#nicki && fleet

[whollyjoly]

for some reason i can't explain i know saint peter won't call my name

nothing that lives, lives forever - an immortal soldier!alton more au

(1.1k of snippets from my old guard(ish) au where alton more is old, too old, and has been living and fighting far longer than anyone should. full description/other thoughts at the bottom. tw: blood, violence, mentions of death)

Alton clicked the lighter closed, running a thumb over the silver case. The night was warm, sticky in a way that he never could get used to. He sucked in a breath from the cheap cigarette, letting his head fall back against the rough side of the barracks.

It was quiet. Typically, there would be no end to the commotion coming from the small building, one of many that littered Camp Toccoa. The wall of sound was ever-present, no matter if it was shouting or laughing or snoring. But whatever the cause, there was always noise. 

No matter if it was a blanket of noise he knew well, unchanging except for the language and the scenery. Soldiers are soldiers, and some things are a constant. It could almost be comforting, if it didn’t also mean that the need for soldiers was a constant as well.

However, tonight was a Saturday, and it was one of the few weekends that Sobel had allowed Easy the use of their weekend passes. Almost every man in the company had jumped at the chance to get off base, to travel home if they could and spend time with loved ones. The ones with farther-flung hometowns had spirited off to Atlanta, happy to spend their time drinking and dancing and fucking instead of slogging through another run, three miles up, three miles down.

Normally, Alton would have joined them in their carousing - it was easier to pass the time with the effortless camaraderie built during a training camp than bored and alone. 

But today had been a bad day. The sound of swords and the shift of sand beneath his feet followed him out of his nightmares, the humid summer of Georgia morphing itself into the baking, dry heat of the desert. 

His shouts must have been real, because when a hand came to shake him out of his dream, the first face he saw was not that of a grouchy NCO, but of a blood-caked Saracen, eyes alight with righteous fury. 

Alton didn’t think. He had grabbed the knife from under his pillow, an old thing that had been sharpened more times than he could begin to count, and was on the man in less than a breath, pressing the blade into the side of his neck. The familiar thrum of blood beat against his fingertips, the grit of sand scratched his gums. He knew what he had to do, had done it a thousand times, a thousand thousand times, what was a little more bloodshed spilled across his feet-

Alton had blinked, and came to himself in a rush.

Instead of an unnamed Saracen, the ashen face of Johnny Martin stared up at him, eyes wide behind the knife.

Alton drew back his hand, retreating almost as quick as he had lunged earlier. He mumbled a quick curse and apology as he stepped out of arm’s reach from the man. It wasn’t until Martin’s eyes widened even farther that Alton realized his tongue was slipping out Arabic of all things.

Usually, Alton was better about remembering himself, who he was almost as important as where he was. But for whatever reason, his demons had decided to catch up with him that night.

After a quick smile and some quip about the Krauts in his dreams, he managed to wave an only-slightly-mollified Martin off. The shorter man apparently hadn’t forgotten it though, if his watchful eyes during chow that morning were anything to go by.

Alton was just glad that no one else was awake to see it, at least. That was the last thing he needed.

And so, instead of joining in on a weekend of broads and booze, Alton found himself waving away the invitation by an eager Smokey and bemused Alley. When the horde made their way out of the barracks, fantasizing in bawdy terms about their planned misadventures, he felt like he could breathe easy.

Fucking finally.

~~

Alton took another drag from the cigarette. He watched the smoke curl, up and up until it faded into nothing amongst the darkening sky.

The lighter was a welcome weight in his hand, grounding him to this time, this life.

The design was worn by now, details barely visible after a half century of worrying. It still managed to amaze him, sometimes, what people could do with the smallest of canvases. Alton didn’t feel the same wonder however, wasn’t as mesmerized by the beauty man could create as he once was.

But in the quiet moments, he could still appreciate the time some French craftsman took to transform a hunk of metal into a small token carried around by a dead man.

Luz had spied the lighter one weekend, and laughed at him for using something so old-fashioned. Alton just shrugged, not caring to admit that he was still getting used to having a light at his fingertips. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was still lighting a pipe with a flintlock pistol, and not so long before that when he would carry around a flint and steel.

Time was passing all the more quickly these days, technologies changing and advancing, and everyone was obsessed with needing things to be quicker, cheaper, simpler. Alton scoffed. He could hardly find it in him to care.

He glanced down at the lighter in his hand, shifting it back and forth in a practiced motion and watched as the light skittered across the sides. 

It had shown flowers, once. A veritable garden of carnations, daffodils, and lilies of the valley, with leaves spilling across the front panel onto the back. They represent good fortune, he was told. Good fortune, luck, and hope. 

When the merchant described it to him, eyes ablaze with a passion known only to those with wares to sell, Alton didn’t try to hide the snort that escaped his throat. 

Fortune and Luck had abandoned him long ago, and hadn’t returned since waking up in a battlefield abandoned by all but the dead, sword in his chest and blood in his mouth. 

And what the fuck was Alton supposed to do with hope?

It was the quote on the back that had caught his eye, all those years ago in a street market in Reims. The beveled edges had faded with time, the familiar letters Alton traced were more memory by now than any physical mark. Une vie honorable est une vie éternelle.

An honorable life is an eternal life.

Alton couldn’t help but stare at the message, both then and now. He hated that goddamn word. Immortal. Unending. Eternal. 

They were such flowery words, used by people who craved what they couldn’t have, what they shouldn’t. The romanticized idea of the everlasting, the fountain of youth, the gift of life! Alton was sick of it.

This wasn’t life. He was a fucking dead man walking. And he sure as hell didn’t do anything honorable to deserve it.

months ago, while thinking about the absolute insanity of the almost...cavalier? attitude we see alton more have over the course of the series, an idea hit my brain: what if there was a reason nothing seemed to phase him - not panzers, not being a breath away from a car wreck, not bastogne, not speirs? what if this wasn't his first war? that thought spiraled me into a minor insanity that is this: my immortal soldier!alton more au, loosely inspired by the movie the old guard (2020). the idea is that, once upon a time, there was a soldier in a land many centuries ago. one day, he died in battle. and then, he woke up. and then he died. and then he woke up. over, and over. drawn to countless battles, conflicts, and wars, each one etching itself into the core of his soul. a never-ending cycle...until one sweltering summer, where he found himself at a training camp at the foot of a mountain. anyways. at some point, i plan on writing this as a full story, but that is admittedly a long ways away. however, in celebration of alton more's birthday today, i wanted to post my favorite scene that i've written for this au! it's set sometime at the beginning of the story, in the early days of camp toccoa. mostly, it's just a character study of this version of alton more. hope you enjoyed! and of course - happy birthday alton more!

(song insp.)

taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @coco-bean-1218 @bucky32557038ww2 @georgieluz @samwinchesterslostshoe @xxluckystrike @next-autopsy @ronald-speirs @land-sh @ronsparky @panzershrike-pretz @theredrenard @kyellin

[nickitxrres]

closed starter for @fleetsummers

location: kitchens

Nicki had been sitting outside of the clinic for a few hours now. There was too much talking inside and she caught whiff of something that made her want to heave the contents of her stomach. All she had to protect her from the winds was the blanket she borrowed and at first, she thought she’d be fine. She’d acclimate to the temperature eventually. However the longer she sat the colder she felt and the thought of going back into the clinic was not ideal. Not that there really was anything in there that could warm her up more. No, she needed something. Perhaps some warm soup from the kitchens. Or tea. Anything hot at this point. Good thing the community center wasn’t far from the clinic.

It took her a bit but she wandered into the kitchen. She had a mission - find something warm, find a chair and sit down to slowly sip it down. Slow was the keyword. This was probably the slowest she was going to be for a while. She could already hear Ike’s chiding words about moving too fast and aggravating her ribs more than they already were. Her hand pressed against the door and she swung it open, stumbling to a stop when she saw Fleet. “Mi estrellita,” she said, forcing a smile on her face as she took another step. “Please be my absolute hero and say that there is some soup or something warm in here that I can have.”

[jakehawk]

Name 3-5 people in Redwood who you find personally attractive.

"In no particular order: Nicki, Renee, Mayra, Fleet, Zack."

[darkmovies]

Scream of the Wolf (2023) Date de sortie : 13/06/2023 Réalisateur : Dominic Brunt Scénario : Joel Ferrari, Pete Wild Avec : James Fleet, John Henshaw, Nicky Evans

[arcadianambivalence]

What @beneath-the-willow-tree said

honestly my dearest hope for post-divorce armand is that he's gone back to amadeo-style party girl days. he's drinking the drug blood, he's dancing in the club, he's sucking and fucking anything that moves, he's flying under the influence and crashing into walls, he's puking blood and come into public bathroom sinks. the reason nobody can find him is that armand himself can't keep track of where he is or where he's going, all cities look the same when you're an old man who hasn't come down off speed for a solid month.

[fandom]

Musical Acts

Kendrick won here, too.

Taylor Swift

Stray Kids +2

BTS -1

My Chemical Romance -1

Kendrick Lamar

Chappell Roan

Ghost

ENHYPEN +7

ATEEZ +2

Megan Thee Stallion +13

SEVENTEEN +1

Drake +74

Joker Out +8

Louis Tomlinson -4

Fall Out Boy -7

The Beatles +23

Sabrina Carpenter +66

Hozier -9

æspa +23

Harry Styles -14

Twenty One Pilots

NCT Dream +9

TWICE -7

Beyoncé +2

Red Velvet +10

One Direction +34

Tomorrow X Together -10

Queen +5

NCT 127 -5

Britney Spears +45

Snoop Dogg +48

Will Wood and the Tapeworms

LOONA +3

Joost Klein

The Mechanisms +13

LE SSERAFIM -2

SHINee -18

BLACKPINK -8

EXO -19

Mitski -2

Rihanna -14

ITZY -2

Miley Cyrus +38

Olivia Rodrigo -15

Ariana Grande +43

Macklemore

WayV +12

IVE +6

Lady Gaga +35

Paramore -22

Niall Horan -1

Dua Lipa -3

Greta Van Fleet -31

Bruce Springsteen

Fiona Apple +23

Boygenius -19

Charli XCX

Billie Eilish

Rammstein +10

The Mountain Goats +7

Astro +2

Elvis Presley -19

Lemon Demon

Green Day

David Bowie

NewJeans

Metallica +23

Madonna

Halsey +30

Guns N' Roses

Michael Jackson

Courtney Love

The 1975 -32

Zayn Malik

Nirvana +18

Gorillaz -2

Phoebe Bridgers -30

Weezer

Muse

Katy Perry

Käärijä -29

(G)-IDLE -2

Nicki Minaj

Tracy Chapman

Tokio Hotel

Nsync

Bob Dylan

Panic At The Disco -75

Stevie Nicks

Dreamcatcher -14

Arctic Monkeys -36

Shawn Mendes

Led Zeppelin +1

Pink Floyd

NCT U +5

Oasis

Dolly Parton -51

Slipknot

The Boyz

Justin Timberlake

The number in italics indicates how many spots a group or name moved up or down from the previous year. Bolded groups or names weren’t on the list last year.

From Sabrina Carpenter to song swaps, there's a Community for every music lover out there. Check 'em out!

[heeeyvicky]

I'm just saying, have you ever wondered what it was like for the twins to be in Nicky's care?

If Aaron knew his cousin at all, to Andrew he was a complete stranger who had no meaning to him. He was just another foster parent, another carer who didn't have to stay long because no one stayed long, everyone left. Plus Nicky was overly emotional and active, which probably irritated Andrew.

But he was different from the other carers: Nicky didn't demand anything in return. Never. Not from Andrew or Aaron, they never had to pay for his care and guardianship with bruises on their skin or hands on their wrists.

And that was strange. Strange for both of them, because no one had ever given themselves to them so freely and genuinely, without a catch or pain.

Never had their inner wounds and injuries been looked at with such a humble warmth in eyes that said Nicky cared.

They had notes they found in the pockets of their sweatshirts and German language that had become something important and very reverent.

In the evenings the twins threw fleeting grateful glances that Nicky could hardly read or understand at the time, but now, years later, he realised how important it was, what a big step forward they had made and how much he needed them as much as they needed him.

P.s. Pardon for my English, I'm not a native speaker

[nickistuffs]

✨Masterlist✨

hello! My name is Nicki and this is the list of 'one shots' that I've created. They are arranged from Oldest to Newest creations.

If you have any questions go ahead and ask!

(please don't judge the dated Tumblr feed I made this when I was in grade school for nostalgia's sake I won't change anything) ...

Tethered together (Harry x Designer Reader)

Y/N and Harry’s bond was effortless yet deep, built on understanding and unwavering support. He made Y/N feel cherished, while Y/N grounded him in ways he never expected. Together, they were a perfect balance—fire and calm, adventure and comfort—an extraordinary yet beautifully simple love.

Design Choices 874

Chimed Encounters 965

Part 1 Hello, Again 3.07k

Part 2 Hello, Again 2.01k

Art Buddies 1.9k

Chasing The Moment 1.9k

Learning News Things Together 3.8k

Birthday With You 2.7k

Falling and Filament 1.3k

Fan to partner 1.7K

Our First Valentines 1.3K

Babysitter's Club 3.4K

Car Trouble and Complications 1.5k

Mutt 1.3k

Savouring Our Memories 2.8k

Teasing and Warm Embraces 2.1k

Fast Cars and Fine Arts TBA

🍏ANGST🍏

Almost, Maybe 2.6k

Between The Lines 3.2k

A Reminder To Breathe 2.3k

Part 1 Almost Perfect, Almost Enough 3.3k

Part 2 Almost Perfect, Almost Enough 2.8k

🌝ONE SHOT🌝

Aching Wrist 361

TBA

...

