#none of these characters hair makes sense

[dorabellingham]

Be like them

warning: none

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when you want to straighten your hair to go to an event with him, but your boyfriend doesn't really like the idea

request: yes (sorry I had to change a little because i couldn't write it)

may contain spelling and translation errors!

You looked in the mirror, holding a lock of your hair, still damp from your shower, as you scrolled through Instagram. Jude had mentioned that Real Madrid was hosting a special event to launch their new kit, a premier that would bring together players, coaching staff and some of the WAG's. He invited you to go with him, and the simple invitation was enough to make you think about how to get ready.

From what you saw in the photos, all the women were incredibly sophisticated, with straight, perfect hair, impeccable in every detail. Suddenly, your own curly locks seemed a little... out of place. You never had a problem accepting yourself, but when you imagined yourself next to your boyfriend at that event, doubts arose. Maybe it would be better to straighten your hair just this once, to have a look more in line with the other women's style.

Later, Jude came into the room, already changed for a dinner they were planning before the event. Seeing you standing there, with a lost look, he slowly approached you and hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

—What are you thinking?

He asked, looking at your reflection in the mirror.

You gave a weak smile and hesitated before answering:

—I was thinking about straightening my hair for the premiere. I think that way I would look more... —You paused, not knowing how to finish. —More like the other women.

Bellingham frowned and looked at you in the mirror, clearly surprised.

—And who said you have to be like them?

He asked, with a touch of disbelief in his voice.

You sighed, trying to put into words what you felt.

—I know it's silly, but... have you seen what they look like? Each one more stunning than the other, and they all have such a... polished style. I think I would look better with straight hair, more "sophisticated".

You said the last word with a tone of uncertainty, as if you didn't even believe it.

Bellingham let out a soft, affectionate laugh, squeezing you a little tighter in his arms.

—Honey, you’re beautiful just the way you are. And besides that. —He smiled, looking into your eyes in the mirror. —I love your curls. We’re the curly couple, you know? I don’t know what I would do without those curls by your side.

You laughed, but you still seemed a little hesitant.

—Jude… you know I’m proud of my hair, but… it’s just that at this kind of event, maybe I should be a little more… “elegant”? I don’t know if that makes sense. I guess I just don’t want people to think I don’t make an effort to be by your side.

He turned around, holding your face gently and speaking with a softness that you loved.

—It makes perfect sense. But who cares what people think? I wouldn’t trade those curls for anything. They’re part of who you are, and I wouldn’t change a thing about you. —He stroked a lock of your hair, twirling it around one of his fingers. —By the way, I want to be the guy who arrives with the most beautiful and authentic girl of all, the one who doesn't need to change a thing to be amazing. And, in my humble opinion, you already are. Totally.

You couldn't help but smile. Jude always had a way of making you feel valued, even when you tried to find fault with yourself. Still, doubts insisted on appearing, and he noticed the glint of uncertainty in your eyes.

—I know it's easy to say, but I'll show you that I'm not joking.

He said, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and opening the gallery. He showed you several old photos of the two of them together, taken throughout their relationship, almost all during simple, quiet moments of everyday life. In all of them, your curls appeared naturally, and Jude always seemed enchanted by you, with a sparkle in his eyes that spoke for itself.

—See? — He smiled. —It's not your straight hair that will make me find you more beautiful. It's you. It's the way you smile, the way you look when you're comfortable and happy. And that's it. —He ruffled her curls slightly with a playful smile. —That's what I love.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of expectations dissipate a little.

—I guess I'll trust you, then. And let the curls be successful, right?

You said, half joking.

—That's my girl! —Jude replied, kissing you on the forehead with a proud smile. —Besides, the curls make you even more unique, and I love knowing that I have someone so incredible by my side. Let the other WAG's stay straight; I want to be with the most special one.

On the night of the premiere, as you were getting ready to go out, he could barely take his eyes off his girlfriend. You had put on a blue dress that highlighted your skin, and your curls were loose, forming a perfect frame around your face. He smiled when he saw you, feeling incredibly proud to have you by his side. As you approached the event, photographers and fans surrounded you, and you noticed the looks and whispers around you. For a moment, insecurity tried to return, but when you looked at Bellingham, you saw only a glow of admiration and love on his face.

—See? You don’t have to change a thing.

He whispered, holding your hand firmly as you walked together.

The curly-haired couple, as he joked, shone that night, drawing attention and leaving a unique mark. And you realized, amidst the flashes and Jude's affection, that their authenticity was their true strength, something that no one could take away.

[vidals-harkness]

seekest thou the road

summary: a random thursday turned into a strange series of happenings which meant certain clarity for you and your mother. but that clarity also meant the start of a new journey, the revelation of true feelings, and a quest for one's desires.

fic type: angst

pairings: agatha harkness x teen!reader, rio vidal x teen!reader, teen x teen!reader

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist | masterlist

It was a normal Thursday morning for Agnes and her daughter Y/n.

You trudged out of bed, blanket wrapped around you as you made your way downstairs to see your mom, Agnes O'Connor, making her morning coffee none too happily.

“Good morning,” you said, smiling a little as you sipped on the cup of coffee she had kept ready for you, in response to which you recieved a short grunt.

Agnes O'Connor really wasn't a morning person.

The sound of rain broke the silence that hung heavy between you both, and as the chill seemed to only increase, you pulled your blanket tighter around your shoulders, feeling your hands tingle with the warmth of the cup in them. The sharp ringtone of her phone made you jump a little, but her chatter faded into the background as your attention went to the kitchen window.

The fog lay thick, same as when you had woken. However, it seemed to strike a chill down your spine which stood out from the cold of the season. Through the pattering of rain on glass, you could hear loud T.V static, the sound of canned laughter. Normal but...foreboding.

Your gaze darted behind to where the T.V was, but the flat-screen was dark, inactive. The sound was from right where you had been looking before--outside. You squinted through the gaps the raindrops left on the glass, to see an old-timey T.V right there in the middle of the street, showing a black-and-white sitcom. The words were not clear, same as the faces of the characters, but you felt like you'd been there before. Not like reminiscence, not like déjà -vu. Just...familiar.

You blinked rapidly as everything came back into focus. Your mom looked happier than she had in maybe weeks, and you didn't want to ask about phantom T.Vs in the fear of maybe wrecking this strange sense of happiness she seemed to have.

"Get in the car, kid, you're coming to work with me today," she said, tossing her keys up and catching them with an audible jingle.

You groaned. You did not want to spend several hours just sitting in her office, watching her play Candy Crush.

"Great," you grumbled sarcastically, going upstairs to change your clothes. Pulling on plain, comfortable clothes, you discreetly stole her green flannel shirt and pulled it on, combing your hair carefully. You were a lazy teen, yes, but you weren’t an animal.

The car rolled down the empty road, the haze seeming to part like the Red Sea, while the view beyond the windows warped with the raindrops running down it. You rested your elbow against the glass, head resting on your palm as you scrolled through a website on your phone, the rumble of the car pairing with the pattering of rain to create the perfect ambiance for silence.

“So,” your mom said, breaking the somewhat comfortable quietness that had settled. “What’s the latest hyperfixation?”

“Still history,” you said in a bored monotone.

“What’cha reading about on that tiny screen anyway?”

“The Salem Witch Trials,”

Agnes rolled her eyes subtly, which you ignored, and shrugged, “You realise none of that matters anymore, right?”

“You mean the repression of women and the deprivation of knowledge they faced due to the fear of being burnt at the stake under the accusation of being a witch just cause she can count to ten? Yeah, pretty sure that matters,” you deadpanned.

“Jeez,” she scoffed.

You rolled your eyes. She’d been sour and irritable for months now, especially after her riding the desk period.

“I don’t get why I have to come,” you said. “I’m seventeen, the worst thing I’ll probably do is watch A-rated stuff on Netflix,”

“Yeah, well I needed your true-crime expertise,” she said curtly. “And you gotta spend your suspension productively somehow, don’t you?”

“Well if the police system in Westview wasn’t so shit, maybe you wouldn’t even need a seventeen year old to help you solve a murder. And for the last time, my suspension is actually invalid, unlike yours,” you rolled your eyes, earning a sharp flick on your temple from her.

“Don’t even start,” she scowled. “We’re shorthanded here,”

“Sounds like a you problem,”

“Sounds like a week of no phone if you keep up with this attitude, little miss,”

The silence settled again, broken by only the sound of her humming a strange, soft tune. You liked it, but you weren’t going to admit it, no way.

