beauttifullife

[beauttifullife]

Chapter 24: Familiar By Thy Side (Preview)

Agatha shot her a look, sharp but tinged with exasperation, before sighing heavily and running a hand through her hair. She fought to get a grip on the emotions swirling inside her.  

“Doesn’t this feel weird to you?” she finally asked, gesturing vaguely around them.  

Rio didn’t answer immediately, instead leaning back in her chair with a casualness that only irritated Agatha more. She sipped her coffee, her expression unreadable until she finally smirked.  

“When life gives you lemons…” Rio trailed off, her tone light, teasing.  

Agatha’s glare was immediate, sharp enough to cut glass, and thankfully straight through Rio stupid statement.  

Rio sighed wearily at that, her smirk fading as she slouched slightly in her chair. The playful mask slipped, replaced by something quieter, more honest.  

“Yes,” Rio said simply, meeting Agatha’s eyes. “It’s weird.”  

Agatha flicked her hand up in a sharp exclamation.  

“Thank you,” she muttered, needing the affirmation like air.  

She sighed heavily, her gaze dropping back to her plate before picking up a piece of bacon and biting into it. She chewed it with deliberate force, as though trying to grind the entire absurdity of their situation into dust under her teeth.  

“You know,” Rio began, her voice dripping with teasing intent, the kind that sent an instant ripple of irritation—and anticipation—through Agatha.  

Agatha froze mid-chew, her eyes narrowing, already bracing herself for whatever nonsense was about to come out of the woman’s mouth.  

Rio smirked, enjoying the moment far too much, and continued.  

“This whole situation,” she said, pausing to take a languid sip of her coffee, her free hand gesturing lazily between them, “is like the epitome of stereotypical lesbian behavior.”  

Agatha didn’t know what she was expecting to come out of Rio’s mouth, but it wasn’t that.  She tilted her head in confusion at that, continuing chewing before finally swallowing.    “What are you talking about?” 

Rio leaned forward, taking her time to spear a piece of egg with her fork. She popped it into her mouth, humming softly before finally meeting Agatha’s gaze with a teasing glint in her eye.  

“U-hauling,” she said simply.    

Agatha blinked, her brow furrowing.    

What the fuck was Rio talking about?  

“Like… the moving truck?”  

Rio’s jaw dropped dramatically, as she gave Agatha an incredulous look, shaking her head in disbelief.  

“You’ve really never heard the joke?” Rio asked, her tone brimming with amazement, her disbelief as playful as it was genuine.  

Agatha’s brow furrowed as she racked her brain, searching for any context to latch onto, but came up with nothing. The frustration of not knowing—of being on the outside of an inside joke—pricked at her pride. She glared at Rio, her jaw tightening, and her tone sharpened as she spoke.  

“I’m sorry,” Agatha deadpanned, the words somehow both a hiss and a mock. “I’m not well-versed in the �� vagina monologue ,’ Rio. Please, enlighten me.”  

Rio’s grin widened, a devilish light sparking in her eyes. She leaned back in her chair, clearly enjoying every moment of Agatha’s irritation.  

“I forget sometimes that you're a baby lesbian,” Rio said, her voice dripping with exaggerated sympathy, her grin widening as she clearly savored every second of this.  

Agatha’s left eye twitched, a telltale sign that her patience was already wearing dangerously thin.  

“Alright, listen,” Rio began in a tone so placating it could’ve been meant for a toddler. She even held up her hands, before bringing them together like she was telling a story with them. “When two mommies fall in love...”  

Agatha growled, her fingers tightening around her fork as she leaned forward, her voice low and full of menace.  

“You know I have enough connections in the upper echelons of New York society to kill you with my bare fucking hands and still get away with it, right?”  

Rio didn’t even flinch. If anything, her smirk deepened, her mouth twitching with barely contained laughter as she took a slow sip of her coffee, letting the moment stretch just enough to test Agatha’s patience.  

But then, just as quickly, the teasing faded. The smirk softened into something quieter, more reflective, as she set her cup down and looked at Agatha with a serious, almost resigned expression.  

“Okay,” she murmured with a heavy sigh, pausing to collect her thoughts before continuing. “There’s this running joke about lesbians—how we move fast. Women bond faster. We just... get each other, you know? No hurdles, no walls, none of that emotional baggage that men seem to drag out for years.”   

She paused, as if considering what to say next.  

“Even for the truly emotionally stunted women—”   

Agatha’s glare sharpened. She could feel the barb coming. Agatha’s mouth opened to retort, but Rio cut her off with a look that was more knowing than teasing.  

“— like us ,” Rio finished simply, the weight of the words settling between them, as she claimed she had just as many problems as Agatha, before moving on.  “Even then, it’s like running the 100-meter hurdles—with no hurdles. Straight to the finish line in record time while everyone else is jumping and stumbling behind us.”  

Agatha blinked, processing Rio’s words, her mind working overtime to unravel the logic—or lack thereof—behind them. She sat back slightly, her fork clinking against the table as she waved her hand in mild disbelief, as if to wave away the nonsense.   

“That cannot be true,” Agatha stated, her tone flat and edged with skepticism, as though sheer disbelief might somehow undo the absurdity Rio had just said.  

Rio chuckled, leaning back in her chair with the kind of ease that set Agatha’s teeth on edge. Her eyes sparkled, full of amusement.  

“Oh, but it is,” Rio replied, her voice light but unyielding.  It was the kind of tone someone uses to drop bigger news. “One of my friends from Texas used to say lesbians date like dogs age—one year for a straight couple equals seven for us.”  

Agatha blinked, as her mind stumbled over the analogy. Before she could form a retort, Rio raised a finger to chin, her expression turning mock-serious.  

“Let’s do the math,” Rio said, pausing as though deep in thought. “We’ve been at this for a little over a month now, give or take.” She feigned looking up at the ceiling, mumbling theatrically, “Carry the one, divide by seven…”  

Her gaze snapped back to Agatha, and the smirk that spread across her face was absolutely menacing, practically dripping with satisfaction.  

“Congratulations, my love” Rio declared, her tone teasing but triumphant. “We just celebrated our one-year anniversary.”  

Agatha’s jaw dropped, and for a moment, all she could do was gape at Rio, torn between indignation and outright disbelief.   

“That—” she began, only to falter, eyes narrowing. “You’re just fucking with me.”  

Rio met her gaze with a deadpan look, chewing her bacon like she was unbothered by the accusation.   

“Unfortunately, no,” she said, using her strip of bacon like a professor gesturing with a pointer during a lecture. “It’s absolutely a thing. I mean, I’ve done my best to avoid the stereotype my entire life, but I’ve seen it happen with my friends. Stereotypes exist for a reason—they’re rooted in some kind of truth.”  

She paused, giving Agatha a pointed look that was both teasing and resigned.  

“And now, look at me,” Rio added, gesturing vaguely around them as if to highlight the absurdity of their situation. “You’ve ruined me.”  

Agatha scoffed, straightening in her seat and gesturing between them.   

“We are not like that.”  

Rio raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, as her smirk widened.   

“Oh, we’re not?”   

“No,” Agatha snapped, gripping her fork tightly and brandishing it like a weapon. “We’re not. For one, you’re not moving in. You’re here for safety reasons. Safety , Rio.”  

She paused, frowning slightly as she tried to make her voice steadier, more commanding.  

“And two, I barely even like you.”  

The second the words left her mouth, Agatha winced inwardly.   

Damn it.    

Not as confident as she’d intended. The hesitation in her tone was a dead giveaway, and of course, Rio noticed it immediately.  

Rio’s head tilted, a slow grin spreading across her face like she’d just been handed the best gift imaginable. Then she laughed—a loud, full-bodied sound that filled the room. She threw her head back, her dark hair catching the soft morning light in a way that made Agatha’s chest tighten despite herself.  

When Rio looked back at her, her eyes were warm, playful, and entirely too knowing.  

“Barely like me, huh?” she said, her smirk widening.   “You’re so full of shit.  You love me, Agatha Harkness. You can’t say it without choking, but you do.”  

Agatha glared at her, though her heart betrayed her by doing an annoying little flip at the sound of Rio’s confidence.  

“Did those exact words ever leave my mouth, counselor ?” she retorted, lifting her chin stubbornly, her grip on the fork tightening just slightly.  

It was a strong argument, legally speaking. She hadn’t said those exact words—not directly, anyway. Sure, she would conceded that had told Rio she loved her, but not in a way that carried the full weight of saying it plainly. That admission still caused a twist of discomfort in her stomach, a vulnerability she wasn’t ready to lay bare.

Rio raised an eyebrow, giving Agatha a long, assessing look, the kind that said she was deciding just how much she wanted to push. Her smirk didn’t waver, though.  If anything, it deepened, her amusement written all over her face.  

Agatha wasn’t having it. She lifted her chin a fraction higher and shot Rio a pointed look of her own, her fork still in hand like a weapon of pure stubbornness.  

“If it can’t hold up in court,” Agatha said, her tone clipped, her emphasis sharp as a blade, “it won’t hold up in my house.”   

She added extra weight to the last two words, the “ my ” landing like a gavel striking a judge’s bench.  