Soft Meadows (CEO Harry x Teacher Reader)

Two unlikely souls, a CEO and a teacher, connected that night in a quiet restaurant, both seeking solace from the pressures of their worlds. What began as an unexpected meeting quickly turned into a whirlwind of laughter, vulnerability, and a bond neither of them could explain. In that fleeting moment, they found something rare: a genuine connection, untouched by their titles or roles.

From Across The Room TBA

…

One Shots

💗FLUFF💗

Let's Eat! (Dadrry X Filipina reader) 499

Blush and Comfort (Harry x Reader) 262

Karaoke Lovers (Harry x Filipina Reader) 678

Beautiful Stranger (Harry x Reader) 469

...

[witchingwithscissors]

Agathario AU | “Casual” Part Two, a continuation of this.

Rio stands on the porch for what feels like ages, trying to catch her breath. She’s removed the spare key from her pocket three times now, only to slip it back in and consider fleeing. But tonight, something stronger than fear makes her slide the key into the lock. The mechanism turns with a click that reverberates up her arm, and she pushes open the door.

A hush drapes over the entrance.

The low lamp in the living room casts just enough glow for Rio to make out the familiar shapes of coats hanging by the wall, a child’s shoes kicked off in the corner, and—unexpectedly—a small box of crayons resting atop the console table, like an abandoned art project. That single sight sends a pang of remorse through her ribs. Nicky’s crayons, likely left there after one of his endless coloring sprees.

She swallows, steps forward. The air is thick with the aroma of melted cheese and warm pasta. There’s no mistaking Agatha’s homemade mac and cheese: six cheeses, crisped edges, the sort of meal that usually fills the home with laughter and a cozy, lived-in vibe.

Tonight, though, something else hangs in the air—tension, heavy and palpable.

“Agatha?” Rio calls.

She feels an odd mixture of hope and dread swirl in her stomach. The place looks the same: the same scuffs on the hardwood, the same couch they’ve collapsed onto so many times, the same potted plant leaning precariously in the corner. Yet, she senses that everything has changed in the two weeks she’s been gone.

Her gaze drifts to the kitchen, where light spills out onto the hallway floor. She pictures Agatha inside, maybe stirring the pot or setting plates on the table. Maybe she’ll turn around, see Rio, and…

She hears a slam behind her.

Before she can fully register what’s happening, Agatha barrels into her with surprising force, propelling her back through the open doorway until they both stand on the small front porch. Rio’s spine bumps into the porch railing, and she catches herself just in time to avoid toppling backward.

“Hey—” Rio starts, hands flying up.

“Outside,” Agatha snaps, her voice trembling with anger. “You don’t get to walk in like you own the place.”

Rio stares, her heart hammering. She can barely see Agatha’s face in the dim yellow glow of the porch light, but she doesn’t need brightness to catch the rage in those eyes. “I—I just wanted to see you,” Rio manages, voice tight.

“Funny,” Agatha says, arms folded tightly over her chest. The posture makes her look impossibly strong, yet heartbreak radiates off her like a silent scream. “I’ve had two weeks of waiting, wondering if you’d even bother to show your face. And you think you can just stroll in like it’s all fine? After what you did?”

Rio swallows around a knot in her throat. “We weren’t… We never said we were exclusive,” she blurts. It sounds defensive even to her own ears.

“Yeah,” Agatha spits, “you never said we were. I tried, remember? I brought it up that night we stayed up talking until like four—and you shut me down. Told me no attachments, no labels.” Her voice wobbles slightly on the word “attachments,” like she can’t quite keep the bitterness at bay. “And then you went and kissed some bitch in plain sight, like you were proud to show you didn’t fucking care.”

Rio averts her eyes. She can still recall the music blaring from inside that bar, the taste of liquor on her tongue, and the fleeting satisfaction of a stranger’s lips. At the time, it felt like an escape from the terrifying idea that she wanted more with Agatha. But now, she sees the ruin it left behind.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, though she’s not sure it’s enough.

“Too late for that,” Agatha mutters. She extends a shaking hand toward Rio. “Give me a cigarette.”

Rio hesitates, then reaches into her jacket pocket. She hands over the pack she’s had tucked away, half-empty from her own restless nights. Agatha snatches it, slides a single stick out, and lights up with hands that tremble just enough for Rio to notice. The tip glows ember-red in the darkness.

After the first sharp inhale, Agatha pockets the pack. “You need to quit,” she says, though the irony of her own drag is lost on neither of them.

“Yeah,” Rio whispers, hugging her arms around her ribcage. She’s too cold to pretend she’s unaffected, but the cold pales in comparison to the weight of tension squeezing her chest. “Agatha—”

“I thought I could handle it,” Agatha interrupts, smoke curling around her words. “You wanted no strings. I told myself I could do that. I’d just… enjoy whatever you gave me. But I let my son—” Her voice catches, and she turns away, blinking back tears. “I let Nicky think you were going to stay. That we were something.”

Rio wants to move closer, to place a hand on Agatha’s shoulder. She resists, unsure if she’d be pushed away again. “I didn’t realize how important—”

The soft sound of the door opening stops her short. A moment later, a small figure steps onto the porch. Nicky, hugging a stuffed rabbit to his chest, stands there with worry etched into his features. His gaze darts from his mom to Rio, and his face lights up at the sight of the latter.

“Rio!” he cries, bounding forward.

This time, Agatha doesn’t have the heart to push him away. Rio crouches on instinct, arms opening to catch him. When he collides with her chest, the force is nearly enough to knock the wind out of her. She hasn’t held him in two weeks, but it feels simultaneously like ages and no time at all.

“You didn’t come back,” Nicky mumbles, half-accusatory, half-pleading. “I was waiting for you. You said you’d show me how to stand on my hands without falling. Did I do something wrong?”

Rio’s eyes burn. She forces a swallow, her voice rough. “No, you didn’t do anything. I just… messed up. I got scared.”

Nicky stares up at her, confusion creasing his brow. “Scared of what? You’re not scared of ‘nything. You said so.”

Rio can’t answer that. She just hugs him, blinking against the flood of tears that threaten. She can’t remember the last time she felt quite this small, or this ashamed.

Agatha steps in, her posture rigid. “Nicky,” she says softly, “go inside.”

He clings to Rio’s arm. “But—”

“Inside, baby,” Agatha repeats, gentler now. “It’s late.”

Reluctantly, Nicky slips out of Rio’s embrace. His gaze lingers on her, watery with a child’s heartbreak. She manages a wobbly smile, ruffling his hair before he disappears back into the house.

Silence tumbles between them once he’s gone.

Agatha exhales a plume of smoke, snuffing the half-finished cigarette against the railing. “Tell me you need me,” she says, voice shaking with the raw vulnerability she’s been trying so hard to hide. “Tell me you need us—my son, me, this life. Or walk away for good.”

Rio stands there, the winter chill biting through her jacket, the porch light flickering overhead. She thinks of the nights she spent ignoring texts from Agatha, the brazen flirtation with someone else as if she could prove to herself she didn’t care. She thinks of how easily she’d slip out of bed when emotions got too real. And now, the weight of all that hurt sits squarely on her shoulders.

“I do need you,” Rio confesses, her voice barely a whisper. “I need… I miss… God, I’m sorry. I miss how this place always smells like freshly baked cookies, and how Nicky drags me into his action figure battles. I miss how incredibly funny, hot, smart, and kind you are—and how you’d go to the extreme, like beating up a blind hamster if it dared squeak at Nicky the wrong way. I miss the way you look at me when you cum, and how you roll your eyes at my bad jokes before laughing anyway. Fuck, baby. I never thought I was allowed to want that.”

Agatha’s shoulders loosen the tiniest bit, but her face remains drawn. She studies Rio for a long moment, as if she’s assessing whether those words are real or just more smooth talk.

Finally, she opens the door.

“Then come in,” she says softly. “But if you’re lying—”

“I’m not,” Rio promises.

Inside, the warmth settles around Rio like a blanket she doesn’t quite feel she deserves. Agatha leads the way into the kitchen, where the mac and cheese waits in a casserole dish on the counter. It’s partially covered with foil, as if Agatha had intended to keep it hot. The sight of it hits Rio with a fresh wave of guilt. This meal, something comforting and homey, was probably supposed to be for a peaceful night in. And here she is, crashing back into their lives with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball.

Agatha picks up two plates and sets them on the table. “Sit,” she says, not unkindly, though her voice still brims with tension.

Rio eases into a chair, wiping damp palms on her jeans. She watches as Agatha dishes out generous scoops of pasta, the cheese still gooey and golden at the edges. The silence is thick, but it hums with a fragile thread of possibility.

Nicky peers around the corner. “Can I eat in the living room?” he asks, glancing hopefully at Agatha.

She gives a curt nod. “But keep the volume down. It’s late, and you need to sleep soon.”

He brightens, snatching his plate and darting away, leaving Rio and Agatha alone at the table. The overhead light casts a circle of brightness on them, accentuating the shadows under Agatha’s eyes. Rio realizes just how exhausted she looks—like she’s been carrying the weight of heartbreak on too little rest.

They eat in silence.

Rio tries to taste the food, but her mouth feels numb, her appetite dulled by nerves. Occasionally, she sneaks a glance at Agatha, who focuses on her plate with a clenched jaw, posture rigid. When Agatha’s fork finally clatters against the dish, the sound makes Rio jump.

“I was so angry at you,” Agatha murmurs, staring at the remnants of cheese on her plate. “Angry because I felt tricked. Like you wanted all the perks of a relationship without the commitment.”

Rio swallows. “I—I don’t blame you. I was too afraid to define things.”

Agatha’s gaze rises, piercing. “Afraid of what?”

Rio hesitates, the truth coiling in her chest. “Of losing my freedom, I guess. Of being tied down. But I never thought about the fact that you and Nicky might actually want to be tied to me.”

Agatha exhales, pressing her lips together. Slowly, she lifts her plate and moves to the sink. Rio stands to help, but she motions for her to wait. “Just… go to the living room,” Agatha says tiredly. “I need a minute.”

Unsure what else to do, Rio nods and shuffles out. She finds Nicky curled up on the couch, eyes half-closed, plate empty on the coffee table. He beckons her closer, and she settles in next to him gingerly.

“Rio?” he murmurs, voice groggy. “You’re staying, right?”

The question punches her in the gut. She lays a tentative hand on his head, brushing a curl off his forehead. “Yeah, buddy,” she manages, voice taut. “I’m here for now.”

He studies her as if trying to decode whether she means it. Then his eyelids sag, and he scoots closer, letting his head rest on her arm. Within minutes, his breathing evens out into the soft rhythm of a child’s sleep.

Rio’s gaze drifts across the living room: the scattered crayons, the bookshelf crammed with law texts and children’s picture books side by side, the crocheted blanket thrown over the armchair. This place has always felt like a world apart from the chaos Rio usually gravitates to—rowdy bars, smoky clubs, fleeting connections. Maybe that’s why she never let herself settle here, no matter how good it felt.

She’s still thinking this over when Agatha appears in the doorway. The kitchen lights are off now, so the only illumination comes from the lamp by the TV. Agatha presses her lips together, surveying the scene: Nicky asleep against Rio, Rio perched stiffly like she’s afraid to move.

Agatha sighs and pads over. “Come on,” she whispers, gently lifting Nicky up. He whimpers, stirring, but doesn’t fully wake. She shifts him against her shoulder and carries him down the hallway to his room.

Rio follows at a distance, hovering by the doorway as Agatha tucks Nicky in. The tenderness in that act—the light press of her hand on his back, the soft hush of her voice—brings tears to Rio’s eyes again.

When Agatha straightens, she beckons Rio out into the hallway, shutting Nicky’s door with care. “You look like a wreck,” she says quietly.

Rio almost laughs; it’s true. She feels wrung out, like she’s been running a marathon in shoes two sizes too small. “I don’t know if I should stay or—”

“Stay,” Agatha says, surprising Rio with the firmness in her tone. “Sit with me.”

They move to the couch, the cushions still warm from Nicky’s presence. A thick silence drapes over them, but it’s no longer suffocating—more like they’re both trying to find words that can hold their pain without causing more wounds.

Finally, Rio breaks the silence. “I’m sorry,” she repeats, voice husky with exhaustion. “I didn’t realize you—both of you—felt this strongly. Or maybe I did, and I was too selfish to care.”

Agatha runs a hand across her tired face. “Yeah,” she says, letting the single syllable convey the weight of her hurt. Then, her voice softens, “But you’re here now. And you said you need us?”

Rio nods, words tangling in her throat. She reaches for Agatha’s hand, and for a moment, she worries Agatha will pull away. Instead, Agatha curls her fingers around Rio’s in a tentative gesture of acceptance.

“This isn’t going to be easy,” Agatha says, the faint quiver in her tone betraying her worry. “I’m not… I can’t just forget what you did.”

Rio squeezes her hand gently. “I’m not asking you to. I’ll prove myself—whatever it takes.”

Agatha’s eyes narrow, a mix of hurt and simmering anger in them. “It still hurts,” she says quietly, “knowing other women have kissed you—touched you—since we’ve been together.”

Rio’s cheeks burn as she takes Agatha’s hand in hers. “I promise you, you’re the best lover I’ve ever had,” she confesses in a low, earnest tone. “I haven’t let anyone go down on me since you—because that level of intimacy is something I want to share only with you. Sure, I’ve fucked and kissed other women—mostly to let off steam or prove to myself I was still free—but none of it ever felt real. With you, it’s different. I’m terrified, but I want us to be real. I want to build something together—with you and Nicky. I want to shout from the rooftops how much you mean to me and share moments that matter. Like, fuck, I don’t know—a day at the pier this summer where we eat too much, take ridiculous tourist photos, and, I promise, I’ll even win Nicky a toy.”