Your eyes caught sight of a car wreck just on the side of the road, which was concerning because they weren’t any skid marks from what you could see through the watery glass. You shook your head. You’d clearly been watching too much true crime lately.

The car halted, and she exited, holding the two coffees she’d bought, nodding at you to get out which you reciprocated with an eye roll.

The air was colder here, the chill of a murder hanging in it, standing out deliciously. You noticed a dark, smoky figure dancing in your peripheral vision, but you blinked and it was gone. Shaking the strange feeling, you shoved your hands in the pockets of your jeans, standing beside Agnes.

“Another beautiful day,” said your mother.

“Hey Herb,” you nodded at the man, who stood behind the yellow tape.

“Hey, neighbour,” he nodded at you both, gaze shifting over to Agatha. “Surprised to see you out here, Detective,”

“Oh, and the sixteen year old isn’t surprising?” She scoffed, earning a shrug from him. She shook her head and continued, “There I was, sitting on my duff, playing Candy Crush, happy as a clam, enjoying the fruits of my undeserved disciplinary action—“

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, kicking at a stone on the ground. “Beg to differ,”

“You punched a suspect,” Herb deadpanned.

“Oh, now a convicted felon. I can’t be right and wrong at the same time,” she shrugged.

“Debatable,” you singsonged quietly, earning a kick to your shin.

“Yes, you can,” he confirmed.

“When the Chief calls and tells me, ‘Hibernation’s over. ‘Got a case only you can solve.’,” sensing his skepticism, she added, “Direct quote,”

He sighed with defeat and pulled up the tape, allowing you both in. You chuckled softly and patted his shoulder with sympathy, earning a soft laugh from his end.

“Playing hooky, Y/n?” He asked as you walked beside him.

“Suspension,” you grumbled. “Punched a kid in the face,”

“Moving on from the start of your delinquent career,” Agnes interrupted, prompting Herb to continue.

“Jane Doe. Found her down here by the water. Dispatch was tipped off by an anonymous call,” he explained.

“Basic,” you rolled your eyes. “Lasting evidence?”

“This is all she had on her,” Herb handed over an evidence bag with something in it—a library card.

“What’s this? From a library book?” She asked, snatching it away.

“No shit, mom,” you scoffed, looking around the area for clues. “And real mature for a 50 year old,”

“Watch your mouth,” she snapped.

“Westview branch,” Herb interjected.

“Cause?” She asked.

“Blunt force trauma,”

Blunt force trauma? Unless she’s been clocked over the head at the library with a dictionary, you didn’t see any cliffs she could’ve been thrown off of.

As if she’d read your mind, your mother said, “Not much of a drop around here. She fall?”

“She was crushed,” he sighed.

Crushed? Even better. Where could you find boulders in a creek where the biggest stone was probably the same size as your hand?

“By what?”

“Something big. And heavy,”

“So she didn’t die here,”

“She is dead, though, isn’t she, Herb?” She asked, brow raised.

“Oh, she’s really, most sincerely dead,” he confirmed.

“You never know,”

The body lay face down beside the creek, and you could’ve sworn you saw that same shadowy figure, this time with a flash of…green? It vanished before you could make sense of it.

The woman wore a hoodie and slacks—house clothes, suggesting a home murder? Maybe? This case was too complicated. Blunt force trauma with nothing in particular, a library card, and clothes which resembled a breakup uniform. It made as much sense as a toddler’s handwriting.

Your mother had vanished somewhere, looking for clues, leaving you alone with forensics and the body, surrounded by yellow tape.

The air grew another chill, separate from the one caused by the rain. You felt someone breathing down your neck, and turned sharply to check who it was.

Strangely, nobody.

Your head gave a sharp stab of pain, and you winced, the voices in your head growing loudest, but still giving way to one, familiar voice. And all it said was a single sentence. ‘Snap out of it,’

There was a snap of someone’s fingers near your ear, and the voices went back down to whispers in the back of your mind.

Agnes knelt beside the body, freshly rolled over.

“Who are you?” She asked quietly. “What happened to you?”

“You okay, Agnes?” Herb asked, concerned.

“How do you mean?” She snapped.

“You don’t seem like yourself.” He said nervously.

“For starters you’re asking a dead body for answers,” you smirked, poking her cheek.

She smacked your hand away. “Oh, yeah? And who is that exactly? I’ll try to be more cheerful for you next time,” her tone was bitter as she stood up. “But right now this unidentified woman lying dead in a creek has just got me down in the dumps,”

“Jeez, looks like someone’s hormonal,” you rolled your eyes, bumping her shoulder as you walked past her. “I can’t tell who’s the teenager here,”

“Shut up,” she snapped at you, turning to Herb. “Let me know when the dental records come in,”

You sat in the car with her again, on the way to the library. Yet again, there was that silence—that uncomfortable, thin-ice kind of silence which frankly drove you up the wall. There was a time where you would make jokes with her, a time where you both would sing to shitty music on the radio, but that was long gone. Now, all you both did was sit together, a cavernous distance between you two which, in reality, was just a few inches apart.

You loved your mother, of course you did, but it was at times like these where you felt she didn’t feel the same.

“What do you think, hm?” She asked at last—that same, irritated, clipped tone breaking through your thoughts.

“About what? If it’s your fashion sense, I think we could use some work—“ you began, judgement evident in your own tone.

“About the case,” she sighed. “Cut it out with the sarcasm,”

“Hey, all I’m saying is that the broke noir-chic is starting to look a little bit more divorce-chic except you’re not getting the benefits,” you shrugged. “But as for the case, there’s definitely more to it,”

“Okay, and?” She prompted.

You paused, gathering your thoughts. “Well, for starters, the method of killing is hazy. She died of blunt force trauma, but that was inflicted by crushing, but this is Westview. The biggest boulder in the creek is probably a skipping stone. And you can’t crush someone with that. Not their whole body, definitely,”

She hummed thoughtfully. You hated how the only time you talked was about cases. It was never about school, or football, or anything else. Always murder, crime, arrest.

“Whatever, anyway,” you rolled your eyes. “We’ve reached,”

The library had a stupendously long queue, and you were about stand in it, only to have Agnes grip your wrist and pull you forward.

“Ah. Official police business. Excuse me, excuse me,” she said, pushing past them all, earning disgruntled comments from them all.

“You use that line at the supermarket checkout, too?” Dottie, the library clerk asked.

“It’s embarrassing,” you sighed, avoiding eye contact with Agnes.

“Only suckers wait their turn,” your crazy mother replied haughtily.

“How can I help you, Agnes?” Dottie asked, sighing softly.

She produced the library card, the packet crinkling as it hit the desk. “Found this on a victim,”

“Ooh. Who’s the victim? Is she dead?” The lady asked.

“Now, why do you assume it’s a woman?” Your mother frowned.

“Exactly,” you frowned. “Statistically, males are more subject to be murder victims, given that on an average, only 30% of victims are women,”

The lady gave you a prompt side eye, saying, “I don’t know. Sounds more titillating,”

She took a look at the card, shaking her head, “There are no names on here,”

“But there are dates,” Agnes interjected.

“We don’t use cards anymore. Everything’s digital now. Sorry,” she grimaced.

“Well, thanks a bunch for your help, Dottie. You’ve been an absolute angel. Incidentally,” Agnes’s voice rose to a shout as she added, “Where were you last night between the hours of 1:00 and 3:00 a.m.?”

You put your head down, covering your ears and groaning. “You’re an embarrassment, mother,”

Just to shut her up, thus sympathising with you, Dottie calmed her down, “I guess I could run the book title,”

“Oh, can you?” She snapped sarcastically. “Come on, Y/n,”

“No, no, no,” you shook your head, evading her attempt to yank you in the library. “It’s time for you to be an adult and give me some money for ice cream after I just suffered second hand embarrassment at your hands,”

“Fine,” she conceded, after holding your gaze for a good ten seconds, handing you some money.

“Thank you,” you said firmly, marching out of the library.

You heaved a sigh of relief, as if you'd exhaled a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. The sun shone down on the pavement, casting sharp shadows as you walked down the street to your favourite place--the coffee shop where you and your brother would participate in open mic nights. You remembered how well he'd sing with you accompanying him on the guitar...

