because they had only ever felt that twice. Once, eleven years ago, and another the following year. It hadn’t felt like a soul calling for Death, but a soul calling to Death, with a curiosity, an intrigue so strong it could not be ignored. Their knife ripped through time as they made their way to their destination.

Death chooses to watch. They are an observer, after all, existing only to guide when needed. They choose when to appear, and who to appear to. Being able to play with their form comes with its benefits, the biggest one being the chance to be unseen but still felt.

Step by step, Death moved closer and closer to that curious soul calling to her, until they saw her. Unmistakably, it was her. It was that babe in the forest that took her first kill at the age of one. One turn around the Sun was all it took for this power-hungry witch to yield to her higher calling. Her hair flowed down her back, wavy but not curly, dark but not black.

Death crushed a stick as they stepped closer to see what the girl was tilting her head at on the ground, but before they could get there, the girl’s head swooshed to the side. Their eyes locked. Time had never existed for Death, but if it did, they were sure it would be frozen at this moment.

“Who are you?” The girl demanded an answer, her voice youthful yet holding so much power, authority, the type that can only come with confidence in one’s abilities.

Death remained frozen; their eyes had never been this wide before. “Impossible,” they whispered, for the first time truly surprised. Death was meant to be hidden, they were sure of it. They were so sure, so sure they did not want to be seen by this girl, not yet, not before understanding what made her so different. This only added more questions to Death’s mind; how could she see their form?

Purple flares began to spark at the girl’s fingertips, enough to shake Death out of their daze and fade into a cloud of black-green smoke, but not before catching a glimpse of a bright purple azalea, the stem tucked behind the girl’s ear.

“You have always been a wicked girl,” The words slashing through Agatha’s heart hurt more than the hand slapping her across the face. Her cheek stung, and it would stay bright red at the very least until the Sun drew itself back into hiding. But the sting in her heart, her soul – whatever was left of it anyway with the absence of motherly love in her life – is what made Agatha cower and shrink within herself, turning away from her Mother.

“I did not mean to, Mother. Please…if you could only teach me how to control it,” she pleaded for forgiveness, for her Mother to show her an ounce of mercy and not punish her for something she cannot be blamed for.

But Evanora simply scowled and struck her daughter down again, and again, until she was lying on the ground curled up like a powerless infant. “You must learn to behave the way a witch is expected to! But what else can I expect from you? You are no witch, you have no power of your own. All you have is greed.”

Agatha snapped her head up, revealing her tear-stained cheeks as she yelled. “And all you have is hate! I am your daughter, Mother! Am I–Am I not your flesh and–and your blood?” Her voice cracked as vulnerability broke through, her eyes shining with a desperation to be loved.

Evanora shushed her with a simple look, a dark one that hid any affection she may be holding, any sympathy left in her heart. Crouching down like a predator intimidating its prey, she gripped Agatha’s chin in her hand, fingers digging into sensitive skin, and hissed. “You…are an abomination.”

A gust of wind rushed through the woods powerful enough to push Evanora back a step or two, forcing her hand away from her daughter’s trembling face. The toxic mix of emotions running through Agatha’s body had her too distracted to notice what had just happened; she ignored Evanora’s confusion and curious eyes cautiously analysing the trees around them. 

Standing on shaky feet with soil digging under her nails, Agatha screeched. “I hate you!” The forest shook with her, a few branches ripping off as her purple blasted towards her Mother. The elder is pushed back again, harder this time, her feet dragging the soil and disrupting the flow of grass.

“Enough!” Evanora yelled with weakened authority, her voice trembling with fear, eyebrow twitching at the shiver she could feel running down her spine. This was not just Agatha; there was someone else here, something else, powerful and just as angry if not angrier.

Agatha growled, her blue eyes turning darker as swirls of purple threatened to overtake them. She was close to letting them, so very close to blasting her Mother over and over again until she truly understood the meaning of power, real, raw power. Maybe then she would understand why Agatha was the way she was and why it was an impossible task to control what she had.

Her fingers expertly twirled, playing with her food as she swirled her Magick around, forming a ball. But before she could throw it, a flicker of green caught her attention. Just a gleam, small but so bright in the corner of her vision. She turned nonetheless, distracted as her mind attempted to pinpoint where she remembered that shade from. It only took her a moment to remember and she trailed off into the forest to follow, her trembling Mother’s gasps and protests falling onto deaf ears.

She had walked this forest her entire life, all thirty-five years, and knew it better than most. This was her comfort. The trees could never reject her, abandon her, disregard her like she was nothing. As far as she was concerned, her flesh was hardened wood and blood the sweet maple that runs through these trunks. And, oh, how sweet they were, always sparing a drop for her as she pleased. They did not reject her but please her, bend to her will, sway and rustle her to sleep on the nights she had nowhere to go, no bed to sleep on but the bed of fallen leaves that soaked her tears in. The fourth time, she returned to a bed of azaleas, believing she had grown them with her tears, that her pain held the strongest Magick. So she began to embrace the hurt and let it fuel her.

“Do you know what they signify?”

Agatha spun around towards the husky yet feminine voice but found nothing but an endless forest. She squinted as she scouted the area, eyes swivelling between branches and logs, leaves and bright flowers. She knows this forest and therefore knows all its hiding spots; no one could hide from her here.

It seemed she had found her match. She decided the best way to get them to come out and play was to join the game. “That depends on the colour, dear,” She replies lightly, hands open by her sides, making sure purple swirls were bright enough for her new friend – or enemy – to see. She may be playful, may be a young witch still, but she has power, more than any singular witch could hold.

“Purple?” The voice asked, echoed, lingering while their body disappeared yet again. But before they could, Agatha caught that green again.

Focus, she told herself, her eyes fluttering shut as she honed in her senses. The forest went silent in her ears, hearing nothing but the pounding of her heart. She searched for another, tilting her head as her teeth ground together in frustration.

“I do not have one,” The voice spoke again, this time sounding less playful – just a smidge, but enough for a woman like Agatha to figure out, “A heart, that is. If that is what you are searching for,” They sounded closer this time, just behind her. So close, that Agatha could feel the heat of a body behind her own. Or, rather, energy would be the better word as all she could feel was ice. So incredibly cold it forced a shiver to attack her body.

“Every living being has one,” Agatha replied, taking in a deep breath as she leaned back towards the danger.

A gulp, audible. “And if I dare to tell you the truth, that…that I am not? Living?” 

It took a couple of seconds until Agatha let her eyes fall open, this time finding herself staring into wide eyes. Not just eyes, no, there was nothing ordinary about those eyes, so dark yet bright, deep yet empty, brown, so beautifully brown like the very trunks of those sweet maple trees Agatha loves so dearly. Agatha’s lips stretched into the widest smile she had ever given.

“Death comes for us all.”