For a long, weighted moment, Agatha’s expression remains guarded, the old pain still flickering behind her eyes. Then, a slow smile tugs at her lips—a mix of mischief and raw emotion. “You know,” Agatha says, voice low and edged with a teasing warning, “if you ever do that again—if you ever let someone else come that close—I know a guy who makes people disappear.”

Rio’s eyes widen, a half-laugh bubbling up as she searches Agatha’s face for a hint of jest. For a second, uncertainty dances in her gaze; she’s about 80% sure Agatha isn’t entirely joking. “Are you serious?” she asks softly, her heart pounding in the quiet space between them.

Agatha’s gaze drops to their entwined hands. “Maybe,” she replies, her tone ambiguous—a promise wrapped in humor with just a touch of menace that makes Rio shiver. “Maybe I am.”

Rio’s heart flutters as she looks up at Agatha, and with a teasing grin that belies all her vulnerability, she murmurs, “God, you’re so sexy.”

Without waiting for a reply, Rio leans forward. Her free hand rises to gently caress Agatha’s cheek, the touch both tender and determined. Agatha exhales shakily, her eyes fluttering closed as she allows herself this moment of vulnerability. Their lips meet in a soft, measured kiss—a delicate mingling of sensual warmth, lingering hurt, and the fragile hope of something lasting. In that kiss, past betrayals and the promise of a new beginning blend together, forging a tentative path forward for the two of them—and for the small, hopeful family they’re trying to build.

They don’t speak again for a long while, content to sit in the quiet, absorbing the gravity of what “trying again” might look like.

Early morning light filters through the windows, painting the living room in gentle hues of gray and gold. Rio wakes with a crick in her neck, realizing she must’ve dozed off curled on the couch. She sits up, wincing at the dull ache in her shoulder.

Across the room, she hears faint movement in the kitchen. Curiosity piqued, she stands and pads toward the noise. The sight that greets her is both sweet and jarring: Nicky perched on the counter, swinging his legs in excitement, and Agatha rummaging through a cabinet for flour.

“Good morning,” Agatha says softly, throwing Rio an uncertain smile. “We usually make pancakes on Saturdays.”

Rio’s heart clenches. She’s never woken up here on a weekend. “I— I’d like to help,” she offers, stepping forward. She remembers how incompetent she felt last night, trying to help with dinner, but she’s determined not to shy away.

Agatha slides her a mixing bowl, measuring cups, and a whisk. “You can measure out the flour,” she instructs. “Nicky, grab the eggs from the fridge.”

Nicky hops down, rushing to comply. The domestic routine feels almost normal, were it not for the undercurrent of tension humming beneath the surface. Rio carefully measures out the flour and sugar, trying not to shake too badly. She wants to earn her place here, though she’s unsure how to do so beyond small, clumsy acts of everyday life.

Nicky soon returns, proudly offering the eggs to Rio. His eyes shine with unspoken questions: Are you staying for real this time? Do I get to keep you in my world?

She senses them all but doesn’t know how to reassure him, other than by staying right here.

They work in companionable silence, interrupted only by the occasional clang of a spoon or a small spill of batter. When the batter’s ready, Agatha heats a pan on the stove. Rio stands beside her, feeling the warmth from both the burner and the presence of this makeshift family.

As the first pancake sizzles, Rio’s phone buzzes on the counter. She glances at the screen, sees a name she’d rather forget. The girl from the bar. Her chest constricts. A split second passes before she swiftly silences the phone and slides it facedown, determined not to let it intrude on this fragile peace.

Agatha notices. Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t comment. Instead, she spoons batter onto the pan, letting it spread into a misshapen circle. “Flip it in a minute,” she says to Rio, handing her the spatula.

Rio nods. She rests her free hand on the countertop, inadvertently brushing against Agatha’s arm. There’s a moment, a shared look—Agatha’s eyes flick up, and Rio’s breath catches. She feels the unspoken question: Are you really going to try?

She answers by gently clasping Agatha’s hand, giving it a brief squeeze before turning back to the pancake. “I’ll flip it,” she says softly, “when it’s ready.”

Nicky giggles at the seriousness in her tone. “You sound like a cooking show.”

Rio smiles, though her eyes betray the intensity of what she’s truly feeling. For now, it’s enough just to share this small space, to make breakfast in a quiet kitchen filled with the aroma of fresh batter. She can’t erase the past two weeks, or the times she ran from attachment, but she can try—slowly, honestly—to stay.

Agatha guides her with quiet instructions, and Rio follows carefully, letting each second stretch. After a few pancakes—some burned at the edges, others almost perfect—they gather around the table for a breakfast that feels oddly momentous. No one says much, but the hush is gentler than the night before.

As they begin to eat, Nicky rambles about school, about a friend’s birthday party next week. Rio listens, nodding, her mind flashing with thoughts of future moments—helping him pick out a birthday present, dropping him off at school. The idea of it all used to terrify her. Now, it thrills and petrifies her in equal measure.

Agatha catches her eye from across the table, a small, uncertain smile curving her lips. It’s as if she’s saying, We can figure this out.

Rio returns the look, a silent vow forming in her chest: I’m not leaving this time.

Her phone buzzes insistently on the counter—a stubborn echo of habits she’s been trying to leave behind—but Rio doesn’t glance at it. Instead, she fixes her gaze on the table, absorbing the small, messy, yet hopeful scene unfolding before her.

As she takes a bite of pancake, its sweetness melting on her tongue, a familiar lyric drifts through her mind: “it’s hard being casual.”

In that quiet moment, buoyed by the gentle weight of Nicky’s trust and the soft openness in Agatha’s eyes, an undeniable truth settles over her: she craves a life that isn’t casual. With resolve firming inside her, she decides then and there to delete that number—no more distractions.

Rio knows now that what she truly wants is something real, where every moment counts and nothing is taken for granted.

[noirsloth]

Nicky and twinyards

Nicky never thought he could become a savior. Or anything at all, if he`s being honest.

It`s almost laughable to imagine him as anything but an inconvenience. His parents, schoolmates, and church members always gave him that consoling smile when he talked too much or laughed too loudly.

He didn`t really know that he was suffocating until he landed in Germany. It was the first clean and hopeful breath he had ever had. It lasted not for long, but it changed everything.

One messy call and many chaotic discussions later, he found himself on the plane to Columbia. He felt confident enough to hold his breath for a while. But Aaron and Andrew had no such luxury.

He’s met with icy stares, snarky comments, and aggression. Nicky`s bed is cold and empty, nothing like what he had in Germany. But he can tolerate it. Years of living with his parents taught him how to hide his emotions and real feelings. And what was there to hide? It’s teenagers, he expected it. He should have. 

At least they’re not with Luther. At least they have their own space and no fear of retaliation. At least he can give them their own rooms. 

Sometimes, he wonders if they care at all about him. Maybe they’d put their foot down with Luther. Or they would just accept it all and see no problems with his worldviews, they’re straight after all. 

Then comes an attack. His mother once told him that he’d diè like that - in some filthy alley with other sinners. Maybe she’d laugh about it, mocked him for not listening, doubting her advice.

But he’d say that she was wrong.

Because Andrew did come and protect him. In the following weeks, Aaron frequently pulled him aside for cleansing and took meticulous care of his wounds. When everyone else pressured them, they stood united, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

So that’s enough. Nicky can get up for another day, make breakfast, clean the bathroom, go to work, leave cacao on the lower shelf, talk with Erik, breathe chill night air after the shift, lock the front door, accept the hugs from a way too big bed, and keep moving forward. 

Just one step after another. 

Till he can fully breathe into his lungs.

Till they all can feel the hope and fresh whiff.

Till they need still him.

[my-religion-greek-myth]

Burnt Pancakes

Little snippets of fluff series of Fem Reader X Agatha X Rio and Nicky. I don't know what to name this series, and it's gonna be just one shot each time. Also, if you have any idea of a fluffy family moment, let me know!

Fem Reader X Agatha X Rio + Nicky

Word: 4.5k-ish

The first rays of sunlight spilled through the sheer curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. The warmth of the morning light stirred you from sleep, and you groaned softly, burying your face deeper into the pillow. The bed was luxuriously comfortable, and the scent of lavender lingered faintly on the sheets—Agatha’s doing, of course. She always insisted on things smelling just right.

You stretched lazily, a contented smile curling on your lips as your mind wandered back to the night before. Even now, in the soft light of morning, the memory felt so vivid it was almost tangible—like it was unfolding all over again. Agatha’s low, velvety laughter still resonated in your ears, the perfect counterpoint to Rio’s mischievous snickers. The two of them had been a magnetic force, one commanding and sharp, the other playful and cunning, and you’d been caught deliciously in the middle.

Agatha, as always, had carried herself with a sense of authority, her teasing laced with a deliberate edge that sent shivers down your spine. Her fingers—steady, confident—had left a trail of heat wherever they touched, her gaze a smouldering thing that seemed to burn right through you. Yet, as commanding as she was, there had been fleeting moments of softness in her eyes, a tenderness that only revealed itself when she thought no one was paying attention.

And then there was Rio—wild, irreverent, and utterly unpredictable. Her laugh had been the soundtrack to the night, light and lilting but never without a wicked edge. She had darted in and out of the game like a fox, quick and clever, always one step ahead. You could still picture how she’d sprawled out on the bed, looking every bit like the queen of her little kingdom. “Careful, Agatha,” she’d purred at one point, a devilish grin tugging at her lips. “You’re hogging all the fun, and I’ve got a few tricks of my own.”

The way she’d leaned forward, her eyes dancing with mischief, had made your pulse quicken. She’d caught you off guard more than once—her hand brushing yours under the guise of a casual touch, her breath warm against your ear as she murmured something that left you blushing furiously. “Relax,” she’d teased, her tone playful yet laced with just enough heat to keep you guessing. “You’ll enjoy this a lot more if you let me do my thing.”

And, oh, had she done her thing. Rio had a way of making everything feel like a game, a thrilling dance where the rules changed on her whim. She’d nudged Agatha out of her carefully curated control, making her laugh—a genuine, surprised laugh—when Rio pulled some cheeky stunt like when she’d stolen Agatha’s glass of wine, taking a slow, exaggerated sip before handing it back with a wink. “Sharing is caring,” she’d said, her voice dripping with mock innocence.

Yet, for all her antics, there had been a subtle kind of care beneath Rio’s mischief, an unspoken understanding that left you feeling seen and safe, even as she pushed boundaries with her playful jabs and daring gestures. At one point, she’d tugged you to your feet, twirling you in an impromptu dance that left you laughing so hard your sides ached. “See?” she’d said, grinning up at you. “I’m not all trouble.”

The interplay between the three of you had been electric—Agatha’s sharp wit, Rio’s boundless energy, and your own giddy exhilaration all feeding into a perfect storm of chaos and chemistry.

Agatha and Rio—so different, yet so perfectly balanced—had turned the night into something unforgettable. You closed your eyes and let yourself relive it all, every laugh, every touch, every glance that lingered just a second too long. The thought brought a blush to your cheeks, warmth spreading through you as you replayed the memory. It wasn’t just the passion—though there had been plenty of that—it was the way the three of you clicked so effortlessly. The love, the teasing, the connection. The heat in your cheeks deepened, and you pressed your face into the pillow to hide your grin, even though no one was watching.

You were quietly grateful for Agatha’s meticulous nature as your thoughts lingered. She had insisted on soundproofing the master bedroom with magic before you started—‘fun time’ as Rio put it.

Nicky’s room was across the hall, a good distance from the master bedroom, and you couldn’t imagine the mortification if he had woken up to hear what his mothers had been up to. Instead, he’d been able to sleep soundly, blissfully unaware of the chaos behind your closed door.

Just as you let out a contented sigh, a sharp bang broke the serene morning silence, making you jolt upright. You didn’t even need to see it to know exactly what happened. “Rio,” you muttered under your breath, rubbing your eyes.

Sure enough, the sound of footsteps followed, heavy and unapologetic. Rio was the only person who could make closing a door sound like a declaration of war. You and Agatha had nagged her countless times about being careful when closing doors, especially in front of their son, but her half-hearted promises to “try” never amounted to much.

“Of course,” you mumbled, shaking your head with a small smile. Why would she change now?

You swung your legs over the side of the bed and stretched, your muscles pleasantly sore from the night before. The floor was cool beneath your feet as you padded toward the door, but instead of heading downstairs immediately, you turned toward Nicky’s room across the hall. The soundproofing may have kept him asleep through the night, but you always made a point to check on him in the mornings.

Pushing the door open gently, you peeked inside. The soft morning light filtered through his curtains, illuminating the room warmly. Nicky was still curled under his blanket, clutching his favourite stuffed animal—a well-loved fox missing a bit of fur on one ear. His dark curls framed his peaceful face, and the soft rise and fall of his chest was enough to make your heart swell.

You stepped inside quietly, crouching beside his bed and brushing a stray curl from his forehead. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake, a small sigh escaping his lips as he burrowed deeper into the blanket. Smiling, you leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his head.

“Sleep tight, sweetheart,” you whispered, tucking the blanket around him a little more snugly before standing.

Satisfied that he was still blissfully unaware of the chaos that awaited downstairs, you headed for the door. Somewhere in the house, Rio was probably getting into trouble, and you could already imagine Agatha’s sharp voice scolding her for whatever mischief she was causing.

With a smirk and a shake of your head, you tightened your robe and headed downstairs. If nothing else, mornings in this house were never boring.

You shuffled into the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. The familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, warm and inviting. Agatha was already seated at the table, a steaming mug cradled in her hands. Her usual air of perfection was slightly dishevelled this morning—her curls loosely tumbling over her shoulders, her sharp blue eyes soft with the remnants of sleep.