You shook yourself out of your thoughts. You hated thinking about Nicky. It always ruined your mood. More so than your mother.

You entered the shop, sighing in relief at the familiar scent of chocolate chip cookies and ground coffee beans. The owner of the shop was a sweet old lady and her husband, both of whom were perhaps the kindest people in Westview.

"Hi there," you smiled, handing her the money. "Can I have my usual, please?"

The lady, Mrs. Jackson, smiled before saying, "Oh, that nice young woman over there already asked for one, paid for it, too,"

You turned in the direction where she was pointing, seeing a shockingly familiar woman in police attire, her hair pulled back in a low, loose bun at the nape of her neck, the top two buttons of her white shirt opened, while the sun glinted off the badge she had hung around her neck.

She beckoned you over with the curl of her finger, and you went over, sitting down in front of her.

"Hi there, Detective Vidal," you smiled slightly.

Rio chuckled softly, pushing the cup of coffee towards you. "I see you're still stuck,"

You frowned a little at that. "Pardon?"

She shook her head. "Here, in Westview. I'd have thought your mom would've gotten sick of this place by now,"

You inhaled deeply, sipping the coffee happily. "Wishful thinking," you said. "That lady is fucking crazy. So...what brings you to town?"

"You know why I'm here," she nodded. You liked her for this reason. She was straightforward, just as enigmatic as a detective should be, yet she spoke with a kind of firm kindness which few could master.

"You're here to...get under mom's skin?" You tilted your head, curious.

She laughed, looking down as she shook her head. "I've been assigned to help with her...case,"

"Oh she's going to be pissed," you giggled, fingertips running along the edges of the saucer your cup was on. "But is this case really FBI worthy?"

"Well, it's worthy of federal intervention," she nodded. "But that's not entirely why I'm here,"

You nodded a little dejectedly. "Oh. You're not here for too long, then?"

"Just until this whole matter clears up," she shrugged. "Shouldn't be a while. But we can go for ice cream sometime. How're you holding up here?"

You paused, meeting her gaze fully for a good minute. An aura danced along her outline--black and hazy. Your fingertips tingled against the warm ceramic of the cup, and you felt that same stab of pain in your head like you had in the morning.

"Easy," Rio said softly, her fingertips tapping on your wrist. "Think through it, you're still stuck,"

The world bend out of shape for a good moment, the only thing remaining constant was her face. You squeezed your eyes shut, hearing the cup on the table tremble as the voices began to scream.

"Come on, nena," her voice was soft, quiet. "Snap out of it,"

You heard the snap next to your ear again, and when you opened your eyes, you saw through the veil for a moment. She was dressed in black, you could see the bones...

Down came the veil, and with it the voices quietened. Her face was normal again, soft jaw, sharp smile.

"You've got it in you, Y/n," she said softly, her hand still tracing your wrist. "Just snap out of it,"

You blinked, and she was gone.

The next morning, you woke up dazed. It was a similar morning like the previous day's--foggy, cloudy, confusing, gloomy. You avoided your mother completely, she seemed to be a little more off her rocker than usual.

"I'm assuming you're taking me to the office again?" You sighed softly as she grabbed the car keys.

"Yes ma'am, get your ass in the car in five," she said, heading out.

You squinted at said 'car'. It was...a broom on a desk in the living room? But you shook your head, going back to normal. It was just the same old Honda Civic she'd been driving the last few years you had been in Westview.

The station was radiating depression as per usual, and you groaned to yourself as you walked past the Chief with a brief good morning.

She settled in her chair while you sat on the couch, reading your book quietly.

“You hear what happened at the library?” Agnes asked the Chief.

“No, I—“ he began, but she cut him off.

“Somebody torched one of the stacks, like, took a flame thrower to it.”

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, distracted. “I’ll have one of the guys follow up. But listen, Agnes—“

“You got a spot on your shirt,” she pointed out.

“Oh—“

“And your tie,”

“Mom will you cut it out?” You asked, irritated with her constantly making the poor guy conscious.

“You makin’ breakfast smoothies again, Chief?” She asked, none too kindly. “You know you’re supposed to put the lid on before you blend it,”

He sighed, fully used to her antics. “Yes, I know. Um…listen, Agnes…”

She sighed deeply, irritated. “You’re about to tell me somethin’ I’m not gonna like,”

“Soil samples from under the fingernails and toenails of the Jane Doe came back,” he started, peaking your interest. “They don’t match the soil she was lyin’ in,”

“That’s no surprise. We assumed she’d been moved,” she said, nodding.

“Yeah, like perp probably carried her off,” you said.

“There were traces of a particular microbial sediment only found in Eastern Europe,” he sighed.

“That sounds like a hell lot of work for a perp,” you chuckled.

“Now get to the part I’m not gonna like,” she said, looking at him sharply.

He stepped aside from the door, and your expression brightened as a familiar woman entered the room.

“Here I am,” she said, her demeanour badass as per usual. “Hey, trouble,” she winked at you, earning a rare smile from you in return.

“You always find new ways to piss me off, don’t you, hon?” Agnes addressed you deadpan, her eyes fixed in Agent Vidal.

"Me? I'm an angel," you rolled your eyes.

“Okay,” Chief sighed.

“Fancy dirt always attracts the attention of the Feds,” Agnes scoffed disdainfully.

“Agent Vidal is an asset here, Agnes,” he reasoned. “More brain power and more resources mean you get to the finish line faster. Strength in numbers. Teamwork makes the dream—“

“Eat my ass, Chief,” she interrupted him.

“You’re just throwing a hissy fit because you’re not gonna be alone in the paper headlines,” you chuckled, earning an eraser chucked at your face.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Chief said simply, exiting the room.

“It’s been a long time,” Rio said, taking a seat in the sofa, playing with your hair gently.

"What are you doing here?" Agnes asked, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned back in her chair.

"My job,"

"You wanna take control of my investigation,"

"No," after a brief pause where her tongue pushed against the inside of her cheek, she said, "If you wanna be in control, you can be,"

Your brow raised, but you went back to your book, as Agnes continued speaking. "She…The body was moved across state lines. Is that your play?"

Rio took a moment to look around, sighing softly. "Is this really how you see yourself?"

You looked at her, head tilted, and brows furrowed. She continued her movements, her hand gently stroking your hair. You noticed the voices had quietened down significantly...

"Sure. Let’s talk about the case," she said eventually, resignation clear in her tone. "What are your theories? How’d she end up in the ravine? Trouble?" Her gaze went to you.

"My guess is she was killed elsewhere, probably rolled down the hill," you shrugged.

"No drag marks. Thinking the perp carried her," Agnes said.

"Uh… Seems logical, but you don’t really believe that because…" She stood up, placing the file down with pictures on it, taking a perch on the corner of Agnes' desk. "Oops. No tracks for the perp. Not a leaf disturbed before Forensics showed up. It’s almost like she just magically appeared," her voice took an odd tone, somewhat...coaxing?

"Let’s stick to reality here, yeah?" Your mother scoffed.

"Who hurt you? Whatever happened to alternate possibilities?" You rolled your eyes. "Like, who shat on your creativity?"

Rio stifled a laugh, earning a sharp glare from Agnes. She cleared her throat, "Sure,"

"If there’s one thing we can agree on, it’s that these cases are always about the place," Agnes' tone was clear with the taste of theory within it, the backing of facts, the slight hint of senility. "The specific small town, the history of it, the people in it, the secrets buried beneath it. That’s where the answers lie,"

"Well, who better to solve the mystery than one of Westview’s very own?" Rio shrugged, moving off her perch. "Yeah, you’ve lived here your whole life. Isn’t that true… Agnes?"

The pause was jarring, carrying notes of coaxing again, the same tone she'd used at the coffee shop.

"I don’t want you here," Agnes scowled.

"Yeah, because anything even remotely comforting in my life you seem to hate," you scoffed, looking at Rio. "I'm sorry about her, she keeps waking up on the wrong side of the bed,"

"It's all good, nena," she nodded, before leaving the files on the table for Agnes. "I'll get you ice cream sometime before I leave town,"

You nodded, high-fiving her, before she nodded at Agnes. "Te veo," she said, leaving.

Your gaze snapped to her, angry. "What is wrong with you?"

"Me? What's wrong with you? Getting all mushy-mushy with the feds," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Maybe because she actually cares about me more than you, you wanted to say.