Rio blinked, clearly taken aback for a split second before recovering, her lips twitching into a full grin.   

“Noted,” she murmured, leaning back in her chair, the picture of mock compliance. But her eyes betrayed her—dark and full of that damnable confidence that made Agatha want to simultaneously strangle and kiss her.  

“Good,” Agatha said, stabbing her fork into her eggs with a precise jab, as if to solidify her point. Her tone was firm, her authority seemingly reasserted—or at least, she hoped.  

One year anniversary.    

How ridiculous.  

[beauttifullife]

This scene from Unraveled, had me kicking my feet and literally smiling so hard it made my face heart. 🔥🤣

“Easy,” Agatha murmured, her voice low and steady, as she eased them both down to the cool tiled floor. She cradled Rio against her, one arm wrapped securely around her waist while the other brushed through her hair. She pressed a gentle kiss to Rio’s forehead, feeling the lingering tremors rippling through her body. 

It took a few quiet moments of just that—holding her, grounding her, letting Rio’s breath even out—before Agatha felt her finally relax, her body melting into her arms. Rio snuggled deeper against Agatha’s chest, as though it was the only safe place in the world. 

Agatha blinked, startled by the sight of Rio like this—not immediately bouncing back. She looked… soft, undone in a way Agatha had never witnessed before. Her eyes widened in mock disbelief, her lips twitching. 

“Did I finally find your off button?” she teased, her voice light, but unable to stop the hint of pride seep into her tone. 

Rio huffed, a sound that was half laugh, half exasperation. Her breath warmed Agatha’s collarbone before her voice came, muffled but unmistakable in its awe—and its possessiveness. 

“Who in the fuck taught you how to do that?” 

Agatha couldn’t help the snort that escaped her, her lips twitching into a wry smile as she tightened her hold around Rio, pressing another kiss to the top of her head. 

“You did,” she said with a huff, her tone teasing but warm. “You had the strap-on then, remember? I nearly passed out after? I figured, sans equipment, the mechanics were still the same—and looks like I was right.” 

Rio groaned into her chest, and even thought she couldn’t see it, it was impossible to miss the smile tugging at her lips.  

“I want to hate how cocky you get when you’re right,” Rio muttered, her voice muffled against Agatha’s chest. She paused for a second before letting out a huff of air. “But it’s also annoyingly hot.” 

Agatha smirked, running her fingers lazily through Rio’s damp hair.  

“Well, buckle up, darling,” Agatha drawled, her tone dripping with playful arrogance. “Because I’m rarely wrong. So, this is going to be quite the ride for you.” 

Rio chuckled at that, her breath warm against Agatha’s neck as she shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her. 

“As long as I’m the only one who gets to ride,” Rio murmured, her voice low and teasing, “then I think I can handle it.” 

Agatha’s smirk deepened, her fingers threading lazily through Rio’s hair.  

“Possessive, are we?” she quipped, raising an eyebrow. 

Rio tilted her head up, her face dead serious.  

“When it comes to you? Absolutely.” 

Agatha felt her chest tighten, but it wasn’t anxiety this time. She recognized it instantly, the clarity of Rio’s statement settling into her like a quiet revelation. Leaning down, she captured Rio’s lips in a kiss, firm and tender, grounding them both before pulling back. 

“Good,” she murmured against her lips, her voice low and steady. “Because I don’t share well either.” 

They held each other in the stillness that followed, the silence not empty but somehow full. 

“How are you feeling?” Rio asked softly, breaking the quiet. 

Agatha paused, letting the question settle as she searched within herself. The storm was still there, but it was distant now, its edges softened. And in its wake, there was Rio—just Rio.   

That presence alone, that anchor, settled her even more. 

“Better,” she answered simply, truthfully. 

Rio smiled faintly, murmuring, “Good.” 

They sat like that for a while, wrapped in each other, letting the weight of the world fall away for a moment. Agatha felt a warmth spread through her, a strange but welcome sense of peace. 

“Thank you,” Agatha said suddenly, her voice quiet but filled with sincerity. “I didn’t know I needed that. How did you know I needed that?” 

Rio shifted slightly, her head resting more comfortably against Agatha’s shoulder. 

“Calculated guess,” she said with a small shrug, her tone light but her words heavy with meaning. “I feel the same way when my world starts spinning. We’re alike, you and I.” 

She paused, letting the words sink in before continuing, her voice taking on a thoughtful edge.  

“Power, surrender, control, submission—they’re powerful forces. They have this… way of shifting dynamics, of shifting you. They can unmake you, but they can also rebuild you.” 

Rio paused, her head pulling back slightly, her gaze searching Agatha’s face as if looking for something unspoken, something she needed to see reflected back. Finally, she exhaled, her breath soft, her voice dipping into a vulnerable, almost hesitant tone. 

“And I think…” Rio hesitated, her eyes lowering for a moment as if gathering her thoughts before meeting Agatha’s again, steady but unguarded. “I think I needed that as much as you did. I didn’t realize it until it was already happening, but I felt… unsteady too. With everything going on, all the chaos, I felt like I was losing my footing.” 

Her lips quirked into a faint, self-aware smile before her expression softened again. 

“But being with you like that—letting you take control—it wasn’t just grounding; it was freeing. Like I could let go, trust you to hold the reins, and everything would still be okay.” 

It wasn’t lost on Agatha that Rio’s statement carried more weight than it seemed at first glance. Her words weren’t just about trusting Agatha to take control in the intimate moments they shared—they were layered, edged with deeper meaning.  

Rio said she loved Agatha...she was trusting Agatha emotionally, letting her guard down in ways that Agatha knew didn’t come easily to her. 

But it even went beyond that. 

Rio was also placing her faith in Agatha physically , trusting her to protect her when the threat from Vanguard loomed over them like a shadow.  

It wasn’t just about surrendering her body. 

It was about surrendering her heart, her safety, her very life.  

The realization hit Agatha like a wave—heavy, powerful, and impossible to ignore. 

Her throat tightened as she felt the enormity of it, the responsibility, the vulnerability Rio was offering her without hesitation. And for someone who spent her entire life avoiding vulnerability like the plague, it was both humbling and terrifying. 

Agatha exhaled slowly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Rio’s temple, letting the gesture say everything her words couldn’t quite reach. As she did, her arms instinctively tightened around Rio, pulling her closer, like she was building a fortress of protection around her. 

Rio melted into the embrace, her breath evening out as she rested her head against Agatha’s chest.  

And for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to fade. 

Agatha pressed her chin lightly against the top of Rio’s head, closing her eyes as she took in a deep breath. The storm inside her had calmed, the restless energy was replaced by something far more grounding. The promise that no matter what came next, she would be Rio’s shield—against Vanguard, against the world, against anything that dared to threaten what she had found with Rio. 

The sudden vibration of her phone startled Agatha, pulling her back to the moment. Adjusting her hold on Rio, she fished it out of her pocket and glanced at the screen. 

"Camera's are installed," she read aloud. "They just left." 

Rio exhaled deeply, a sound of relief, but then she froze mid-breath, her body stiffening. Pulling back slightly, she looked at Agatha with a mix of confusion and dawning horror. 

"They texted you instead of telling you in person?" she asked, her voice wary. Then her eyes widened as her gaze darted to the door. "Do you think they... heard us?" 

Agatha couldn’t stop the snort that escaped her. 

"Us? No." she repeated, her tone laced with teasing disbelief. "You? Absolutely . I think the tenants two floors down probably heard you." 

Her words were both a tease and a point of pride, her smirk widening as Rio’s cheeks flushed. There was something immensely satisfying about knowing she could make Rio lose control like that. 

Agatha watched the flush deepen as it rolled up Rio's neck, a faint color blooming across her cheeks. 

Oh.  

She liked that.    

She liked it a lot.  

“Fuck,” Rio groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I hope none of them are on my security detail tomorrow.” 

Agatha, never one to resist an opportunity to poke fun, slowly rose from the tiled floor, her joints protesting slightly—reminding her that, yes, she was too damn old to be sitting on hard tiles for that long. 

“Well, if they aren’t, I am certainly going to arrange for it,” she said casually, brushing off her knees as she stood. 

Rio dropped her hands from her face and shot Agatha a glare, her eyes narrowing dangerously. 

“Agatha.” 

Agatha smirked wickedly, extending a hand to help Rio up. 

“What?” she said, her tone dripping with mock innocence. “Embarrassed?” 

Rio pursed her lips, clearly biting back a retort, and Agatha’s grin widened. She was just about to needle her further when her mind suddenly snapped to the reason for Rio’s volume . Her smirk softened into something sly as she flexed her hand at her side, the evidence of their earlier activities still slick against her palm. 

“Speaking of that,” she said, emphasizing the word with a wicked smirk. 

Rio froze for half a second before immediately picking up on what Agatha was getting at, and huffing loudly, her cheeks flushing anew.  

“I’m going to bed,” she declared, spinning on her heel and striding into the bedroom. 

Agatha chuckled softly, grabbing a nearby towel to clean her hand before flipping off the bathroom light and fan, casting the space into quiet darkness. She followed Rio into the bedroom, her footsteps soft against the floor. 