She was wearing a simple, baggy grey t-shirt that fell just long enough to cover her bottom, and you couldn’t help but notice she wasn’t wearing shorts. It was a rare sight; catching her in something so casual made you pause for a moment, a lazy smile tugging at your lips.

“Good morning, doll,” Agatha said, her tone smooth but tinged with amusement as she caught your gaze lingering. She raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her coffee. “Like what you see?”

You cleared your throat, grabbing a mug for yourself. “Morning,” you muttered, trying to sound nonchalant. “Nice shirt.”

Agatha smirked. “Nice try.”

You busied yourself pouring coffee, trying not to let her fluster you too much first thing in the morning. “So, what’s for breakfast?” you asked casually, leaning against the counter as you sipped your coffee.

Agatha arched an eyebrow. “I was going to ask you that. What do you want?”

You paused, considering her question. “Pancakes,” you decided, nodding to yourself. “I’ll make pancakes.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you saw Agatha’s expression faltered ever so slightly, her blue eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly as if bracing herself for disaster. She quickly masked it with a tight smile, but you’d already caught the hint of panic.

“Pancakes?” she repeated, her voice overly calm. “That’s… ambitious.”

You frowned, tilting your head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing at all,” Agatha replied smoothly, waving her hand. But the look in her eyes told you everything. She hadn’t forgotten the infamous pasta incident—a night of charred pots, ruined sauce, and a lingering smell of burnt... everything.

“Okay, I see what’s happening here,” you said, narrowing your eyes at her. “You think I’m going to mess this up. Again.”

“Did I say that?” Agatha asked innocently, though the corner of her mouth twitched as she fought back a teasing smile.

“You didn’t have to say it. I can see it.” You pointed toward her face. “That’s the face of a woman who doesn’t trust me in her kitchen.”

“Can you blame me, doll?” Agatha teased, setting her coffee down. “Last time you ‘cooked,’ we had to replace an entire pot.”

“That was one time!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up. “And pasta is harder than it looks.”

“It really isn’t,” Agatha deadpanned, resting her chin on her hand as she watched you with barely concealed amusement.

“Well, today’s my redemption arc,” you said, puffing out your chest dramatically. “You’ll see. I’ll make the best pancakes you’ve ever had.”

Agatha leaned back in her chair, clearly unconvinced but entertained, nonetheless. “I can’t wait,” she said, her voice dripping with mock encouragement.

“Even Nicky doesn’t trust your cooking,” she added, her lips twitching as she fought back a wider grin. “Remember when he refused to eat your ‘special’ cheese noodles because it smelled funny?”

“That was a bad box of noodles!” you protested, pointing at her accusingly. “That wasn’t my fault.”

“Of course, it wasn’t, doll,” Agatha said, her tone saccharine with mock understanding. “But our poor boy has a sensitive palate now. Mummy scarred him for life.”

“Oh, please,” you said, rolling your eyes. “He ate that pudding you made last week, and it was basically a bowl of sugar.”

“That’s because I know how to bribe him properly,” she quipped, sipping her coffee. “You should take notes.”

You turned toward the pantry with renewed determination, grabbing the needed ingredients. Behind you, Agatha sipped her coffee, her amused gaze following your every move.

As you started assembling the ingredients, you couldn’t help but drift your thoughts to Nicky. He was still sound asleep, blissfully unaware of the playful bickering happening in the kitchen. You smiled to yourself, picturing his messy curls and the way his nose scrunched up when he laughed. Maybe he wouldn’t trust your cooking skills, but you’d make pancakes so good they’d change his mind—or so you hoped.

This time, you’d prove Agatha wrong—or at least, you’d try not to burn the house down.

With a newfound sense of determination, you began your pancake mission. Ingredients were gathered, a mixing bowl was placed centre stage, and the whisk held firmly in your grip like a sword of culinary redemption. You attacked the batter with gusto, whisking it furiously as though you could whisk away any lingering memories of the Great Pasta Incident.

Agatha, perched elegantly at the kitchen table, looked as though she were preparing to judge a cooking competition. Her sharp blue eyes followed your every move, and her coffee cup was held with the poise of a queen observing her kingdom.

“Doll,” she began, her tone laced with amusement, “you’re supposed to whisk the batter, not bludgeon it into submission.”

“It’s a technique,” you said defensively, glaring at her over your shoulder. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Mmhmm,” she murmured, her lips curling into a smirk. “And when will I get to taste these so-called revolutionary pancakes?”

You returned to the counter with renewed focus, determined to ignore her snide remarks. The first pancake hit the pan with a satisfying sizzle, and you let out a quiet sigh of relief. Things were going smoothly—for now.

That is, until the pancake started to burn.

The distinct smell of something charred filled the air. Agatha’s nose wrinkled delicately, and she leaned back in her chair with a pointed glance at the pan. “I think your revolutionary pancake is revolting,” she quipped.

“It’s fine!” you insisted, frantically flipping the pancake. The sight of its darkened, crispy surface made you wince. Okay, maybe it wasn’t fine.

Just then, the back door swung open, slamming shut with a familiar bang. You didn’t even flinch—you already knew who it was.

Rio strolled in, her hair slightly tousled and a mischievous gleam in her dark eyes. She had twigs clinging to her shirt, and dirt smudged on her hands, and the air of someone who had definitely been up to no good. “What’s burning?” she asked casually, sniffing the air as she leaned against the counter.

“Nothing!” you snapped, cheeks flushing as you tried to salvage the now-definitely-burned pancake.

“Smells like ‘nothing’ is on fire,” Rio replied, peering over your shoulder with a grin. And she strolled over, leaning on the counter to peer into the bowl of batter. She raised a single eyebrow, her lips quirking into a smirk. “This?” she asked, motioning to the bowl. “This looks like cement.”

Agatha nearly choked on her coffee, her laughter spilling out in a musical and maddening way. “I was trying to be supportive,” she said between chuckles, waving her hand toward Rio. “But thank you for your honesty.”

“Oh, great,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you tried to pour a second pancake. “Two critics. Just what I needed.”

Rio grinned, her dark eyes gleaming mischievously. “Well, if you can’t take the heat—”

“Don’t say it,” you warned, pointing the spatula at her like a weapon.

“—stay out of the kitchen,” Rio finished with a wink.

Agatha clapped her hands together, clearly delighted by the exchange. “Oh, I’m keeping you around in the kitchen with F/N, Rio.”

“You don’t get a vote on that,” you snapped, pointing the spatula at her this time.

Rio snorted, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter. “I think she does, actually.”

You turned back to the burned pancakes with a groan but decided to put another batch in the pan. Determined, you poured more batter, hoping this one might redeem the previous attempts. As the new pancake started to cook, a faint, familiar smell of burning filled the air again. You winced.

Rio smirked at the charred pancake, leaning forward slightly as she raised an eyebrow. “You call that a pancake?”

Before you could respond, Agatha took a slow, deliberate sip of her coffee, savouring the moment. When she caught Rio’s eye, she made an exaggerated face of mock disgust, sticking out her tongue and pretending to gag.

Rio stifled a laugh, her shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth as she mimicked Agatha’s expression behind your back. You turned slightly, catching only the tail end of their exchange.

“What?” you asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Rio said innocently, though her smirk gave her away. She reached for a red apple from the counter, biting into it with a loud crunch as she leaned back to enjoy the unfolding chaos.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” you muttered, grabbing another ladle of batter and pouring it into the pan with perhaps a bit too much force.

“I am on your side,” Rio replied, teasing but light. “I’m just… objectively observing.”

Agatha chimed in, her voice dripping with faux sympathy as she rested her chin on her hand. “And how’s that working out for you, doll?”

You ignored them, your focus fixed firmly on the task at hand. This time, the pancake came out slightly less burnt—an almost passable golden brown with just a touch of overdone edges. As you flipped it onto the plate with a sigh of relief, Rio glanced at Agatha and sneaked a sarcastic thumbs up, mouthing the word ‘yummy’.

Agatha snorted quietly, her laughter muffled behind her coffee cup.

Before the third pancake could meet a similar fate, Rio stepped in with her usual grace, whisking the pan off the burner smoothly. “Careful there,” she said, glancing at you with mock seriousness. “I thought you said you had this under control.”

“I do!” you protested, though the sad, slightly charred pancake sitting in the middle of the pan betrayed you. “Mostly.”

Agatha sighed theatrically and rose gracefully from her chair, her curls bouncing slightly as she moved toward you. “Alright, doll,” she said, her voice tinged with exasperated affection. “Let me show you how it’s done.” She took the spatula from your hand, her fingers brushing yours. “Step aside.”

You watched as she flipped the pancake with practised ease, her movements precise and annoyingly perfect. The golden pancake landed on the plate like a taunt, its flawless surface mocking your earlier attempts.

“Okay, fine,” you huffed grudgingly, crossing your arms. “You win.”

Rio leaned against the counter, arms crossed and her grin smug. “Was there ever a doubt?”

“Plenty of doubt,” you shot back, grabbing your coffee cup to console yourself. “I just let her win because I’m nice like that.”

“Sure, doll,” Agatha said, smirking over her shoulder as she reached for more batter. Her tone was teasing, but the softness in her smile as she glanced back at you made your heart swell. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Rio sidled up beside you, nudging your shoulder with hers. “At least you tried,” she said warmly, her teasing softened by genuine affection.

“Thanks,” you replied dryly. “I feel so supported.”

By the time breakfast was finally ready, the kitchen was filled with laughter and the mouthwatering smell of fresh pancakes. Agatha plated the stack with the precision of someone who clearly had mastered the art while Rio snagged a pancake directly from the pile, earning a mock glare from both of you.

By the time the pancakes were ready—thanks mostly to Agatha’s intervention and Rio’s sharp eye—the kitchen smelled divine. A tall stack of golden, fluffy pancakes sat in the centre of the table, accompanied by a small jug of maple syrup, fresh fruit, and a dish of butter. The chaos of earlier was replaced by a cosy sense of accomplishment. Well, mostly.

Nicky appeared in the doorway, rubbing his sleepy eyes and clutching his favourite stuffed fox. His dark curls were mussed from sleep, and he yawned loudly as he padded into the room. “Mummy, is breakfast ready?” he asked, his voice still groggy.

You smiled, ruffling his hair as he climbed into his seat at the table. “Yes, sweetheart. Pancakes, just for you.”

“Mama!” Nicky called Rio brightly as he saw her, who was already pouring him a small glass of orange juice. “Did you help?”

Rio grinned, sliding the glass toward him. “Of course I did, kiddo. Someone had to make sure Mummy didn’t burn the house down.”

You shot her a mock glare. “Really, Rio? That’s the story we’re going with?”

Nicky giggled, his wide eyes sparkling with mischief. “Mummy’s cooking’s bad.”

Your jaw dropped in mock offence, and you huffed dramatically, placing your hands on your hips. “Excuse me, young man. I am standing right here.”

Agatha chuckled softly as she took her seat at the table. “You’d better watch out, doll,” she said, smirking as she helped herself to a pancake. “He’s not wrong.”

Nicky turned to Agatha with a sweet smile. “Mumma, did you make the pancakes?”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, clearly relishing her moment of triumph. “I may have stepped in to help,” she said smoothly, slicing a piece of her pancake.

“You saved breakfast!” Nicky said with pure, four-year-old sincerity, making Rio burst out laughing.

You sighed, slumping into your chair. “This is a conspiracy,” you muttered, reaching for the syrup. “A family-wide betrayal.”

Rio leaned over to nudge you playfully with her shoulder. “Aw, don’t pout, Mummy. Your pancakes just needed a little… guidance.”

“A lot of guidance,” Agatha chimed in, earning a glare from you that only made her laugh harder.

Nicky, oblivious to the teasing dynamic, happily devoured his pancake, syrup smeared across his cheek. “Mummy, these are yummy now!” he declared, flashing you a bright smile.

“See?” you said, holding up your hands triumphantly. “Even Nicky thinks they’re good—now.”

“Mama and Mumma fixed them,” Nicky added innocently, making Rio chuckle and Agatha smirk into her coffee.

“Traitor,” you muttered, though your heart warmed at his happy grin.

The table soon settled into an easy rhythm. Nicky happily chattered about his plans for the day, his stuffed animal perched beside his plate as though it were joining the meal. Rio listened attentively, her dark eyes twinkling as she occasionally added playful comments that made him giggle. Agatha, ever the composed one, cut small pieces of pancake for Nicky, her calm demeanour hiding the soft affection in her gaze.

You watched them all, a small smile tugging at your lips. For all the teasing, for all the chaos, this was your family—messy, imperfect, and absolutely perfect at the same time.

As the meal wrapped up, Nicky climbed into your lap, his sticky hands clutching your shirt as he rested his head on your shoulder. “Mummy, can we have pancakes again tomorrow?” he asked adorably, his voice muffled against you.

“Maybe,” you replied, kissing his curly head. “If I’m feeling brave.”

Rio snorted, earning a swat on the arm from you, and Agatha simply shook her head, muttering something about getting back up before letting you near the stove again.

As the sunlight poured through the windows, you couldn’t help but feel a quiet, profound happiness settle over you. This was home—complete with burnt pancakes, endless teasing, and the people you loved most in the world.

The kitchen was finally calm after the earlier chaos, though the faint smell of burnt batter still lingered in the air. Despite the rocky start, breakfast had been served, eaten, and thoroughly enjoyed. The perfectly golden pancakes on everyone’s plates had been, in the end, Agatha’s doing.

You leaned back in your chair, sipping your coffee and watching Nicky as he happily finished the last bites of his pancake. The sticky syrup smeared across his cheeks, paired with his radiant grin, was almost enough to make you forget the earlier mishaps.