"I dunno, maybe because her helping with your investigation might mean I'll be free to do what I want," you scowled. "But obviously, you wouldn't care about my happiness, would you?"

You saw a flash of anger pass over her face, and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction. Maybe she finally understood how you felt, maybe this was hint enough—

"We're going to the pawn shop, come on," she snapped, standing up and grabbing her jacket.

No such luck.

You rolled your eyes and stood up, shrugging, "Sure thing,"

The pawn shop was musty, dank, and none too welcoming. You hated it.

“Is it real?” Agnes asked him.

“Oh, it’s real, all right. And it’s a beaut,” he said. “Where’d you get it?”

“Mind your beeswax, Norm,” she snapped. “Where’s it from? How old is it?”

“A picture of politeness and ladylike behaviour,” you rolled your eyes, playing around with a vintage puzzle box.

Norm chuckles in agreement before nodding, “North American. New England, maybe. Late 17th century, I guess. It’s made from cowrie shell,”

“What’s a cowrie?” She frowned.

“Sea snail,” he turned the brooch around and showed it to her, pointing at the ivory figures. “And these hotties here. That’s Triple Goddess. Maiden, Mother, Crone,”

“Common figures in witchcraft, late 17th century lore,” you added.

“What, no Working Professional Goddess?” She scoffed.

He chuckled and the brooch opened with a click, revealing a strand of hair. “Oh, hello,” he said. “Looks like your brooch is a locket. You looking to sell it, Agnes?”

She raised a brow. “How much you offering, Norm?”

“For you? Two hundred,” he shrugged.

“I smell bullshit,” you singsonged, grinning at him cheekily.

"Great. Now I know where to start the bidding on eBay," she snatched it back. "Come on, Y/n,"

"No, save me, Norm..." you mock-wailed, saluting him with two fingers as you exited the shop.

The sun went down and the moon came up, rising slowly in the sky as the nightly autumn chill set in. You napped on the couch, thoughts racing and mind a jumble of scenes and words while she worked.

"Go home, Agnes," Said the chief. "Or atleast call a cab for her," he nodded at your napping form.

"I am home, Chief," she said dismissively. "And I'm sure she's fine,"

The Chief switched her office lights off, earning a disgruntled noise of, "Hey!"

"Go home," he said forcefully.

You blinked sleepily as she shook your shoulder, groggy and tired.

"Come on, kid, we're going home," she said gruffly, grabbing her keys and her jacket, waiting for you.

You drowsily sat in the car, elbow leaning on the windowsill as you rested your cheek on your fist, dozing off slowly. You felt Agnes ruffle your hair gently.

“You did good today, kid,” she said quietly, as a quiet song played on the radio.

You smiled a little, tilting your head to fix your gaze on her. “Careful, you might say you love me, next,” you half-joked, earning a gentle punch to your shoulder.

She parked the car and got out of the driver’s seat, humming to herself still as you followed, still sleepy. You rested your forehead on her shoulder, slipping your hand into hers slowly. She sighed softly at that, but allowed it.

The house was quiet, you could sense some kind of odd energy around it—just like you’d felt an odd energy around everything else after meeting Rio at the cafe.

Almost like nothing was real…

You felt Agnes pull her hand from yours, saying, “I’ll set dinner in sometime,” she kept the distance between you both again. She went in his room, her movements slow and slightly sluggish.

You hated that room.

You heard a knock on the door as you lounged on the couch peacefully.

“What?” Came Agnes’ irritated voice.

“Did you know that it is a universally acknowledged truth that a lady cop cannot be good at her job and have a healthy personal life at the same time?” Came Rio’s voice. You heard the sound of pizza in a box. “Hungry?”

You sat up instantly, making space for Agnes on the couch, grinning when Rio came in.

“Hey, trouble,” she winked, taking a seat in the armchair, her blazer set aside and sitting in a comfy position, one leg perched on her knee, elbows resting comfortably on the armrests.

“Hi,” you smiled at her.

Agnes came with two beers and a bottle of cranberry juice for you. You accepted it with a slight smile towards her, still annoyed by before.

Soon, she started telling Rio cop stories like she used to do for you and him.

“So she’s a rookie, granted, but I say to her, ‘Has the suspect been seen in the last 24 hours?’” Agnes narrates, a laugh in her tone. “And she says, ‘Only on TikTok.’ And then I say, ‘Well, did you learn anything?’ And she says, ‘That I was totally using the wrong foundation brush.’”

You had taken a seat on the carpet in front of Rio, your back resting against her leg as she used her free hand to toy with the soft strands of your hair. You heard her chuckle and glanced up right when she smiled. You liked that expression. And when you heard Agnes laughing you liked it even more.

“Anyway…I have a lead in the case,” Agnes said.

“Oh do you? A lead which who gave you?” You raised a brow.

“Take it easy, trouble,” the FBI agent smiled. “That’s not why I came over,” Rio said. But she paused, before nodding. “But go ahead,”

“There was a car wreck, about an hour before time of death,” she stated.

“Where?” Rio asked.

“Eastview.”

“Eastview? See, I thought you turned into a pumpkin that far afield,”

She smirked. “Hey, I travel. I’m worldly,”

Rio chuckled. “Where have you traveled?“

You felt the answer on the tip of your tongue, but strangely you couldn’t tell past last year when you’d gone for a summer camp past Eastview.

Sensing the sudden shift in focus, Rio brought you both back. “Okay, so what about the car wreck?”

“Bloodstain in the back seat,” she stated, an odd look in her eye.

“You think that’s how they moved her?”

“Front two airbags deployed,”

“Maybe two perps?”

“Maybe,”

Rio squinted. “But you don’t like it,”

“My gut tells me they’re related,” Agnes shook her head, “But I can’t shake this feeling I’m seeing it wrong,”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah,”

“Do you remember why you hate me?”

A pause. An uncomfortable, odd pause.

“No,”

“Are you hiding evidence?” She raised a brow.

“No,” she sighed.

“Well, you’re only lying to yourself—“ before she could finish, there was a loud clatter from upstairs. You moved to go investigate with her, but she shook her head.

“Stay here,” she scowled. “I don’t want you getting hurt in case the guy’s armed, that more paperwork for me,”

“Oh how thoughtful,” you rolled your eyes.

As she went upstairs to investigate, you sat on the couch again, patting it for Rio. “Wanna sit?”

She chuckled. “Sure thing,”

You turned on F.R.I.E.N.D.S, letting it play on a low volume, resting your body against hers. You lay your head in her lap eventually, letting her hand gently rub your arm soothingly.

Her voice was soft as she spoke. “Nena,” she said. “How’re the voices?”

“Loud,” you mumbled, shifting your knees up to your chest a little, an arm wrapping around them.

They got steadily louder as she spoke, making you wince and squirm slightly.

“Easy,” she warned.

“They’re so fucking loud…” you hissed, irritated. The objects in the room began to rattle slightly.

“You’re still Y/n,” she said softly. “But not this version,”

“The fuck do you mean?” You asked, irritated.

“I mean that she kept you trapped,”

“Who? Mom? Yeah no shit,”

She chuckled but shook her head. “No, not her. You remember her name,”

Flashes of something went through your mind—you saw everything in black and white at first. You felt the world tilt and bend, felt nausea rise at the back of your throat.

“She’s kept you in this prison,” she said softly. “She’s just kept you like this—docile, dormant…”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “Mom said the voices are just some psychological thing—“

“Listen to the voices,” Rio urged. “Hear them closely,”

Another flash of something—an empty street, crying boys, a woman in red with hair the colour of…scarlet.

“Wanda—“ you choked out, gasping. The voices slowed from a cacophony to different voices, familiar voices from your past.

All screaming into your ears one thing: Snap out of it.

“That’s right, nena,” she whispered. “Keep trying,”

Your eyes went dark, black throughout the whites and irises, smoky black magic curling at your fingertips. You looked around you at the still-bending reality.

“What’s real?” You gasped out, feeling the magic pulse with your blood. You felt complete for the first time in three years.

“She’s kept you imprisoned for three years, locking away your ability,” Rio said. “You’re not just angry at Agatha for these centuries of hurt, you’re angry at Wanda for making you feel…”

“Powerless,” you completed. “I’ve been feeling powerless because of her,”

She nodded, a sly smile on her face. “You wanna try something with me?”

You nodded, grinning somewhat evilly. “Sure,”

“First, I’m gonna have to project on your mom’s mind, wanna help with that?”