Beautiful is all that echoed in Death’s head, over and over again, so loud it cannot be an echo but a scream, a constant reminder to ensure she never forgets how precious she is. ‘She’, being the witch that haunts Death’s silent hours. It used to be quiet in their head on the rare occasion that souls pass through on their own without the need for a guide. Those moments they cherished, being able to think clearly, or not think at all, just…exist. Now Death exists with Agatha, and cannot imagine existing without her.

After revealing themself to the witch, the two became inseparable. Where Agatha walked, Death followed, hiding from everyone else but remaining visible and oh-so beautifully green to Agatha.

“Do you have a name?” Agatha once asked them, building up the courage to ask after a few weeks spent in tension, the two navigating their blossoming…friendship? 

Death waited a moment, leaning back against the tree trunk before shrugging. “Death.”

Agatha rolled those blue eyes and Death cursed her for hiding them away. “No, a real name,” Agatha teased with no harm in her words, just a curiosity glinting in her eyes as she turned to scan Death’s expressionless face.

“That is all I have been known as. All I have known myself as.”

Agatha promptly dropped the topic after that, never mentioning it again. She simply observed. She was always observing, always analysing, measuring, plotting. Her mother called her wicked for it. Death was there for every insult, jaw tight and fists white. They’d step in on occasion, of course without Evanora knowing what was truly happening, but Agatha would cackle a sound so joyful if Death had a heart it would sure flutter in their chest, hard enough to fly out straight into Agatha’s open arms.

“What are you exactly?” Agatha asked, looking down at Death’s soft face in her lap. It took all her self-control to not brush her thumb over Death’s pink lips.

Death huffed and shrugged again. “Death.”

“Lady Death?” Agatha teased, her nails gently scratching underneath Death’s cold jaw.

Death contemplated for a moment. Their form was always changing, their true form not confined to a gender. But the form they had chosen with Agatha was a female one, soft yet dangerously sharp. And she seemed to like it. “Well. If I were to remain a Lady, would you like me more?” They tried to keep desperation leaking from their tone but it was impossible around Agatha given the smirk she gave them. 

“Perhaps.” 

Death sunk their head deeper into Agatha’s soft thighs and thought about being called her. Keeping this form, perhaps choosing to walk this plane and blend in with its people, getting to know them before taking their souls. It could be fun. “Then I will use this form for as long as I live. Which is eternity, I suppose. What a thought.” Death let her thoughts drift as her eyes fluttered shut; no, she cannot ever sleep, but she can rest. It’s only Agatha’s presence that can make her feel this serene. 

Her sweet Agatha let her fingers trail from her cheek to her hair, gently running her fingers through it, hiding it behind her ears to keep her sharp features exposed. “I like you as you are,” She whispered before leaning down and pressing the softest of kisses across Death’s brow.

She froze, expecting to feel tension, fear, discomfort at being touched this way. It had been many centuries since Death had let someone touch her like this, having found little pleasure in exposing her true vulnerability to others, uncomfortable with the thought of loving and wanting just for mortal bodies to inevitably rot. But there is no fear here. She had never been dealt with in such a gentle way, an almost motherly way. It made her feel cared for like never before. When her eyes fluttered back open, they met with the sky and she saw no storm in them.

That day wasn’t any different to another. Death collected body after body – though she was calmer in nature than usual – her mind flickering back to her love. Well, Agatha was not her love. Not yet, anyway, not until Death grew enough courage to ask, to take that step forward as they both gazed into each other’s eyes for hours on end. It was a game, Agatha said, to see who blinks first. The loser gets a flick on the nose. Agatha’s nose always ended up red as a tomato by the time the Sun falls; Death would never blink and risk missing the shift of a swirl of blue, or a cloud forming behind those eyes she has come to crave. 

There is so much life in them, she thinks. And as Death, life was never something that fascinated her. It was something she only took. It was duty. A life ended every second so she never really stopped to think about just how long that life was, what they achieved, what they did during their time. That is what makes it precious; that there is a time, time for it to end. She wonders what Agatha will do with hers.

“I am not ready, please, do not take me away, God, please–”

Death shook her head. “Not God,” she corrected, leaning against the ledge of the open doorway to the Other Side, “Death. It comes for us all, and you must be ready to let go.”

The woman shrieked, wailed, refused to budge from her spot on the soil next to her son. He lay there, dreaming, unaware of his Mother’s passing. The flu took her, was strong enough to take her as it had been the fourth time it attacked her in the month. But she could not afford the help, could not conjure up a spell, knew little of the herb mixtures. She did not eat, did not drink the water other travellers were kind enough to lend; everything must be for her son. She told herself if she were to pass it would be fine as long as he survived, but now that the time has come, she refused to believe it to be true.

Death leaned down behind her, her touch gentle against the woman’s trembling back. “You do not want to see what becomes of the soul that lingers. He would not want to see you as that,” she whispered soothingly, convincingly, “Peace is on the Other Side. And you will reunite soon.”

The woman’s sobs slowly ceased until she was simply stroking his head with a shaking hand, tucking his curled hair behind his ears. The gesture reminded Death of her Agatha. She wanted nothing more than to return to her at that moment, for that hand on her cheek again, the tips of those fingers tracing every bone, structure, curve on her face and she feigned sleep.

“Will he…will he be okay?” She asked, standing up and turning to look Death in the eyes.

Death nodded. “He will. The world does not stop moving, and neither will he.”

Death will always show up when Agatha calls for her. Always. She made a promise to be there, be present, be watching, and she intends to live up to that promise. This call felt different though, there was a twinge of anxiety in her call, a hint of fear, and it immediately terrified her. What if something terrible has happened? What if Agatha was attacked? Was it her Mother again, or worse, the entire coven? It wouldn’t take much for them to turn on her, not with Evanora’s influence. 

What started as a bad mother-daughter relationship had turned into something darker, something wicked, rooted in evil. Death had seen a lot in her lifetime; she is no stranger to cruelty, and that is all she saw in Evanora’s treatment of her flesh and blood. So when she hurried back, revealing herself in Agatha’s forest in a cloud of green smoke, she was surprised to see the witch with a grin on her face. Wide, excited, but also hesitant.

“Agatha? Is everything alright?” Death asked, stepping forward over the broken branches on the ground. With a flick of her hand, they curled together into the soil, new roots twisting and digging in to grow strong in a couple of weeks.

The witch was dressed in a purple gown, a darker shade than usual, with a white one underneath to preserve modesty – though she was thinking nothing but immodest thoughts at the sight of Death with that green cloak she never takes off. Before Agatha could utter a word, Death spun her head to the side, hearing another call.

“She–She did this to me!” The soul yelled at her, emerging from behind a tree. An older woman, hair silky and grey twisted into a braid. She pointed a finger, bony and the tips black at Agatha. 

Death followed the finger’s aim, seeing Agatha’s eyes directly on her, not being able to see the soul of the other witch. “Did you do this?” She asked Agatha who could only grin wider, teeth pearly white. “Why?” There was no judgement in her tone. No anger, disappointment, nothing that a small part of Agatha feared there would be. No, there was only intrigue, a dark look in her brown eyes.

