#scratch fanfiction

[moonlit-lian]

A bunch of doodles of THIS SPOOKY PHANTOM DESIGN!! So very inspired from the fic You wouldn’t like me alive, by @ectoplasmranch

I love the idea of a lightning core too!?!? IT MAKES SENSE AND ITS SO COOL!!

[ecstarry]

james has a printed picture of reg dead asleep on a couch from when he was a kid and he just looks so fucking adorable and he has pouty lips and his hair messy the way it still gets sometimes to this day when he wakes from a nap

[moonyflesh]

🐾 Cat Scratches - [James “Logan” Howlett x Reader]

WARNINGS: lots of fluff, brief mention of neck kisses, some suggestive comments but nothing past PG

CHARACTERS: James “Logan” Howlett (Wolverine, MARVEL/X-MEN)

🐾 .*.. 🕯️

Logan laid comfortably on your stomach, his arms wrapped around your lower back and hips as he buried his face into your abdomen, the bare skin of your tummy visible just slightly underneath your sweater.

Lazily scrolling through your phone, splayed out across his bed with him on top of you, your fingers trailed over his upper shoulders, scratching the fabric of his white compression shirt, rubbing his sore muscles from a long day of training and battle practice.

As your fingers trailed upwards mindlessly on his back, your manicured nails finally reached the nape of his neck, teasing the edge of his hairline.

Scrolling down further through your instagram, you let out a soft sigh of content as your fingers finally buried into the hair on the back of his head, eliciting a low rumble from the back of his throat.

You perked up at this, glancing past the dimmed screen of your device, an eyebrow quirked upwards at his reaction.

“You alright, Lo?”

You muttered out, a small, curious smile tugging at your glossy lips, damp from your teeth gently biting at them out of unconscious habit.

“Mmmh,”

He responded in a low hum, leaning into your fingers as you smiled, a small, amused chuckle leaving your lips at his fingers that slid lower on your back, cupping the backs of your thighs with a slightly possessive grip.

You felt a soft, warm press of his chapped lips against your stomach, just above your panty line, and a small laugh left your lips as he buried his nose further into you, inhaling without hesitation. In response, your legs opened slightly underneath him, wrapping them around his broad midsection with a light squeeze.

Preferring the man in front of you opposed to the celebrities on your phone, you dropped it at your side, letting it become lost in the fluffy, unkept sheets next to your form as both your hands wrapped around his head, burying your fingers into his scalp.

A low, animalistic-like growl left his lips as you scratched through his hair, meeting the place behind his ears, where you knew he was most sensitive.

Tracing over the area where his jaw connected to his ear and neck, you let out a low hum in response, tilting your head propped up on one of his pillows to the side, your eyebrows knitting together lightly in curiosity at his pleasant reactions.

“Feels good, bub. Right- mmh. There.”

Your eyes narrowed at his borderline inappropriate hum, and you nodded, wordlessly continuing to scrape through his fluffy, unkept hair.

“I didn’t take you for a cat, Logan,” You teased quietly, a small vibration leaving your own form, similar to that of the buzz of an old stereo.

“Don’t mock me, sweetheart. Can’t help it,”

He shot back, his furry eyebrows knitting together as he finally shifted, pulling himself up further, allowing his face to move from your stomach to your collarbone, trying desperately not to go full deadweight on you, knowing he’d crush your frail form.

“Plus, ever since you got yer nails done-”

He didn’t finish his sentence as you raked through his head of hair once more, pushing his face into the warm skin of your exposed neck, muffling any protest from him.

“Stop talking, James. Sleep.”

You effectively hushed him, a small smile pulling at your face as he grumbled out something along the lines of ‘mm. Whatever,’ and ‘fine.’

You felt him pepper a few hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his teeth teasingly biting down on your exposed shoulder, before lapping at the new mark with his tongue, admiring his work with your taste.

“G’night, bub.”

You smiled at his subtle acceptance to your demand, your fingers frozen in his fluffy hair and partially in his long side shaves, nodding.

“Goodnight, kitty.”

[1loer]

Im not one to think too deeply about what Kodaka says on bluesky/twitter about the danganronpa cast but he just posted this and my mind is Reeling a little

(Google translated so take with a grain of salt)

The person asks about what Hinata’s life was like in elementary and junior high and what his childhood was like.

Kodaka says “I [either speaking as Hinata or this is Google Translate missing the mark] was a normal person up until about middle school, and I was actually good at both grades and sports, but because of this I became obsessed with thinking I was special, someone who could make my dreams and hopes come true.”

And that just implies something so different to what I’d assumed about Hinata’s mindset and. I’m actually kind of obsessed?

I’d always assumed that Hinata was sort of a “kicked dog” if you will. Someone who never really had much and thats why he always wanted more.

This is not that. This is nearly the opposite. This is someone who had and still very arrogantly wanted more. Someone who could have been fine as he was, but it wasn’t enough. Someone never satisfied with the good that he had because there was more to be had, more he could have that he never got. Someone who was maybe quite good at some things, or at least decent, and his brain went “this must mean I’m something special. I must be destined for greatness.” This compiled with another question he answered that implied Hinata’s parents were actually kind of well off too (cant remember but something like they were the type to buy him things to make up for mistakes), like…This is not the downtrodden underdog of society I’d always read Hinata as being.

To me this stinks of envy. An arrogant, narcissistic, prideful envy. And oh my god. Isn’t that just so much more relatable?

To be someone who had every opportunity succeed without talent…And to accept the Kamukura project anyway… Not out of necessity or a pressure from society, but simply his own prideful, envious need to have more.

He’s not a nothing that finally got something. He was already something. He’s not an underdog, he’s an Icarus.

In its own way, I think that embodies a very contorted, “black mirror” idea of Hope way more than my previous reading of his character, which I think also makes the outcome of the Kamukura project just so much more deliciously ironic.

Oh? You want more? You aren’t satisfied with yourself despite having everything you could need? Ok. We’ll give you more.

We’ll give you more.

[rizzlesregal13]

Maybe Using Magic Isn’t That Bad… Not When It’s Just The Two Of Us

***NSFW - MDNI***

Agatha x Reader 💜

With the Saturday night dance party over, and Nicki & Ella finally tucked up in bed, what started as playful teasing quickly turns into something more...especially when your magic gets involved.

A/N: I had no intention for this to decend into smut central… it was supposed to be cute and fluffy… clearly my mind had other ideas. Oopsie 🙈😏

Saturday evenings in our house were always “something”.

Not the “witchcraft and chaos” kind of “something” Agatha revelled in... well, not just that... but the good kind. The kind where our living room became a dance floor, the music was too loud, on this occasion Pink Pony Club, a small disco ball spun, and any sense of decorum flew right out the window.

And tonight...was no exception.

Ella was perched on my hip, giggling uncontrollably as I spun and tipped her in time with the beat. Her little hands clung to my shoulders, her brunette curls bouncing with every move. She wasn’t even trying to dance anymore, she was just enjoying the ride, possibly thinking I was her very own “pink pony”.

Nicki, on the other hand, was locked in an ambitious battle with Agatha, attempting a step-cross-leg manoeuvre that neither of them were doing particularly well at. Agatha towered over him, her longer legs working against Nicki’s as he stubbornly tried to keep up and not trip over her feet.

The result? Absolute, silliness.

“Kid, if I stretch you just a teensy bit, I think we might nail this,” Agatha teased, her blue eyes flashing with mirth.

“Hey! No magic!” I shot her a look, though my amusement was hard to hide. “This is a magic-free dance floor.”

Agatha huffed dramatically, clutching her chest as if I had just shot her.

“You wound me, hon. Truly.”

“You’ll live.” I smirked, twirling Ella one last time before setting her down so she could run to Nicki and Agatha.

Nicki, determined to master the step, dragged Ella into the mix, her tiny feet mimicking his with unwavering enthusiasm. This was what it was all about. Not the spells, not magic, not the thrill of bending reality to our will.

Just this… the four of us.

I watched as Agatha’s expression softened, her ever-present smirk shifting into something… gentler, something unguarded. There were no sharp smirks, no teasing, no wicked little grins that she wore like armour. Just her, just Agatha, playing with our kids. Being soft in a way she rarely let herself be… that very few people got to see.

And god, it kills me how much I love her in moments like this.

Because I know her past. I know she isn’t perfect. I know she’s done terrible things, that she’s hurt people, taken what she’s wanted without caring about the consequences. And yet, here she is, with her arm around our son and daughter making up crazy dances, as laughter ripples out of all three of them, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

She caught me watching her, and in true Agatha fashion, cocked a knowing brow.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

She left Nicki & Ella, and prowled toward me, slipping an arm around my waist before I could protest.

“You were having a moment.”

I rolled my eyes. “I was not.”

“Oh, you so were.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What was it this time? Overwhelmed by my stunning dance skills? Enchanted by my presence?”

“More like overwhelmed by your complete lack of rhythm.”

Agatha gasped. “How dare you.”

I laughed, wrapping my arms around her neck. “Face it, you’re powerful, brilliant, ridiculously sexy… but… you dance like a drunk cat.”

She grinned. “But you love me anyway.”

I sighed dramatically. “Against my better judgment.”

The music swelled around us, but for a moment, it was just the two of us. No magic, no responsibilities—just Agatha, in my arms, her hands resting at my hips like they belonged there.

“I love you,” she murmured, so low I barely caught it.

My heart did that stupid, crazy thing where it forgot how to function properly, missing a beat. Of course I knew she loved me, but those three little words were never something she threw about easily.

“I love you too.”

Nicki’s voice broke through before she could kiss me.

“Ew! Mom and Mama are being gross again!”

Ella giggled, clapping her hands over her eyes.

“We have to do something about their timing.” Agatha groaned, burying her face in my shoulder.

I just laughed, tugging her back into the dance party and the chaos of our two kids, before she could plot something truly wicked.