You nodded, devious smile on your face. “I thought you’d never ask,”

Her smile matched yours instantly. “That’s my girl,”

You saw Agnes entering the room with a random boy, making you frown in utter confusion, before you used your power to help Rio get in her head. While you did so, you felt clearer on your own powers.

You were just like Mami.

Dark magic, soul magic. The kind where you could stop a person’s breathing and pluck the very thing that made them human right from their system. The kind where you could change your face to anyone who’d had a beating heart at will. The kind where you could shake the devil’s hand while playing with the angels.

Life and Death, you were the balance.

You felt time ticking by slowly but surely, you headed up to your room in a daze. You saw it clearly now—you understood just how senile you and your mother had been acting the past few days.

“Sleep,” you heard Rio’s voice in your head.

You did.

The next morning you woke up to sunlight streaming through your curtains, the day was warm. You squirmed out from under the covers, noticing yourself in the mirror. You smirked a little. You looked visibly warmer, as if lifting the spell had breathed some extra life into you. Ironic.

Just to check if last night was real, you moved your fingers like your mother had taught you, lifting a pencil and placing it down simply. You grinned with clear, childlike excitement.

“I’m back, baby,” you smirked.

However, your thoughts were interrupted by a loud, angry scream from downstairs.

You nearly fell as you ran down, knife in hand already. It lowered instantly as you saw Agatha in the room.

Naked.

Your own scream matched hers as you covered your eyes with your hands. “Mom get some fucking clothes on, you disgusting woman!”

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes. “I assume she got you out, too?”

“Obviously,” you grumbled.

“What’s up your ass this morning?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that the first thing I see upon being fully conscious is my mother standing in the living room stark-staring NAKED?”

Before you could comprehend her fast reply, she had dashed out of the house, making you groan in annoyance. You ran out after her, but not before you pulled on a jacket to hide your face with.

“Mom, mama, mother, please—“ you pleaded, looking through her rather than at her, trying to fix how awkward this was.

“Oh! Whoa!” You heard Herb exclaim. “What? What is going on? Hey, Miss Agnes, you—you feeling okay today?”

“Stop talking,” she snapped. “How long have I been here?”

“Uh… What?” You saw him put his hand up to cover…things from his vision.

“How long have I been living in this cesspool of a town?” She asked none to politely.

“You don’t remember?” He asked, baffled.

“Yet you remember and retain the same attitude as ‘Agnes’,” you scoffed.

“Catch me up,” she scowled, ignoring you.

“About three years,” he nodded.

“Three years?” She exclaimed. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she realised. “Wanda,”

“We try not to say her name,” he mumbled.

“Ugh!” She exclaimed. “Because you’re cowards, because you’re sheep. What have I been doing all this time?”

“Being bitchy to really nice people, for starters,” you rolled your eyes.

Herb chuckled but continued just as nervously. "Well, you’ve mostly been a good neighbor. A bit too casual with your boundaries…"

Triggered, she snapped, "Call me “nosy,” I’ll cut out your tongue."

"How polite," you grumbled.

"Yeah...you haven’t been yourself the past few days," he admitted. "Almost like you got bit by the true crime bug. Now that's normal for Y/n, obviously, but you? Nah,"

"So…So what? I’ve just been spouting nonsense and you’ve just been humoring me?" She scowled.

"I mean, folks been trying to help out, you know, stopping by and bringing you groceries and checking up on you," he explained, his eyes not meeting hers.

"Oh, I get it," Agatha chuckled sarcastically, her eyes on Dottie and her husband, who were trying to get their daughter back inside frantically. "Librarian. Chief of police," Her eyes landed on Norm, who jogged backwards upon meeting her gaze. "Oh! Jeweler,"

As she spoke, Herb tried covering her up with his jacket--a futile thing, really, since she threw it off her body instantly.

"This is where hope goes to die," she sneered.

"You know, um...besides the fact that you’re, um…" he gestured at her with his head. "You seem pretty lucid for a change. Aggressive, even. Powerful."

"Oh god, please don't feed into her ego," you begged, irritated.

"What did you say?" She asked softly, eyes drifting to him.

"I said, “Powerful,” but look, Agnes, if…"

"It’s Agatha,"

"Agnes' more annoying, bitchy counterpart," you interjected, earning a smack upside your head.

"Okay. Agatha. Yeah," he nodded, awkwardly. "Can you put on some clothes?" She groaned angrily and stalked off into the house, with you following in embarrassment. "‘Cause you… ‘Cause you’re naked..."

You stormed after her in anger, slamming the door shut behind you. "Mom, we need to talk--"

"No. No!" You heard her exclaim as you noticed how her hands were devoid of one very, very familiar thing. Her purple.

You shook your head. Inside, you were a mess of emotions. You were shocked, scared, angry, confused, and exhausted all in one. You hated this. Hated how she still didn't give you the time of day, how she constantly went after the same thing over and over again. Like always. You grabbed her wrist sharply.

"Mom stop!" You exclaimed, holding her back.

"Did she take yours, too?" She cut you off, her hand yanking away from your grip.

"No, I can, unfortunately, still see the dead, feel the dead, and control...hm...oh yeah, the dead," you rolled your eyes. "But that's not the point! The point is--and she's gone."

Agatha had gone back down to her basement, which, in Wanda's hex, was a whole witchy lair. Now it was just the laundry room. The pentagram was gone, your special little 'quiet corner' with barricade runes was gone, the comforting scent of incense and magic was overpowered by the smell of washing machine grease and Tide Pods.

You saw a bunny hop out from under the washing machine, and Agatha was quick to lift him up and cuddle him close. "I got mugged, mister. She took every little bit of power I had and left me with household appliances,"

Her gaze landed on you. "We gotta get back on top,"

You rolled your eyes. "So much for a normal suspension,"

From upstairs, you both heard a loud thudding noise, and immediately, you ran up and yanked open the coat closet door to see...a boy? With duct tape on his mouth and legs?

"MOM!" You exclaimed, horrified. "Come ON! Have some basic human sense!"

Nonchalantly she shrugged, "So that arrest was maybe more of a kidnapping,"

"You think, lady?!"

"Keep it civil, little miss," she warned, before pointing at the boy. "But if you’re real and not a figment of my imprisoned mind, then that means…"

The door burst open, splintering and completely broken off its hinges, making you duck and cover your head, grabbing Señor Scratchy, and holding him tight to keep him safe. You placed him under the hallways table, keeping him away from the broken glass and wood. Agatha got blown back by the force of the impact, falling in a heap on the floor.

“Shit. Mom!” Your exclaimed, about to help, but she put a hand out to stop you.

“Don’t!” She snapped, making your features darken, as you stopped.

You saw a figure clad in black, a familiar woman, and your heart leapt at the sight of her. She flew at your mother before she stood with her knife poised at the base of Agatha’s collarbone, the woman pinned with the force of it, where her pulse beat steadily against the skin.

“I’ve missed you,” Rio giggled diabolically.

“I hate you,” Agatha snarled.

“Just like you do everyone you love,” you scoffed, shrugging. “Hi, Mami,”

“Hey nena,” she replied, eyes fixed on your mother. “How long has it been, Agatha?” Rio asked, pushing harsher against her grip.

“Not sure,” she groaned, you could sense her seething.

“Since you acquired the Darkhold, you hid behind all that dark magic, but then you lost it, and now…” she chuckled darkly, the tip of her knife kissing the skin of her collarbone, making Agatha wince. “Touch. You’re vulnerable,”

She eased, “Only physically,”

In moments, she grabbed Rio’s head, slammed it into a wall, making you wince as the knife clattered to the side. You winced as Agatha gripped the blade against Rio’s blow, the blood in the xarpet smelling metallic and nauseating.

“Do you remember pain?” Rio gasped. “It kind of tickles, doesn’t it?”

Chuckling dryly, Agatha panted, “Coochie coochie coo,”

After a good minute of them struggling like cats, with Agatha pinning Rio down by the throat, you made a slight attempt to help.

You grabbed your mother by the shoulders and held them apart, angry.

“Will you two hopeless lesbians just cut it out?!” You asked, your palms pressed against each of their chests. “This is fucking infuriating!”

“Stay out of this, Y/n,” Agatha snarled, her eyes on Rio.

“It’s best for you, nena,” added Rio.