Show me Death, Agatha thought. “A gift,” she whispered, her voice travelling through to Death’s confused ears.

“A gift?” She repeated, stepping forward. The dead witch’s protests were easily ignored now; Death’s only focus was Agatha. Agatha, smiling at her brightly, eyes as bright and wild as her hair.

“A gift. For you,” Agatha revealed, taking her own step forward. Her lips trembled slightly, maybe from the cold or maybe from her nerves, Death does not know. But what she does know is Agatha just killed someone for her.

“Me?” Death breathed out, eyes wide and completely hypnotised by the beautiful gesture done for her.

Agatha attempted to step even closer but realised this was as close as she could get. The tip of her nose was just inches away from Death’s, the proximity immediately causing a shiver to run up her spine. “For you…my love,” she breathed out in confession, eager for Death’s reaction. 

My love. Her love. Agatha’s love. Love, love, love…

“Yours…” Death whispered back, brushing her nose to Agatha’s, the touch making them both jolt inside. It took everything in her, all the power she could hold in her lifeless body to pull away, “But you cannot,” but she did.

Agatha’s hands immediately reached for Death, holding her close before she could flee from this. “I can. I do, my love,” my love, “I want you. Only you, since the moment I gazed into your eyes,” Agatha continued, unable to stop now that she had finally said the words, “Your eyes, my, I simply knew it when they reminded me of my forests, of these trees, those sweet maple trees…I knew that no sweetness would ever match you, my love, my sweet, my life.”

Agatha’s hand, up her neck, both tight yet soft against Death’s jaw. It would take a step, just one, an inch to close the gap, to give in to Agatha’s hot breath and sweet, plump lips. But she cannot. Not when Agatha has her entire life ahead of her, great things to do, power to steal, witches to kill…the things she could do, and all Death was planning to do was watch and admire from afar. She will not hold Agatha Harkness back from greatness.

“I–Agatha, you charm me, warm me so, but I cannot be life, not what I am Death. I am a plague, I cannot be with you for all my time–” 

Her witch shook her head fast, holding Death’s face in her hands. “You do not have to be. I will carry you, like so,” she held Death’s gentle hand to her heart, beating loud and proud for Death to hear.

But she thinks of what it would feel like to have to leave Agatha. To have to step away when another soul calls for her, if another war was to break out and she’d spend weeks away from the one person she wanted to be near. “But I want to. I have never wanted in my existence, Agatha…until you.”

“Then show me,” Agatha breathed, demanded, “Then take me,” Death’s hand curled against Agatha’s chest, crawling up to her pale neck, slowly losing all control over herself at the husky change in Agatha’s voice, “Claim me.”

The last loosened string of her rope of self-control broke by those words, the love and lust in her darkened eyes, the desperate desire dripping out of her tone. Death could no longer hold back, silencing the screaming dead witch with a single swipe of her hand that pushed her through the gateway to the Other Side, leaving Agatha’s hot pants as the only sound in her ears.

First, she didn’t know where to put her hands because she wanted them everywhere, but she settled on one at the waist, pulling Agatha flush against her, and the other at her jaw, holding her face near. She had to gaze into her eyes long enough to memorise the change in them, Agatha no longer holding her feelings back, and the pure adoration was enough for Death to finally break the distance between them.

The moment their lips touched, Death was certain she felt a cosmic shift in the universe; that had to explain why she felt a clench in her entire body, in the empty space her heart was meant to be. Their lips slid together and connected like they were made together and split at creation. As if Death had been here from the creation of the universe for the very sole purpose of waiting and waiting and waiting for Agatha to be here, to be hers.

It was innocent, just two mouths moving against each other, until Death let a tongue slip and Agatha let a moan slip. What became of them was far from innocent. Wandering, gripping hands, a body shoved against a tree, then body shoved against body. Mouth from closed to open, tongues gliding together in an unholy, dangerous dance, and the sounds. The soft ones of Agatha sighing against her lips, the sharp breaths Death had to take in at each scratch of Agatha’s nails, her love’s intoxicating whines when Death pulled back just to look at her before kissing her again.

“You killed for me,” Death whispered, not bothering to hide the love and fascination in her tone.

Agatha pulled back with a shy grin, chewing on her bottom lip which made them look even more enticing. “I am unaccustomed to courting Lady Death herself, so I did the best I could,” she leaned back in to quickly peck Death’s lips, “She was a bad, bad witch.”

Death gulped at her husky tone. “Was she?”

“Mhm,” Agatha nodded, raising a thigh against Death’s hips, forcing their lower halves closer together, “She was a bully, a mean old lady that preyed on youthful, more beautiful witches, babies really, who simply wanted help controlling their magic.”

Death brushed her lips against Agatha’s jaw, leaving a ghost of a kiss on her skin. “And what did she do with them?” Kisses under her jaw, stronger kisses down her neck, a bite at the junction between her neck and shoulder.

Agatha gasped at the sensation of teeth, nails digging into Death’s scalp which the latter found deliciously painful. “Took their power for her own until there was nothing left but flesh and bone.”

“And what did you do?”

“Don’t stop, please, my love,” Agatha whined against Death’s parted lips, legs stretched wide to make room for her lover’s hand.

Death chuckled, low and breathless. “I would stay this way for eternity, if I could.”

She stayed as long as she could; each and every moment she could spare, Death would find herself back in Agatha’s forest, the only place she found comfort. It would always be Agatha’s arms, Agatha’s eyes, Agatha’s legs so long and pretty, always wide open to invite her in. 

“Harder, please,” she begged. The begging was something meant to give power to Death, something that should only happen when Agatha has been teased and frustrated to the point of no return. But her cunning little witch has figured out a way to switch it around. She begs constantly, begs in that whiney tone, moaning it right into Death’s ear before biting down on her neck. She could never resist Agatha like that, and the witch knew it with that telling smirk.

“So warm,” Death muttered against Agatha’s pulse point, having made it a habit to nuzzle her nose right there, right where she could almost feel the throbbing of her heart. And the throbbing of something else.

Agatha clenched around her lover’s fingers, pulling her in deeper. “Please, can you not feel me, dear? How wet you make me, how badly I need you?” Agatha whined again, still teasing but with a hint of real desperation in her voice.

While Death was simply taking her time admiring being this close to Agatha, it seemed her witch had become impatient. With this, she discovered a way to spin this back in her favour…all Death had to do was hold on.

“Oh, I know, my love, you feel so warm around my fingers…” Death curled them a little just to extract a gasp from Agatha’s lips, before pulling away from her neck to shoot her a sinister smirk, “I wonder…Will you feel as warm around my tongue?”

The suggestion alone caused Agatha to let out a filthy moan coated with desperation. Death was too slow to kiss down her sweaty, writhing body, too languid with her kisses and marks over Agatha’s stomach. Agatha could hang on, could beg and beg with that same smirk as she refused to drop the power, until she looked down to see Death’s eyes. Wide, blown, brown, so beautifully powerful yet filled with worship. For her.