Agatha, sitting across from you, was the picture of smug satisfaction, her blue eyes sparkling as she cradled her coffee mug. “So,” she began, her tone dripping with feigned politeness, “how would you rate your contribution to breakfast today, doll?”

You shot her a mock glare, clutching your coffee defensively. “I got us started. If it weren’t for me, there’d be no batter to burn.”

Rio snorted from her spot, lounging casually in her chair. “That’s one way to spin it.”

“Thank you for your support, Mama,” you said dryly, rolling your eyes at her.

“Mama’s funny,” Nicky piped up, giggling as he pointed at Rio. His small hands were still sticky from breakfast, though his stuffed fox seemed to have escaped the syrupy carnage.

Rio gave him an exaggerated wink. “I aim to please, kid.”

Nicky beamed and turned his wide eyes toward Agatha. “Mumma made the pancakes because Mummy burned them,” he said innocently, his voice lilting with glee at his perfect observation.

Agatha nearly choked on her coffee, her lips twitching as she fought back a laugh. “He knows everything,” she said, smirking at you over the rim of her mug.

“Traitor,” you muttered, reaching over to ruffle Nicky’s curls. He laughed and pressed his fox to his chest, clearly unbothered by your mock offence.

“You should be proud,” Rio teased, standing and stretching lazily. “It takes a special kind of talent to set off a smoke alarm with batter.”

“That didn’t happen!” you protested, narrowing your eyes at her. “The smoke detector is fine.”

“For now,” Agatha quipped, her tone dry but affectionate. She stood and began gathering the empty plates, her movements effortlessly graceful. “Alright, doll, I think it’s fair to say breakfast was a team effort—though the team carried you.”

“Rude,” you replied, though you couldn’t help but grin. Watching her move about the kitchen, so perfectly composed, even in a baggy t-shirt, you felt that familiar warmth bloom in your chest.

Nicky hopped down from his chair, grabbing your hand with his sticky little fingers. “Mummy, can we go outside now?” he asked, his wide eyes sparkling with excitement.

“In a little bit, sweetheart,” you said, brushing a sticky curl off his forehead. “First, let’s clean up the kitchen.”

Nicky immediately shook his head, his curls bouncing as he declared, “I can’t, Mummy. I’m too little!”

Rio chuckled from the sink, where she was rinsing a plate. “Convenient,” she muttered with a smirk, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm.

You leaned down and lightly tapped Nicky’s nose, earning a giggle. “You still need to be cleaned up first, sticky boy,” you teased.

Before Nicky could wriggle away or protest further, Agatha’s calm, steady voice cut in. Standing beside Rio with a plate in hand, she glanced back at you. Her sharp features softened as her eyes met yours. “Don’t worry, doll,” she said gently. “We’ve got it.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, scooping Nicky into your arms as he squealed with laughter. “What would I do without you?” you asked, your voice full of affection.

“Burn down the house,” Agatha replied with a smirk, earning a laugh from Rio.

“Probably true,” Rio added, her grin widening. “I mean, someone’s got to keep the syrup monster under control.”

As the three of you worked together—well, mostly Agatha and Rio, since Nicky was still “too little”—the sticky chaos seemed to fade into the background. Nicky’s laughter bubbled up as he chattered about imaginary pancake adventures, his little hands flapping excitedly. Rio’s boisterous laugh echoed in the room, punctuated by Agatha’s sharp wit and quiet chuckles.

By the time the kitchen was tidier, the air felt lighter, filled with warmth and the lingering hum of shared moments. It wasn’t perfect—there were still smudges of syrup here and there, and Nicky had managed to sneak another sticky handprint onto your sleeve—but it didn’t matter.

The kitchen, chaotic and messy yet filled with laughter and love, was a perfect reflection of your family.

[nickitxrres]

Kissing Booth!!

where Nicki stops by for a hug and gets a therapy session as well @fleetsummers

Nicki Torres

"Okay, I couldn't stay away," she said as she walked in and found Fleet. "Necesito un abrazo de mi estrellita."

fleet summers

"Ohh!" Fleet popped up from behind the booth, scuttling out to hug Nicki before she even reached anywhere near the stool. "Si claro, mi morena. But you know you didn't need to wait for a booth for that." He kept his arms around her, guiding her towards the seat. "How goes the recovery?"

Nicki Torres

"I know I didn't but I felt an overwhelming urge to get one right this second." She hugged him back and kept her arm around him as he guided her inside. "Alright. Still a little sore and stiff but I'm taking it easy, as promised. No unnecessary trips or reckless acts of stupidity. What about you? How are you?"

fleet summers

He helped get her situated and stayed standing next to Nicki's stool, both arms looped around her. "It's okay," Fleet said, after a moment. "I'm not gonna scold you about whatever it is people scold you about. Not that they're wrong--" he smiled, bumping her nose with his own, "--they do it out of love, but they've got that covered. You and me can just noodle along our own stuff."

Nicki Torres

Nicki laughed softly as she held onto him. Her fingers were tracing up and down his spine. "Well, I appreciate that. I will gladly noodle along with you." She hummed a little bit. "You didn't answer my question, silly."

fleet summers

"I'm doing all right. People are ... upset about various things, a lot. Not at me, I mean in general about their own things, but in a gross kind of way that's comforting?" Fleet huffed a little breath, half-exasperated with himself, half-relieved. "It makes me feel less like I'm trying to get attention when I'm upset."

Nicki Torres

Nicki nodded along as she reached out with her foot to try and grab the other chair and bring it closer so he could sit with her. "Well, I'm glad. I know things have been pretty bleak lately. But this whole thing....it's nice." She had motioned to the booth around them but it was more than just that. "It's about time something good happened around town. Was this whole thing your idea? It has your flair written all over it."

fleet summers

Fleet gave a shushing hiss when Nicki tried to hook the other chair, moving it himself and then sitting down. "Flair? That's a very flattering way to put it." He laughed, giving a slight shrug. "Guilty as charged. I know you're not supposed to say, but since I'm one of the organizing Leprechauns, after all--" Fleet elbowed her slightly, "--how are you feeling about your recipient?"

Nicki Torres

Nicki couldn't help but laugh at the sound he made when he shushed her. She wasn't sure if he was trying to stop her because she was straining to pull the chair around or for some other reason. She figured it was the latter. Upon his question she laughed and shrugged. "It's gonna be....amusing, let's put it that way. I was kinda hoping for someone else but it's gonna be fun and a little challenging. What about you? You got anyone good?"

fleet summers

"Whoa whoa whoa, you can't just say you were hoping for somebody else and not tell me who!" Fleet gave Nicki's knee the lightest of slaps. "I'm trying to keep you from over-exerting yourself and here you want to make me twist myself into conniptions guessing at who you would've preferred to get. Tell me all about it and--" Fleet put on a light, lilting Irish accent, "--sure I'll see what magic I can do, slainte."

Nicki Torres

"Oh, no," she laughed and shook her head, "that's cheating! I can't get special favors because I have an in with one of the glorious little leprechauns on the leprechaun committee! And besides, I'm curious to see who has him and what they get for him. And before you ask, no, it's not Ares. I actually have something special for him already just because. But no, it's probably better I keep who I have so that I can have time to come up with something for other, nameless person."

fleet summers

"I wouldn't have guessed Ares! Give me some credit for having more drama than sense." Fleet pouted extravagantly when Nicki declined to say who she'd hoped to get, tapping his bottom lip for a moment and then guessing, "David? Isaac? Orion? Lucien? Oh, there's no point, you know everyone so the possibilities are endless. Sigh." He wriggled on his stool, saying, "I don't know mine that well but I'm pleased! Doing something nice for them won't be any trouble at all."

Nicki Torres

Nicki gave Fleet a cute, adoring look as she cupped his face in her hand. "God, your little pout is so hard to say no to. You're killing me, mi estrellita." None of the names he guessed were correct, although David's name popped up and she laughed. "Wait, David got roped into this? Now that's hilarious. Who put his name in? Was it Mayra? Or Val? I bet it was Mayra." Fleet seemed so excited for his prospect and considering it was someone he didn't know well, she had money it was on one of the new arrivals. "Please don't tell me you got Mike." Because of course that was her first thought.

fleet summers

"It wasn't Mayra, I can tell you that much." Fleet snickered, shaking his head as he offered a tiny bit more information: "It was mostly us Leprechauns who tossed in the unlikeliest of participants. We all have faces that are hard to say no to." Fleet gave her his biggest, most winsome eyes, but he huffed derisively when Nicki asked if Mike was his recipient. "Not on your life," he said, a curl of disgust to his lip. "I would cut my own brake line if he was in the path of my car. Theoretically." The thought of Mike made his face tighten in anger for a moment, at the thought of what that man had put Zack through, but Fleet set that aside. 

Nicki Torres

"You three are amazing. Oh, I can't wait to find out who has David and Zack and who they have. It's gonna be amazing!" She saw his pout and groaned a little bit. God, he was gonna rip it out of her, wasn't he? Probably. And Fleet would be the most successful person to do that, too. Maybe she should tell him. "Oh good. I hope whoever has him gives him a steaming pile of dog shit. Preferably from Rex." Nicki knew this was supposed to be good will but Mike was a different story. "You really want to know who I was hoping for, don't you?"

fleet summers

The praise did help to turn the anger biting at the edges of Fleet's mood back sweet again, and he flushed a bit under it, reaching to clasp Nicki's hand before dancing his fingers up her forearm, tracing little wheedling circles against her skin. "I really do wanna know," he said. "Believe me -- it can only make the situation better if I know about it. I wasn't kidding about having a some of that shamrock magic in me. Or is it rainbow magic? Either one works."

Nicki Torres

Nicki laughed and groaned a little as he really, and I mean really laid on the charm for her. It was no wonder he had won the heart of one Zack Astor. "Okay, okay, but don't overexert yourself by switching things around for me, okay? I know you three put in a lot of hard work to organize this whole thing, sooooo....." She scrunched the side of her face a bit as she tried to gauge his reaction. "I was hoping for Zack."

fleet summers

That did take Fleet aback a little, and it probably showed in the immediate tilt of his head, the pucker between his eyebrows. "Zack," he said. "But why? I mean, you already talked to him and it didn't go well. I don't know that an artificially-created situation where you were randomly slated to do something nice for him would improve things any, Nicki."

Nicki Torres

"Yeah, I know. Which is why it's probably best I didn't." She had a feeling that was going to be his reaction. "Because I'm bad at apologies? Or talking anything out, really. And I feel bad, y'know? I've been an ass and you were right and I've been doing some reflecting and....well...." she shrugged, "I think in the rehab game it's called amends or something. I thought it could be a good way to do that."

fleet summers

Fleet pursed his mouth up to one side as Nicki explained, nodding when she reached the end of her train of thought. "I see what you're saying," he said, "but I don't think that's the most effective way to make amends, not with Zack. He's pretty big on people making their own choices, of their own volition, with their own words. Authenticity goes a long, long way with him -- even authenticity that's not necessarily pretty." He drooped a little bit, sighing for real and not in the actual word now. "I wish I hadn't pushed. I made things worse."

Nicki Torres

Nicki breathed out a long, heavy breath through her nose and her shoulders slumped a little. But she nodded. "You didn't make anything worse. That's all on me, okay? You were trying to help out tu amor and I fumbled. So please, don't blame yourself, okay? I'll just....." her voice trailed off as she tried to think of what to say and she ended up shaking her head, "....I don't know. Figure something out. Maybe write something out and just read it. That could work....?"

fleet summers

"I don't know either. But it's okay if you take some time to figure it out, Nicki. I'm..." Fleet held on to her arm more consciously, as if he thought Nicki might skitter off at his next turn of conversation. "Don't take this the wrong way but -- for somebody who makes a lot of show about being devil-may-care about everyone's opinions, you're actually pretty bothered when people are upset with you, huh?"

Nicki Torres

See, Nicki felt like she didn't have time but she was gonna take Fleet's word on that. He knew Zack a bit better than her, after all. She was about ready to change the subject when she noticed how Fleet was grabbing her arm and if that wasn't a red flag enough, his preface sure as hell was. Uh oh. At first she thought about scoffing and adamantly denying that was the case but this was Fleet and damn if he wasn't observant as hell. She blew out the air from her lungs and made a face. "Yeah....but only people I care about. I don't like letting them down."

fleet summers

"Okay." Fleet switched to patting her arm instead, since Nicki had taken that well, all things considered. "It's fine to feel that way. I feel that way. Probably most people in town do." He ducked his head, smiling, to catch Nicki's eye. "It's not just you. It's nothing to be ashamed of, being like the rest of us."

Nicki Torres

Her face felt a little flushed. Whether it was embarrassment or shame or awkwardness that a little wall she had put up had  been breached, she wasn't quite sure. And his little pat she was sure was well meant but she felt a little vulnerable. Her eyes caught his face as he moved into her line of sight. Was she really that transparent? "I'm used to being closed off and calloused," she explained as she sat back up in her chair, "not seen, if that makes sense."

fleet summers

Fleet was quiet for a minute, letting that sit between them as he thought about it. "Do you want to stay that way?" he asked, once he'd felt it out. "Closed off, calloused, without anybody seeing who you really are. You're in Redwood now, with people who care about you. Even the ones who don't love you care about you, as a person, as part of our little group of survivors." Fleet stroked down to Nicki's hand, her long fingers, each one of them in turn. "What's the worst that could happen, if people who care about you see you for who you are?"