“Well how about we be a normal family and perhaps go for dinner instead of you trying to kill each other!”

“You can’t kill me,” your mom hissed at Rio. “You can’t kill me. It’s not allowed,”

“Maybe I can’t kill you,” Rio said, angrily, blowing her back into the cabinet. “But I can make you wish you were dead,”

Agatha groaned, sitting up. “Wait, wait, wait,” she gasped. “This isn’t what you want. Me without power,”

You shrugged at Rio, mumbling, “Maybe it’s better if she didn’t have any power, selfish bitch,”

Agatha laughed, glaring at you just a little. “This is undignified,” she looked at Rio. “Don’t you want me at my best?” She stood, you noticed her her voice droppin to that horrible, infuriating, manipulative whisper. “Admit it. You prefer me—“

“Horizontal?” Rio interrupted. After a pause, she added “In a grave?”

“Formidable,” Agatha corrected.

“So take my power,” she shrugged.

Your mother chuckled humourlessly, nodding at her. “That’s cute. But you know that would kill me. Just…let me get my purple back. And then come find me,”

“I am not the only one that wants to see you dead,” Rio scoffed. “Wants to see you burn. Or hang or drown.”

Disconcerted, Agatha tried to lighten the statement, saying, “There are no new options?”

“I could just sit back and watch,” Rio shrugged.

Slowly, like a cat prowling to its prey, she approached her, voice but a whisper. “Come on. You love it. The anticipation…”

“Okay, Agatha,” Rio conceded, looking down and shaking her head with a chuckle. “But I’ll be sure to tell them where to find you.”

“Who, specifically?” She and you asked in unison.

“Mmm! The worst of them. The Salem Seven,” Rio said. Noticing your panicked expression, she added, “Not you, nena. Just your mother,”

Turning back to agatha she shrugged. “I expect you’ll see them at sundown. After all these centuries, Agatha Harkness will finally meet her end. Ugh! It really warms the heart,”

“You don’t have a heart,” Agatha snapped.

Pulling her close all of a sudden, Rio spoke in a low voice, full of conviction. “Yes, I do. It’s black. And it beats for you,”

She lifted the hand from which blood was dripping and in one long, clean swipe of her tongue, healed it.

You made a face with disgust. “Mami, ew,” you muttered. “You’re so gay, my god,”

Rio laughed, shooting Agatha a look, squeezing your cheeks with one hand gently and quickly before she whispered, “I’ll see you sometime soon, nena.”

As she went to the doorway, she glanced at Agatha, shrugging, “Te veo,” before leaving.

You both stood there in silence for a good moment, before you asked awkwardly, “So…what do we do about the door?”

She looked at you, baffled, her chin held delicately between her thumb and forefinger in thought. “The door?”

“Yeah, she blew it off its hinges,”

“Do you see the state of my sitting room?”

You glanced around at the catastrophic sight. She had a point.

“Yeah, I’m grabbing myself some breakfast, it is far too early for me to deal with…this,” you shrugged, going to the kitchen. “You want anything?”

Agatha didn’t respond, clearly thinking about Rio’s appearance. With a frustrated groan, she was about to stomp away, when she heard some indistinct mumbling from her closet.

Yanking it open, with you behind her, cereal bowl in hand and munching on Lucky Charms, she sighed at the sight of the boy with his mouth and limbs taped up.

“Oh, right, you,”

@eletricheart , @misty-melody , @mmemalwa , @skittlebum , @lexietargaryen , @natashasmuse , @angelbeingatitspurest , @skittledemon, @wandasreallover , @gaylorvader , @lovelyy-moonlight , @lizziescutiepie , @rosierogie , @lanadelreyaesthic, @circe143 , @babybeeelle

hello my bao buns! sorry for the delay, i hope you liked this one! let me know what you think <3

love, jaya

[dark-konohagakure2]

sephiroth forcing himself on a girlie thats too shy to talk to him?

tw: noncon, power imbalance, size difference, humiliation, degradation, semi-public sex, misogyny, victim blaming, verbal abuse

All characters depicted are 18+

Sephiroth is well aware of his little fanclub of swooning fangirls who are all head over heals in love with him, he doesn't hate it, but he certainly doesn't like it either, he treats their existence with the same passive indifference that one would treat ants on a sidewalk, uncaring if they are there or not, Sephiroth has about as many love confessions under his belt as he does inches of hair on his head, but none of these women interest him very much.

That is the case for a while until his keen senses pick up on someone following him, he initially assumes it's just Hojo coming to pester him again, or Zack coming to ask him more idiotic questions, but instead he catches a glimpse of a girl peeking at him from around the corner, only to quickly hide when he turns around. Being a trained SOLIDER from birth, Sephiroth immediately assumes hostile intent from her, what other reason would she have to follow him whilst concealing her presence?

He'll almost immediately confront her, although not in a brutish manner, no, a man like Sephiroth is one to use cold intimidation over such savage tactics. He'll corner the little spy rather quickly, placing his gloved hand on the wall next to her head as he asks her what exactly she thinks she's doing. He'll watch as she flounders about like a fish on land, struggling to get a single word out as her face turns a bright red, that when Sephiroth will notice a very interesting looking note clutched to her chest.

Sephiroth will pluck the note from her hands the moment he sees it, holding it out of her reach with his superior height, ignoring her protests and pleas as he begins to read it, sneering at the flowery words and shoddy handwriting, it's pitiful how little effort she put into confessing her silly feelings to one as important as Sephiroth. He'll make it clear that her little crush is nothing but delusional wishful thinking, but that won't stop him from taking advantage of it, and of her.

"Oh... How cute. Did you really think a few scribbles on paper would be enough to win me over? How pathetic. But I suppose I can give you what you so clearly want..."

He'll pay no mind to her protests as he rips her shirt open right on the spot, Sephiroth doesn't see why she's protesting, she said she likes him, and now she doesn't? Are all woman this indecisive? Sephiroth has never really understood women, or men either for that matter, he's always had trouble understanding those beneath him, but none of that matters to him now, all that matters is giving this cute little stalker exactly what she deserves.

Sephiroth isn't gentle with her at all, it's just not in his nature to treat anyone with kindness, not even an innocent young woman who's only crime is having a crush. He'll cover her mouth with a large leather clad hand as his hips snap into her's from behind, fucking her just around the corner of the hallway and in the blind spot of the many security cameras in Shinra's hallways.

Despite forcing her to be silent, Sephiroth won't do the same, instead he'll whisper venomous insults into her ear, telling her that she's no different than his other admirers, that this is the most attention any man would deign to give her, and how this is what she wanted from him, so she should be grateful, he's practically a saint for humoring her pitifully misguided affection towards him, an affection that definitely won't replace after this encounter, instead being replaced with fear.

He'll be finished with her rather quickly, as if his body itself is in a hurry to be done with her, Sephiroth won't care if he cums directly inside her, even if he doesn't knock her up, she should be grateful for his attention and his seed, he doesn't give that to just anyone, only the shy little brats who don't know how to talk to people like a big girl.

"Hmpf, I have no more use for you. Now go back to your little hovel like a good girl, unless you want more of my attentions, that is..."

Sephiroth will watch her leave without another word, showing faint amusement at the sight of her limping away, her pussy leaking his semen as she does. He finds her very amusing, in fact he might even consider using his high standing in Shinra to get her alone again.

[thenerdofthegroup]

See, after many rewatches here’s the thing:

To me this show is perfect. And honestly I love 90% of the final two. But I love genuinely everything… UNTIL the last 10 minutes and your hit with

“Fuck. This is all we are getting”

We aren’t getting Agatha’s story, the darkhold, anything that was basically promised. And then we have Billy being… I won’t swear because I’m already treading the line, but he’s being Billy and Agatha just goes ‘yeah I’ll help you’ without knowing anything. I fully believe she’s doing it either to get back to life or/and to find Wanda. But it doesn’t tell us that. So we don’t know. We are told almost nothing about Agatha… in Agatha’s show.

That’s my problem. The rest of it is fucking perfect. Honestly. I loved the Billy reveal SOLELY because we see Agatha being fucking incredible. She is above everyone. Yes there are people more powerful than her but she is above everyone in the game of life. She is perfect. Her kissing Rio was just pure love and forgiveness for her love. Beautiful. But I’ve described before there should have been an Agatha conversation maybe in the afterlife or on her own or with Rio to explain her emotions at the end. Because it feels like her death isn’t really the end.