When she stepped inside, her eyes immediately locked on Rio, who was already under the comforter, her dark gaze fixed on Agatha. 

The playful banter that had filled the bathroom evaporated in an instant, leaving a charged silence hanging between them. Agatha froze in the doorway, her smirk fading as uncertainty crept in. 

Now what? Was she supposed to just turn around, walk down the hall, and go back to her room? 

That thought sparked an uncomfortable, restless movement in her chest, and before her mind could catch up, Agatha was already moving. She grabbed the arm of her sweater, tugging it off in one swift motion. Her bra followed, then her sweatpants, leaving her in just her underwear as she stepped toward the bed. 

Rio’s eyes tracked her every movement. 

“Move over,” Agatha said, aiming for confidence but falling just short, her voice betraying a faint waver. “That’s my side.” 

Rio raised an eyebrow, a soft smile tugging at her lips. That smile made Agatha’s heart hammer harder than she’d ever admit. Without a word, Rio rolled over, making space. 

Agatha slid into bed, the sheets cool against her skin. She immediately reached out, wrapping an arm around Rio and pulling her close, her front pressed firmly to Rio’s back. Rio let out a contented sigh, melting into the embrace, and for a moment, the weight of the day seemed to settle around them, soft and bearable.  

Their breaths slowed in tandem, their bodies sinking into the quiet. 

Agatha’s body may have relaxed, but her mind hadn’t caught up. It was still locked on that specific moment in the bathroom, replaying it over and over. 

“So,” she started, unable to resist, “is that … something that can happen often? Or is it like Christmas? You know, if it happens every day, it loses its holiday spirit?” 

Rio stiffened briefly, then let out a snort, her body shaking with quiet laughter. Even though Agatha couldn’t see her face, she knew Rio was smiling. 

“You did not just compare me squirting to Santa Claus.” 

“What?” Agatha teased, smirking against Rio’s shoulder. “It felt like a gift to me.” 

Rio let out a choked laugh at that, the sound caught somewhere between exasperation and fondness. She fell quiet for a moment, and Agatha thought she might have drifted off. A pang of disappointment followed, but Agatha knew herself. She’d get her answer eventually—Rio had to know she wouldn’t let this go. 

“I don’t know,” Rio murmured suddenly, her voice low and slightly shy. “I’ve never done… that … before.” 

Agatha’s jaw dropped, practically unhinging in shock. The silence hung thick for a moment before Rio glanced over her shoulder, catching Agatha’s expression.  

Her groan filled the room. 

“Oh my god—you’re going to be insufferable now, aren’t you?” 

The question snapped Agatha out of her stupor, and a smirk curved her lips. 

“I’m always insufferable,” she quipped. 

Rio huffed, a sound that carried the full weight of, I couldn’t agree more. Then, she let out a loud tired exhale, snuggling deeper into the pillow, clearly signaling that she was done entertaining this conversation. 

But silence wasn’t enough to deter her. Agatha smirked, her chin resting against Rio’s shoulder as she spoke again, her tone teasing, playful. 

“So, you’re saying it can happen again…” 

“ Agatha ,” Rio groaned, her voice muffled by the pillow, “go to bed.” 

Agatha couldn’t hold back the chuckle that bubbled out of her. She kissed the back of Rio’s neck softly, letting her lips linger there for a moment before whispering. 

“You didn’t say no.” 

Rio groaned louder this time. 

“Yeah well, you will never hear me say yes again unless I get some fucking sleep,” grumbled Rio.   

Agatha smirked faintly at Rio’s grumbled response, knowing she was teetering on the edge of pushing her luck. But even Agatha Harkness knew when to quit—well, sometimes.  

[beauttifullife]

Chapter 23: Coven Two (Preview)

“Come here.”  

Agatha stayed rooted where she was, her heels practically digging into the floor. She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to be bossed around.

Not now .

Not with everything spiraling so wildly out of control.  

Her jaw clenched as she fought against the wave of restlessness surging inside her. It was like holding back a dam ready to burst. Everything felt so precarious, like if even the smallest sliver of control was taken from her, she would shatter into a thousand pieces.  

Rio saw it —the tension in Agatha’s stance, the way her hands fisted at her sides, her breath coming just a little too fast. And as she did the sharp edges in her gaze softened, her expression shifting to something gentler, something… patient .  

“Agatha,” Rio said softly, her voice steady but pleading. “Please, come here.”  

Agatha’s shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly at the word.   

Please.    

It wasn’t a command.   

It wasn’t a demand.   

It was a request, and it reached her in a way nothing else could.  

Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to move, her steps slow and deliberate, until she crossed the threshold.  

The bathroom was the smallest in the house—just enough space for a single sink, a toilet, and a decently sized tiled shower. The moment she stepped inside, the walls seemed to close in, pressing against her.

The weight of everything—her office, her home, her family— being invaded, the constant noise, the fear and uncertainty—it built like a pressure cooker inside her chest.    She felt like she was seconds away from snapping, seconds away from tearing into Rio, of letting the storm take control and consuming everything in its path.  

And then, Rio reached past her and turned on the fan.  

Agatha blinked, startled by the sudden—loud, mechanical hum filling the small room. The anger that had been teetering on the edge of exploding shifted to confusion, as her mind tried to catch up with Rio’s actions.  

Then suddenly, the sound of the fan drowned out everything .  

No voices in her house.  

No drills or hammers.  

No footsteps echoing through the halls.  

Just the steady, rhythmic whir of the fan.  

Agatha exhaled slowly, not even realizing she’d been holding her breath until that moment. The storm inside her didn’t vanish entirely, but it stilled— just enough —as the relentless chaos from outside was replaced by the steady, grounding hum .  

Her gaze found Rio, torn between irritation and gratitude.   

Agatha hated being read so easily, hated that Rio seemed to know exactly what she needed when she couldn’t even name it herself. And yet, she couldn’t deny the shift—that the suffocating grip on her chest had loosened, if only slightly.  

Rio stepped back, the bathroom not allowing her much space, but she moved until she was pressed against the opposite wall—giving Agatha as much a space as possible.  

They stayed like that for a few moments, the hum of the fan filling the small space. The noise helped— a little —but that restless energy inside her refused to settle. It curled tighter and tighter, like a cloud threatening to touch down the earth, and destroy everything in its path.  

“Tell me.”  

Rio’s voice broke through the haze, soft but unwavering, cutting through Agatha’s spiraling thoughts.  

Agatha blinked, her gaze darting to Rio, who was watching her with that maddening mix of patience and understanding.  

Tell me.  

Agatha knew what she meant. Rio was asking about her. About what was wrong—what was clawing at her from the inside out.  

Agatha opened her mouth, then shut it just as quickly.   

How did she even begin to explain?   

How did she put into words the relentless—the suffocating weight pressing down on her chest?  

How her life felt like it was fracturing all around her?  

Her fingers flexed at her sides, and she looked away, staring at the bathroom tiles as if they might offer her an answer.   

But they didn’t.  

So finally, she settled on the only words that seemed to fit, her voice raw and strained as hot tears frustration clouded her eyes.  

“I feel completely out of control.”  

Agatha continued to stare at the tile, her vision blurring slightly as her fingers curled and twisted, the tremble in them betraying the storm building inside her.  

Silence greeted her words.    

And then, softly—barely audible over the hum of the fan—Rio spoke.  

“Okay.”  

The word was simple, but the way she said it carried weight, a quiet understanding that wrapped around Agatha like a lifeline.  

“ Okay ,” Rio repeated, even softer this time.  

Silence settled between them, heavy but not oppressive, as if the stillness itself were giving Agatha permission to just exist in the moment.  

Then out of nowhere, Rio’s voice cut through the quiet, low and steady.  

“Take it back.”  

Agatha blinked, her eyes snapping open to meet Rio’s gaze.  

“Take what back?” she bit out, confusion transforming into anger.   

Rio didn’t even blink an eye.  She just tilted her head, letting it rest against the wall, her expression soft yet charged with a simmering intensity that burned behind those dark eyes.  

“All of it,” she said simply. “Your control. Your power. Everything you think you’ve lost.”  

The words lingered, heavy with meaning, pressing into Agatha with a force she couldn’t ignore, like a flame licking at the edges of turned over oil tanker.  

“It’s right here, Agatha,” Rio continued, her voice roughening, taking on a raw edge. “The one thing you can control.”  

Agatha’s breath hitched, the air in the room turning heavier, warmer, pressing against her like a tangible force.

A flush rose beneath her collar, creeping up her neck and spreading across her chest like wildfire. Without thinking, her hand shot up, tugging at the collar of the hoodie, desperate to relieve some of the pressure building within her.  

Rio’s gaze flicked to the movement, her dark eyes catching on Agatha’s restless hand. The look she gave wasn’t smug or triumphant—it was something far more intimate, something knowing. A quiet, unspoken challenge lingered there, but not one meant to provoke. No, this was something gentler, coaxing, as if she were carefully reaching for the storm Agatha was trying so desperately to hold at bay.  