***

It had gotten late. We’d managed to get the kids in bed fairly hassle free. Nicki had crashed mid-sentence, mumbling something about being the best dancer in the family, and Ella had insisted on one last bedtime story before her eyes, that were so like Agatha's, betrayed her and fluttered shut.

Now, the house was still. Not silent… never truly silent with the lingering energy of two overactive kids, but still enough that I could finally relax. Agatha stood in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of wine before handing me one, the deep red liquid catching the dim kitchen light as I took a slow sip.

I leaned back against the counter, eyes drifting through the open archway into the living room; a battlefield of discarded blankets, scattered toys, the disco ball still spinning, and upturned cushions.

Agatha followed my gaze, her smirk lazy, knowing.

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

She was right. It could wait. But something about ending the night with the house in disarray made my fingers twitch… my magic spark. So, with a subtle flick, the room righted itself. Cushions fluffed and stacked back on to the sofa, the coffee table straightened, the disco ball stopped and materialised inside the cupboard. The craziness of earlier now looked like nothing more than a memory.

I barely turned my head before I felt it—Agatha’s eyes on me, her smirk widening as she took a slow sip of her wine.

“Using magic, are we?”

I shrugged, pretending I didn’t feel the way her gaze sent warmth curling through me.

“I like waking up to a clean house.”

Agatha set her glass down with an amused chuckle, stepping into my space, her hands resting lightly on the counter on either side of me.

“Mm. Sure. That’s the reason.”

I arched a brow. “And what other reason would there be?”

Her smirk deepened. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you just enjoy it.”

She leaned in, her voice dropping just enough to make my breath catch.

“Maybe it’s not so bad, using what you were born with.”

I rolled my eyes, tilting my head back slightly.

“Don’t start.”

“Start what?” she teased, her lips just brushing against my jaw before pulling back. “I’m just saying, for someone who claims they don’t like usung their magic freely, who would rather do things the “normal” way, you sure didn’t hesitate.”

I huffed, lifting my glass to my lips again. “It’s practical.”

“It’s magic.”

“Magic can be practical.”

Agatha tilted her head, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the countertop beside me.

“And yet, when I use it to summon a bottle of wine instead of walking to the kitchen, you give me that look.”

I bit back a smile. “That’s different.”

She scoffed, feigning offence. “How?”

I swirled the wine in my glass, meeting her blue gaze with a knowing smirk of my own. “Because when you use magic, you always take it a step too far.”

Agatha clutched her chest, staggering back a step.

“How dare you?”

“Example, you magicked Mrs Hart’s garden gnome into an actual gnome, Agatha.”

“In my defence, he was boring, and Nicki and Ella loved it.”

I shook my head, laughing softly as she stepped back into my space. She nudged my glass aside just enough to steal a quick sip before pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth.

“Mm,” she hummed, savouring the wine. “Practical or not, I like it when you use magic.”

I let out a small sigh, resting my forehead against hers for just a moment. “You would.”

She grinned. “Of course, I would.”

I watched as Agatha picked up her wine glass, her fingers curling around the delicate stem. She took a slow sip, eyes locked onto mine over the rim, that ever-present smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

Then, without a word, she turned to walk away.

What happened next… I don’t think I could have controlled it even if I’d wanted to. Let’s just say that deep rooted instinct “that I was born with” kicked in.

Agatha barely had time to process before she was spinning back toward me, my magic curling around her like an invisible ribbon. She stopped just inches away, her blue eyes flickering with something between amusement and intrigue.

“Oh?” she murmured, head tilting as that wicked smirk continued to play on her lips. “Now who’s taking things a step too far?”

I stepped closer, slow, deliberate, my own smirk mirroring hers.

“Did you think you were going somewhere?”

Her eyes dipped to my mouth for just a fraction of a second before locking back onto mine, her breath steady but charged.

“Maybe. But you seem to have other plans.”

I lifted my hand, magic humming in my fingertips as I plucked her wine glass from her grip without touching it, letting it float over to rest beside mine on the countertop. She watched it land, then turned back to me with an arched brow.

“Oh, look at you,” she murmured, voice dripping with something almost sultry. “Using magic without a care.”

I laughed, stepping in until there was barely any space between us. “Seems you’re a terrible influence.”

“I certainly try,” she whispered, eyes glinting in the low kitchen light.

She didn’t pull away. Neither did I.

Instead, I reached up, fingers ghosting along the sleeve of her deep green sweater, tracing the wool before slipping lower, to the warmth of her wrist. Agatha let out a breath, not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh, as I slowly walked her back toward the counter.

Her hands found my hips first, then my waist, her touch familiar, teasing, taunting.

“So,” she drawled, eyes never leaving mine, “what exactly are your plans?”

I grinned, tilting my head slightly as I let my magic flare again—not enough to startle her, but enough to send a playful spark up her spine.

“I thought you liked it when I used magic.”

Agatha let out a low hum of approval.

“Oh, I do.”

“Then stop talking.”

And for once, she actually listened.

I ran my fingers back up her sleeve, slow and deliberate, letting my magic tingle against her skin like the faintest brush of static. Agatha inhaled sharply, her breath catching for just a moment—not because she was surprised, but because she liked it.

I smirked, letting my fingers trail higher, up the curve of her neck, where I felt the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath my touch. Then her jaw, where she tilted her head slightly into it, anticipation curling between us. And finally, across her lips.

Her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, her breath warm against my fingertips.

“You’re playing with fire, Y/N,” she murmured, lips parting just enough for her voice to slip through, low and dangerous.

I hummed in response, trailing my fingers back down to her collarbone, then pressing my palm flat against her chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breath beneath it.

“Funny,” I mused, tilting my head. “I thought you were the dangerous one.”

Agatha’s eyes blinked open, dark and smouldering, her smirk creeping back. “Oh, I am,” she purred. “But you… you’re finally starting to realise that you are too.”

I leaned in, close enough that my lips barely brushed hers, our noses ghosting, but not quite closing the distance. The air between us crackled, magic humming, but neither of us were in a hurry to break it.

Then, because I couldn’t resist, I let my magic flare again, just a whisper of power tracing along her skin, making her shiver.

Agatha let out a quiet, breathy laugh.

“Oh, I really like this side of you.”

I grinned. “Thought you might.”

She made a sound—half approval, half impatience, before she finally closed the space between us, her lips pressing against mine in a kiss that was slow but intent, teasing but undeniable with what she wanted.

My fingers curled into the wool covering her body, pulling her in, and Agatha let me—for now. But I knew her. Knew that any second now, she’d turn the tables, take control, push back just to see how far I’d let her go.

That was the game she played, we played.

The one we both loved.

I fingered the hem of her sweater, my touch slow, teasing, before I finally tugged it upward. She didn’t stop me—didn’t hesitate—just lifted her arms to let me pull it over her head and toss it aside.

The moment it was gone, she was on me again, her hands slipping around my waist as she pulled me into another kiss. This one was deeper, more intent, her lips parting against mine as if she had no interest in keeping space between us.

When she finally broke away, her breath warm against my skin, I felt it... A shift, a pulling in the fabric of my shirt that I wasn’t responsible for.

I glanced down just in time to see my buttons undoing themselves, one by one, the fabric falling open to expose my skin.

My breath hitched, heat pooling low in my stomach, and when I lifted my gaze, Agatha was watching me with a smirk—one that matched my own.

“I see we’re not bothering with patience tonight,” I murmured, my voice lower than I intended.

Agatha hummed, reaching out to trace a finger along the navy lace of my bra, her touch featherlight.

“I’d argue I’ve been very patient,” she countered, her voice dripping with amusement. “You’re the one who started playing with magic.”

I bit my lip, watching the way her fingers teased at the lace, her gaze dark, considering.

“So what happens next?” I asked, my own hands slipping to her waist, feeling the warmth of her bare skin beneath my palms.

Agatha leaned in, her lips barely ghosting over mine, her breath sending a delicious shiver down my spine.

“Oh, hon,” she purred, her fingers slipping lower, dragging over my stomach with just enough pressure to make me ache.

“What doesn’t happen next?”

I couldn’t stop the involuntary moan that slipped from my lips at Agatha’s words. That wicked, knowing smirk of hers deepened, as if she had expected that reaction, as if she had been waiting for it.

But two could play that game.

My fingers twitched, and with a quiet pop, the button of her jeans came undone. A second later, the zipper slid down in a slow, deliberate motion, the sound filling the space between us.

Agatha’s breath hitched, just barely, but I caught it.

I didn’t stop there.

Stepping back, I let my magic press against her jeans, coaxing them to slip down from her hips, past the curve of her thighs, pooling at her feet.

She didn’t move to stop me. Didn’t move at all, except to lift her feet free. She stood there, her lip caught between her teeth as she watched me with blown, approving eyes.

Oh, she really liked me using magic—especially like this.

“Interesting,” she murmured, her voice like silk, like sin. “You do have a wicked streak, after all.”

I took a slow step forward, closing the distance I had put between us. My fingers found her waist, my touch light but firm.

“You bring it out in me,” I admitted, tilting my head slightly, watching her expression shift... anticipation, desire, something close to pride.

Agatha’s hands found my bare skin, her touch sending a fresh wave of heat through me.

“I love bringing things out in you,” she purred, fingers trailing along the back band of my bra, her magic sparking faintly against my skin, making me shiver.

I swallowed, my own smirk returning.

“Then you’re going to love what happens next.”

Her eyes flickered with amusement, challenge… hunger.

“Oh, darling,” she whispered, lips brushing against mine just enough to tease. “Show me.”

Happily.

I trailed my fingers over her chest, skimming over the soft skin above the fabric of her black bra, feeling the way her breath caught beneath my touch. My magic followed, leaving behind a faint, tingling sensation as it traced between her cleavage, along her ribs, down her stomach, dipping over her hip before gliding up the inside of her thigh.

Agatha let out a breath, her body shivering, reacting slightly under the sensation, but she didn’t stop me.