But

We get to the last 10 minutes and you are really hot with ‘this is it. We aren’t… fuck’

That’s my personal problem. Geneuinly everything is pretty much perfect until you hit the last 10 minutes of content (aka when Billy goes to her house) and then it hits you… there isn’t a secret episode after explaining her, there isn’t a post credit scene. Nothing. We leave in Billy being a twat (I’m sorry but he was) and not knowing what Agatha’s feeling or almost any of her history or lore.

Yay

This show is so perfect… until then. And I hate that it ends with me so viscerally angry and upset that there is no follow up about Agatha and her history or her emotions. That it’s just about Billy and she’s going to become a side character without us ever finding out about her history the way we should have, that they were telling us we were getting throughout the show. We got more Billy backstory in those 3 years than we got of Agatha in her 100’s of years. She is so complex and… we got so little. The nick stuff and ballad twist is my favourite scenes of… well ever. I’ve cried every single time.

But there is so much more to Agatha. And we got none of it. So when I watch it back I get the duality of:

“OMG!! That makes so much sense!! Agatha’s so clever”

(Them saying something with Agatha’s backstory) “WELL WE ARE NEVER GOING TO SEE THAT ARE WE!!!! YOU FUC-“

Do yeah. Agatha all along. Perfect. Genuinely perfect, until the last 10 minutes and it hits you, that’s it.

My love for this show and Agatha goes beyond bounds. Agatha is my special interest. And I cannot bind my anger that erupts every time I finish it.

And reading everything from Jac, it’s fucking marvel. So fuck you marvel for not allowing them to show Agatha’s backstory fully because apparently it wasn’t ’important enough’ but Billy’s kissing his boyfriend in the car for 4 minutes or whatever else about him we didn’t need.

Uh I’m a bitter autistic lesbian. This is not a good combo haha

Another gift for any poor soul who got to the end

GREY HAIRED AGATHA MY BELOVED AND THE GAYEST WOMAN IN THE 30’S!!!!!

[givemeallyourpenny]

Can’t believe Bakugan was the thing that finally got me to make sincere fanart. Love it. (Plus a tiny wanderer.)

[sysig]

Dr. “Has to get a good grade in therapy” Doran (Patreon)

[girlscience]

THE FACT TRANSFORMERS DO NOT HAVE CONSISTENT SIZING OR EVEN CANON HEIGHTS FOR MOST CONTINUITIES

[willfool]

…

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Final meteor's question, what would have happened to Vanessa if she was wearing the Vanny suit at the time a wave hit?

Would it fuse with her turning her into an anthropomorphic rabbit or would it remain a costume?

Nothing would happen.

In a Vanny situation, it would make whatever she's using blip out like any other electronic. This would include the mask if it's like the one Cassie has that lets her melt through the walls, and would allow the animatronics to see her. The only exception would be Roxy since she can already see her.

At best, it could maybe give Vanessa a few moments of control, and some momentary peace and quiet if she's already in control.

Otherwise? Yeah nothing different would happen. It'd still be a costume, Vanny would still be a problem and the other animatronics would maybe catch a glimpse of her and finally know what Roxy was on about before she was Glitchtrapped. The blips and momentary control/peace could, with really lucky timing, grant an opportunity to whoever Vanny/Glitch is trying to kill to escape, but yeah... that's about it.

Not the most exciting outcome here, huh? Yeah that sounds like a hell of a concept though damn... don't say that one too loud or the FNaF authors will hear you and either make it the biggest flop that punishes characters for wanting to be happy, or absolutely horrifying and incredibly avoidable agony. Lmao legit though that would be scary I like that

[localcryptideli]

I am not saying Riku is probably a direct descendant of Ephemer but I am just saying the ML girl we are all thinking is also a direct descendant inherited the silver hair+teal eyes (and in her case wavy hair although less curly than Ephemer) combo, and of all other silver haired characters only Ephemer, her, and Riki share that one.

[benetnvsch]

FINALLY making comprehensive refs for all my main Guys YIPEEE (or at least,, this one AU of them kajsdh) So meet Kitson,, he's like,, the Main Guy of my Main OCs (there's like 8 of them that I keep throwing into different stories) )

He is like the Main Character in this one and has made a contract with this magical dragon to help him hunt down and kill this one (1) guy he hates cuz he's normal like that-

[glitter50000]

bitches be getting so happy watching the darkling being portrayed as a villain and a toxic lover. It’s me, I’m bitches

[orcelito]

I'm right at the start of Hidan and Kakuzu's arc and I am So Scared

This is one that hurts fr bcksbmf

[britneyshakespeare]

i like how bernard hill and brian protheroe are the same age and yet when bernard hill plays the father of brian protheroe. mm idk i just believe it

[bleach-your-panties]

JJK Men: When You're Sleepy, But They're Horny🍒🎀

(a/n: i usually suck ass at headcanons but let's give this a whirl. characters aged 18+. nsfw mdni, sexual content. fem reader)

(characters: yuuji, megumi, nanami, toge, gojo)

dividers: glitter-graphics, @/cafekitsune

♥︎

Yuuji:

It's 9pm and you had just returned from a solo mission, finished your shower, hair routine, and climbed into bed. You hear the soft click of your room door opening and you know that it has to be none other than your boyfriend, Yuuji.

"Babe, are you still awake?" His soft voice whispers right beside your ear before he presses a kiss to the side of your head. You groan out something unintelligible and Yuuji's heart sinks a bit.

He's really hard and he was hoping that you might feel like 'playing' a little, but he also knows that you're probably really tired.

"I can feel you pouting, Yuu. Put it in my hand."

You stretch your palm out from under your covers and Yuuji is quickly shoving his pants down to free his hard dick.

"T-thank you, so much, cutie. Fuck, I love you!" He whimpers/whispers as you stroke him with your nice, warm fingers running all along his shaft.

He's so pent-up that it only takes a few rough tugs before he's spilling his seed into your hand.

"Promise to fuck you good when you wake up, baby. You're so good to me."

You were already snoring before he cleaned your hand off and left your room silently.

♥︎

Megumi:

You're curled up in bed with Megumi spooning while the two of you watch anime. You've finished nearly half the season in the last couple hours that you've been watching and now your eyes are drooping.

Megumi is still watching the TV but his eyes flit down to where your ass is pressed against his crotch. The sleep shorts you're wearing give him a perfect view of your thighs.

Being a semi-grade 1 jujutsu sorcerer, you have keen awareness and heightened senses, so you automatically feel Megumi's stone cold blue eyes boring into your back.

"What is it, Megara?" You yawn out, turning slightly to look at him over your shoulder. He rolls said eyes.

"Told you to stop calling me that."

He answers your question by rutting his hips forward and rubbing his hard-on against your ass.

"I'm tired, Megs. Here." You turn over halfway on to your stomach, fully presenting your ass to him and his eyes widen at the gap made by your thighs.

He sinks his dick into the makeshift hole and fucks it slowly, edging himself, until he feels his balls tighten and he's cumming into the opening.

A warm blush covers his cheeks but he dutifully grabs some wipes and cleans you off before kissing your head and pulling you into his chest.

♥︎

Nanami:

Kento is working another late shift and you just can't stay up waiting for him any longer.

You're quickly falling asleep in the armchair when the front door knob twists and he steps inside.

"Angel, are you asleep in the chair?"

"Mmm...Kento is that you?" You drawl with your head resting against the cushion. He chuckles at your cuteness.

"Yes, it's me, darling. Come on, let's get you to bed.

"Okay."

Once he's laid you on the bed, he can't help but begin to caress your smooth legs up to your thighs hidden beneath your nightgown.

His dick begins to strain against his dress pants but he looks up at your blissful face and dares not to ask you if you want to make love.

"Kento...what's wrong? Come on to bed, already."

"Do you mind if I eat you out, darling?"

Your heart swells ten times its size just knowing how much he cares for you.

"Mhmm, please..."

And he dives right in, sucking and licking you to Nirvana. It feels so good, your legs start shaking and you're cumming over his handsome face in record time.

Your orgasm completely knocks you out cold and he chuckles at your peaceful form before undressing to his boxers and climbing under the covers with you.

♥︎

Toge:

You're cuddled up in Toge's bed with him looking at memes and funny videos on his phone.

With a free day from classes, the two of you had been out all day exploring Tokyo and now you're absolutely exhausted.