Nicki Torres

Nicki breathed out heavily. She was conflicted on how to answer that, honestly. "I wish the answer was that simple, mi estrellita," she sighed as she ran her free hand down her face. "Sometimes I think it's better to stay that way because there's never a guarantee that I'm coming back from a raid. The less people see the real me, the less they have to miss in case I don't come back. Dying is the easy part. Living is hard." Nicki offered a half smile at Fleet, wondering if the musical genius would catch the little reference she threw in there. "I love people. I love caring about people and I love being loved in return, but with everything out there....loss is easier when you aren't too invested."

fleet summers

Fleet returned the little twitch of a smile, saying, "I hope you're not telling me you've got fantasies of being a martyr, Nicki. Though you'd look great in one of those powdered periwigs and a frockcoat." There was something nagging him about what Nicki was saying, and it wasn't wholly the sentiment in itself -- though Fleet wasn't excited about that, either. He ran through her statement in his head again, then picked out a word: "It's about the raids? The raiding, that's what makes you think this way?" The thought was distressing and Fleet pressed a little more, asking, "Does Ares feel that way, too? Do Orion and Cat and Isaac?"

Nicki Torres

Nicki laughed softly. Truly. Genuinely. There was no hollowness or dullness in the song. "Wouldn't I, though? I could see it now, Saint Nicki - patron saint of sex. That is non-negotiable." A potential guide away from dismal, depressing talk but it didn't stick. "I mean, it's not just the raids, but they're the biggest risk. I love raiding. I love the thrill of it, but contrary to everyone's opinions, I'm very well aware that I'm not immortal. I'm happy to go raiding. Even better knowing I'm doing something to help everyone here in Redwood. We're taking the risks so no one else has to. It's a dangerous job and someone has to do it. Why not an adrenaline junkie with a need for speed?" There was more to it than that, obviously, but that was the general gist of it. "Well, I don't know about Cat. I'm still feeling her out. But the rest of us? We know there's a chance we're not coming back every time we go out there. But...honestly, no, I think I might be the only one with this sentiment. I've kind of always had that train of thought, even in the before times. I really only had one person I was super close with back when the world had billions of people and I'm lucky that she's here.....Mayra, in case you were wondering."

fleet summers

Fleet laughed along -- with a touch of incredulousness at Nicki's audacious remark, naming herself the saint of sex to the person who'd cheated on his boyfriend with her. It wasn't something Fleet would've said, but he didn't dwell on it; Nicki existed primarily in Nickiworld, a state of peculiar innocence that was impermeable to other people's complexities until they became impossible to ignore. See: Zack. 

She explained about the raiders and their dynamic, and Fleet honestly didn't know enough about how they worked to say otherwise, so he nodded and accepted the way Nicki described it. He did laugh again when she clarified that she was besties with Mayra, saying, "Oh, I know. I've been in town more than three minutes." Fleet nudged against her. "That's good, though, that's amazing. That the both of you ended up together and able to be there for each other when you need that kind of super duper close unquestioning friendship. I'm glad for you." That did bring up a new thought, though, and Fleet said, "Nicki, I know you love people, and you love caring about people, you've got a huge heart, anyone can see that. But I'm curious. How do you show you care about people?" He lifted a finger and stipulated, "--and your answer can't be about sex, or about jumping in front of a bullet, or killing for them. No declarations of dying or killing and no--" Fleet took a breath, "--fucking. Tell me what else." He drew his fingertips feather-light against the pretty curve of her cheek. "Tell me how you see it."

Nicki Torres

Nicki absorbed his nudge, letting it roll through her and keeping herself balanced in her chair. Things were feeling lighter, that was for sure. Which was good! Nicki had come into the booth looking for a hug and some friendly gossip with one of her favorite people. This definitely wasn't what she was planning on, even if this was maybe more therapeutic than she thought it would be. Although, for a minute, she did freeze for just a minute. The answer to his question was simple - at least, at first. Until he put in his restrictions and her mind went blank. How on Earth was she going to answer that? Her lower lip pushed out into a pout as she fumbled through her memories and thoughts to try and come up with an answer to his question. "I......I don't know," she muttered, her shoulders rising and falling in a shrug as she tried to think of something. "I guess....I like doing nice things for people? Like those clothes I found for you at the Ranch or the crystals I brought back for Mayra....oh, and the knife I asked Alden to make for Ares....which, don't tell Ares that. I want it to be a surprise." His touch tickled her skin but even that didn't really help her think. Seriously, how did she not have a good, solid answer that didn't sound pathetic to this?!

fleet summers

Nicki's list got a pleased sound out of Fleet, and he hopped upright a bit to say, "Oh! Orion brought back my bag of shirts! It was still all tied up neatly the way I'd left it, and he said that made him think that it was something treasured and worth retrieving. Which is completely right, of course. He's so neat." Which would sound like faint praise were it about anybody else, but Orion was ... neat. 

Fleet could see that Nicki was troubled, though, and he didn't really want to press her past the point of this stimulating any further contemplation on her part -- god knew, all of the things they'd been talking about would be overwhelming for anybody -- so instead he pressed a kiss to each of her cheeks, then cupped her face in his hands. "Don't approach Zack just yet," Fleet said, firmly. "Think on it. Think about what he might be feeling. And the answer is more complicated than 'angry with Nicki'. If you can't figure out anything aside from that, then leave it where it lies." He tapped a thumb against her chin. "Ares is gonna lose his mind that you commissioned something from Alden for him. That's so thoughtful of you."

Nicki Torres

"He did?!" She asked, both excited and relieved that Orion had brought those back for him. If they brought back that, she wondered what else they brought back. "That reminds me, I wonder if they found that day calendar thing we were working on. I know the whole point of why we were making it is long gone, but I thought it would still be something nice to finish and give to Ares in case he's laid up a bit longer and I'm needed back out there, helping out and everything." Probably not. She didn't remember where she had left it and it was possible it was destroyed or lost forever. Maybe she could find another day calendar and start all over again.

Nicki's eyes followed Fleet as he stood and she scrunched her face in a bit of shock and confusion as he kissed her cheeks. Not because of the soft affection because that was pretty on par for Fleet and she even felt a slight heat in her cheeks from it. Which she was sure he felt when he held her face in his hands. She then realized what he was doing - giving her advice. Really solid, sound, needed advice because this whole thing with Zack was - well, she had no idea how to navigate it at all and as easy as it would be to just walk away and suffer the consequences of her actions, she did want to try and make things right. Especially to the man who had now saved her life twice. "Alright, I'll stand down." She had no idea how she was going to figure out the complexity of Zack Astor without getting verbal hints from the man himself but she could figure it out, right? If she could replace a carburetor in Persephone, she could totally do this. She smiled and laughed a little as she caught Fleet's hands and held them. "I'm hoping he likes it. It's not exactly his dream knife but I think it's pretty close. I can't wait to give it to him, honestly."

fleet summers

"No, I think that calendar's probably good and gone, unfortunately. But that's okay." Fleet spun a lock of Nicki's hair around his finger and then let it go, to sproing into a curl. "You've got a million more nice things to say to Ares in your head to make up for it." 

A wash of relief went through Fleet when Nicki promised she wouldn't push things with Zack and he resisted saying anything further on the subject -- which was hard, because his instinct was to help and to talk it out and to offer more and more ways to look at the situation, but his instinct had only made it more sticky. His instinct had caused the whole problem, in fact. The remorse was present but Fleet was already working on making his own amends to his boyfriend, so he wasn't dwelling on it. "Thank you," Fleet said, before Nicki caught his hands in her own and he smiled brightly at her excitement about her present for Ares. "I'm glad you two are doing well," he said, earnestly. "I love you both so much. I know whatever goes on with you raiders stays with you raiders, so it's good you have each other."

Nicki Torres

Nicki's lower lip pouted out. "Damn, I had some really good messages written down that I was rather proud of." It had also been just fun to write down the dirty little messages and imagining Ares' face when he read some of them. But, unfortunately, that was life. She would just have to show him what she was writing down in person. That, she was sure, would be something Ares would look forward to.

Things really were good between Ares and her. Nicki loved it. Honestly she never thought she could feel this way about anyone but fuck, was she glad she was absolutely wrong. "We love you too," she said before bringing both of his hands up and kissing the backs of each one. "And we both are lucky to have you to brighten our days when we're here in town." Honest to God's truth. She gave his hands a squeeze and stood up, albeit slowly and stiffly. She had probably sat a bit too long in that chair. "I probably shouldn't hog you too much longer. I'm sure you're gonna have a line of people wanting your attention. One more hug and/or kiss for he road?"

fleet summers

"Mmmm, maybe. Val and Beth are more to some people's tastes." Fleet laughed, though, no malice in the comment, adding, "--one of us is sure to appeal to somebody if the other two don't!" Nicki was moving a little stiffly but mostly all right as she stood, so Fleet didn't move to help her, just watching until he was certain she was doing okay. "You take care. And good luck with your Pot of Gold task." He gave her both a hug and a kiss, to the middle of her lips, pressed close-mouthed and sweet the way children did it. 

Nicki Torres

Nicki hummed happily and hugged him back before accepting the little kiss from him. "You take care too, mi estrellita. And don't be a stranger." She gave him a wink before kissing his cheek and heading towards the library to check on Ares.

[scarletwitchproperty]

Can't remember what I used to fight for - Chapter 13 NSFW

masterlist

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Wanda Maximoff

Words: 3.8k

Summary: there's a time jump, and everyone is alive and happy (except you Strange, fuck you)

Warnings: smut, edging (the edging in itself isn't detailed, but it's mentioned), strap-on use, fingering, swearing, brat!Wanda, bottom!Rio (but only for Agatha, obviously), degradation and praise kink (lmao I don't really know but do tell me if I forgot something)

a/n: I feel like I'm shit at writing smut scenes, but I let myself get taken away by the creative juices and I'm highly influenced by the many fanfics I've read, so yeah...

‘’Ma’? Can you help me look for my shoes? Billy hid them and I can’t find them anywhere!’’ 

‘’I did not!’’ 

‘’Yes you did! Come on Billy, we’re going to be late for high school! MAMA!’’ 

Wanda groans sleepily as she opens one eye, woken up by her twins’ morning fight. Agatha is nowhere to be seen in bed, but she knows the older witch got up earlier to bring Nicky to school. Which inevitably means that Rio is the one holding her down in bed, one arm locked over her chest and the other innocently resting on her thigh. 

‘’Rio?’' 

‘’Mmh?’’ The green witch burrows her face in Wanda’s neck, hiding herself behind the younger witch’s fiery hair to evade the light of day. ‘’What is it my Love?’’ 

‘’Your son is asking for your help, and I need my sleep.’’

‘’My son, is it?’’ Rio’s hand slowly creeps upwards towards Wanda’s inner thigh, Death smiling sleepily as she feels the redhead squirm in her arms. ‘’I don’t recall giving birth to a speedster. Besides, he called for his Mama, and that’s definitely you!’’ 

Wanda rolls on her side to face Rio, a shiver running down her spine at the hungry look that awaits her. She licks her lips as she notices the older woman looking at hers, but that proves to be a small mistake as Rio crashes her lips against hers in a breathtaking kiss she never had the chance to dominate. She never does. 

A lone hand goes back to Wanda’s cunt, swiping through the remnants of last night’s activities and surely what must be the result of Rio’s morning teasing. 

‘’S-Stop that!’’ 

‘’Stop what?’’ Rio smirks as Wanda throws her head back against her pillow when deft fingers plunge inside her favorite little witch. She swallows Wanda’s moans with her mouth, chuckling when she goes to pull her hand away but Wanda immediately closes her legs and traps her there. ‘’Such a needy little slut, you’re so desperate for my touch this early in the day. Aren’t you?’’ 

‘’Oh fuc-yes, yes I am but-‘’

Both women are interrupted when their bedroom door gets slammed open by a blue blur, a white haired teenager now standing there rolling his eyes in disbelief. 

‘’Ma’! I called for your help, twice!’’ 

Wanda looks at Rio with her famous ‘’I told you so’’ face, suppressing a full body shudder as the green witch takes her fingers out of her wet core. Tommy is too busy fleeting around the room to see the heated exchange between the two women as Rio licks her fingers clean, maintaining eye contact as she wraps her tongue around her own digits. 

‘’Mama, don’t think I forgot that you also ignored me,’’ Tommy whines as he finally looks under their bed, eyes fast and overlooking Rio and Wanda’s state of dress -or rather, undress-. ‘’Billy told me he didn’t hide them but-HA! Found them! Thank you ma’ and mama, see you later!’’ 

‘’You’re welcome sweetheart!’’ 

Off the speedster goes, leaving in his wake the familiar blue residue of his power and two highly amused witches. They both look at each other and simultaneously laugh out loud. 

‘’I take what I said back, he’s definitely Agatha’s son.’’ 

‘’And who’s mine?’’ Rio asks, biting her lower lip when she pushes Wanda on her back and slowly goes down on her. Rio breathes in Wanda’s smell, pulling apart her legs as she looks up at her trough her eyelashes. ‘’Go on then, tell me little witch.’’ 

‘’Nicky, definitely Nick-oh, oh god!’’ 

Rio doesn’t waste anymore time as she swipes her tongue through Wanda’s wet folds, humming with pleasure at the taste of the red head on her tongue. The red witch immediately reaches for her head, pulling Rio in closer as pleasure bursts in her mind. 

The green witch slowly plunges her fingers back inside Wanda, closing her eyes and savoring the way the younger witch rocks against her face harder and harder as her orgasm approaches. Rio fucks the Scarlet Witch through her first orgasm of the day, not stopping even as she pushes Wanda over the edge for the second time in a row. It is only as Rio is meticulously licking up Wanda’s sticky mess all over her thighs and cunt, all the while tugging on the red head’s nipples with her fingers, that she stops, seeing behind her closed eyelids the glimmer of a familiar green light. 

Rio opens her eyes in a flash, watching mesmerized as a trail of flowers shoot out of Wanda’s left hand towards the wall, the Scarlet Witch’s usual red chaos magic replaced by her own green one. 