“God, please, please, please, I cannot! I cannot wait longer, my love, I need you, I need your tongue, please do not make me wait a moment longer!” Agatha completely broke, her walls tumbling down as she begged, truly begged, without that wicked smirk. 

Finally, Death thought, unblinking as she looked up and relished the image, the sounds, her little witch succumbing to madness for something as simple as a tongue. Her hair, wild and free, frizzed from the heat of their lovemaking; her eyes dark and blown enough to almost hide the blue; her lips, swollen and bruised from their harsh kisses. Death’s hand reached up to gently grip her chest, thumb gently rubbing against a perked nipple. This only made her witch wail louder, arch into her further, wanting all she could take.

“As you wish, my love,” she whispered against her glistening lips before swiping through her slit, immediately moaning at the heavenly taste. Her hand abandoned Agatha’s chest so she could wrap it around her behind, squeezing her impossibly closer.

She had never heard her witch this excited before, this broken, this mad as she thrashed and writhed against Death so hard that the latter had to use her other hand to hold her down. She gently pressed against the patch of hair just under Agatha’s stomach, enough pressure to keep her in place.

This was about Agatha, of course, it was about Agatha’s pleasure, but once Death got a taste? She never wanted to taste anything else ever again. She didn’t dare stop, just as Agatha had wanted, even as her witch cried and pushed at her head, having been pushed over the edge twice already. There would be a day. Death was so sure of it, so sure that there would be a day in the future when this would end, when Agatha would have enough of the disappearing, the Death that always follows, the inability to…to build a life with a family. And she wanted to make sure Agatha would be absolutely ruined for anyone else. No one would be able to make her feel as good as Death could. No one.

Death had Agatha every time and every place she could get her. Against a maple tree with Agatha’s legs wrapped tightly around her waist; in a bed of beautifully vivid azalea flowers Death conjured up; in Agatha’s creaky bed when Death appeared in a cloud of green in the middle of the night. They were tested to their limits to remain quiet that last time, but the thrill of risking Evanora’s angry appearance had Agatha clenching particularly tight against Death’s fingers.

“I wish to give you a name,” her thoughtful witch interrupted the silence between them, “if you would allow it.”

Death scoffed playfully. “Allow? I am not your Mother. Though she should not have the power to control you, anyway,” she added, wrapping her arms just a little tighter around her witch.

Agatha hummed, burrowing her face into Death’s neck. “I love when you are protective over me,” she claimed vulnerably, leaving a gentle kiss against the cold skin she found there. She left another, and another as she trailed her kisses up along Death’s sharp jawline.

Their eyes met, a soft look shared between them as words were shared in silence. 

I will always protect you.

I will always love you for it.

Agatha sighed as she shuffled around in Death’s arms, resting her back on her lover’s chest. They peacefully lay together, watching the gentle stream of the river they stumbled upon.

“Rio…” Agatha mumbled thoughtlessly, on the verge of falling asleep.

Death’s arms tightened. “What was that?”

Agatha lazily hummed, holding Death’s hands in her own. “Rio. It means river. I stumbled upon some travellers once. They taught me a few phrases of their language.”

Death kept her gaze on the stream, watching the water smash against the rocks and tumble into the fallen tree that stretches from one side of the river to the other. Wordlessly, she circles a finger against the back of Agatha’s palm, eyes on the tree as she carefully sprouts a fresh bed of flowers on it.

Agatha let out a soft, fond giggle at the colours. “Rio Vidal. River of life.”

Rio Vidal. Though she is Death and believes she can never be life, upon waking from her nap Agatha claimed Rio rushed into her life like a river, brightening it without a doubt, pulling her from the dark depths of her mind. 

“You are Death, yet I did not know Life until I met you.”

“Must you guide everyone?” Agatha asked curiously, her fingers playing with Rio’s hair. The latter mumbled against Agatha’s naked chest, reluctantly shuffling to rest her chin against Agatha’s stomach.

“Just the ones that require it,” Rio answered, leaving a gentle kiss against a bright purple mark she left just a few minutes ago, “The ones that struggle to let go…or the ones I feel drawn to.” Rio licked a stripe up Agatha’s stomach, so soft for her she could fall asleep in seconds if her body would allow her the privilege.

“You feel drawn to others?” Agatha said with a dramatic gasp, playfully gripping a fistful of Rio’s hair. She pulled her up, Rio reluctant to move so quickly past Agatha’s full, marked chest. Her tongue managed a swipe against a nipple before her lips reached her lover’s.

Rio sighed against Agatha’s lips. “Not like this. I—Never. Never before,” she confessed in a moment of vulnerability, seeking any sign of discomfort in Agatha’s eyes but finding none, nothing but glee.

Agatha connected their lips in a slow, sensual kiss. “Do you feel them?” She pulled back to ask, leaning back in right away.

Rio moaned into the kiss, fingers tightly gripping Agatha’s curves. “Every single one of them,” she whispered.

“How many do you feel now?” Agatha breathed into Rio’s mouth, twisting her hips until their thighs parted for each other, hips slotting together, slick against slick. They both gasped at the sensation, Rio immediately starting a rhythm with a slow, languid roll of her hips.

She wanted to tell the truth, wanted to scream ‘All of them! Every single one passes through like a thousand pricks to my skin’. But she takes one look. One look into those bluest of blues, those that capture the calmest trail of the morning skies and the silkiest glimmer of the gentlest waves so beautifully…so beautifully that she wishes she was not who she was. Wishes she was not The Original Green Witch, Death itself, a higher being burdened with knowledge. Rio wishes she was a simple mortal who knew nothing, for the simple want of being able to look into Agatha’s eyes and then, only then, truly believe that Magick does exist. Because she does.

She settles with, “I only feel you.”

They hadn’t said it just yet. My love at the end of a sentence is one thing, a simple term of endearment, though it does carry a heavy weight between them. But saying the actual words? Acknowledging that this thing between them is real love, a once-in-a-lifetime love? Hell, Rio would go as far as saying soulmates, if she had a soul, that is. They hadn’t said the words yet, though they spend every waking moment together, every moment they can. Though Rio has not taken another lover and she assumes – prays – Agatha has not either.

Clearly, it had been on Agatha’s mind given their next meeting after a week or so apart was tense. Rio felt it the moment she appeared, felt the distance Agatha was forcing between them. She allowed a kiss, and another, but after that she began to stroll aimlessly, trusting the forest to navigate for her. 

Rio followed – she always will – with her hands in a tight clench behind her back. She dared to let her thoughts run into the wildest directions yet. Will Agatha end this? Had she realised she did not want Rio–Death to follow her to the ends of the universe? Had she simply had her fill and–

“It may be,” Agatha suddenly spoke, still keeping her walk, eyes to the soil, “presumptuous of me to think we are something more. Something real and serious—”

Rio could not help but frown, leaping forward to shake Agatha, turn her around and hold her blushed cheeks. “Do you not know how I feel for you? Really?” She truly was in shock at the assumption, now analysing her previous actions. Every passionate kiss, every longing gaze, every gentle touch. How could Agatha doubt her? As if she does not have Death wrapped around her soul.