Not yet.

I smirked, watching her closely, revelling in the way she responded, the way her lips parted just so, the way her pupils continued to grow as she watched me.

When I reached the edge of her panties, I let my magic surge, just a bit stronger, the warmth of it teasing against her, slipping beneath the material.

That’s when I felt it... her fingers curling firmly around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

My gaze snapped up to hers, meeting those sharp, knowing eyes.

Agatha’s grip was firm but not forceful, her smirk just as wicked as before, but now there was something else behind it—a need for her to be in control.

“Ah, ah, not yet” she murmured, tilting her head, her voice thick with something that sent heat pooling low between my thighs. I swallowed, my heart pounding, my breath uneven.

“Stopping me already?”

Her fingers tightened, her smirk deepening. “I never said stop,” she purred, leaning in just enough that I could feel her breath against my lips. “I said not yet.”

A shiver ran through me, her words like a spark catching fire.

Agatha slowly, deliberately, lifted my wrist, guiding my hand away from where I had been heading, dragging it instead up her body, pressing my palm against the centre of her chest, just above her heart.

“Patience,” she whispered, pressing a teasing kiss to my jaw.

I let out a slow breath, my fingers twitching against her skin.

She was going to make me work for this.

I smirked, pressing my body closer, my hips tilting forward against hers, my lips grazing her ear.

“I hope you know,” I murmured, my own voice dangerously low, my magic skirting lightly against her exposed skin, “I never lose.”

Agatha’s laughter was dark, promising.

“Then you’re going to love losing to me.”

I let out a slow breath, trailing my free hand back over her body, fingers brushing over her skin, my magic following like a whisper of heat. Agatha shivered beneath my touch, her lips parting slightly, her grip on my wrist loosening. I could feel it now…the crackling energy between us, the push and pull, magic flaring like a slow-burning fire. It felt reckless, deliciously so.

Because the kids were just upstairs… and they could come down at any moment.

And yet, neither of us stopped.

Agatha’s magic sparked, brushing against me like an invisible caress, and before I could process the shift, I felt it—the clasp of my bra releasing, the straps slipping slightly from my shoulders.

I inhaled sharply, looking up to find her smirking, blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“That was very smooth,” I murmured, feigning nonchalance as I let my own magic tease along the edge of her panties in return.

Agatha hummed, her fingers toying with the loosened strap of my bra, dragging it down just enough to expose more of me.

“I do try.”

I swallowed, my body heating under her gaze.

“And if the kids...”

Her lips brushed my ear, then to the spot where my ear met my neck, her magic pressing against my skin, firm and knowing.

“They’re asleep,” she murmured. “You worry too much.”

I let out a breathy laugh, even as a shiver ran through me. “One of us has to be responsible.”

Agatha leaned back slightly, her smirk widening as she took me in. She traced her fingers down the valley of my now exposed breasts, then lower, down over my stomach, just above my waistband.

“You could stop me?”

I exhaled sharply, meeting her gaze, the challenge clear between us.

I could… was I going to… absolutely not.

Because right now?

I wasn’t feeling very responsible.

I barely had time to process the flick of her fingers before I felt the cool air against my legs—my jeans weren’t undone, they were gone. Just… disappeared, like they’d never existed.

I gasped, my body tensing for half a second before I caught the wicked glint in Agatha’s blue eyes.

“Really?” I breathed, half-laughing, half-reeling from the abrupt removal. She smirked, eyes trailing over me now that I was left in nothing but my panties.

“You were taking too long.”

Before I could throw some snarky reply back at her, she was on me again, her lips trailing hot, deliberate kisses down my chest.

I sucked in a breath as she pressed in closer, her bare skin warm against mine, her hands roaming—one resting against my lower back, the other teasing over my hip, her fingers just brushing the lace of my underwear.

The living room, the kitchen, everything else faded to the background.

It was just her. Just us.

And I wasn’t thinking about the kids, or responsibility, or even the reckless way we were tangled up here, barely clothed, not caring about anything else but this.

Agatha’s mouth found the curve of my breast, then my nipple, her teeth scraping lightly before she soothed the spot with her tongue, pulling a gasp from me.

I dug my fingers into her back, tilting my head as she kissed lower, teasing, deliberate.

“I knew you’d like that,” she murmured against my skin.

I let out something between a laugh and a shaky breath.

“I hate how smug you are.”

She grinned, pressing a kiss just above my navel.

“No, you don’t.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers threading into her dark waves as her lips trailed even lower.

No.

No, I really didn’t.

I thought she was going to drop to her knees... god, I was ready for her to.

But then I felt it—my feet lifting from the floor, my body moving, guided by something unseen but all too familiar. Before I could even gasp, I was placed onto the cool surface of the kitchen counter, thighs spread wide, my balance steady only because she wanted it to be.

Agatha stepped between my legs, hands running up my thighs, and I knew she had done this on purpose—to see me, to make sure I knew exactly what I looked like right now, open and wanting, the evidence of it soaking through the thin lace of my underwear.

Her eyes glanced low as she took in the sight, and god, the way she looked at me... like she had just won a game we weren’t even playing... made the heat between my legs burn even hotter.

I swallowed hard, my breath uneven.

“You could’ve just asked,” I murmured, my voice rougher, more ragged than I intended.

Agatha hummed, dragging her nails lightly along the inside of my thighs, making me shiver.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Her hands inched higher, her fingers pressing just enough to make me squirm, but not enough to satisfy. She was toying with me, drawing this out, enjoying the way my body responded to her.

I let out a shaky breath, reaching for her, gripping the back of her neck to pull her closer.

“Agatha—”

Her smirk deepened, and I barely had time to react before her lips were on mine, hot, claiming, stealing the words right out of my mouth.

And just as I started to sink into it, our tongues fighting for dominance, just as I was about to beg her to do something, I felt it.. another pulse of magic.

A beat later, my panties were gone.

I moaned, the sudden coolness making me shiver, making me ache. My body was so hot, so wound tight I thought I might snap from nothing more than the way she was looking at me.

I spread my legs wider for her, an offering, a surrender. God, I was hers and she knew it. I would let her do anything.

And she was enjoying it—relishing the way I melted for her, the way I was already undone before she had even really touched me.

Her fingers trailed higher, slow, deliberate, teasing the inside of my thigh, her touch light enough to make me want, to make me need her. And then—finally—she stroked me. Just the barest drag of her fingers through my wet folds, and my hips jerked instinctively, desperate for more.

But she didn’t give it me.

She was toying with me, dragging this out, revelling in the way I responded to just the teasing touches of her left hand, the way my breath hitched, the way my thighs trembled under her.

I let out a whimper, gripping the edge of the counter like I could ground myself, like I could will her to give in.

Then I felt it.

Not just her fingers… but her magic.

It pulsed through me, against me, inside me, invisible but undeniable, like a current sparking through every nerve in my body.

I gasped, my back arching, my head rolling back as a husky moan tore from my lips.

It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before—so intimate, so deep, touching something in me that was beyond the physical.

Agatha hummed, pleased, her fingers still stroking, circling, her magic still pressing, teasing, building.

“Oh,” she murmured, voice dripping with amusement and something darker, something possessive. “You really like that, don’t you?”

I couldn’t answer her.

I could barely breathe.

“Agatha,” I moaned, my hips moving instinctively, chasing more—more friction, more of her, more of whatever spell she was weaving around me… inside of me. God, what was she doing to me?

The pleasure was overwhelming, sharp and sweet all at once, twisting inside me until I forgot everything else—where we were, how loud I was being, how reckless this was.

I knew I should be quieter, knew I should at least try to keep it together. But all I could feel was her—her fingers sliding through my slickness, teasing me open, her magic pulsing in a way that sent hot sparks licking up over my clit. She was dragging this out, savouring every reaction, every damn sound I made. She stepped back slightly, just enough to watch, her blue eyes locked onto where her fingers were playing with me, spreading me, owning me.

I whimpered, my body twitching with need, and she smirked—knowing, utterly devastating.

“I think…” I managed to breathe, my voice uneven, shaking, “it’s not just me that likes this…”

Agatha let out a low, approving hum, her fingers pressing just a bit deeper, just a bit firmer, making me gasp, but not giving me enough.

“Mmm,” she murmured, tilting her head, her eyes still fixed on me, watching every little movement, every little reaction. “You have no idea.”

“Please, baby,” I moaned, my voice desperate, needy. Any restraint I might have had was long gone, tossed out the window along with my inhibitions.

I needed her. Inside me. Not teasing, not playing, not making me fall apart inch by inch—I needed her to take me.

Agatha smirked, her fingers still tormenting me, tracing the edges of my entrance but never quite pushing inside. Her magic rippled through me again, that slow, electric pulse that made my body tremble, made my breath hitch.

I whimpered, hips arching, trying to move against her, trying to take her deeper myself.

But she just tsked, keeping her touch just out of reach.

“What do you want, Y/N,” she murmured, voice silky, but dangerously in control.

I moaned, my body aching with need. God, she knew exactly what I wanted, knew exactly how desperate I was.

And she was thriving in it.

I bucked my hips again, trying to push her fingers inside me, but she stayed firm, just barely pressing, just enough to keep me on edge.

“Use your words,” she purred.

I whimpered again, my fingers gripping the edge of the counter so tight my knuckles turned white.

“Agatha, please,” I gasped, my voice breaking. “I need you inside me. Now… Just… fuck me.”

Her smirk deepened, satisfaction flickering across her face.

“There you go,” she murmured, leaning in close, her lips brushing the side of my face. And then—finally—she gave me what I wanted.

I had no idea how I didn’t wake the kids. Jesus, the noise that left me—the desperate, broken moan that ripped from my throat as she finally gave me what I needed.

Her fingers.

Her magic.

Inside of me, stretching, filling… fucking me.