“It’s okay,” murmured Rio, eyes flashing, as she gave a nod—like she was giving permission.  “ Take it .”  

And yet, Agatha held herself back.   

The urge to act, to seize the control Rio was so willingly offering, clawed at her, relentless and sharp. She fought it with everything she had because she knew herself—knew the force of what simmered beneath her carefully maintained surface. Releasing it wasn’t something you unleashed on a person.   

It needed containment.    

Solitude, with a bottle of bourbon and dark thoughts.  

Rio didn’t know what she was saying. Didn’t know what she was giving permission for Agatha to do. She couldn’t possibly understand the storm she was inviting in.  

Agatha’s fingers twisted restlessly at her sides, betraying the battle raging inside her. Her breathing quickened, her chest tightening as the heat and tension grew unbearable, each second stretching impossibly thin.  

“Agatha ,” Rio murmured, her voice a low rasp that seemed to fill every corner of the small bathroom. Her gaze flicked down, honing in on Agatha’s restless, twisting fingers before lifting back to her face. There was no softness left in her expression now.  

“All you have to do,” she continued, her words deliberate and laced with a challenge—daring Agatha to rise, “is take those restless, beautiful fingers of yours... and bury them—”  

Agatha moved before the sentence could fully land. She surged forward, her hands shooting up to cradle Rio’s face, gripping firmly as their mouths collided in a kiss so fierce it was almost bruising.  

Rio’s head hit the wall with a loud thud, the sound reverberating through the small space. She gasped, her lips parting in shock, and Agatha seized the opening, her tongue slipping inside, devouring her like she was something Agatha had been starving for.  

.....

[beauttifullife]

Agatha's fellow law firm partners (The Coven) absolutely roasting her when they find out she is sleeping with Rio Vidal, a first year associate in the fanfiction story, Unraveled.

“You’re sleeping with a first-year associate?” Jen asked, her tone incredulous. 

“Can we maybe just concentrate on the death threats for now?” Agatha growled, her voice cutting through the tension. “You can report me to HR later.” 

"I'll take her off the case. She can report to you.” 

“Me?” Jen asked, startled. 

Agatha rolled her eyes, exasperation etched into her features.  

“Don’t act like you don’t want her on your team,” she hissed. “She’s the best associate we’ve seen walk through these doors in years.” 

Alice raised her hand, looking between them.  

“Umm — why does Jen get her?” she asked, clearly offended. 

Agatha pinched the bridge of her nose.  

“I don’t care—you can share her for all I care. But she cannot work for me anymore,” Agatha said, her tone clipped, frustration rolling off her in waves. 

“Oh yeah?” Jen shot back mockingly. “Did you come to that brilliant conclusion before or after you slept with her?” 

Agatha’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and her middle finger shot up in a gesture that felt almost reflexive. 

“Oh… real cute,” Jen muttered, matching Agatha’s glare with a pointed look of her own, her voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Um… Agatha,” Lilia interjected, her tone hesitant but firm. 

“What?” Agatha snapped, turning to her. 

Lilia tilted her head to the side, subtly nodding toward the glass door. Agatha followed her gaze, and her heart nearly stopped. 

Rio stood outside the door, arms crossed over her chest, her sharp eyes narrowed at Agatha. The weight of her gaze was enough to make Agatha feel like she was back in the principal’s office, caught red-handed. 

“Ohhh… someone’s in trouble ,” Jen sang, her delight barely concealed, leaning slightly toward Agatha with a smug grin. 

“Jen,” Agatha hissed, whirling on her with all the fury she could muster. “I swear to god, I will break every single crystal in this fucking office.” 

Jen’s eyes widened briefly before she composed herself, fixing Agatha with a serious look.  

“That’s like… really bad karma, Agatha. So, just know—that’s on you.” 

Agatha let out an exasperated growl, bringing her hands up in a mock-strangling motion, teeth bared. 

“Rio...this is incredibly reckless,” Agatha whispered, her voice trembling slightly, her words more of an observation than a protest. 

“You’re Agatha Harkness,” Rio murmured in return, her tone low and brimming with a kind of want that sent a shiver down Agatha’s spine. “Isn’t that, like, your trademark?” 

Agatha huffed softly, a mix of amusement and resignation slipping from her lips.  

Whatever retort she might have had dissolved as she leaned forward, her movements instinctive, driven by something deeper. When her lips met Rio’s, the kiss wasn’t just heated—it was relief.  

Knock. Knock.  

Agatha froze, her lips still brushing against Rio’s, her breath catching as her eyes darted over Rio’s shoulder. 

And there they were. 

Lilia, Jen, and Alice stood just outside the glass door, each wearing expressions ranging from barely-contained surprise to outright shock.  Behind them, she could see men and women in suits filtering into the hamster cage.  

Jen mouth was agape like she couldn’t believe what was she was seeing.  Lilia’s face was carefully neutral, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. Alice, predictably , was grinning like an idiot. 

Agatha let out a quiet groan, pulling her lips away and resting her forehead falling against Rio’s shoulder as she muttered, “I’m never going to hear the end of this.” 

“In my office—my sacred temple—you bring your depravity?” Jen hissed, her voice dripping with outrage. 

Agatha rolled her eyes at the theatrics, folding her arms across her chest. 

“It was just a kiss, Jen,” she retorted, leveling her with a pointed look. “It’s not like I bent her over your desk and fucked her.” 

Jen’s eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing as if she couldn’t decide whether to be horrified or begrudgingly impressed. Finally, she huffed, muttering something under her breath about needing to burn more sage and cleanse the energy in her office as she stomped away. 

Lilia, let out a poorly stifled laugh before stepping closer to Agatha. She touched Agatha’s arm lightly and leaned in as though she were about to share a secret, though her voice was far too loud for any pretense of discretion. 

“I have a good feeling about you two,” she said, gesturing between Agatha and Rio’s retreating figure with a pleased smile. “I’m usually right about these things,” she added, tapping her temple for emphasis. 

She started to walk away but paused mid-step. 

“Oh—and don’t forget, you need to submit a workplace relationship disclosure to HR immediately,” she said, her tone slipping seamlessly into partner authority as she shot Agatha a pointed look. Then, with a satisfied nod, she followed Jen toward the conference room. 

That left Agatha standing with Alice in a silence so thick it felt like a living thing. 

Agatha waited, crossing her arms and glaring, but Alice just stood there, hands in her pockets, clearly enjoying herself. When the silence became too much, Agatha snapped. 

“And you? What do you have to say?” she demanded, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Go on—let’s hear it!” 

Alice raised her hands in mock surrender, her face carefully neutral, though her eyes sparkled with barely contained amusement. 

“I’ve got nothing,” she said casually, but as the words hung in the air, a sly smirk crept onto her face. “I mean—I get it. She’s hot. Good for you.” 

Agatha’s eyes went wide, caught completely off guard by Alice’s casual remark. 

“Oh—,” she stammered, the rare sensation of a blush creeping up her neck and heating her cheeks. “Umm...thanks?” 

Alice nodded, and walked forward, with a little skip in her step, but then paused halfway down the hallway.   

“Does she have an older brother— or a sister ? I’m not picky.  Emphasis on the older though.  I don't want to go to jail,” Alice quipped, her grin widening with that signature devilish delight. 

And there it was.  

Agatha groaned, throwing a sharp glare her way. 

“I hate all of you,” she muttered, her voice low and drenched in exasperation, though the faintest hint of a smirk betrayed her true feelings.

[beauttifullife]

Chapter 22: Coven True (Preview)

“This is my mess. I can foot the bill,” Agatha said, her tone firm but weary, the weight of responsibility pressing down on her shoulders.  

Lilia clicked her tongue in disapproval, her expression hardening as she stepped into Agatha’s personal space—looking her dead in the eye.  

“No,” Lilia said firmly, her voice carrying a finality that left no room for argument. “They come after one of us, they come after all of us.”  

Agatha blinked, caught off guard by the unwavering solidarity in Lilia’s tone. She opened her mouth to protest, but the look in Lilia’s eyes made her stop.   

It wasn’t just determination.  

It was loyalty—unshakeable and fierce.  

Jen and Alice followed suit, stepping forward to join Lilia, forming an unspoken wall around Agatha.  None of them said a word, but their expressions mirrored Lilia’s resolve.   

The message was clear: if they wanted Agatha, they had to get through them first.  

For the first time in a long time, Agatha felt something unfamiliar but not unwelcome—a strange, quiet relief.   

She wasn’t alone.  

She swallowed hard, forcing down the swell of emotion that curled inside her. It was comforting in a way that made her uneasy, something she wasn’t used to letting herself feel.   

The silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable, and Agatha shifted, her usual sharp edge creeping back in to steady herself.  

“I swear to god, if one of you tries to hug me, I will hit you,” she deadpanned, breaking the moment.  

Jen snorted, Alice let out a bark of laughter, and even Lilia’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile.  

“Don’t flatter yourself, Harkness,” Alice teased.   

Agatha rolled her eyes, but the tension in the room eased, replaced by a quiet, determined unity. Whatever came next, she wasn’t facing it alone—and for once, she let herself accept that.  