“Let me finish. Please?” Agatha pleaded and Rio had never been one to resist that, so Agatha nodded and continued with slightly trembling lips, “But I do not care. You may feel what you feel but I am certain of how I feel and I wanted to do this for you. It’s small, really, just a—”

Rio is thrown back to the first time Agatha gifted her something, that old witch’s soul. “A gift? For me?” She couldn’t help but lean in and gently kiss her. Once she pulled back, Agatha’s cheeks were even pinker, eyes bluer.

“Of course, my love,” Agatha allowed Rio another moment of indulgence, sighing into the passionate kiss Rio initiated. Her hands wrapped behind her lover’s neck, nails scratching against her scalp in the way she knows Rio loves.

“You are too good to me,” Rio moaned out as she pulled back for a moment, leaning back in to steal another kiss, but her lips ended up against Agatha’s palm.

It seemed the forest paused with Rio as she waited for Agatha to turn back around. The witch had her back to Death now, her hands swirling her purple Magick until she uncloaked Rio’s gift.

Turning back around, equally as giddy as Rio, Agatha presented her with a box. Rio’s shaking hands took it, held it like it was the most fragile, precious thing to her. It really was beautiful, a dark, forest green with intricate patterns painted purple. She traced them with a finger, gently feeling the bumps. It felt like Magick, like she was conjuring up a spell.

“May I?” Rio asked, hands shaking at this point.

Agatha nodded and with that she unclasped the box, revealing…

A heart. Anatomical, true to size, and the darkest of blacks Rio has seen. It was glossy, shiny, almost slick as if covered in black blood. With parted lips, Rio was ready to thank Agatha, until her words caught in her throat at the sound. A pulse. The pulse was there, loud, throbbing, so loud Rio was sure she’d hear it across the universe. 

“How?” She gasped, unable to take her eyes off it. A shaky finger grazed against the heart, tracing the veins and arteries.

“Magick,” Agatha raised her hand, tender and impossibly sweet against Rio’s cold skin. She warmed instantly at the touch, leaning into it without a second thought. It was hard to move her eyes from her new gift, but Agatha’s hand gently raised her head, and Rio was met with raw honesty, “As long as there is Magick in my veins, as long as my own heart beats…so will yours.”

“You–You did–Agatha, I do not know how to repay you for something like this. You are too good to me, my love, far more than I deserve,” Rio struggled to accept something like this, love like this. It was not something she thought was even allowed for her. It felt wrong, to be Death yet have a love so strong, to feel so strongly.

“Well, if you wish to repay me…” Agatha trailed on playfully, stepping back and leaning against a tree. Her fingers, cunning yet delicate, tug at her dress slowly. The hem rises from her ankles, up, up, up to reveal glistening lips and a patch of dark hair. Agatha bit her bottom lip, failing to hide her seductive grin and giddy anticipation for Death to pounce at her.

Oh, Rio will spend centuries repaying her.

Loving Agatha was unlike anything Rio had ever experienced. It came as naturally as her job, something she did not need to think about but just did. Like loving Agatha was something she was made to do. Rio quickly found that she would love her no matter what. 

Agatha with a sorry-not-sorry smile as Rio collects yet another soul pointing an accusatory finger at her wicked witch. Death simply smiled back, shoving her lover against the nearest tree and punishing her with a wild kiss.

“Yes, punish me, Rio, take me soul…take my virtue…” Agatha would whimper and moan, thrashing against her playfully, her head always coming back with a grin that stretched across her cheeks.

Agatha with angry tears streaking down her face at Rio’s disappearing acts, having missed her dearly, left alone for weeks on end.

“–and you just abandon me when I need you most!” Agatha yelled, screeched, smashed her fists at Rio’s chest, “Just as you promised to never do. Does your word mean nothing?”

“My word means everything,” Rio broke her silence at that, gripping Agatha’s chin in a single hand when she looked away, “No. Look at me while I speak with you, Agatha,” she demanded, risking an authoritative tone against her quick-tempered witch, “My work is not abandonment. It is something I must do, but please, please, my love, believe my words when I say you torture my mind every second I am away from you.”

Agatha rolled her eyes with a scoff. “Oh, you cannot feel pain. Do not take me for a fool, Death.”

“I told you that because I never have. Until you. Until I started to want, and the simple thought of losing what I want…tickles,” she held Agatha’s hand to her stomach, “right here. It’s twisted and rotten. It eats at me, and I do not know what it is–”

“It’s fear.”

“Fear,” Rio repeated, voice softer, almost in a mumble as she contemplated the word, the feeling. It took her a moment but she focused back on Agatha with a sigh and gentle kiss against her pouty, angry lips, “I would sooner abandon my power than walk away from you, my love. You must know this.”

Agatha took a sharp breath at that, narrowing her eyes and tilting her head. “Then do it.”

Rio, of course, meant her words in a metaphorical sense. Not because she would not do it in a heartbeat if she could, but because she simply couldn’t. She had been here since the beginning of time, collecting souls that would be lost, aimless and eventually angry without her. There is no replacement for Death; it comes for all, and all means all, past, present and future.

“I wish it were possible,” she whispered, frowning as Agatha pulled back from her yet again, this time moving to the other side of her room, “My love, please, you must know this is something I cannot give,” Rio pleaded, only following her with her eyes, “I have had only one wish and that is to be with you, always, forever,” Agatha continued to ignore her, arms crossed over her chest as she stared out of her small window. Rio knew not what to do to comfort her lover, knowing her deeply enough to see when she needed space. She dropped her head down in defeat, “I will not walk away from you. But I will let you have your moment. Summon me when you–”

Agatha scoffed, sharply turning her head with a glare planted firmly across her brows. “Summon? Oh, of course, you’re just going to disappear yet again–”

Rio sighed heavily with a fond smile. “My love, I will be sitting on the steps outside.”

“Oh.”

“And I will ignore every cry for me. Yours is the only one I care to listen for.”

With that, Rio shut the door gently behind her, stepping down and taking her seat. She must be ready for a numb behind as this would sure be a long wait. She does hear them all the time, constantly. Some are loud, souls screaming for answers, for help. But there are some quiet ones, soft sobbing that can almost feel soothing to hear. She focused on those souls, lulling them from here with whispers of ‘Soon. You will be at peace.’ But Agatha must be at peace first. She will always come first.

“Come to bed, my love,” Agatha’s voice startled Rio who was more than ready to dissociate by listening to her crying souls. It must have been less than an hour, she thought, looking behind her shoulder at her witch now in her bedclothes.

“As you wish,” Rio nodded her head once, following Agatha silently. They moved together routinely, Agatha stripping Rio of her green cloak, dress, leaving her in black undergarments. There is water for them both, though Rio needs none; she always takes a sip just to appease her lover, allowing her to indulge in the fantasy that they are simply Agatha and Rio, two lovers with no higher burden to shoulder.