Agatha’s left hand was buried deep, her ring and middle fingers deep, sinking in all the way to her engagement and wedding band, the cool metal pressing against my entrance, a constant reminder of who I belonged to.

Fuck.

It was consuming. Unlike anything I had ever felt before, like every nerve in my body was attuned to her, to the way she moved inside me, thrusting, twisting, curling her fingers just right, hitting that spot that made me see stars.

I barely registered the way I clung to her, my nails dragging down her back, my thighs trembling against her sides. All I could focus on was her, the way she was watching me, blue eyes gleaming, drinking in the way I was falling apart beneath her, around her. She fucking loved this…Loved the way I writhed, the way I gasped her name, the way I had lost any semblance of control.

“Agatha,” I choked out, my breath ragged, my body burning.

I could feel it, building inside me, higher and higher, like I was standing at the edge of something I might never come back from.

She curled her fingers again—fuck, right there—her magic pressing at the same time, flooding through me, deep, touching something I couldn’t even name.

"Oh, baby—right there,” I gasped, my voice breaking. “Don’t—”I didn’t even know what I was begging for.

More? Mercy?

I couldn’t control myself. The way I was acting, the way I was moving, chasing her, chasing this, my body desperate, needy, starving for more of her.

The need for her to fuck me like she never had before.

And god, she knew it.

But fuck... she was doing it on our kitchen counter.

The thought should’ve made me laugh—should’ve made me pause, should’ve reminded me that the Nicki and Ella were just upstairs—but I didn’t care. I couldn’t care.

Not with her inside me.

Not with her fingers pushing, curling, twisting in ways that made my body tremble, made me forget everything but the pleasure she was pulling from me.

The sound—the obscene, wet sound of her fingers moving inside me filled the room, mixing with my gasps, my moans, the quiet murmurs of encouragement from her lips.

“That’s it, baby,” she purred, her voice as dark as her magic, her free hand gripping my thigh, keeping me spread wide for her. For her to see. For her to take. “Let me hear you.”

I let out a strangled moan, my hands scrambling against the counter, my body arching. I couldn’t control it anymore, couldn’t stop the way I moved against her, how I chased it, chased her.

“Fuck… baby…” I gasped, barely able to breathe. “I—”

I didn’t even know what I was trying to say.

That I was close? That I was hers? That I was about to come apart so completely, I wasn’t sure I’d ever put myself back together again?

It didn’t matter.

Because she knew, and nothing was going to make her stop.

“Feel me inside you,” she whispered against my mouth, her breath hot, her voice thick with dark amusement, with possession.

Her fingers pumped deeper, curling just right, her magic rippling inside me in a way that made my body shudder, my breath come out in desperate, choked gasps.

“Squeeze me, baby.” Her lips brushed mine, her smirk infuriatingly smug as she felt me clench around her. “That’s a good girl”.

I was so far gone.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t form a single coherent thought beyond her—her fingers fucking me open, her magic thrumming through my veins, her body owning mine in a way that I never wanted to end.

The pleasure was blinding, all-consuming, twisting tighter and tighter, coiling in my stomach, in my thighs, in the very marrow of my bones.

“Oh, fuck,” I gasped, my hands gripping at her—her shoulders, her arms, anything to anchor me as my body tensed, trembling.

I was going to come.

God, I was going to come so fucking hard for her—from her, because of her, because of her fingers, her magic, her voice in my ear telling me to let go.

And when it finally snapped—when the pleasure crashed over me—I moaned her name, as if it was fresh out of a porn movie.

That was one of the most intense orgasms I’d ever had.

Holy fuck.

I was still trembling, my body shuddering with aftershocks as Agatha’s fingers worked the last of the pleasure from me, coaxing me through it. My hips still jerked, my body still reacted to her, even as I collapsed forward, my head resting against her shoulder.

I let out a breathless, satisfied laugh—maybe from the sheer bliss of it, maybe from the slight embarrassment of how completely I had let go.

And then, realisation hit me like a brick to the face.

I had been so loud.

“Shit,” I gasped, lifting my head to look at her, panic flickering through the lingering haze of pleasure.

“I wasn’t—”

“—quiet?” Agatha finished, her smirk wicked, amused. ���No, darling. You really weren’t.”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands, but before I could wallow in my mortification, I felt the slow, deliberate slide of her fingers pulling out of me. My body ached at the loss, already missing her touch.

Then, without breaking eye contact, she lifted her fingers to her lips and sucked them clean.

I swore my soul left my body.

She hummed, deliberate, slow, as she licked every trace of me off her fingers. My breath hitched, my stomach flipping, my already sensitive body twitching at the sheer filthiness of it.

Then she grabbed my jaw and pulled me into a kiss, her tongue sliding into my mouth, teasing, letting me taste myself on her.

And—fuck.

It was different. Not just me—but her, her magic, something dark and electric and entirely Agatha lingering on my tongue.

When we finally broke apart, I was dazed, spent, and still shaking from what she’d just done to me.

“Don’t worry,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face, her smirk deepening. “The kids wouldn’t have heard a thing.”

I raised an eyebrow, suspicious.

She lifted a hand and subtly flicked her fingers.

I narrowed my eyes. “You didn’t—”

“Oh, it was just a little sleeping spell,” she purred, grinning like the devil.

I gaped at her.

“Agatha!”

She shrugged. “You were being loud, darling.”

I groaned, dropping my forehead back against her shoulder, already knowing this had set a precedent for it becoming more than a one-time thing.

“It would be a shame to waste it,” Agatha murmured, leaning into me, her bare skin pressing against mine, warm and tempting.

“Would it now?” I teased, though my voice lacked conviction.

I was still not entirely thrilled about the magic she had used to keep Nicki and Ella asleep, but… god, was I torn.

Because the way she was looking at me?

The way my body still hummed from her touch?

I wanted her.

Again.

And again.

And again.

She slid me down off the counter, my legs unsteady, still trembling from my release. I gripped her tight, my body weak but aching for her all the same.

Agatha hummed, amused. “A little wobbly there, hon?”

I huffed, gripping her tighter. “You know damn well why.”

She smirked, proud of herself, too proud, and before she could get another word out, I flicked my wrist.

Magic surged between us, wrapping around our bodies, and in an instant, we were no longer in the kitchen.

We were in our king-size bed—Agatha beneath me, sprawled out, panties now completely gone.

She let out a low, pleased hum, her smirk widening as she stretched out, utterly unbothered by the sudden shift.

“Oh,” she purred, blue eyes glinting, “look at you. Using magic like it’s going out of fashion.”

I merely arched a brow, pressing my body flush against hers, trapping her beneath me.

I leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep, slow-burning kiss, my hands trailing down her stomach, teasing but intentional.

As I broke the kiss, I let my fingers drift lower, my magic sparking against her skin as I smirked down at her.

“So,” I murmured, my voice low, my touch dangerously close to where she wanted it. “Where were we?”

I trailed my fingers lower, slow, teasing, the anticipation thrumming between us like a live wire.

Then I felt her.

And—Jesus. She was soaking.

A sharp inhale left my lips as my fingers dipped between her thighs, sliding against her wetness, between her folds, feeling just how wrecked she already was.

I lifted my gaze, meeting her eyes, my breath catching at the pure, unfiltered desire burning in them.

“Oh,” I murmured, my fingers teasing through her slickness, not quite giving her what she needed yet.

“Look at you.”

Agatha let out a breathy laugh, her smirk still in place, but her body twitched at the contact, her hips subtly shifting, needing more.

“Surprised?” she mused, though her voice was a little rougher, a little less composed than usual.

I grinned, pressing my fingers against her just a little more firmly, noting the way her breath hitched, as I brushed her clit.

“Pleased.”

I slid my fingers through her again, slow, deliberate, watching her expression shift, watching her lips part, her chest rise and fall just a bit quicker.

“God, baby,” I murmured, my voice dark with satisfaction, “you’re already so fucking wet for me.”

Agatha hummed, but this time, there was an edge to it.

“You did put on quite the show,” she murmured, her tone taunting, but I could feel the tension in her body, feel the way she was holding herself back.

I smirked, leaning down, brushing my lips against her ear as my fingers pressed deeper, teasing at her entrance but not pushing inside…just yet.

“Do you want me to return the favour?” I whispered, my breath warm against her skin.

Agatha swallowed, her hands tightening where they rested against my hips, her nails digging in just slightly.

But she was still playing the game, still trying to hold her ground.

So I waited.

I kept teasing, barely giving her what she wanted—until, finally, she let out a soft, frustrated moan, her hips arching, her magic flowing against mine in a way that sent a shiver down my spine.

Her voice was rough, low, almost a growl when she finally said it.

“Fuck me.”

I grinned against her skin.

“Oh, baby, I intend to.”

And then I slid my fingers inside her, and Agatha gasped.

God, she was so tight around me.

Nothing—nothing—felt better than this.

Than her.

Her heat.

I started moving, slow at first, deliberate, knowing full well it wasn’t enough, knowing it would drive her crazy.

Agatha let out a low, frustrated noise, her hips twitching, trying to take more, trying to set the pace herself.

But I wasn’t going to let her.

Not yet.

I wanted to feel her break, wanted to hear her beg, wanted to pull her apart the way she had done to me.

I pressed my lips against her jaw, nipping her with my teeth, teasing, dragging my fingers slowly out before pushing back in, keeping the rhythm achingly slow.

“Patience, baby,” I murmured against her skin, mocking the words she had said to me earlier.

Agatha let out a breathy laugh, sharp and knowing, but I could hear the edge of need beneath it.

“Oh, you’re playing dangerously, hon,” she whispered, her nails digging into my back, her magic thrumming against mine.

I grinned, pressing my thumb against her clit, just lightly, just enough to make her body twitch beneath me.

“I thought you liked that,” I murmured, thrusting deeper, still keeping her waiting, still teasing her with every slow movement.

Agatha let out a shaky breath, her walls tightening around me, her hips shifting restlessly.