“What are we doing about Vidal?” Jen asked, breaking the moment, her eyes narrowing as she shot Agatha a look that made it clear she wasn’t letting go of the topic anytime soon.  

Agatha met her gaze, a flicker of frustration crossing her features before she sighed, running a hand through her hair.  

“She needs her own security detail. So does Nicky.” Agatha’s voice softened, a rare vulnerability slipping through her usually sharp exterior. “But I don’t want either of them to know.”  

Jen raised a brow at that, giving Agatha a look.  

“I understand not wanting Nicky to know,” she said cautiously. “But Vidal—she should know.”  

“No,” Agatha growled, her tone brooking no argument. “This is my mess.  She doesn’t need to know .  I’ll take her off the case. She can report to you.”  

“Me?” Jen asked, startled.  

Agatha rolled her eyes, exasperation etched into her features.   

“Don’t act like you don’t want her on your team,” she hissed. “She’s the best associate we’ve seen walk through these doors in years.”  

Alice raised her hand, looking between them.   

“Umm — why does Jen get her?” she asked, clearly offended.  

Agatha pinched the bridge of her nose.   

“I don’t care—you can share her for all I care. But she cannot work for me anymore,” Agatha said, her tone clipped, frustration rolling off her in waves.  

“Oh yeah?” Jen shot back mockingly. “Did you come to that brilliant conclusion before or after you slept with her?”  

Agatha’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and her middle finger shot up in a gesture that felt almost reflexive.  

“Oh… real cute,” Jen muttered, matching Agatha’s glare with a pointed look of her own, her voice dripping with sarcasm.  

Agatha opened her mouth to fire back, because, honestly, she needed this—the back and forth, the sharp exchange. It was grounding, familiar, almost comforting in its absurdity.  

“Um… Agatha,” Lilia interjected, her tone hesitant but firm.  

“What?” Agatha snapped, turning to her.  

Lilia tilted her head to the side, subtly nodding toward the glass door. Agatha followed her gaze, and her heart nearly stopped.  

Rio stood outside the door, arms crossed over her chest, her sharp eyes narrowed at Agatha. The weight of her gaze was enough to make Agatha feel like she was back in the principal’s office, caught red-handed.  

“ Ohhh… someone’s in trouble ,” Jen sang, her delight barely concealed, leaning slightly toward Agatha with a smug grin.  

“Jen,” Agatha hissed, whirling on her with all the fury she could muster. “I swear to god, I will break every single crystal in this fucking office.”  

Jen’s eyes widened briefly before she composed herself, fixing Agatha with a serious look.  

“That’s like… really bad karma, Agatha. So, just know—that’s on you.”  

Agatha let out an exasperated growl, bringing her hands up in a mock-strangling motion, teeth bared.  

“Nope!” Lilia interjected, stepping in like the seasoned peacekeeper she was. Her tone was calm but firm, cutting through the escalating tension. “We’re not doing this. We’re going to call the security detail. They have a rapid response team, and I’m sure they’ll be here shortly to discuss logistics.”  

She paused, leveling Agatha with a look that was as unimpressed as it was pointed.   

“You, however, clearly have…” she paused, her eyes drifting to the door where Rio stood waiting, “other things to work out.”  

Without missing a beat, Lilia turned on her heel and began ushering Jen and Alice out of the office.  

“Come on, you two,” Lilia said, waving them forward with a no-nonsense tone. “Let’s give her some space.”  

“This is literally my office,” Jen muttered, crossing her arms, but she begrudgingly followed Lilia and Alice out.  

As the three exited, Agatha felt a strange, uncomfortable pull in her stomach, a mix of relief and apprehension. Thankfully, they only gave Rio passing glances as they moved by, though the tension in the air was palpable.  

And just as the door almost swung shut, Rio caught it and stepped inside.  

....

[beauttifullife]

Chapter 21: Three of Swords (Preview)

If someone had told Agatha that at nearly fifty years old, she’d be spending her entire Saturday tangled up in sheets, being thoroughly ravished by a woman sixteen years her junior, she’d have laughed them out of the room—and then probably sued them for defamation later.  

And yet, here she was.  

Face down on forest green silk sheets, her hair and skin damp with sweat, gasping into the fabric, as her legs trembled beneath her as yet another orgasm tore through her, leaving her breathless and spent.  

She felt warm lips press into her shoulder, and then— there it was —the unmistakable smirk against her skin, that fucking smirk that seemed to sear right into her flesh. Rio Vidal was branding her with it, marking her the way a rancher brands their cattle—with an air of quiet, undeniable ownership.  

Then she felt a hand tracing down her spine, each fingertip pressing slowly, deliberately, as if counting every vertebra, moving lower over the curve of her ass and lingering there, before daring to dip further and slide forward. Agatha’s body reacted faster than she thought possible, exhaustion forgotten, as she snapped her hand back, gripping Rio’s wrist firmly.   

And then in one swift, fluid motion, Agatha rolled, flipping Rio onto her back and pinning her there, straddling her with an intensity that left no room for question. The wrist still caught in her hand was pressed firmly above Rio’s head, while Agatha’s other hand wrapped gently around Rio’s neck—a soft but unmistakable warning.  

Rio’s eyes widened in surprise for a fleeting moment before that smirk returned, even deeper than before, as she looked up at Agatha with a glint of satisfaction, clearly savoring this unexpected shift in control.  

“Do you have an off button somewhere?” Agatha growled, her gaze roaming over Rio’s glistening skin, now covered in a constellation of hickeys and marks from Agatha’s own teeth and nails.  

Rio chuckled, a low, throaty sound that Agatha could feel vibrate against her hand.    

“Maybe.  Check between my legs,” Rio murmured, her voice a teasing purr.  

Agatha snorted at that, but that didn’t stop her from increasing the grip on Rio’s wrist and throat slightly, leaning down until their faces were mere inches apart.   

“You’re exhausting, you know that?” Agatha muttered, though the glint in her eyes betrayed her amusement.  

“Pot calling the kettle, dear ,” Rio shot back smoothly, a wicked smile curving on her lips.  

Agatha looked down at her, arching an eyebrow.   

“Rio— dear .  If I don’t get something to eat and drink…” Agatha began, her voice tinged with warning.  

Rio opened her mouth, a glint in her eyes revealing exactly the kind of dirty response she had in mind.   

Agatha clicked her tongue, tightening her grip just enough around Rio’s throat to cut the words off before they could escape.  

“Actual food,” Agatha bit out, her tone sharp but laced with a smirk, before loosening her grip once more, but not letting go.    

Rio’s devilish smirk faded into a reluctant pout, but after a moment, she softened, giving a small nod.  

Agatha started to pull her hand away, but Rio’s fingers caught hers, guiding it back to her throat and pressing it there, her gaze sparking again, like a fire that never really goes out.  

“We’ll be exploring this later, though,” Rio murmured. 

....

[beauttifullife]

The Wakeup Call

Agatha waited, her heart pounding with anticipation as she stood outside the door. A few moments passed in silence before she heard movement behind the door, followed by the soft click of locks being undone.   

The door creaked open, and there stood Rio, blinking against the dim hallway light, clearly still half-asleep.  

Agatha sucked in a ragged breath.  

She was wearing a pair of skimpy sleep shorts that revealed miles of toned legs and a deep green T-shirt that read “ Pawnee Parks and Rec Department .” Her dark hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction, and she rubbed at her eyes, eyes coming into focus on Agahta, before widening with shock.  

“Agatha ,” Rio sighed, her voice thick with the remnants of sleep as she looked down at her watch, then back up, raising a brow in exasperation. Her gaze was piercing, even through her disheveled, sleepy expression.   

“It’s seven in the morning— on a Saturday .”  

Agatha offered a sheepish smile.   

“I know. I couldn’t sleep.”  

Rio ran her hands through her hair messy locks, and threw Agatha a look.    

“Well, I was sleeping,” she murmured, but Agatha didn’t miss the faint shadows beneath her eyes, the way her shoulders held a tension that said sleep hadn’t come easily to her, either.  

Agatha held up a coffee cup.  

“I brought you coffee,” she said, her voice softer than usual, knowing she would need this peace offering for the still surprisingly anti-morning Rio.    

Rio blinked, clearly caught off guard, and for a moment, she simply stared at the cup as if she couldn’t quite believe it. Then, slowly, she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against Agatha’s as she took the cup, her touch sending a small thrill down Agatha’s spine.  

Rio looked down at the familiar coffee shop logo, her eyes widening in surprise.  

“You actually went into a coffee shop and ordered your own coffee?” she said slowly, as if she couldn’t believe the words coming out her mouth.  

Agatha rolled her eyes, though a faint blush crept into her cheeks.   

“Just because I have an assistant who usually gets my coffee doesn’t mean I’m entirely helpless.”  

Rio hummed softly, as if she didn’t quite believe Agatha’s words but was willing to let it slide. She brought the cup to her lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip. Her eyes closed briefly as she savored the first taste, a quiet, appreciative hum escaping her.  

As Rio took another sip, her gaze softened, and for a brief moment, the guarded look faded from her eyes. She seemed to relax, her shoulders loosening, as if Agatha’s unexpected gesture had somehow dissolved a little of the tension lingering between them.   