Agatha sighed, only allowing her tears to fall again once she was safe in Rio’s arms. The latter pulled her closer once she heard the sobs and felt Agatha shake in her arms. Perhaps this is Agatha’s torture, that she only finds comfort in the very arms that are destined to hurt her.

“I hate that I love you,” Agatha sobbed harder, her words breaking a piece of Rio’s black heart. But Death could only shoulder it, dropping a kiss to the top of Agatha’s nest of hair.

“I am angry, my love. Angry that I am what I am, that I cannot be what you need me to be. I wish we were as simple as my love is for you. I wish it were easy, that I were easy. I wish I could hold you like this forever, that you may lay your head on my chest and hear my heart, God, I wish I had one. A real one, just to tell you it beats for you and only you,” Agatha’s breathing slowed as her sobs began to cease, “I let myself dream, sometimes. That I work as a tradesman, and that you are my…You are my wife. That I must leave you and you cry and strike and beg me to stay, and in my dream I…I am able to stay. I do it in a heartbeat, leave my work behind, build us a home, grow crops and trade from our very doorstep so I may spend not a single moment away from you. I dream, and I weep. I weep with want because I have never wanted to be anything other than what I am until I met you, and now…all I ever want to be, Agatha Harkness…is yours.”

Rio knew Agatha had fallen asleep moments ago. She let her tears fall freely.

Unfortunately, a war had broken out halfway across the globe. Long-bearded men with angry features, and thick, sluggish eyebrows, all hellbent on holding on to continue fighting. Rio had already been there for weeks, spending hours and hours on end to convince soul after soul to walk through to the Other Side. At the hundred point, she realised most of these men were only respectful to other men, so she changed her form to something they were bound to bow to. It did speed up the process significantly, but the numbers had been astronomically large so Rio did not return for months. Yet again.

By the time Rio’s head was clear enough to hear Agatha over the other souls, it was too late. She heard her, loud and clear, her cry covered in pure fear and sadness. Rio transported over in seconds, trading the grounds of war for something she feared was worse. Grabbing the nearest tree, she hid behind it just to catch her breath, to close her eyes tight and hope Agatha was safe behind her, safe and her soul still attached to her physical body.

“Mother, please!” Rio turned around at the loud cry, immediately sprinting towards the sound. By the time she reached them, their corpses dropped to the ground, weightless. Agatha stood at the stake, ropes discarded, vivid swirls of her purple Magick clouding around her. She looked…

“Agatha…” Rio whispered, gasped, unable to take her eyes off her.

The witch slowly turned her head, her eyes unrecognisable, purple, and absolutely filled to the brim with power, the sheer force of power sharpening her facial features. “They should have taught me to control it,” she said nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders before cackling louder than before, a wicked sound that had Death stuttering. Was this a test? Had Agatha finally found the bravery to show Rio her true self? One witch at a time until this grand finale.

“Agatha…” she whispered again, slowly descending to her knees. 

Whether it was in fear, disappointment, or loyalty, Agatha did not know. All she knew was power, the power she had just stolen from her coven, from her Mother who had tortured her enough and decided it was time to end Agatha’s life. Fools. Every single one of them.

Facing them was a fearful challenge but facing Rio at this point proved to be more terrifying than anything imaginable. If she were to turn to her and see those eyes filled with defeat, disappointment, even anger? Agatha would not know what to do with herself. How could she continue on a life without her Rio in it?

“Do not dare feel shame for the power you possess,” Rio’s voice was unwavering, strong and sure, “If my power would not kill you, I would…” she paused this time, stuttering.

Agatha turned her head, her eyes flashing purple to her lover. “You would…what?” she asked, getting closer by making a show of floating over the dead bodies with balls of purple in her fists. Rio could not keep her eyes off Agatha, especially as she got close enough for them to share the crisp air of death. The witch gripped Rio’s chin in her hand, eyes dark and dangerous, “Spit it out.”

There was a moment of silence between them, both their eyes wide and lips parted. It is a game of power, Rio thought. That is what love is. You choose to take it or give it up. And in this moment, she wished she had not an ounce of it in her bones. 

“You want power?” Rio husked out, shoving a hand against Agatha’s chest until the witch had fallen into a bed of flowers. Agatha noted there should be nothing but wet soil and broken branches on the ground, but her Green Witch was persistent in her sweetness, “Control?” Rio whispered, making a show of arching her back as she climbed into Agatha’s lap. The witch shook with nerves, lust, and excitement all at once, settling her trembling hands onto Rio’s hips, “Then take it,” Take me.

The cold wind stopped gushing for a moment, waiting for Agatha’s answer, but the witch could only look at Rio and think she really would end up being the Death of her. Their kiss sealed their fate for centuries to come, the path ahead set in stone. Rio had seen the worst of her, had all the warnings of the chaos and destruction bound to come, yet there she was, in Agatha’s lap with her head thrown back in submission.

Rio moaned Agatha’s name with each controlled bite the latter left on her neck. It was an angry scraping of tongue and teeth, lips leaving a brief, gentle kiss as if to soothe the red heat. “That’s it, sweetheart, take me, take all of me,” Rio panted into Agatha’s ears, licking down her neck filthily, rolling her hips against Agatha’s with desperate, untamed desire. Seeing her witch like that, high on power, gifting Rio souls, so dangerous, had driven Rio to madness.

Agatha whined into Rio’s neck at her words, one of her hands finding its way between her lover’s legs. Rio spread them as best as she could in this position, glad she wore a less complicated dress, a green gown of sorts. She bunched it up around her hips, revealing her naked half to Agatha who immediately pounced with her delicate fingers.

“Yes…” Rio hissed, moaned, whimpered as the witch brushed her thumb against her clit, pressing harder with each praise, “Right there,” Rio groaned, “Feels so good, my love, you feel so good.”

Agatha keened at the praise, failing her attempt at hiding how much Rio was affecting her. “More,” tell me more.

“No one will take me like this, only you,” Rio continued between heavy panting and whimpers, “I want no one but you, Agatha. Nobody is as good as you,” Her breath caught in her throat as her witch thrusted dainty, long fingers inside her with little warning. She could feel all of Agatha wrapping around her: her fingers curling; Agatha’s palm pressed against her clit; the distinct scent of lavender and honey gripping her lungs; those eyes, so deep, so beautifully bright and lustfully dark transporting her into the one place she has no access to, “If I had not met you, my love, I would have doubted the existence of Heaven. But you take me there, Gods, take me there, please, Agatha,” Rio’s words had lost their structure, turning into senseless ramblings as she begged and begged for her lover.