Then she turned her head, her lips brushing against my ear, her voice lower, rougher, more raw than I’d ever heard it.

“Stop fucking teasing me,” she growled.

I shivered, the pure desperation in her tone setting my blood on fire.

Mmm—fuck.

I couldn’t deny her anymore.

Not when she sounded like that.

Not when she felt like this.

So I broke, curling my fingers deep inside her, pressing hard against that spot that made her body jerk, that made her gasp so loud I knew she didn’t care if the sleeping spell held or not.

I fucked her.

Hard.

And god, she love it.

I thrust hard, my fingers driving deep inside her, my thumb pressing against her clit at the same time… a warm burn starting to spread through my wrist.

The moment I did, I felt it—my magic crackling between us, wrapping around her, inside her, like an invisible pulse of heat.

Agatha’s moan was wrecked, raw, her body arching up into me, her head tilting back, exposing the long, perfect curve of her throat.God.

That sound.

That deep, desperate, uncontrollable moan that came from her lips as I fucked her with my fingers, as my magic pulsed through her body.

I felt a rush of heat between my own thighs, felt my own wetness drip down, my body aching from just hearing her.

From watching her come apart.

From knowing I was the one doing this to her.

She was so close, I could feel it in the way she clenched around me, in the way her hips jerked without rhythm, her body chasing more, more, more.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” I gasped, my breath coming out in ragged pants, my own pleasure building just from watching her fall apart.

Agatha’s hands clawed at me, pulling me closer, as if she needed to anchor herself, as if she needed to feel all of me as she unraveled.

Her voice was shaky, breathless, so fucking close to breaking as she gasped:

“Don’t stop—!”

And god help me, I wasn’t going to.

The wet, slick sound of my fingers moving inside her filled the room, mixing with her breathless, broken moans. Fuck, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.

I never lost my rhythm, I kept thrusting, kept pushing as deep as I could, my fingers scissoring inside her, stretching her, curling to hit that perfect spot that made her body jolt against mine.

She was so damn close—I could feel it in the way she tightened around me, in the way her thighs trembled, her nails digging into my skin, her head thrown back in complete surrender.

“That’s it, baby,” I murmured, my thumb pressing harder against her clit, rubbing fast, tight circles, my lips, my tongue brushing against her throat as I encouraged her.

“Come for me. Let go, Agatha.”

She tried to speak—tried to say something, but all that left her was a strangled, wrecked moan as her body seized, her muscles tensing, her magic crashing against mine in wild, uncontrollable waves.

I felt the exact moment her release came —the moment she shattered around me, her walls pulsing tight, squeezing my fingers so hard it nearly stole my breath.

Her cry of pleasure was raw, undone, her hips jerking, her body writhing as she rode out her orgasm, my fingers still deep inside her, drawing out every last aftershock.

She was so gone, so completely wrecked beneath me, and god, I had never felt so powerful, so fucking addicted to the way she fell apart for me.

Her breath was ragged, her body still trembling, and I couldn’t stop myself—I leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep, slow kiss, tasting her moan, owning it.

When I finally pulled back, she was dazed, her beautiful blue eyes hazy, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

I smirked, satisfied, dragging my fingers slowly out of her, loving the way her body twitched from the loss.

She swallowed, blinking up at me, her expression unreadable for just a second—then her smirk returned, lazy, dangerous, so fucking Agatha.

She let out a breathy chuckle, still wrecked, and rasped “…God Y/N, I knew you had it in you.”

I smirked down at her, utterly pleased with myself, my fingers still glistening from her.

“Oh? And what exactly did you think I had in me?”

Agatha let out a breathless, satisfied laugh, her hands still lazily resting on my hips as she blinked up at me, her eyes still looking hungry.

“Oh, you know,” she drawled, tilting her head, her smirk lazy and self-satisfied, but I could still see the aftershocks running through her body. “A bit of wickedness. A little bite.”

She exhaled, still catching her breath, her fingers brushing idly against my bare skin.

“But this? I wasn’t expecting you to be so…” She trailed off, eyes flickering down to my very smug expression, before licking her lips.

“So?” I prompted, dragging my slick fingers up her thigh, teasing, making her twitch.

Agatha hummed, fake considering, before her smirk turned sharp, wicked.

“Merciless.”

I grinned, leaning down, brushing my lips over hers, just barely giving her what she wanted.

“Oh, baby,” I murmured, dragging my fingers up her stomach, watching her shiver under my touch. “I learned from the best.”

Agatha let out a slow, dark laugh, her fingers tightening on my waist.

“I really should’ve corrupted you sooner.”

I bit my lip, mocking thoughtfulness, my fingers trailing back down, dangerously close to where she was still warm and wet for me.

“Oh? So you admit I’m better than you thought?”

Agatha narrowed her eyes, her smirk growing wider.

“I never said better.”

I flicked my fingers, letting my magic spark just enough to tease her, to make her gasp, her hips twitching again.

“Oh, I think I just proved otherwise.

”Mm,” she murmured, voice hoarse, amused, completely smug. “You really are full of surprises.”

I huffed a soft laugh, pulling her closer, my arms wrapping around her, our bodies naturally melding together, skin still warm, still buzzing from everything we’d just done.

She let out a content sigh, tucking her head against my shoulder, comfortable, relaxed, so effortlessly Agatha.

I let my fingers trace absent patterns up her side, across her ribs, pressing a lazy kiss to her temple.

“You can take the sleeping spell off the kids now,” I murmured, my voice teasing but pointed.

Agatha hummed again, this time slower, considering.

“Mmm,” she sighed, stretching just slightly, her bare legs tangling with mine. “Maybe I’ll leave it on a little longer.”

I snorted, turning my head to look at her, eyebrow raised.

“Oh? Is that so?”

She grinned, her fingers trailing lightly down my own side, casual, innocent, but I knew better.

“Well,” she mused, thoughtfully mocking me, her breath hot against my skin, “you did just discover how much fun magic can be.”

I smirked, shifting just slightly so our bodies pressed even closer, heat curling between us again, despite the exhaustion settling in.

“Maybe,” I murmured, my lips brushing hers, “using my magic more often isn’t such a bad thing…”

Agatha let out a low, pleased hum, her smirk widening as she nipped at my lip.

“Not when it’s just the two of us.”

Also on AO3 - Writtenwhiledreaming 💜 (Third chapter of No! You Can’t Hex A Four-Year-Old).

[sapphossparenoterbook]

What if Agatha is so mad, because Rio took Nicholas and THEN left her. As in, Rio couldn’t look at Agatha without thinking about how she had surrendered her child—their child, in exchange for the magic in The Darkhold, as accidental as it was.

Agatha has taken sooo many witches powers, she very well could have mistranslated the Darkhold’s passage, thinking that she had to kill more of her “sister” witches as a sacrifice for the exchange, not that it would actually take Nicky.

And so then when it happens, and Nicky dies, and Rio takes him, she can’t bear looking at Agatha anymore. And Agatha blames Rio, blames her for not bending the rules and for not giving her the time to get another sacrifice, a different sacrifice. But Rio knows it’s impossible and that the deed is done, so she, as Death, can’t give herself or Agatha any false hope.

So she leaves it all behind. Carries Nicky’s small body to the afterlife, his head heavy and resting on her shoulder. She allows herself to believe that he’s just fallen asleep, and she’s carrying him to bed. Like so many other times she’s done it for her boy before. But she knows, deep down, that things won’t ever be the same again, and that the happiest chapter of her life is over.

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

another post for @bttfjanaury! this one's @itsthemorph's mermarty au and very predictably i got carried away with it LMAO.

yap session and bonus stuff below the cut:

once again i came up with an entire backstory for this au, and if i were a fanfiction writer i would genuinely consider writing it since it's a lot less visually comedic than the weredoc au (and comedic in general, it's played a little straighter than "man turns into dog and is thoroughly inconvenienced by it") (unfortunate [in reference to visuals] bc i enjoy drawing mermarty a great deal more than weredoc GBJKGJ) bc i really like the premise but i'm pretty bad at fleshing out a narrative in enough detail to last the whole story so bullet points it is:

doc has decided to take a break from his time-travel-related research and go on vacation! the fresh coastal air might jostle a couple ideas into place, and while he is a nuclear physicist and not a marine biologist he wouldn't mind checking out some of the local aquatic life

and by local aquatic life he meant like normal fish and stuff. a nice mollusk or two even. so when he ends up fishing an entire boy out of the water instead he's understandably very shocked

before doc can move past the "where did he come from??" thought to register his more fish-like qualities, the boy makes a run (a swim?) for it. fortunately or unfortunately for doc, he ends up being able to register the fish-like qualities after all since he gets dragged into the water along with him. the moment doesn't last too long, though, and the fish-boy is gone as soon as doc realizes the guy has a fish tail instead of legs

doc gets back on the dock (haha), thinks about the whole ordeal for a bit, and decides that the best course of action is just to assume he hallucinated the whole thing in a fit of heatstroke or something like that. he's here to relax and get his thoughts in order so he can continue working on his time machine! there's no time to investigate fairy-tale creatures or whatever supposedly living off the coast of california!

it's not shown in the comic but i imagine doc has a little portable radio next to him as he was fishing, so some time passes before he catches a glimpse of something shining in the water underneath the dock

he looks through the cracks in the dock and lo and behold, it's the same boy from earlier! doc greets him, and the boy immediately disappears under the water. doc thinks he's scared him off until a few minutes later where he pokes his head out and says hi back

they get to chatting and doc learns a couple things:

1. his name is marty!

2. he was trying to get doc to realize that he forgot to put bait on his hook but got his hand caught on it, and was trying to get his hand unstuck from the hook without ripping it open before doc ever had the chance to see him, which he obviously failed at

3. both the being seen and ripping his hand open, because in his haste to get away after being seen by doc he ended up doing that anyways. so there's like a lot of blood coming out of his hand now? but like don't worry about it. it'll be fine. he thinks.