‘’Well that’s new, little witch,’’ Rio whispers to herself as she climbs up Wanda’s body, smiling at the dazed look upon the Scarlet Witch’s face. ‘’Hi there, still with me?’’ 

‘’Mmh, maybe,’’ Wanda closes her eyes as she pulls Rio into a hug. It appears that Wanda does not care, nor does it look like she’s aware of her unusual magical mishap. ‘’Have I already told you how talented you are with you mouth?’’ 

‘’You’re usually too fucked out to say anything, but thank you telling me.’’ Rio smiles as she nips Wanda’s ear with her teeth. ‘’But maybe I’ll tell Agatha that you prefer mine overs hers?’’ 

‘’No, you wouldn’t!’’ 

‘’You know I would,’’ Rio loves to see the fuzzy haze almost taking over Wanda at the threat. Because it is, a threat. ‘’You know how competitive Aggie can be. Need I remind you what happened the last time you told her you preferred my fingers over hers?’’ 

Oh, of course Wanda remembers. Agatha was so mad that day and she ended up tying Rio up on a chair with a vibrator turned to the highest setting pushed right up against her clit, making the green witch watch as she wrecked Wanda with her fingers and her strap until all the little witch could say was her name. It went on for hours, and both Rio and Wanda’s muscles ached for days after that. 

It all happened exactly six weeks ago, two weeks after they rescued Tommy and America from the Sanctum. 

Wanda’s speedster of a son was healed quickly in days thanks to his own healing abilities, as well as Rio’s. Tommy had woken up in tears with Wanda by his side, all his memories from the Hex coming back to him right as he opened his eyes. The white haired teen didn’t let go of his mother for an alarming amount of time, and he appeared even more protective of his mother than Billy was, which is why it surprised everyone when he got attached very quickly to Rio and Agatha, more intrigued than anything else by the dynamics of their relationship with his mother. 

Tommy realized that he could never see his father again (if you could even call Vision that anymore), but what he understood is that Rio and Agatha made his mother happy and that was the most important thing in his eyes. Billy still acting traumatized and refusing to somewhat acknowledge their relationship (as if he also didn’t secretly call Rio and Agatha his mothers) was a sore spot for the twins. For the teens, in general. 

Yes, teens. Because as much as America was tied to the Sanctum as a student she could never bring herself to go back there. Not yet, not after what happened to her. She flourished under the coven’s guidance, forgetting for a moment that her and Tommy almost died at the hands of a man long dead thanks to Rio. America basically became the fourth unofficial child of their household, but it was weird that no one came looking for her after they battled so hard to protect her from the one woman who would now defend her with her life. But maybe not so surprising, considering said woman raised a protective ward around their house preventing anyone from finding them by magical means. 

‘’We do have to get up Rio,’’ Wanda groans as she detaches herself and gets up out of bed, feeling Rio’s hungry eyes on her as she bends down to retrieve her nightgown. She yelps when a hand smacks her ass, glowing red eyes turning on the smirking culprit still laying in bed. ‘’Do not start something that you cannot finish.’’ 

‘’Someone forgot who she was talking to,’’ Rio is up in a flash, pressed against Wanda’s back faster than the Scarlet Witch can blink. Rio pulls the younger woman against her, taking advantage of the fact that she’s still naked to play with her nipples and kiss down on her shoulder. ‘’I can always finish you sweetheart, always. Now shove that little attitude back where it came from or I’ll have to punish you.’’ 

Rio can see it in the mirror, the way Wanda’s eyes darken with lust, how her little witch is debating whether or not it’s worth it to act up now when they have so much to do in so little time before Agatha comes back home. Wanda blinks and the red glow in her eyes is gone, her hazy green orbs meeting Rio’s dark gaze as she grabs one of the older witch’s hand to wrap it around her neck. 

‘’Go on, punish me,’’ Wanda taunts, leaning into the hand now wrapped around her neck with defiance written all over her face. Rio squeezes her in warning, a last chance for the red head to back down. ‘’I can take it.’’ 

‘’Fucking hell Wanda, I’m trying not to lose my shit with you,’’ Rio breathes in once more, teeth nipping the side of Wanda’s neck. Death is trying to give Wanda one last opportunity to back down, to be the obedient girl she knows she can be. ‘’One last chance sweetheart, behave.’’ 

Wanda locks eyes with Rio once again through the mirror, leaning into the hand around her neck as she seals her fate with her next words. 

‘’Make me.’’ 

When Agatha comes back from dropping Nicky off at school, it’s to find America happily munching on some cheerios in front of the Tv. The girl waves at her with a big smile on her face while Agatha wonders where in hell are her wife and girlfriend. 

“Hi there little star, have you seen my girls?” 

“Hello Agatha, no I haven’t,” America responds, munching on another mouthful of cereals. Agatha comes to give her a kiss on the head, like she’s been doing for weeks now. “I was expecting ma-Wanda to be in the kitchen an hour ago when I woke up, but her and Rio are still asleep, I think…” 

“Are they now?” The purple loving witch narrows her eyes at the ceiling, tentatively reaching out to her wife with her own magic. She does notice the teen’s slip of the tongue, something that keeps happening more and more these days, but chooses to file it away for later. “You keep eating these sweet girl, I’ll check on them.” 

“Okay bye! Love you!” 

Agatha smiles once again, happy to know that the scared and traumatized girl from weeks ago is now comfortable enough in her home to express her feelings. She walks up the stairs, keen eyes catching on to an almost imperceptible shimmer in front of her bedroom door, one she knows means Rio put up a silencing hex of some kind. 

Quickly Agatha opens the bedroom door to slither inside the room, shutting the door behind her and slamming her back against it. 

“Well, I certainly didn’t expect that.” 

Wanda has her hands tied behind her back, head tilted back in pleasure as Rio fucks her with the biggest strap-on they own, the one the red witch seems to love despite its substantial size. Agatha’s eyes darken as she sees Wanda ride her wife, broken moans escaping her as she nearly falls apart over and over again. 

Agatha’s eyes follow a track down Wanda’s back and they widen when she notices the mess all over the sheets. Rio meets her gaze over Wanda’s shoulder, gripping the younger witch by the neck as she attempts to look back. 

“Eyes on me pretty girl, eyes on me,” Rio growls as she puts her free hand on Wanda’s waist, helping the red head go up and down her strap. She smirks at Agatha, eyes dark and inviting her wife at their side. “Look at Wanda my love, taking all of me inside of her.” 

“I can see that,” Agatha says, a surprised moan escaping her when Rio grabs her by the neck to kiss her. She can taste something on her wife’s tongue, something she would know the taste of anywhere. “Fuck, you’ve eaten her out already? Is that why she’s such a mess?” 

“Mmh, someone decided to test me this morning, and that certain someone needed to understand there’s consequences to her actions.” 

“What you mean is that she was being a brat?” Agatha raises an eyebrow, now understanding why the teenager downstairs was left to fend for herself. She grins as she tugs on Wanda’s hair, making the red head whine as she finally notices her presence. “What’s this I hear about you being a naughty girl?” 

“No, I- oh fuc-oh god,” Wanda keeps rocking on Rio’s strap even as Agatha is holding her head back. The green witch doesn’t waste the opportunity to swipe her fingers over her clit, cackling when Wanda squirms either from pleasure or pain, at this point she doesn’t know anymore. “Please please please, I can be good! I can be sooo good!” 

“Don’t let her fool you, the little slut is only saying that because she wants to come,” Rio reveals, suddenly stopping all her movements as well as Wanda’s. Agatha only now notices the tear tracks down her little witch’s face, as well as the blush darkening at the name calling. It is not a secret anymore that Wanda likes to be degraded, as much as she likes being praised. “Taunting me, challenging me, forgetting who she is talking to. Said that she could take whatever punishment I saw fit to give her, but minutes later she was crying for her release saying she couldn’t take it anymore.” 

“Well then, go on with the punishment,” Agatha says as she conjures up a chair next to the bed, spreading her now naked legs while keeping eye contact with a gobsmacked Wanda. “Keep going my Love, I’ll just stay right where I am.” 

“But- I want-“ 

“If you wanted to have Agatha join us, you shouldn’t have acted like such a brat earlier, but here we are,” Rio whispers in Wanda’s ear. She slips the strap-on out of Wanda and throws her on the bed, keeping the red head’s legs open as she goes down on her. “But since I’m feeling generous and I’ve edged you so many times already, if you manage to hold it until after Agatha comes, you have my permission to come as well. But only if my Lady finishes first, do you understand sweet girl?”

Not willing to act out and try her luck one last time, Wanda nods her head and promptly forgets her own name as Rio uses three of her fingers to fuck into her while she sucks on her clit. The pressure is building quickly in Wanda’s lower belly, her hands back to being tied by Rio’s magic twitching above her head, begging to be set free and pull the green witch closer to her core. Wanda can see, at the corner of her blurry vision, how Agatha is three fingers deep inside her cunt, legs shaking from the pleasure she’s giving herself. But she also knows, even as blurry as her vision is right now, that the older witch is nowhere near close to coming, the stimulation from her own hands not enough to get her off. Wanda would know, after almost three months of this she knew Rio and Agatha’s bodies as much as they knew hers. 

‘’Awww, pretty girl look at you,’’ Agatha half moans half groans as she momentarily stops giving herself pleasure, relishing in the wide eyed gaze Wanda throws at her, the betrayal in her eyes. The purple witch licks her fingers, moaning at her own taste. ‘’Getting fucked so good by my wife, tied up and nowhere to go. Don’t you look pretty in our bed, your body ours to do with as we please.’’ 

The tears are quick to reappear and fall down Wanda’s cheeks, torn between begging for her own release or getting the chance to have a taste of Agatha. As Rio’s mouth and fingers keep working her up towards what Wanda feels will inevitably be another ruined orgasm, something snaps inside her. There is a moan from Rio and a gasp from Agatha as her hands come undone from their magical restraint, her right one immediately going down to tug on Rio’s hair and push her closer to her core, the left one reaching for Agatha as a shattered breath leaves her lips. 

There’s a ray of magic tugging the older witch closer towards her younger lover, and really Agatha could’ve resisted its pull but the sight of its unusual lavender color renders her speechless. Agatha finds herself hovering over Wanda’s breasts, bracing her hands against the headboard as the red head between her legs quickly latches her mouth onto her cunt, intent on making Agatha come as her devilish tongue focuses on her clit. 

‘’That’s not-holy shit!- that’s not taking your punishment like a good girl,’’ Agatha gasps as she feels Wanda’s tongue probing her entrance, a broken moan leaving her lips when the red head starts to fuck her with her tongue in earnest. ‘’But since- fuckfuckfuck- since you’ve decided to be a bad girl today -christ!- put that mouth to good use and don’t let a single drop go to waste!’’ 

‘’You’ve gone too soft on her my Love,’’ Rio gulps for air as she briefly detaches her mouth from Wanda’s wet cunt. She bites down on the hand that their little witch had put at the back of her head, smirking when Agatha throws her head back as a result of Wanda’s moans vibrating against her cunt. ‘’She wasn’t supposed to be allowed to touch you!’’  

‘’You would deny me my pleasure?’’ Agatha turns her upper body around, one hand gripping the back of Wanda’s head to keep the red head close as she's eating her out. Rio gulps as she’s fixed with darkened blue eyes, a shiver running through her as Agatha roughly grabs her chin. ‘’Our sweet girl might be pliant enough for us to do with her as we please, but do not ever forget your place with me my Love. Now I suggest that you go back to what you were doing before I tie you up again and make you watch as I fuck our little witch!’’ 

Not one to take Agatha’s threats lightly, Rio immediately does as she’s told to the pleasure of one Wanda Maximoff. She sucks the redhead’s clit into her mouth, grazing it with her teeth the way she knows Wanda enjoys, and proceeds to watch with lidded eyes as Agatha chokes out a breath as she comes undone in Wanda’s mouth. The vision alone makes Rio come, her cunt pulsing around nothing as she moves against the bed in search of relief. 

Wanda whimpers as Agatha gets off her face, body writhing on the bed as she yearns for the older witch’s touch. She cries out for the older woman, tearful eyes begging for even just one single brush of hand against her skin.  

‘’Shhh, I know baby, I know. I’m right here,’’ Agatha cradles Wanda’s face in her hands, gently kissing her on the forehead as the sound of Rio continuing to fuck their little witch reaches her ears. She smirks, noticing the telltale signs on Wanda’s face that she’s about to come. ‘’Look at you, taking all of it like a good girl!’’ 

‘’Your-yours!’’ 

‘’Yes, ours Wanda. Our good girl,’’ Agatha growls as she kisses Wanda, swallowing the younger woman’s moans as Rio brings her ever closer to the edge. ‘’Now come, come for us pretty girl!’’ 

Wanda gasps into their kiss, breathless as Rio thrusts harder and harder inside her, ever so pliant in the older woman’s hands as she reaches her peak. Agatha is there through it all, holding onto the red head as her eyes roll into the back of her head, the same weird lavender stream of magic from earlier sapping a little bit of her strength to pass it on to Wanda who’s still blissfully unaware of it happening. 

Rio sits up in bed behind her wife, turning Agatha’s head to the side and gently kissing her on the lips, the taste of Wanda ever so present on her tongue. The both of them admire their little witch catching her breath, the out of the ordinary light show receding as she settles. 

“Have we somehow given her our powers my Love?” Rio asks, intrigued as clearly Agatha is fine despite Wanda using her wife’s power on her like it’s her own. “That never happened before.” 

“What do you mean ‘our powers’?” Agatha questions with furrowed brows as she allows Wanda to take her hand and nuzzle it. “Has she also used yours?” 