In the soft morning light, with Rio’s hair tousled and her guard lowered, Agatha couldn’t help but think she looked beautiful in that moment.    

And then Rio’s gaze shifted from Agatha's face to the other thing in Agatha’s arms—a large, leafy potted plant, hard to miss.   

Agatha fought against the faint flush that threatened to creep up her neck as she adjusted the plant, holding it a little awkwardly in the crook of her arm before extending it toward Rio.  

“I… I got you this too,” she said, attempting to keep her voice casual, though she could feel her composure slipping just a little.  

Rio blinked, setting her coffee down on the small entryway table beside her before reaching out to take the plant. She looked down at it, her fingers tracing the elegant green-and-white leaves with gentle curiosity, her expression shifting to one of genuine surprise.  

“Where did you get this?” Rio asked, her gaze flicking back up to Agatha, equal parts touched and suspicious.  

Agatha gave a nonchalant shrug, though she knew she wasn’t fooling anyone.   

“At a flower shop downtown,” she replied, trying to sound like she hadn’t just jumped through an inordinate amount of hoops to acquire it.  

“A flower shop that opens before sunrise— on the weekend ?” Rio said with disbelief clinging to every syllable, as she raised an eyebrow.  

Agatha hesitated, swallowing back her discomfort.   

“The daughter of a client owns it. I, uh… called in a favor,” she admitted, her tone more defensive than she liked, but she didn’t like being called out.    

Rio raised an eyebrow—and then, a faint smile curving her lips as she looked back down at the plant, then back up at Agatha, her eyes filled with something Agatha couldn’t quite place.  

“This is a Monstera Albo Borsigiana,” Rio said, the mouthful of a name rolling off her tongue effortlessly.  

Agatha blinked, momentarily thrown. She didn’t know the first thing about plants, let alone what this one was called. All she knew was that it fucking expense, and should be gold plated for what she paid for it.  

“Agatha,” Rio sighed, a mix of exasperation and amusement in her tone. “Did you just buy the most expensive plant in the store?”  

Agatha felt her cheeks warm under Rio’s knowing gaze. She should have anticipated this reaction.   

With a huff, she threw her hands up in mild exasperation, gesturing at the plant.   

“Look, I don’t know anything about plants!” she practically exclaimed. “I figured I’d treat it like bourbon—the more expensive, the better it is.”  

Rio’s mouth quirked into a genuine smile, a small laugh escaping her. She glanced down at the plant, clearly touched, her fingers lingering on the leaves before meeting Agatha’s eyes again, softer now, and just a bit more open.  

Rio’s gaze softened as she looked at Agatha, really looked at her, as if trying to piece together what was happening.  

“Agatha—what are you doing? ”  

Agatha took a steadying breath, a sly smile creeping onto her lips as she leaned casually against the doorframe, trying to convey enough outward confidence that it convinced herself internally that she was doing the right thing.   

"Oh.  I am taking back my control,” she answered.  

Rio’s eyes went wide, surprise flashing across her face, as she looked at Agatha in shock.   

“You’re what?”  

Agatha offered a casual shrug, though beneath the surface, her heart pounded, her emotions a tangled mess.  

“I have feelings for you, Rio,” she admitted, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.  

She watched as the words landed, seeing Rio’s eyes widen slightly, her breath catching in a way that felt like a small victory.  

“And since both of us have been acting like complete idiots,” Agatha continued, a hint of determination sharpening her tone, “I’ve decided to take control of the situation.”  

Rio blinked, caught off guard, her fingers tightening at her side.   

A mixture of surprise, uncertainty, and something else— something vulnerable —flickered across her face.   

Agatha couldn’t help but feel a thrill of satisfaction at having left Rio momentarily speechless.   

“You’re taking control of the situation,” Rio repeated, drawing out each word with a smirk, before arching an eyebrow and giving Agatha a pointed look. “Just to confirm—am I the situation you’re planning to take control of?”  

Agatha’s lips twitched, fighting back a grin as her confidence surged. She took a deliberate step closer, her gaze locked on Rio’s.

“Yes, Rio,” she replied smoothly, her voice low and sure. “You are absolutely the situation I’m planning to take control of.”  

Rio’s eyes sparkled with a mix of surprise and—thankfully—something darker, her lips curving into a faint smirk as she set the plant carefully on the table beside her. Crossing her arms, she leveled Agatha with a look, a flicker of defiance lighting her gaze.  

“You couldn’t have told me that last night?” she asked, a touch exasperated.  

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Agatha deflected, raising an eyebrow playfully.  

Rio narrowed her eyes, unimpressed. Agatha’s confidence wavered for just a second, and she took a breath, letting honesty cut through her tone.

“I was scared, okay?” she admitted. “But I went home, sorted out my shit, and here I am. And I even got you a pretty plant to make up for it.” She gestured to the monstera with a flourish.  

Rio raised a brow, her expression softening. “I didn’t need the plant, Agatha. I wanted you .”  

Agatha felt her breath hitch, Rio’s directness catching her off guard in the best possible way. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed this side of Rio.  

“Well, now you have me… and a plant,” she said, flicking her hands as if to say, You’re welcome. “Seems like a win-win to me.”  

Rio raised a brow, letting the moment stretch out as her piercing gaze held Agatha in place. Finally, she sighed, the sound equal parts exasperated and amused.  

“You are something else, you know that?” she said, shaking her head just slightly.  

Agatha’s smirk returned, the confidence in her voice unmistakable.   

“So I’ve been told.”  

[beauttifullife]

Chapter 20: This Road is Wild and Wicked (Preview)

“When people first hear how my mind works, they think it’s a gift,” she murmured, her gaze fixed somewhere distant, as if she were speaking to the air in front of her. “It really isn’t. I think… I think it’s a curse.”  

Agatha turned to her, caught off guard by the statement that seemed to come out nowhere, but Rio didn’t look back.   

Agatha could see the tension in Rio’s grip, the way her fingers tightened as if she were holding on to Agatha’s hand as a lifeline, as if she needed it to keep going.   

Agatha squeezed back, silently urging her forward, waiting.  

“When I was thirteen,” Rio began, her voice steady but laced with a strain, “my parents and I were driving back from one of my soccer tournaments. We were hit head-on by a drunk driver. My dad… he died instantly.”   

She paused, a tremor passing through her voice.   

“My mom, though… she was hurt badly. I could see her, but I couldn’t get to her—my legs were pinned.”  

Rio’s gaze drifted, as if the memory were pulling her back.  

Agatha watched as Rio’s free hand drifted to her knee, fingers tracing slow, restless patterns back and forth.  

“Sitting here, in this car,” Rio continued, her voice soft, hesitant, like she was speaking from a place buried deep within, “I can feel it, like I’m back there all over again. The weight pressing down on my legs, the tightness in my chest... the panic clawing its way up, the helplessness…”  

Her voice trailed off, and she pressed her head back into the leather seat, squeezing her eyes shut, her jaw clenched so tightly Agatha swore she could hear her teeth grinding.  

“And I can still hear her breaths,” Rio gritted out, the words strained, as if they were physically painful to release. “Each one... so wet, so— pained .”  

Agatha sucked in a quiet breath, her chest tightening in response to the raw pain laced in Rio’s voice.  

Jesus.  

Why was Rio telling her this? Why was she putting herself through the agony of reliving it?  

A sharp ache bloomed in Agatha’s chest as a startling realization hit her— she hated this.  

 Seeing Rio in pain, watching her struggle through memories that tore her apart piece by piece. Catching Rio quietly wiping tears away in the bathroom had been hard enough, but this… this was so much worse.  

But Rio wasn’t finished. It was as if she were determined to reach the end, to push through this painful memory, as though it held something she needed Agatha to understand.  

“My mom, she… she turned toward me,” Rio continued, her voice trembling, thick with emotion. “Even then, I could tell she was barely holding on. I knew— somehow, I just knew —that she was going to die. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.”  

She swallowed hard, her jaw clenched as tears gathered in her eyes, shimmering in the dim light of the car.   

Agatha’s chest ached as she watched Rio struggle to hold back the flood of emotions, her grip tightening around Agatha’s hand in a borderline painful grip.  

“And then,” Rio’s voice broke, barely more than a whisper now, yet so loud in the quiet car.  “She told me… ‘ Close your eyes, mija ,’ she said. ‘ Close your eyes and cover your ears. Can you do that for me, baby? ’”  

After the words crawled painfully out of her mouth, she shook her head, as if trying to shake the sound of her mother voice from her ears.  

“I didn’t understand why she was asking me to do that,” she continued quietly, her voice trembling. “But I was terrified, so I did what she asked. I closed my eyes, covered my ears, and sat there in the back seat, surrounded by darkness and silence that felt like it would go on forever… while she died just five feet away from me.”  

Agatha’s chest tightened painfully, the weight of Rio’s words sinking deep.  

Rio’s words lingered in the silence that followed, as if the weight of them took on a tangible presence, filling the car—pressing against them.    

Agatha held her breath, watching as the tears finally slipped form her eyes and down Rio’s cheeks, silent but devastating.   