4. he really likes whatever it is that's playing on the radio

doc insists on patching up his hand and initially marty refuses but lets him do it eventually, and marty tells doc that for a land dweller he's actually surprisingly nice. doc says nah anyone would want to help out someone hurt, especially if they're the one's who caused it. and marty's kind of confused by that because his family's always warned him of how dangerous humans are, which he kind of never thought too hard about until now where his time off this particular coast has really proven them correct, because he's encountered a bunch of humans over the past couple weeks and they've all tried to kill him or catch him. doc's the only one who's actually bothered to say hi!

after learning that particular not-at-all-concerning tidbit, doc asks him to elaborate because there's a lot to unpack over there, but someone else walks onto the dock before marty can get a word in and he takes off

marty does not return, even once the other guy leaves, and when doc packs it up to return to the place he rented out for the vacation he overhears a conversation among a group of men about spotting something weird in the water earlier and that it kind of looked like a mermaid? and that if any of them manage to catch it they'll all be rich as thieves. and another guy in the convo goes no you're thinking of rich as kings, you're mixing it up with a different analogy. and the first guy goes no i'm not i said what i said

so now this vacation is doing anything but clearing doc's mind. he's really worried about that little fish guy

there's a couple more ideas i had but halfway through writing out this bullet list i've realized that if i were to actually write this as a fanfiction, i'd probably want to keep those a surprise. so what i just wrote out is kind of the equivalent of one chapter

edit after thinking about it a bit more: since most humans have been trying to kill him, marty really has no incentive to let a guy know that he's wasting his time fishing with a baitless hook. so a. he's still pretty optimistic that most humans aren't out to get him, even if his experience off this particular coast says otherwise, so he was trying to be nice anyway or b. (which i think is a lot funnier) he has started to pull on people's lines as a way to fuck with them. i think if i wrote this i'd change it to this one

i based mermarty off of a guppy fish! specifically this kind of guppy fish:

i was searching up kinds of fish and he just had the vibe of this thing. although now i think i should've made him a flying fish instead. for the pun

alternate ending to the mini comic:

the other one makes a little more sense since just approaching a guy whose species doesn't know about your existence unprompted is pretty stupid even for marty (and also i thought it was funny that the hook didn't have anything but doc ends up catching something anyways) but i still think this one's funny too

[writey-mcwriteface]

and if i said that i was working on a oneshot where agatha and rio were married, happy parents on an early spring morning? caring for their son? exchanging soft kisses in the dawn? would you? maybe want to read that?

[pedrospookie]

it seems that the eldest daughters of tumblr all want Joel Miller to come and take care of them (dear god, please please please, my soul needs it). this inspired me to start writing a couple of little Joel tales but until then, i thought this might tide us over.

someone (I think it was @itsokbbygrl ) said in the tags that Joel is a fixer and is def into parental issues and i literally cannot stop thinking about that— cause you are RIGHT.

it’s not my best work but alas!

Joel Miller x eldest daughter!reader imagine

nothing wild, mostly fluff! Joel soothing an eldest daughter’s nervous system one day at a time.

Joel would wash the dishes every night just because he knows how much you hate washing the dishes. It’s the least I could do, darlin’ he’d praise, taking immense pride in seeing the relief fall on your face.

Joel would kiss you just to kiss you; in the comfort of your home as you pass in the hallway, or out at the stables while caring for the horses, even at the bar in front of all the folks who know you. It was his small way to show his unconditional love and appreciation for you. He’d spend all day kissin’ you if he could.

Joel would take the time to rub your feet and ask about your day. His genuine curiosity about the townsfolk you encounter or the adventures you have brought a warmth to your chest as he works on the knots along the arch of your feet. He would always remember the little details of where you’ve been or what you’ve seen, or the names of the people you mention in your stories. Joel wasn’t perfect and would often get confused between Jess, Jessica and Jessa, but he certainly would do his best to keep it all straight.

Joel would listen and hear you. If it was important to you, it was important to him. He didn’t care if it was about how you admired the pretty pink colour of the flowers you passed by on patrol or how you had to remember to mend your socks later. He listened and cared. So much so, that whenever he could, Joel would bring home a small bouquet of said flowers for you after his patrol.

On bad days, Joel would be there. He would hold you through your big, ugly feelings, and tell you that it is okay and that he’s got you. Joel would force himself to stay calm and to speak softly to you, keeping his own panic and worry at bay. He would tell you that he was proud of you and your “smarts”, and that the only thing that matters is that you made it back home to him. He would slowly and gently wash your body and hair clean of all the blood and guts from the nearly failed patrol, and would mend every scrape and wound, sealing each one with a kiss.

And on the nights where you were plagued with terrors, the kind that woke you in a panic, the cold sweat glueing your hair to your neck and forehead, Joel would be there. To hold you and coax you back to sleep, rubbing soft circles on your back, and softly murmur that it is okay, that you’re safe.

In the mornings, you always woke to the smell of coffee wafting it’s way into your room. Joel always made sure to wake up before you, to let you have those extra few minutes in bed because he knew you needed them. He’d greet you with a big smile and a kiss, the kind that made you feel like you were back in the early days of your relationship. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, he would say as he placed your meal in front of you. Joel never let you leave the house without something warm in your belly.

Joel knew that you were more than capable of caring for yourself. Hell, you had survived 20 years in that hellscape overrun by infected, raiders and god knows what else. You had told him time and time again, often through gritted teeth, I’ve got this. I can do this myself. I do not need your help. Can you just let me handle this, please!

Slowly, yet surely, with patience and kindness, Joel slowly broke down your walls until you were ready to let him in. To accept the peace and love he had to offer. Joel is not a perfect man, but he tries. Which is more than most. He tries his damnedest every day to keep showing up for you the way he knows you deserve. To show you and make you feel the love, peace and respect that you deserve. And that? Well, that makes Joel feel a deep sense of joy that he hasn’t felt in years. He will gladly do it until his dying breath and that is a promise he will never break. The easiest job he’s ever had was lovin’ you.

tagging some folks who may like this (if not/tags aren’t your thing, just tell me to buzz off! I wont be offended!): @slimybeth69 @itsokbbygrl @mrsmando @evolnoomym @sanarsi @marilovespedro @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal

[nukbody]

Mirror's Edge brainrot save me (ft. some cutscenes sketches from last year)

[pvppyjawn]

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

what if u left scratches on Nanamin’s back one night 😏😏😏

Minors and ageless blogs don't fucking interact

Nanami Kento was a very ‘proper’ man. His clothes were always neatly pressed. His trousers creased at exactly the right spots. His hair was always neatly parted and there would never be a strand out of place. Ever.

So it made perfect sense that he started to date you. The neat, sweet baby – prim and proper princess of the Jujutsu world. If you had been a color you would have been baby pink. You had a soft voice, as soft as the blossoms from the cherry tree that would float around you when you went to see them with Kento in the springtime. Your face was round and squishy with big dark eyes and pink lips that made you give off an air of innocence. You were, his perfect demure goddess.

Which is why, when on Monday morning after a long weekend holiday, when Nanami flinched in response to Gojo's flippant slap-on-the-back greeting, or when he barked a short ‘fuck!’ when Yuuji suddenly bear hugged him, no one suspected the reason to be you.

Nobody suspected that the night before, Nanami had you in a mating press, cock buried so deep in your small cunt the world swam in front of your eyes. Nobody suspected how your head fell back in pleasure as you lost the ability to think for yourself. Nobody suspected that the reason you had broken your pink acrylic nails was also the reason for Nanami’s irritability that day when Gojo had kept trying to catch his attention.

Nobody suspected that there were long red scratches all the way down his back when you had dug your nails into it – angry crimson welts that smarted each time they were touched.

Only Shoko knew. When you took a mortified Nanami to her for treatment, after he snapped at Megumi for bumping into him even though it was an accident.

Shoko would never tell anyone of course, but she did it all in exchange for a night out when you would pay her tab…

[herefortheships]

I hope we get a third Beetlejuice move and Lydia is the one trying to contact Betelgeuse this time around. That can even justify the movie being called "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice", because you have to say the name three times to summon him!

Why does she need or want to contact him? It can be for whatever reason, really, but my favorite is this: Betelgeuse has pretty much disappeared from Lydia's life and she isn't seeing him "haunting" her anymore, and she realizes or can sense that he is in danger, and Lydia knows she is the only one who will care or even want to save him.

Then she can start wondering why she is even doing this, why does she care? And she realizes he's sort of been watching her and protecting her from afar all this time and maybe she even has started missing his shenanigans. She realizes that even when she thought he was scary, he was actually looking out for her all along because he really loved her. And they share that psychic connection too, which she will probably use to find him if she can't summon him in the third movie for whatever reason.

Look, the ending left the door open for many possibilities for a final installment and I just hope they decide to do it and give Betelgeuse and Lydia their happy ending! Third time's the charm and they can marry for real. My only concern is that they may not be able to top the beautifully romantic wedding scene from the second movie. Who knows? That was so a Tim Burton aesthetic. We'll see. But that wedding needs to happen!

I honestly think Lydia's failed romantic relationships have to do with the fact that her true soulmate is in the "Neitherworld". Soulmates born too far apart from each other. Betelgeuse will wait for Lydia forever, and after the second movie I'm sure she will start to see him a different way. Maybe not romantic yet, but something must have changed, having seen a different side of him. Yes, he will always be creepy and gross, that's just who he is (come on, he is a ghostly entity or a demon of sorts, a "thing of nightmares"), but he does love her and will do anything for her. And by the end of the movie, she will know they belong together! As weird at that might be. haha

[she1smyscar]

Me: "Jac!....Girl.....GIIIIIRL.....👏🏽 L.I.S.T.E.N! 👏🏽 "

[rizzlesregal13]

No! You Can’t Hex A Four-Year-Old!