Rio is kept from answering as Wanda climbs onto her lap, burying her face into her neck and promptly falling asleep as she attempts to reach out for Agatha with her left hand. There is a certain glow to her skin, one that neither witch were able to see before.

“We’ve clearly done a number on her,” Rio chuckles as she shuffles on the bed to rest her back against the headboard. Wanda whines in her sleep as she adjusts her position. “Hush sweet girl, you keep sleeping. We’ll take a shower after, mmh?” 

“Nooo, don’t leave me…” Wanda whimpers, limbs wrapping tighter around Rio. “Don’t leave me…” 

“My poor sweet girl, maybe next time don’t edge her this early in the morning huh?” 

Rio smiles bashfully as Agatha wraps her arms around both of her girls. 

“Well, if she wasn’t being a brat I wouldn’t have had to punish the little witch.” 

Thirty minutes later, as Rio is gently putting Wanda inside the bath Agatha had drawn for all of them, something catches her attention. Coincidentally, Wanda has both of her hands resting on her stomach in such a manner that it scratches an itch in Rio’s brain, a vivid memory of Agatha laying on the riverside pregnant with their son flashing in her mind. The green witch narrows her eyes, sure that something foul is at play here.  Her dark eyes catch on to the whisper of a growing bump and-

No. No, it couldn’t be. 

But, as Rio looks at her wife standing at the bathroom door, her blue eyes also locked where she was previously looking, Rio knows she isn’t imagining things.  

Shit. 

a/n: Rio Vidal, YOU ARE THE FATHER!...or is it Agatha?

[s0urtart]

Remaking my AFTG characters as songs in my playlists post (The foxes p1)

Neil: Sleeping Giants- The Crane Wives, Do I Wanna Know- Hozier, Favorite Liar- The Wrecks, Dog Days Are Over- Florence + The Machine, Missing You- All Time Low, Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing[REBORN]- Set It Off

Andrew: Let Down- Radiohead, creature- half•alive, Bury Me Face Down- grandson, To Be Alone- Hozier, Famous Last Words- My Chemical Romance, The Only Exception- Paramore, Headlock- Imogen Heap

Kevin: The Winner Takes it All- ABBA, Could Have Been Me- The Struts, How Far We’ve Come- Matchbox Twenty

Nicky: misses- Dominic Fike, Teenagers- My Chemical Romance, Someone New- Hozier

Aaron: Mama- My Chemical Romance, Orange Juice- Noah Kahan, Evergreen- Richy Mitch & The Coal Miners

Matt: Real Love Baby- Father John Misty, 1983- Neon Trees, Chest Pain(I Love)- Malcolm Todd

Dan: Fluorescent Adolescent- Arctic Monkeys, Silver Springs- Fleetwood Mac, Heat Above- Greta Van Fleet

Renee: Lady Fingers- Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass, forward beckon rebound- Adrianne Lenker, She’s A Rainbow- The Rolling Stones, Hey Jude- The Beatles

Allison: Octahate- Ryn Weaver, Tear You Apart- She Wants Revenge, BABY SAID- Måneskin

Seth (Bryan): Fight For Your Right- Beastie Boys, Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away)- Deftones, I Hate Everything About You- Three Days Grace

Robin: First Love/Late Spring- Mitski, Thirteen- Big Star, Tongues and Teeth- The Crane Wives

Wymack: Highway To Hell- AC/DC, Slow Ride- Foghat, New Noise- Refused

Abby: Gimme Some Lovin’- The Spencer Davis Group, Light My Love- Greta Van Fleet, More Than A Woman- The Bee Gees

Bee: Home- Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros, Never Forget You- The Noisettes, Bennie and the Jets- Elton John

the foxes: Broken Heartbeats Sound like Breakbeats- Los Campesinos!, The Kids Aren’t Alright- Fallout Boy, Renegades- X Ambassadors

[hunnysnoops]

South Park Music HCs

What music I think the South Park characters would listen to.

Stan ✰ Kyle ✰ Kenny ✰ Cartman ✰ Wendy ✰ Bebe ✰ Heidi ✰ Tweek ✰ Craig ✰ Butters

With Spotify links!

Stan Marsh

Artists:

Radio Head

Siouxsie and the Banshees

Crywank

She Wants Revenge

System Of a Down

Slipknot

The Front Bottoms

Favourite Songs:

Atoma- Dark Tranquillity

Smokey Eyes- Lincoln

F.C.P.R.E.M.I.X- The Fall of Troy

Mr Grieves- Pixies

Misc:

Generally angsty

Gets embarrassed of his taste when he’s put on aux

He probably likes 90s dad rock

Whenever Stan listens to ‘System of a Down’ Cartman calls him ‘Syndrome of a Down’

Likes The Front Bottoms purely because he relates

Kyle Broflovski

Artists:

Dan Mangan

The Cure

Echo & the Bunnyman

Blur

Weezer

Billy Idol

Favourite Songs:

I Love You- Fontaines D.C.

Troubled Mind- Dan Mangan

The Killing Moon- Echo & the Bunnymen

Jumping Someone Else’s Train- The Cure

Candy- Paolo Nutini

Misc:

Cartman calls him a virgin for listening to Weezer

If he’s playing his music around you, he’ll sneak glances at you to see if you like it

Definitely has a poster for The Cure in his bedroom

Refuses to use Bluetooth headphones

Kenny McCormick

Artists:

Eminem

Outkast

Ini Kamoze

Car Seat Headrest

Cypress Hill

Limp Bizkit

Green Day

Favourite Songs:

Hits from the Bong- Cypress Hill

Sexy Drug- Falling in Reverse

Deadlines (Hostile)- Car Seat Headrest

Take A Look Around- Limp Bizkit

Misc:

Watches clips of Woodstock 99 on YouTube

Plays his music so loud that it spills through his headphones and gets weird looks for it

Listens to Taylor Swift and Sabrina Carpenter with his little sister

Eric Cartman

Kanye West

T-Pain

Lady Gaga (we all saw this coming)

Rihanna

Black Eyed Peas

Oliver Tree

Pitbull

Favourite Songs:

Church- T-Pain, Teddy Verseti

Meet Me Halfway- Black Eyed Peas

I Can’t Stop- Will Smith

Bury Me Alive- Oliver Tree

Happiness is a Butterfly- Lana Del Rey

Misc:

Strikes me as the type of guy who doesn’t really listen to music

Unironically likes Oliver Tree (His music and him as a person)

Rips on everyone for their music but won’t tell them who he listens to

Lip syncs to Wiz Khalifa while flexing in the mirror

Listens to T-Pain and Will Smith to make him feel tough

Prefers podcasts

Wendy Testaburger

Artists:

The Shins

Gwen Stefani

Hozier

Grizzly Bear

Nelly Furtado

Olivia Rodrigo

Elliot Smith

Favourite Songs:

Swan Upon Leda- Hozier

Lacy- Olivia Rodrigo

Stand By Me- Ben E.King

Vienna- Billy Joel

Pocketful of Sunshine- Natasha Bedingfield

Misc:

Thunder makes her think of stan so she skips it

Relates to Vienna and probably got a small tattoo for it after she graduated

Probably has an eclectic taste and loves 2010s pop

Lets everyone else play their music while she’s driving and never complains

Stares at her ceiling and listens to Elliot Smith when she’s sad

Gets ready listening to y2k pop songs

Bebe Stevens

Artists:

Jungle

Wild Belle

Dominic Fike

Kesha

Avril Lavigne

Justin Bieber (baby era)

MGMT

Favourite Songs:

Feet Don’t Fail Me Now- Joy Crookes

Back On 74- Jungle

Memory Box- Peter Cat Recording Co.

Keep You- Wild Belle

Beauty And A Beat- Justin Bieber, Nicki Minaj

Ur So Gay- Katy Perry

Misc:

Hates sad music, she’ll force herself to listen to USHER during a breakdown

Picky about her music, if someone plays a song she doesn’t like she’ll definitely skip it or complain until someone else does

Mentioned she liked Justin Bieber and then got in an argument with Cartman because of it

Never lets Clyde near the speaker

Screams Ur So Gay at the top of her lungs when it comes on

Heidi Turner

Artists:

Jack Johnson

Syd Matters

Daughter

Fleet Foxes

Rainbow Kitten Surprise

Noah Kahan

Of Monsters and Men

Favourite Songs:

Open Season- High Highs

To All of You- Syd Matters

Two Weeks- Grizzly Bear

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing- Jack Johnson

Sisyphus- Andrew Bird

Blue Ridge Mountains- Fleet Foxes

Misc:

Loves going for walks while she listens to music

Sends you songs that remind her of you

Listens to every song you send her and tells you what she likes about it

Hums when she has her headphones in without realising

Her and all of her friends love Noah Kahan

Tweek Tweak

Artists:

Billie Holiday

Billie Marten

Johann Sebastian Bach

Claude Debussy

Ludwig van Beethoven

Foals

Connie Francis

Favourite Songs:

Who’s Sorry Now- Connie Francis

Cello Suite No. 1 in G Minor- Johann Sebastian Bach

Méditation from Thaïs- Jules Massenet

Bad Apple- Billie Marten

The Lark Ascending- Ralph Vaughan Williams

Misc:

I actually think he would hater Hyper-Pop

Prefers slow/classical/instrumental songs

Listens to a lot of white noise, really specific ones like ‘Heavy Rain in Autumn Fairy Forest 9 hours’

Musical prodigy, plays piano and cello

Craig Tucker

Artists:

Nirvana

Hole

No Doubt

Foo Fighters

Pulp

Arcade Fire

Jeff Buckley

Favourite Songs:

Common People- Pulp

Malmo- Mook

Forget Her- Jeff Buckley

The Pretender-Foo Fighters

Dumb- Nirvana

Misc:

Made one playlist in eighth grade and never listens to anything else

Thinks Courtney Love killed Kurt Cobain

Hates TikTok music, like genuinely.

Somewhat of a gatekeeper

Butters Stotch

Artists:

She & Him

Blonde

Kate Bush

Dolly Parton

Regina Spector

The La’s

The Mama’s and the Papa’s

Favourite Songs:

You’ll Never Find Another Love Like Mine- Lou Rawls

In the Summertime- Mungo Jerry

Hey, Lucky Lady- Dolly Parton

The Tide is High- Blondie

Why Do You Let Me Stay Here- She & Him

Don’t Let The Good Life Pass You By- Cass Elliot

Clay Pigeons- Michael Cera

Misc:

Songs absentmindedly all the time, annoys the hell out of everyone

Quotes the songs he listens to

Developed choreography in middle school and still remembers it

Asks people if they’ve heard a super popular song that’s all over the radio and social media out of genuine curiosity

Anyways, that’s all I got for now. Re log or comment what you think they’d listen to bc I’m genuinely curious, thanks for reading!

Also it literally took hours to add all of those Spotify links so I hope you got something out of this! they wouldn’t let me add more than 100 :/

[cbrownjc]

I'm curious on why do you think Daniel would hate Armand when he recovers his memory... I thought he would resent him or be ashamed of being in love with the guy who tortured him not too long ago (He could maybe even prescribe himself as having Stockholm Syndrome).

I also can't wait to see all the relationships in Dubai in S3, the angst omg

Hi!

So I don't think Daniel is going to recover all of his memories before the start of Season 3. I think he's just going to remember one more thing by the end of the season via one memory, which will reveal that he and Armand -- at some unknown point -- had sex and said "I love you" to each other.

And that is all Daniel is going to remember of his and Armand's relationship -- that they had sex at some point in time and there was an "I love you" exchange (likely during it) and that's it.

And that little bit Daniel remembers is in no way going to tell the whole story of everything. And that is going to be the key as to how and why he'll react the way I think he will.

Because there is no way, IMO, that Daniel would be happy to learn he and Armand were involved with each other like that with only that little bit of info about it all. Especially not after how Daniel has been reacting to just the whole Rashid deception.

Because after learning that Armand might have very well screwed with his mind not just for days, but for who knows how long? And doing so to hide that something like that happened? I think Daniel is going to view it all as Armand lying to him in a HUGE way. No matter what Armand's excuse for it might be.

And now also given the fact that Daniel knows Armand has messed with Louis' mind in the same way too, I don't think that is going to help Armand in any case he might plead about why he did it in Daniel's eyes either. I really do think Daniel going to see it -- at first -- as nothing but manipulation on Armand's part at first. And, as Eric himself said, Daniel doesn't like being bullied.

Now, I'm not saying that Daniel will only see it that way from here on out. But if Season 2 ends with a reveal that they had sex and said "I love you" to each other in the past at some unknown point (and I still think that reveal will be coming in episode 2x08), the first half of Season 3 is going to have Daniel super angry about that, along with some shame too as well of course, I'm sure. Especially because he's not going to have the full context of it all.

But it'll probably take until the middle of Season 3 before Daniel is even willing to hear Armand fully out about it I bet.

And honestly, I think Armand is going to have to deal with a lot of anger coming at him during the first half of Season 3, and not just from Daniel. I fully expect Lestat to be there and, since we know we're getting Lestat's backstory in Season 3 then, if you know that story from The Vampire Lestat, Armand doesn't exactly cover himself in glory during the events there either. Heck, Louis already alluded to the hands thing with Nicki in this very episode.

So yeah, Daniel won't be the only one angry at Armand for a time at the start of Season 3 IMO, but I do think he will be. And what Daniel will very likely hear wrt Lestat's backstory isn't going to help things in that regard either I bet, coupled with the fact that his memory of their time together as lovers will only be remembering one fleeting moment and that's all.

Daniel won't yet have his full memory of everything regarding him and Armand together going into Season 3; not for a (long) while IMO. And so missing a lot of context is going to inform Daniel's first and immediate reaction to learning it, IMO.