You snuggle into his warm chest and inhale the scent of his laundry detergent. Toge kisses the top of your head, his lavender eyes then trailing down over your beautiful face....your lithe neck with the necklace he bought you for your birthday around it, and further down to your tits.

He softly inhales and wraps an arm around your back to press you further against him so he can feel your breasts squished against his hard chest.

You shuffle a bit in his hold and your sleepy eyes look up into his amethyst ones.

"Toge...?"

His dick is hard and swollen against his thigh, but you look so cute like this - he can't help but lean his head down to kiss each of your breasts.

"Sleep."

Your body can't do anything but obey.

That was probably the best sleep you'd gotten in a while.

♥︎

Gojo:

Satoru was away for the day on a field trip with his students and you decided to clean the entire house while he was away. You never had the time to do it when he was around because you'd either be holed up in the bedroom all day or pressed up against some random piece of furniture with him thrusting into you wildly.

When you finished the upstairs, you decided to go lie down and have a quick nap before he got back.

Hours later, you're still knocked out; the cleaning had really drained you more than you realized.

"Honeybun, I'm home and I brought you a souvenir!~"

Your joyful husband slams open the bedroom door with some shopping bags in tow.

The bags drop to the floor and he immediately hushes himself once he sees that you're asleep.

"Aww, look at my precious sleeping baby.." He slips off his blindfold, revealing his beautiful, crystalline blue eyes while he shreds himself of his work clothes and joins you in the bed.

The movements make you shift around a bit and then you feel warm breath over your neck and cheeks.

"Hm, Satoru.." Your hand tangles into his soft white locks while his lips press against the juncture between your neck and shoulder, leaving wet, hungry kisses on your sweet-scented skin.

"Missed you so much, sweetie...need to have you right now."

There was rarely a time when this man wasn't horny for you, but if you refused and wanted to just sleep, he wouldn't object. He knows that even though you're not a sorcerer you still have a life and things that keep you occupied when he's away.

You shift until you're lying completely on your back and Satoru is spreading your thighs with his knees. He pulls out his cock and begins stroking it until it's hard and leaking pre-cum.

"I love you.." He murmurs into your hair once he's sunken all eight inches inside your tight cunt.

Your eyes close instinctively, but he pats your cheek before gripping your chin in his rough grip.

"Look at me. I want to watch your pretty eyes while I fuck you back to sleep."

----

i actually fell asleep while writing this loool. going back to sleep now, peace.

[p0orbaby]

First Love

summary: you have a new admirer, alexia isn’t a fan

warnings: none

a/n: i cant remember if this was request or not so if it was i apologise but ive lost it. if not, well done me for thinking of my own plot for a change

word count: 1.2k

-

You and Alexia arrive fashionably late, because, well, it's Alexia’s family, and you’re not about to sacrifice your sanity to be early for a gathering that’s going to last an eternity anyway. She’s already stressed because she knows every cousin, uncle, and long-lost relative is going to pester her with the usual questions. How’s football? How’s the knee? When are you going to settle down and give your mother some grandchildren? Not to mention, the subtle but unmistakable scrutiny that comes with introducing you—again—like you're the new pet hamster instead of the person who’s been sleeping next to her for three years now.

You’re prepared, though. You’ve got your A-game smile, and you’re ready to nod at all the right moments while maintaining an impressive and unwavering level of small talk. You’re a pro at this by now. You can discuss the weather in ways that would make any other Briton jealous.

The event is held at a distant cousin's place—a sprawling estate that screams “we have more money than common sense.” The house is big, too big. The kind of place where you could lose a child or three and not notice until the next family reunion. The garden is a maze of strategically placed garden furniture, various expensive but uncomfortable chairs that no one sits in, and a kid's bouncy castle that looks like it was imported from the set of some cheesy Netflix original with mediocre reviews.

You’re halfway through your first glass of sangria when you notice him—a small boy, around five or six, with that messy hair that suggests he’s been on a sugar bender since eight this morning. His eyes are locked on you like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world. He’s got this look that can only be described as pure, unfiltered determination, like he’s decided, at that very moment, that you’re going to be his new best friend, and there’s absolutely nothing you or anyone else can do about it.

"He's cute," you whisper to Alexia as the boy starts to waddle over, his shoes lighting up with every step. Alexia glances at him, then back at you, her brow furrowing ever so slightly.

"Yeah, cute," she says, her tone dry enough to rival the Sahara. You can tell by the way her jaw tenses that she’s already not thrilled with this kid, which is hilarious because you’ve seen her face down a team of professional athletes without breaking a sweat. But a small child? Apparently, that’s a whole different kind of threat.

The boy—let's call him Diego, because of course his name is Diego—sidles up to you with all the subtlety of a charging bull. He stares up at you, his eyes wide and sparkling, like you’re a rock star, and he’s your biggest fan.

"Hola," he says, in that high-pitched voice only kids or cartoon characters can pull off without being annoying. Except, it’s already a little annoying, because he’s completely ignoring Alexia, and that’s a crime in and of itself.

"Hi there," you reply, keeping your tone light and friendly. You glance over at Alexia, who’s now sipping her drink with a look that suggests she’s contemplating how many more family functions she can skip without starting a feud.

Diego looks at Alexia briefly, as if she’s some sort of obstacle, then turns his attention back to you, his smile growing wider. "Wanna play?"

You blink. Play? You haven’t ‘played’ in, what, fifteen years? Maybe more? You’re more accustomed to adult games now, like “Where did I put my phone?” and “How long can I avoid doing laundry?” But Diego doesn’t seem to care. He’s already grabbed your hand, sticky fingers and all, and is pulling you toward the bouncy castle like it’s the best idea in the world.

You glance at Alexia, who’s now watching the whole thing with an expression that would be hilarious if it weren’t so serious. There’s a thin line between her eyebrows that you’ve learned means danger. You try to give her a look that says, “Help me,” but she just raises an eyebrow, as if to say, “You got yourself into this, deal with it”

Before you can protest, you’re inside the bouncy castle, surrounded by kids who are all screaming with the kind of joy only children and maniacs experience. Diego is jumping up and down, laughing like a crazy person, and you’re doing your best to stay upright, which is difficult because it’s been a while since you were five.

Outside, you can see Alexia, arms crossed, watching you with a look that’s a mix between amusement and something else—something that looks suspiciously like jealousy. You bounce awkwardly, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, but Diego is relentless. He’s now trying to get you to jump higher, and you’re seriously starting to consider if this is how you go—death by bouncy castle.

After what feels like an eternity (but is probably just ten minutes), you manage to escape, stumbling out of the bouncy castle like you’ve just survived a natural disaster. Diego is still inside, shrieking with laughter, blissfully unaware of the drama he’s just caused.

You make your way over to Alexia, who’s watching you with that amused, slightly irritated expression still firmly in place.

"Having fun?" she asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, tons," you reply, wiping sweat from your brow. "Best day of my life”

"You know, I’m not the jealous type," she begins, her voice low and dangerous, "but what’s mine is mine. End of story”

You can’t help but laugh, because of course Alexia would be jealous of a five-year-old. It’s ridiculous, and yet, somehow, perfectly understandable. "I think I’ve been claimed by someone else," you say, grinning. "You might have some competition”

She rolls her eyes but you can tell she’s not really mad. At least, not in the serious way. "He’s got good taste," she admits grudgingly, "but don’t let it go to your head”

"I wouldn’t dream of it," you reply, leaning in to kiss her cheek, because you know that’s what she wants, even if she’ll never admit it.

The rest of the party is a blur of forced smiles, endless small talk, and more sangria than you probably should’ve had. Diego pops up a few more times, always eager to drag you back to the bouncy castle or show you some new toy, but each time, Alexia is there, gently but firmly steering him back toward his actual family.

By the end of the night, you’re exhausted, and Alexia is finally starting to relax, probably because Diego has finally passed out somewhere, giving up on his quest to monopolise your attention.

As you leave, hand in hand, you glance back at the house, wondering how long it’ll be before you’re back here again, playing the role of the supportive girlfriend in a family that still doesn’t quite get it. But then Alexia squeezes your hand, and you realise it doesn’t matter. Because at the end of the day, what’s hers is hers, and what’s yours is yours, and that’s all there is to it.

Besides, next time, you’ll be ready. You’ll bring your own bouncy castle and show Diego who’s boss.