***Agatha x Reader 💜- Just a typical Saturday in the Harkness household. With two kids in tow, it’s a given that chaos will ensue!***

You know those mornings where you wake up to the smell of fresh coffee, sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window, and the love of your life curled up beside you? Yeah…. This is not one of those mornings.

Instead, all I can hear is my eight old son screaming “Mom, I can’t find my cleats!”

Ella, meanwhile, my four year old daughter, is in the kitchen, half-dressed in mismatched pyjamas, aggressively dunking a cookie into her milk with the conviction of a child who knows no limits… much like her other mother.

Agatha lounges on the sofa, swirling her morning coffee like she has all the time in the world, completely unbothered by the domestic apocalypse unfolding around us.

I stare at her, somehow refraining from placing my hand on my hip.

“You could help, you know.”

“Oh, I could.” She takes a sip. “But this is wildly more entertaining.”

Nicki skids into the living room, his socks sliding across the hardwood. “Mom, I swear I left them by the door!”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“You swore that last time… and they were in the fridge.”

Agatha hums. “Ah yes, the great cleat hunt of last Saturday. A true moment in history.”

“You are so not helpful,” I mutter, shoving cushions off the sofa in case his cleats have somehow ended up there… I mean with this kid, they could honestly be anywhere!

“Oh, but darling, I am,” she says, tilting her head. “I simply offer my assistance in… unconventional ways.”

Ella climbs onto Agatha’s lap, getting chocolate milk all over her pyjamas, and I wait for her to lose it. But instead, she smirks at me over Ella’s dark curls.

“This is karma for making me get up before noon.”

“This is parenthood, Agatha.” I kick aside a pile of toys, still no cleats in sight. “When did our weekends go from hotel suites and silk sheets to lost shoes and milk spills?”

“The moment you decided we should be responsible adults and become parents.”

“Oh, I decided? You were very involved in that process too you know.”

She lifts a single manicured brow. “As I recall, I was merely the catalyst of your bad decisions.”

Before I can respond, Nicki wails, “We’re gonna be late! Coach is gonna be sooo mad!”

“Maybe if you kept your stuff in one place, this wouldn’t happen,” I say, crouching to look under the sofa.

Agatha sighs dramatically, as if the weight of the world rests on her shoulders.

“Fine, fine. Let’s get this over with.” She flicks her fingers, and… Nicki’s cleats materialise mid-air, dropping directly onto my head.

I glare at her. “For fuc…. You knew where they were this whole time?”

She grins, absolutely shameless. “Of course. I found them in the bathtub last night. But watching you struggle is the highlight of my morning.”

“I really hate you sometimes.”

“And yet, you’re still madly in love with me,” she purrs, eyes twinkling, that smirk that does things to me plastered over her lips.

Nicki grabs his cleats and bolts for the door, yelling, “Come on mom! We’re so late!”

I groan and grab my handbag. “I am in love with you, but I also think I might murder you in your sleep one day.”

Agatha stands, pressing a lingering kiss to my cheek, her voice low and teasing. “Mmm. Promise?”

I shove her toward the kitchen. “Go clean up your daughter.”

“Our daughter,” she corrects.

“Not when she’s that sticky, she’s not.”

Agatha laughs, and despite the chaos, the mess, and the sheer exhaustion that comes with our life, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Even if I am going to get an earful from the soccer coach.

***

I barely get the front door open before Nicki barrels through, his cleats still very much on, and leaving a fresh trail of mud across the hardwood floor.

“Nicki, cleats off!” I call after him, but it’s useless. He’s already halfway to the kitchen, probably raiding the fridge like a starving trash panda. Before I can properly groan about the mess, there’s a blur of sparkles and frilly tulle flying at me. Ella launches herself into my arms, clutching onto me like a baby koala, her tiny face pressing into my neck. And then… tears.

“Mommy, I don’t wanna go to Maddie’s birthday party!” she wails.

Shit.

Maddie’s birthday party, was that even on the calendar?

I glance up just in time to see Agatha coming down the stairs, her expression as amused as it is smug.

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

I exhale through my nose, shifting Ella on my hip.

“No,” I lie. “I just… got distracted.”

Agatha flicks her fingers, and just like that, a perfectly wrapped present in a little party bag appears out of thin air.

“Good thing one of us actually keeps track of these things."

I roll my eyes, but I’m secretly relieved.

“Okay, Miss Omniscient. Why doesn’t Ella want to go to said party?”

Agatha frowns slightly, looking at Ella, who’s still sniffling into my shirt. “She wouldn’t say.”

I rub soothing circles on Ella’s back, kissing the top of her curly hair.

“Hey, honeybee, what’s the matter? Why don’t you want to go?”

She hiccups, snuggling closer before mumbling, “Maddie’s mean to me.”

And just like that, I feel Agatha’s entire posture shift.

Gone is the relaxed, sarcastic witch who found amusement in my domestic failures. Instead she’s turned into a full on protective mom, meaning she’s sharp, dangerous, and entirely too willing to hex a four-year-old.

Agatha folds her arms, her voice deceptively light.

“Oh? And what exactly has little Maddie been doing?”

I shoot her a warning look.

“Agatha.”

“What?” She tilts her head, feigning innocence. “I’m just curious.”

“I know that look,” I say, voice firm. “You are not casting a spell on a four-year-old.”

Her lips twitch, but there’s something deadly in her eyes.

“Technically, I wasn’t going to.”

“Agatha.”

She sighs dramatically, flipping her dark hair over one shoulder.

“Fine. No spells. But if she needs a mild scare….”

“No.”

“…a gentle lesson….”

“Agatha.”

She groans, tossing her hands up in defeat.

“Fiiiine. I suppose we’ll handle this the boring, mature way.”

I nod, satisfied. “I’ll talk to Maddie’s mom, and we’ll sort this out like adults.”

Ella lifts her head, her tear-streaked face looking between the two of us. “You promise she won’t be mean anymore?”

I smooth her hair back. “I promise I’ll talk to her, okay? And if you still don’t want to go, we don’t have to.”

She sniffs, considering.

“Can I have cake and then leave?”

Agatha grins, pressing a kiss to Ella’s forehead.

“Now that is a solid plan.”

I sigh, but I can’t help but smile. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

As soon as Ella wriggles out of my arms and runs into the living room, presumably to wipe her tear-streaked face on my sofa cushions, I turn toward the stairs.

“Nicki! Go upstairs and change! Clean clothes, and I mean actual clean, not just sniff-tested clean!”

A muffled, “Ugh, fiiine!” echoes from somewhere deep in the house.

I rub my temples, mentally preparing for yet another round of herding my children like wild animals, when I feel Agatha’s arms snake around my waist from behind.

“You know,” she murmurs, pressing herself against me, “watching you in full Mom Mode is oddly appealing.”

I snort, leaning back against her.

“Oh yeah? You mean when I’m sleep-deprived, covered in child-related fluids, and constantly five minutes away from a possible nervous breakdown?”

She hums, her lips ghosting the shell of my ear. “Mmm, precisely. It’s unusually attractive.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “You have terrible taste.”

Agatha smirks against my skin. “Tell that to the incredibly sexy woman I married.”

I roll my eyes, turning in her arms so we’re face-to-face.

“You mean the incredibly exhausted woman you married.”

She grins, tapping my chin with the pink party bag. “Exhausted, yes. But still undeniably hot.”

I raise a brow, skeptical. “Even after yelling at our son about laundry and refereeing a pre-party meltdown?”

Agatha’s eyes gleam with mischief. “Especially after that.”

I shake my head, but I can’t stop the smile creeping onto my face.

“You’re crazy.”

She leans in, her voice dropping to that dangerously smooth tone that always spells trouble.

“You love how crazy I am.”

Before I can argue… because, let’s face it, she’s right… Nicki thunders down the stairs, somehow managing to not be in clean clothes.

“Nicholas.” My voice is pure warning.

He pauses mid-stride, looks down at his still-muddy shorts, and sighs.

“Ugh! Fiiine! Changing again!”

He stomps back up the stairs, and Agatha laughs, pulling me closer.

“Admit it,” she teases, voice full of fondness. “You wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

I exhale, looking toward the living room where Ella is now humming to herself, seemingly over her crisis. Then toward the staircase where Nicki is loudly complaining from his bedroom about how unfair his life is; and finally, back to Agatha, who looks at me like I’m still the same person she fell for, even if I now come with a side of domestic insanity.

I shake my head, sighing dramatically. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Agatha grins. “Told you so.”

I swat her arm. “Shut up and grab Ella’s jacket.”

She smirks, stepping back. “Yes, Mommy.”

I groan. “Never call me that again”

But as I grab my keys and corral my family toward the door, I know Agatha’s right. It’s chaos. It’s exhausting, but deep down I love every second of it.

***

Agatha pulls the car up outside Maddie’s house, eyeing the aggressively pastel-coloured decorations with thinly veiled disgust. She drums her fingers on the steering wheel, then turns to me, her voice sickeningly casual.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to put a curse on that little brat?”

From the backseat, Nicki chimes in immediately.

“Mom’s right. Everyone at school knows Maddie is a total brat.”

I twist in my seat to give him a look. “Nicki.”

“What? It’s true.” He shrugs. “She’s, like, legendary for it in school.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“We do not call four-year-olds brats, and we definitely do not put curses on them.” Then, shooting a pointed look at Agatha, “Right?”

Agatha sighs dramatically, draping herself over the steering wheel like she’s being personally victimised.

“Fine. But if she happens to trip over her own feet later, or her tongue gets stuck to a popsicle, I claim no responsibility.”

I unclip Ella from her car seat, hoisting her onto my hip.

“You two stay in the car.”

“Gladly,” Agatha says. “The sheer amount of pink in that house is making my skin itch.”

I roll my eyes and start walking toward the house when…

“Y/N.”

I turn back to see Agatha, her smug smile firmly in place, dangling the pink birthday bag off her finger.