Agatha’s throat tightened, as she felt the urge to say something, to reach out and wipe them away, to offer words of comfort, but nothing seemed adequate—she was trapped in this story just as much Rio was.    

Rio took a shaky breath, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand, though her grip on Agatha’s hand didn’t loosen.   

“It wasn’t until later, at the hospital that I realized why she told me to do that.  She asked me to close my eyes and cover my ears,” Rio continued, her voice fragile, “because she knew I’d never forget the moment she died. She knew that memory would haunt me. So, she tried to shield me, even then. She died still trying to protect me— protecting me from own mind .”  

Agatha’s heart ached at the depth of Rio’s pain, her fingers tightening around Rio’s hand in silent support. This wasn’t just a story—this was Rio’s way of opening a door to her heart, showing Agatha something she kept hidden from everyone.  

“After that, I learned to keep everything separate,” Rio said, her gaze distant, lost in the past. “To keep my eyes shut and my ears covered—to keep my emotions apart from the memories. It was the only way I know how to survive… to stop them from consuming me.”  

Agatha became dimly aware of the car slowing to a stop, catching a fleeting glimpse of Rio’s street outside the window, but she couldn’t tear her focus away from Rio. She was entirely caught up in the raw, unfiltered honesty spilling out before her.  

Rio hesitated, her hand tightening around Agatha’s, then loosening, then tightening again, as though she were battling with something buried deep.   

Agatha braced herself, sensing that whatever came next was going to be harder still—though she couldn’t imagine how Rio could possibly bear to share something more painful.  

With a deep, aching sigh, Rio finally turned, lifting her gaze to meet Agatha’s. Her eyes shone with a vulnerability so raw that it made Agatha’s heart skip a beat.  

And for the first time since she’d begun speaking, Rio looked her directly in the eye, and Agatha understood—whatever came next held everything Rio had been holding back.  

“But I can’t keep my eyes closed with you, Agatha,” Rio whispered, her voice breaking, the words trembling on the edge of something raw and unguarded. Her gaze held Agatha’s, as if searching for a safe place to land.  

She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around Agatha’s as though trying to ground herself.   

“It just hit me out of nowhere.  And suddenly I... I feel everything ,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. “And I don’t know how to shut it off.”  

[beauttifullife]

Chapter 19: A Dangerous Game (Preview)

Agatha slept well.  

She always did after a night with Rio, but this sleep felt different—deeper, more restful, as though some quiet peace had settled over her.   

She stirred slightly as a delicate tickling sensation danced across her nose, pulling her from the depths of sleep. Breathing in deeply, she was greeted by the rich scent of earth and pine—fresh, and unmistakably reminiscent of a forest after rain.

A smell she immediately recognized. 

Her eyes snapped open, and her vision was met with black, silky strands of hair.  

It dawned on her with a start that her face was buried in the back Rio’s neck, her body curled up against her back. Agatha’s arms were wrapped securely around Rio’s middle, and she felt the gentle rise and fall of Rio’s breath against her chest, their legs tangled together beneath the soft sheets. 

Agatha’s froze for a moment, before pulling her head back and looking at the back of the woman’s head with wide eyes. 

She was not one for cuddling.   

She liked her space in bed, the freedom to stretch out without feeling trapped or smothered. And yet here she was, her body pressed tightly against Rio’s, her arms wrapped around her in what could only be described as a near-death grip. 

She tightened her grip, half-consciously, realizing how oddly natural it felt. 

In response to Agatha's tightened grip, Rio let out a deep, contented sigh, her body melting further into Agatha’s embrace. Without even seeming to wake, Rio’s thumb absently grazed along Agatha’s arm, a slow, gentle motion before stilling and falling back into the deep sleep.  

Agatha’s heart clenched at that, a wave of something warm and unsettling washing over her. 

Her mind raced, but her body refused to move, torn between instinctively pulling away and savoring the quiet, unfamiliar comfort of having Rio in her arms  

She felt Rio’s slow, steady breathing against her, grounding her in a way that made everything else fade—her walls, her rules, her carefully guarded heart. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen.  

They didn’t do this.  

Agatha didn’t do this.  

And yet… 

This felt dangerously good. 

Heavy emphasis on dangerous.  

With that unsettling thought, Agatha took a steadying breath, then reached forward and gave Rio’s shoulder a gentle shake. 

"Rio, wake up," Agatha murmured, her voice low and steady, not wanting to startle her—but needing to end this before it went too far, before the urge to stay became overpowering. 

Rio grumbled in her sleep, a soft, reluctant sound that somehow made Agatha's heart lurch again. 

Agatha had always pictured Rio as a morning person—someone who seized the day the instant she opened her eyes. Yet here she was, wrapped around Agatha, heavy and completely out of it. The realization stirred something warm in her chest, and Agatha gritted her teeth, frustrated by her own reaction. 

"Rio, seriously," she said, louder this time, shaking her shoulder with more intent. "You're lying on my arm. I can't feel it. Get up ." 

Rio didn't stir immediately, but then, in an instant, Agatha felt her shift as awareness flooded her, her muscles tensing and then— 

Rio shot up, sheets pooling around her waist, bare-chested.  

Agatha’s eyes instinctively moved down. 

Can you blame her?  

But then she forced her eyes up, taking in Rio’s face as dark eyes moving around the room, as the woman was trying to will it to be her own, before her gaze moved down, landing on Agatha, her expression stunned. 

Her mouth dropped open slightly, genuine surprise flickering across her face. 

Even with the tangle of emotions stirring in Agatha’s chest, the side of her that delighted in poking at Rio couldn’t resist the opportunity. She leaned back, one brow arching, letting a sly smile play on her lips. 

“ Good morning, darling ,” she purred with exaggerated warmth. “Did you sleep well?” 

Rio blinked, regaining her composure almost immediately, though a faint blush dusted her cheeks, and God —Agatha reveled in that. 

“I didn’t mean…” Rio started, her words faltering as she searched for what to say. She took a breath, her face smoothing back into a neutral mask so quickly it was almost unnerving. 

Agatha felt a pang of disappointment at how easily Rio regained control, shutting down whatever vulnerability had slipped through. The sheer strength of her emotional guard was almost terrifying. 

“I’m sorry,” Rio said, the words so steady and practiced they barely registered as an apology. She held Agatha’s gaze for a brief moment before glancing away, sweeping the sheets aside and standing up.  

Rio scanned the floor for her scattered clothes, grabbing her pants and slipping them on before turning to find her bra and shirt.  

Agatha shifted, feeling the awkwardness of just sitting there watching Rio hurriedly get dressed. She climbed out of bed herself, wincing as her muscles ached. 

As Rio pulled her shirt over her head, Agatha’s gaze caught on something lying on the floor: the strap-on, the source of the lingering ache between her legs. She reached down, suppressing a grimace as her body protested, and picked it up.   

When Rio finally pulled her head through her shirt, she froze, her eyes widening just slightly as she took in the sight of Agatha—standing there naked, holding the strap-on aloft with tip of her finger a teasing smirk. 

“Don’t forget your toy,” Agatha sang, her tone laced with playful challenge. 

She knew she was pushing it, but honestly, she wasn’t a fan of the blank-faced, overly composed version of Rio. She needed that spark back, the one that made Rio’s expressions dance on the line between control and intensity. 

Rio’s eyes met hers, lingering for a second before they dragged down, slowly, tracing the lines of Agatha’s bare body. Agatha noticed the way Rio’s jaw tightened, a flicker of tension slipping through her carefully constructed mask. 

First crack.  

Good . 

Agatha smirked, enjoying the moment, letting her own gaze stay steady, challenging. She felt a surge of satisfaction as Rio’s composure wavered, her hand balling into fists at her side, as trying to hold back the temptation to touch. 

But Rio took a breath, visibly reining herself back, slipping the strap-on from Agatha’s finger with a practiced nonchalance, though her eyes held a darker gleam. 

“Thanks,” Rio said, her voice steady, though Agatha caught the flicker of heat simmering just beneath her words. 

Agatha savored it—the subtle shift, the way she could unsteady Rio.  

She remembered the first time they met, how she wanted to unravel this woman, to see her break. Now, that desire had transformed, evolved into something deeper, something that thrived on the challenge of making Rio falter, to push her just as hard as Rio pushed her. 

She took a step closer, watching as Rio’s posture tightened, her breath hitching almost imperceptibly, a sharp exhale betraying the tension simmering between them. 

Agatha, completely bare, while Rio stood fully dressed—a dynamic that should make Agatha feel vulnerable, but in that moment, she felt so fucking powerful.   

She reached up slowly, giving Rio every chance to pull away, to stop her, to say anything that would end this silent dare. But Rio stayed still, waiting, eyes darkening with anticipation. 

With deliberate slowness, Agatha hooked her fingers under Rio’s chin, tilting her face up in that familiar way Rio so often did to her. The power shift was electric, a charged echo of every moment Rio had held her there before, but this time, it was Agatha’s turn. 

Agatha leaned in, watching as Rio’s eyes fixed on hers, unwavering, and stopped just shy of letting their lips meet, savoring the hitch in Rio’s breath that spilled against her own. 