Agatha observed in astonishment at the submission, the easy handover of power. “My love…” She mumbled into Rio’s neck, bruising it with her kisses as she slipped another finger to join the other two. With Rio’s gasp, Agatha lifted her thumb to brush over her clit, just a single brush that had Death begging within her grasp.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she moaned filthily, rolling her hips up against Agatha’s touch, seeking, seeking, seeking…

“Will you?” Agatha panted desperately, ending her sentence short, knowing Rio understood her every word, “For me? Will you?” It took less than a minute after that for Rio’s hips to still, back arched up in the air. Agatha could do nothing but thrust again and again, pushing through the throbbing pain in her wrist. Her thumb circled Rio’s clit as she did so, keeping her right there at the top of the cliff for as long as she wished. It was all within her power, her control; she was the one who decided when to give Death life.

Rio’s cheeks turned a bright red, her face flickering back and forth to bones as she lost that little bit of control she had left. “Agatha,” She forced out with a heavy breath of relief, eyes rolling to the back of her skull. Her fingers pressed into the soil, immediately sprouting a bed of purple flowers – violets, Agatha immediately recognised. She tightened, impossibly wet around Agatha’s fingers as a flow of honeyed liquid coats Agatha’s palm. It took everything in Agatha to keep from pulling her palm away and licking until there was not a drop left to spare. But she stayed, stayed there, stayed secure, stayed with Rio until her arch collapsed into the ground and Agatha with her.

They lay there, existing together and only together for a while. While they could. Agatha no longer felt fear, not like she had before. There was nothing but acceptance in her and Rio’s world, which is something she had never experienced before yet is all she ever wanted; undying, unconditional love.

“I love you, Rio Vidal,” she whispered as the stars shone brightly above them.

Rio sighed, happily burying her face into her witch’s neck. “I love you, Agatha Harkness."

masterlist + guidelines

HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS ONE!!

[quinnverse]

"Have you lost function of your eyelids, too? Just close them, you imbecile!" She spat, resisting the urge to toss one of the pillows on her bed at him. For such a seemingly smart man, he had a knack for being dense, and primarily around her. If she wasn't in such a compromising position, she might've relished in the fact that she unnerved him so much. Throwing a man off-kilter was a win to some degree, but not when it meant he wandered into her bedchamber unannounced.

I'm not the one who left my damned door unlocked! Her fingers curled into fists as the temptation to hurl something larger at him swelled in side her.

“Oh, forgive me for leaving my own damn bedroom door unlocked in my own damn house!" Forgetting herself for a second, Emma allowed her voice to rise until she heard the timbre echo within the walls of her room. When this day was over, she would make sure her father knew his time needed to be up soon. She couldn't tolerate sharing a roof with John Bolton any longer.

Such thoughts had been plaguing her enough over the past few days that she'd even gone ahead and penned a letter to her cousins, to tell them she might be visiting again sooner rather than later. Her aunt wouldn't mind, not when Emma's presence usually managed to keep both Ned and Belle in check--somewhat. Emma hadn't gotten around to sending it yet, the mere presence of the letter laying flatly on her writing desk was enough to quell the irritation for now.

But that had been before he'd traipsed into her room while she was changing. Before he had kissed her in the barn, and gotten upset with her for flirting with his friend. Their embarrassing encounters only seemed to multiply by the day and she found herself wishing for a messenger pigeon or anything to deliver her message across the pond as quickly as possible. She couldn't stand being around him any longer.

“I did not ask you to kiss me, you swine. There was no invitation.” She grumbled. There had certainly been a hope, but no invitation. Even so, she hadn't pushed him away quite quickly enough to hide her enjoyment of it. If she hadn't come to her senses when she did, Emma couldn't be sure how far she would've let him go before she realized the severity of the situation. Especially when he was confessing things to her that no average woman should hear, let alone want to hear. But Emma never claimed to be a normal woman. "Besides, we both know I, of all people, would not be so quick to consider you an intellectual."

After a moment, she let out a frustrated groan. It would be easier to grab her dirtied chemise off the floor just to save her pride, but Emma knew it would never be that easy. He had already embarrassed her and she wasn't about to let him get away unscathed. Even if it was at the cost of her own sanity, she'd make him pay for this.

“My wardrobe…” She began, her arms clutching tighter around her torso. “It’s by the door. Your eyes clearly aren’t in working order so I wouldn’t expect you to notice. But…” She couldn’t believe this was happening, that this was the way she was going about things. At this point, she'd be better off inviting him into her bed instead of tormenting the both of them, but she pressed on.

“May you please fetch a chemise for me? Or anything, really. A damned blanket would suffice right now.” She waited until he turned away again, watching him like she were a cornered animal and he were the enemy. Before she could think better of it, she felt her lips open and a childish mumble tumbled out.

“You could at least pretend you came for something more. It would, at the very least, make the embarrassment would be worth something.”

“But I suppose this makes us even. Truly even. I’ve seen you without a shirt and now, begrudgingly, you’ve seen me without one. Both circumstances, might I remind you, were your doing. For someone who refuses invitations so adamantly, you're certainly determined to have one of us give in to temptation. It's like you’re trying to make me seem like a harlot.”

Emma's seething request to shut the door took Benjamin off-guard, and glancing over his shoulder, he sucked a breath once he noted the blatant view of the hall. How in God's name had he forgotten the bloody door?!

"I...I-I can't get up without seeing you!" he bit back, concerned she might immediately start lobbing projectiles at him again. Nevertheless, with an awkward shuffle, he remained on his hands and knees and skittered back toward the door, his right leg extending before he nudged it shut.

“What the devils is wrong with you?” Emma snarled.

Still refusing to lift his head, lest he see what she was so clearly trying to conceal, Benjamin growled toward the floorboards, "Me? I'm not the one who left my damned door unlocked! I thought this was my bedroom!"

Emma remained unconvinced. “Was accosting me in the barn not enough for you? Now you have to invade my bedroom while I’m undressing?”

He scoffed, lifting his head enough to see her fiery gaze. "You did not seem accosted in that barn," he volleyed. "Most intellectuals would call what you gave an invitation."

That seemed to jolt through Emma akin to a livewire. She balled her fists and snarled, “If you’re here to take up my previous offer, I regret to inform you that the invitation has since expired. And I would’ve at the very least appreciated a bloody knock. A few moments later and you would've bore witness to far more than you deserve.”

"I told you: I thought this was my room!" Benjamin exclaimed, exasperated. "And I am not here for your so-called offer, so you can get off your bloody high horse! Is the fact I'm on my hands and knees not proof enough?"

Wishing she would grab her damnable chemise -- why did she persist in remaining half-dressed?! -- Benjamin ducked his face down into his palms and groaned. "If you would just re-clothe yourself, I could get up and leave," he coolly reminded her. "You're making this far more difficult than it has to be -- I didn't come here for you!"

He'd certainly wound up in the wrong room because of her, absolutely -- he was wholly frazzled after their afternoon gone wrong, and he was embarrassed from his lewd confession in the barn -- so much so that he'd somehow walked right past his own quarters, and stumbled into the proverbial lion's den.

"I don't care if you believe me," Benjamin spoke again. "And although I did not behave as a gentleman this afternoon, that doesn't mean I haven't come to my senses now!"

He certainly wouldn't be making this mistake again any time soon...