I sigh, rubbing my temple. “Right. The present.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t want to show up empty-handed. That might be—gasp—rude.”

I march back, snatch the bag from her hand, and give her the most insincere “Thank you” I can manage.

She smirks, eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re very welcome, darling.”

Muttering under my breath, I head inside, adjusting Ella on my hip as she immediately wriggles free to run off toward the bouncy castle in the back garden. I scan the room, looking for Maddie’s mom, and oh… there she is.

Platinum blonde extensions, fake boobs that look like they defy the laws of physics, and the kind of spray tan that would rival Donald Trump’s. She’s holding a large glass of white wine at 1 p.m. and laughing just a little too loudly at whatever the other moms are saying.

I take a deep breath and approach.

“Hi,” I start, my tone as friendly as I can muster. “I’m Ella’s mom.”

She flicks her gaze over me, taking in my shirt, jeans and sneakers, before her lips stretch into a perfectly practiced smile.

“Oh! Hi!” she drawls, drawing out the syllable like she’s already bored.

I clear my throat. “I just wanted to have a quick word about Maddie and Ella. Ella mentioned that Maddie has been… less than kind to her.”

Her smile freezes, just a flicker of annoyance passing through her perfectly botoxed face. “Oh, kids will be kids,” she says dismissively. “They’re four. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

I press my lips together, keeping my tone even. “Right. It’s just that Ella has been really upset about it, and I think it’s important to make sure—”

“Oh, honey.” She laughs, a high-pitched, rehearsed sound. “You’re one of those parents.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

She waves a manicured hand, already looking toward the other moms like she’s ready to be done with this conversation.

“The ones who get worked up over every little thing. If your daughter can’t handle a little playground drama, maybe she’s just… sensitive.”

My hands tighten around the party bag. I take a slow breath, reigning in my very unkind thoughts.

“I’m just asking that we encourage the kids to be kind to each other. That’s all.”

She takes a sip of her wine, completely unbothered.

“Mmm. Sure.”

I stare at her. She is not taking this seriously.

I can feel the irritation creeping up my spine. But before I can say anything else, I catch a glimpse through the window… Agatha, still in the car, watching me with a knowing smirk.

I take a slow, deep breath, trying one last time to reason with Maddie’s mom, but it’s like talking to a brick wall… one covered in fake tan and a superiority complex.

“Well,” I say, forcing a smile, “thanks for the chat.”

She barely acknowledges me, already turning back to her group, wine in hand, dismissing me like I was never there.

I clench my jaw and step away, calling out toward the backyard.

“Ella!”

A few seconds later, she comes bounding in, curls bouncing, her party dress slightly rumpled from whatever she’s been up to in the garden.

“Come on, babygirl,” I say, scooping her up into my arms. “We’re leaving. Let’s go get ice cream with Mommy and Nicki.”

Ella gasps, horrified. “But you said I could have cake!”I

hesitate. “I did, didn’t I?”

That’s when I see it.

The cake.

It’s an obnoxious shade of pink, layered with enough frosting to send a grown adult into a diabetic coma. It sits on a pristine white tablecloth, placed just so on the delicate little serving table. It looks expensive.

And suddenly, suddenly, I have an idea.

I know I shouldn’t.

I really shouldn’t.

But, you know what? Screw it.

With a flick of my fingers, my magic sparks to life, humming warm and familiar at my fingertips. The table leg trembles, creaks… then, with a sharp crack, it snaps clean in two.

The table collapses.

And the entire cake crashes to the floor in an explosion of frosting and pink shattered fondant.

A gasp ripples through the room. Maddie’s mom shrieks, her wine glass slipping from her hand.

I blink innocently, shifting Ella higher on my hip.

Ella looks up at me, her big blue eyes wide with delight. She leans in and whispers, “Mommy, did you do that?”

I kiss her forehead. “Do what, honey? I don’t know what you mean.”

And with that, I turn and walk out, leaving behind the absolute shit fit of a meltdown happening inside.

When I reach the car, Agatha’s already watching me with raised brows, arms lazily draped over the steering wheel. She takes in my smug expression, Ella’s satisfied grin, and the sounds of absolute chaos erupting behind me.

She smirks. “We’re off to get ice cream, huh?”

I nod, setting Ella in her car seat. “Yep.”

As I’m strapping her in, Ella, ever the traitor, pipes up.

“Mommy broke the table and made the cake go boom!”

I freeze.

Slowly, I look over my shoulder at Agatha.

She’s staring at me, expression unreadable. Then…A slow, wicked grin spreads across her face.

“Well, well, well,” she drawls, delight sparking in her blue eyes. “Look at you. Breaking the rules. Being a bad mom.”

I snap Ella’s seatbelt into place and straighten up, glaring at Agatha. “Don’t start.”

She’s grinning so smugly now, like a cat that just found the cream. “I knew you had it in you.”

I roll my eyes and climb into the passenger seat.

“Just drive."

Agatha starts the car, still obnoxiously pleased. “You know,” she muses, pulling away from the curb, “I’m almost disappointed I wasn’t the one to do it.”

I shake my head, but I can’t help the little smirk tugging at my lips. “I’d say you’re rubbing off on me, but honestly? That woman deserved it.”

Agatha grins, reaching over to squeeze my thigh.

“Attagirl.”

I shake my head, laughing as Ella giggles from the backseat.

Nicki, completely oblivious, pipes up. “Wait…what happened?”

“Nothing!” I say quickly, shooting a look at Ella.

She giggles again, whispering, “Mommy’s magic is sneaky.”

Agatha sighs dreamily. “I am so proud right now.”

I groan, leaning my head back against the seat. “We are so lucky these kids haven’t grown into their powers yet.”

Agatha smirks. “Yet.”

And with that mildly terrifying thought hanging in the air, we drive off in search of ice cream, leaving the wreckage of Maddie’s birthday party far, far behind.

***

The house is finally quiet.

Nicki and Ella are sprawled on opposite ends of the sofa, completely zonked out, the remnants of their earlier ice creams still visible in the slight stickiness on Ella’s hands and the faint chocolate smudge at the corner of Nicki’s mouth. The movie they were watching still plays on the TV, casting a soft glow over their peaceful, sleeping faces.

From my spot against the kitchen counter, I exhale slowly, taking in the rare moment of stillness.

Agatha slides up beside me, pressing a glass of red wine into my hand.

“For surviving another day in this madhouse.”

I clink her glass and take a grateful sip, letting the warmth spread through me.

She watches the kids for a moment, then smirks, tilting her head toward me. “So...The cake.”

I sigh, already knowing where this is going.

“Don’t.”

“Oh, but I must.” She grins, swirling her wine. “You, of all people. Breaking the rules. Embracing your dark side.” She waggles her fingers mockingly. “You couldn’t resist, could you?”

I shoot her a dry look. “At least I didn’t hex a four-year-old. Which, let’s be honest, you totally would have.”

Agatha sips her wine, completely unrepentant.

“And she would’ve deserved it.”

I shake my head, laughing softly. “You're unhinged.”

“But,” she leans in slightly, smirking, “You still married me.”

I look at her then, really look at her - the way the dim kitchen light catches the sharp angles of her face, the way her smirk tugs at the corner of her lips, amused and knowing.

She’s older now. Debatably wiser. A little less reckless, maybe, but every inch still her. Sharp, unpredictable, undeniably magnetic. The woman I fell in love with, the woman who still makes my heart stumble in my chest just by being here.

I move toward her, the warmth of the wine settling in my chest, but it’s not the drink making me feel lightheaded... it’s her.

Hooking my thumbs into the loops of her jeans, I tug her forward, closing the small distance between us. She lets me, her body falling into mine like she’s always belonged there.

Agatha smirks, tilting her chin up ever so slightly, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Oh? Feeling frisky, are we?”

I roll my eyes, but my fingers tighten at her waist, holding her close. “Just taking advantage of a rare moment of silence.”

She hums, dragging her hands up my arms, settling them over my shoulders like she has all the time in the world.

“Hmm. And here I was thinking you were about to admit how irresistibly drawn you are to me.”

I scoff, but the corner of my mouth betrays me with the smallest smile.

“Don’t push it.”

She grins. “Or what?”

I don’t answer. I just kiss her.

It’s slow at first, our lips pressing, a familiar warmth sparking between us. But then she deepens it, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. I sigh against her mouth, hands sliding around her back, melding her to me like I can’t bear to let go.

She tastes like red wine and something distinctly her, and I know, I never stood a chance.

Agatha makes a quiet, satisfied noise, her fingers teasing at the hem of my shirt.

“You know,” she murmurs against my lips, “if we’re very quiet, we could sneak upstairs and…”

A loud, exaggerated groan comes from the couch and interrupts us.

We break apart just in time to see Nicki shifting under his blanket, his eyes still closed, but his face twisted in the universal look of an absolutely disgusted child.

“Ugh,” he mutters, half-asleep. “You guys are so gross when you do that .”

Agatha pulls back just enough to rest her forehead against mine, laughter bubbling up in her chest.

“You hear that? We’re gross.”

I sigh dramatically. “Guess that’s our cue to behave.”

She grins, pressing one last lingering kiss to the corner of my mouth before stepping back.

“For now.”

I roll my eyes, biting back a smile. “Come on. Let’s get these two up to bed before we scar them for life.”

Agatha sighs, stretching. “Fine. But I fully expect you to finish what you started later.”

I shake my head, amused.

“You’re incorrigible.”

She winks. “Stop complaining, you know you love it.”

I huff out a laugh, moving to scoop Ella into my arms while Agatha nudges Nicki back awake.

Yeah… I do love it … all of it … this crazy, chaotic life of ours, that I wouldn’t change for the world.

Also on AO3 - Writtenwhiledreaming 💜

[i-hold-deaths-hand-in-mine]

the coven reacting to father rio

prompt from @red-wood-and-cedar thank you! <3