[bronx-bomber87]

I know we’re all struggling with this endless hiatus and the lack of new content, so I thought it would be fun to resurrect the #chenfordchats that were circling around the fandom earlier this year. We previously did a question on favorite Tim Bradford quotes, so this time let’s do Lucy! What are your favorite 3-5 (or more if you want) Lucy Chen quotes from the entire series 😊

This does feel endless doesn't it? Not sure why this hiatus has felt longer than when we had the writers strike. That didn't have an end date for a long time. We have one for this one and it's felt worse. Probably because of all the BTS being withheld for now. We're all starving for content of any kind they'll give us. They've been restricted from sharing much of anything. So we're going little stir crazy. 47 days to go LOL We can do it.

This was not easy because these asks never are but always fun. Appreciate the challenge of them. Here we go. These aren't in any particular order BTW. Except by season cause I can't help but organize it. So maybe they are in a specific order ha But not one of ranking by any means. Also I'm not so good at staying within the numbers lmao I suck at it really. So I just did ones I love and I'm probably forgetting some I love but hopefully not.

If I am missing any feel free to do this as well or let me know your favs in the comments. Also these come with commentary cause I am me after all ahaha Was hard to find quotes I love that aren't just Chenford related but Lucy too if that makes sense. That's real hard cause they're so intertwined lol Anyways this is my crack at it please enjoy and don't hesitate to comment should you like to. Also feel free to participate as well more fun when people join in :)

1x01-What's not to love about her opening line as a character? So confident and ready to go. Look at her. Love everything about this line. Confidence rolling off her as she says. Hasn't been squashed yet by her future soulmate....

1x03-I LOVE this line for how it lands with Tim. But mainly we get to see the early sparks of confident Lucy putting Tim in his place. Standing up for herself. Because if she doesn't her career is going up in flames along with Tim's epic flameout. Telling him like it is and I love her for it.

1x07-Another amazing line that lands so well. This is an iconic scene but this line right here. This IMO is what keeps Tim from crossing that line. It's so spot on. She went out on a major limb and it pays off. Just love this line in particular.

2x01-Are we sensing a theme? LOL It was accidental. But I do love Lucy putting my boy in his place when warranted. Standing up for herself in the process. Straight up owns his ass in this argument with dem fighting words. Love her for it.

2x08-Always love watching her fierce loyalty come out despite rank. heh I love this line. Because once again calling someone out on their crap. Why we love our girl so much isn't it? So many reasons but this is definitely one of them.

2x10-Our poor girl so very frustrated with dating especially as a cop. This is an epic line that I don't think gets enough love. Cracks me up so much.

2x11-Love me some BAMF Lucy. It's one of my favs. The fierceness she shows not only saying this line. But making sure she makes eye contact with Caleb when she delivers it. I love her so much. We all know how true this statement ended up.

3x05-This seems like two quotes in one cause it kinda is. Already breaking the rules as is so here we are haha Fiercely protective Lucy reporting for duty with this quote. Loved it so much. She gonna beat your ass Stanton.

3x07-This line will never cease to crack me up. She owns his ass this entire episode really. It's one giant mic drop for her. This one is one of my all time favs of that ep and in general. I dare you to watch that scene let alone that ep and not be laughing.

4x16-Her reply to Tim's reaction makes me cackle. Her comedic timing is perfection. She is fed up with her hubby at this point and it makes me laugh so much. Goes from playful to over it immediately.

4x22-Lucy's reaction to Juicy is an all time fav. She was having fun messing with Tim over Dim till then. Her replies are so funny I love this quote for how much it makes me laugh every time. She is disturbed and not having fun anymore. LOL

5x12-Such an iconic way to drive her point home with this epic line. No more needed to be explained after this line. I adore this quote and the way she delivers it to Tim.

Lucy Chen is me when i'm prepping for anything with my anxiety. This cracked me up so very hard. Also couldn't find a gif of this glorious line. So just edited down a gif I did ha but I adore this line for how much I related with it LOL She is me when I am prepping.

That's all folks. Hope you enjoyed my rambles. Feel free to comment or do your own that would be fun to see others do it as well. Best part of fandom doing stuff like this. Seeing what everyone loves.

[slaaverin]

In my world 2 guys who are just friends don´t act like they do. And def not when these guys are straight. And don´t get me wrong, i live in a very progressive country! Not like SK when it´s abt LGTBQ.

Okay I'm not gonna be toooooo annoyed at this anon (or you whose inbox I'm currently in) because I used to think like that. BUT!

That's just untrue. I'm from a progressive and inclusive country, and the spaces I'm in are all very lgbtqia+ positive, and I thought Jikook were very different too. Despite seeing other friend groups online (not from kpop and based in the US) where affection, expressions of love and flirting were very normal - most of the friends in the group are pan/bi but in longterm hetero relationships - I thought Jikook had that something extra.

Until I got closer to a new group of friends irl, most of whom are in happy hetero relationships, and the men (we're all 26+) treated each other with such casual love and affection that it made me reconsider things. I don't know if any of them are bi or pan, and it's not really relevant. Especially because members of the lgbtqia+ community present vastly differently even in the same social group.

What I am trying to say is not that jimin and jungkook are definitely straight. Imho, all members of BTS have made me wonder about them in that sense. It's not something I ponder for long times - as it's not my place - but I can understand why other armies might.

I'm also not denying them the possibility of having or having once been in a romantic relationship.

I just want to caution you and the anon a little because yes, while Jikook definitely are incredibly close, their expressions of love can very well be platonic. It's very heteronormative to interpret everything they do as gay just because it doesn't fit with your view of male friendships. It's not that I (or others who leave room for the truth) don't see or understand your pov, and want to avoid falling into the trap of viewing queerness as "just good friends". It's just about considering that we simply don't know Jikook.

We as fans only see a very (very) limited chunk of BTS, and only what they want us to see. Our perception will be coloured by our opinions, backgrounds and biases (not the kpop kind) and thus no piece of content or interpretation is objective.

Jimin and Jungkook are imo at least best friends. Everything beyond that is pure speculation, and we should treat it as that. I know us Jikooker want to be the sane and smart shippers in the fandom, a counterweight to the very loud and a bit...unhinged ones, but that includes (imho) understanding our own fallacies and knowing that for all the theories about Rosebowl, GCF , Letter and Who there is the possibility of it being just two incredibly close friends that love each other, protect each other and fight for each other.

Jikook = real love. That's a fact. If it's the rainbow color kind or something else, will most likely remain a question of perspective.

As a little P.S.: Please do not read this as an attack or me trying to force my views onto you. One of the great things about tumblr imho - and sth I liked about the Jikook space especially last year - is the way we can properly exchange opinions and discuss them in depth.

Opinion.

There's no definite answer.

But in my point of view the scale is more going towards romance.

But of course we might be biased and wrong.

I personally don't see the appeal of staying unbiased. We can't help feeling what we feel I guess.

But feel free to all express on this, it's interesting to have several point of views!

Thanks for sharing your thoughts 💜