“You should get going,” she murmured, voice low and teasing. “Your boss doesn’t seem like the type that tolerates being late.” 

She caught the brief flick of Rio’s tongue over her own lips, and it took every ounce of restraint not to close the distance, to taste her right then and there. But instead, Agatha straightened, locking eyes with Rio one last time, a wicked grin playing at her lips before she released her hold, stepping back.  

Without another word, she turned and strolled toward the bathroom, every inch of her aware of Rio’s gaze, the heat from her stare lingering over her bare skin, igniting every nerve as she walked away. 

At the bathroom door, Agatha paused, glancing back over her shoulder, a wicked smile playing at her lips.  

“Unless, of course… you somehow manage to make your boss late with you,” she murmured, her tone a soft, dangerous tease. “Then she can’t really punish you for that…now can she?” 

She held Rio’s gaze, letting the words hang in the charged silence, her challenge unmistakable, before disappearing into the bathroom, leaving the door just barely open. 

[beauttifullife]

Look Her in the Eyes Look her in the eyes and tell her what you did. Tell her how you marked your ballot and signed away her right to her own body, a choice you thought was yours to make. Tell her how you left that voting booth, and slammed doors shut, doors her mothers and grandmother walked through but now she cannot. Tell her as you drove away from the precinct walls rose in your rearview, rebuilding a cage around her world, from the ruins her foremothers fought to tear down. Tell her how you sat at home, watched your candidate take the stage, and celebrated a victory gained at her expense. Look her in the eye and say it. Tell her it will be okay, even as her world narrows, as her freedoms slip through her fingers like sand, as her choices fade like chalk in the rain. Tell her all she’s lost is worth it. Tell her it will all be okay— because gas will be cheaper now.

[beauttifullife]

"Above average, my ass."  🤣🔥

“Have you ever known me not to be serious when we’re like this?” Rio murmured, leaning in close, her voice a low, intimate rasp, lips hovering just a breath away from Agatha’s ear.  

“If you want to be control, Agatha…”   

Her words were a challenge and a promise, slipping into Agatha’s skin like heat.   

“Then you can be in control.”  

She pulled back slowly, meeting Agatha’s gaze head-on, her eyes daring, intense.  

“Is that what you want?” she asked, her voice dropping even lower, a velvet softness that seemed to coil right around Agatha’s heart— squeezing .  

Agatha’s heart beat faster, as if both fighting against Rio’s hold on and responding to the question that hung in the air.   

Before Rio, she wouldn’t have hesitated, wouldn’t have even considered another option. Control was her armor, her currency, her way of keeping the world and everyone in it exactly where she wanted.   

But now?  

Now, she hesitated.  

Rio watched her intently, her gaze unwavering— waiting .   

Agatha could feel that familiar thrill bubbling up, the one Rio always seemed to draw out of her, making her question the rules she’d lived by, the rules she’d made to protect herself.  

Control had always been her safe place—the one thing she could rely on, the thing she trusted above all else.  

But, now as she actually thought about it—  

Her heart tightened, a startling realization settling over her like a revelation she wasn’t prepared for.  

Rio   

Rio had suddenly become a safe place for Agatha.

Agatha swallowed, feeling the weight of her decision settle over her, heavy and thrilling all at once. She looked up, her voice steady but low.  

“No.”  

Rio’s nostrils flared slightly as she exhaled, her eyes darkening with a new kind of understanding. She knew exactly what Agatha’s answer meant—the trust—the power she was offering up.  

“Okay,” Rio said softly, her voice low and steady. “Do you want me to get rid of the bag?”  

Agatha’s eyes dropped to the backpack— of what was inside it , and a wave of heat surged through her, this time flooding every nerve, pooling low in her abdomen. Her pulse quickened, and with another steady breath, she let go of the last thread of caution.  

Fuck it.  

“No.”  

Rio held Agatha’s gaze for a long, silent moment, as if giving her the chance to change her mind.   

But when Agatha stayed silent, that feral smirk began to spread across Rio’s lips, her eyes darkening with a gleam that made Agatha’s breath catch.  

“Okay,” she murmured, reaching up and touching Agatha’s cheek with a gentleness that was a complete contradiction to her predatory look.    

She swiped her thump a couple times across Agatha’s cheek, before taking a single, measured step back.  She folded her arms across her body and tilted her head as she looked at Agatha.  

“Open the bag,” she said, her voice low and steady—each word deliberate. “And take it out.”  

Agatha swallowed, her pulse quickening, but she rose to the challenge, her fingers steady as she reached for the bag. She reached through the opening, her fingertips brushing against a smooth strap. She curled her fingers around it, lifting it from the bag, feeling the weight settle into her hand as she pulled it free.  

As Agatha lifted it from the bag, the strap-on caught the soft glow of the bedroom light, revealing every detail. A set of sturdy black leather straps with metal buckles glinting faintly under the light. Centered in a steel ring sat a sleek, black silicone dildo slightly curved, attached securely to the harness.  

Agatha wasn’t a prude.   

She’d used sex toys before.  

Afterall, she had a perfectly reliable one in her nightstand right now.   

But this—holding it in her hand , feeling the weight of it, was different.   

As her fingers wrapped around it, and she took in its size, noting the thickness and length. She raised her eyes, arching a brow at Rio, and narrowed her eyes into a glare.  

“Above average, my ass,” she snarked.  

Rio’s smirk deepened, completely unbothered, her eyes shining with amusement.  

“Why?” she drawled, raising a brow in challenge. “Worried you can’t take it?”  

A flush crept up Agatha’s neck, her grip tightening slightly around the toy.  

“Do you want me to throw this at you?” she shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm but also a legitimate threat. “Because it feels like you want me to throw it at you.”  

Rio’s grin only widened.

[beauttifullife]

Chapter 18: The Bend Before the Break (Preview)

Agatha glanced down at the bag, the contents still an undeniable presence between them. She swallowed hard, images of what she’d seen inside flickering in her mind.  

“It just seems…like a lot,” she muttered, cringing slightly at how hesitant her voice sounded.   

She hated sounding vulnerable.  

“It’s above average,” Rio replied smoothly, without missing a beat.  

It took Agatha a second to register Rio’s words, and when she did, a snort escaped her—an unexpected laugh breaking through her tension. She could feel the knot in her chest loosen, just a little .  

She couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face, as she swatted playfully at Rio’s hip.   

“I didn’t mean the size, you asshole .”  

Rio’s lips curved into that smile— the real one —and Agatha’s heart was hammering for a very different reason now.  

Without breaking eye contact, Rio reached down, hooking her finger gently under Agatha’s chin, tilting her face up to meet her gaze. Dark eyes searched hers, steady and calm, a softness in them that sent a wave of warmth through Agatha’s chest.  

“Would it be easier for you,” Rio murmured, her voice soft, “if you were the one wearing it?”  

Agatha’s eyes widened, new images flooding her mind, and the suggestion caught her completely off guard.  

Jesus—this woman was truly trying to kill her.  

[beauttifullife]

The Backpack. 🤣🤣

"Come over tonight?" Agatha asked, her voice soft but intense, making sure to ask . 

Rio’s eyes darkened, that unflinching gaze full of unspoken promises as she nodded.  

“I need to go home first, get a few things straightened out,” she replied, her voice rough, low. “But I’ll be by as soon as I can.” 

There was something about Rio’s voice, raw and edged with heat, that shot straight through her.  

And yet, Agatha had an inkling that the woman had nothing pressing to handle. Knowing Rio, she was probably just letting Agatha stew—making her sit while being impossibly turned on. 

But Agatha would take anything Rio offered right now.

She was that desperate. 

She nodded, moving to get out of the car, but Rio’s hand wrapped around her arm, halting her. 

“Do not even think about touching yourself before I get there,” Rio warned, her voice low and commanding. 

The words sent a jolt through Agatha, her heart thudding hard in her chest. She hadn’t planned on it, but now that Rio had forbidden it, the idea was suddenly, achingly tempting. 

Rio’s eyes narrowed, reading the mischief brewing in Agatha’s gaze. 

“Agatha,” she warned, her tone steely. 

Agatha scoffed, slipping out of Rio’s grasp with an air of nonchalance.  

“Okay—fine!” she said, throwing her hands up in mock surrender, sounding almost like a petulant teenager being told they couldn’t go to a party. “No pre-game before the game. Vibe killer. ” 

True to her word, she didn’t touch herself.  

Instead, she was now on her third glass of bourbon and had hit her 10,000-step goal just pacing her apartment like a caged tiger. Every time she glanced at her phone seeing the clock— of valuable time being wasted —her anticipation flared hotter, her patience wearing thin. 

Finally—a knock at the door.  

Did she scramble embarrassingly fast to answer it?  

Yes.  

Did she pause outside the door to take a couple of steadying breaths so it wouldn’t look like she’d just sprinted across the room?  

Also, yes. 

Once composed, Agatha swung open the door and took in the sight of Rio. She was wearing dark jeans and a sleek black jacket, her casual look somehow only heightening the anticipation building in Agatha. But then her eyes narrowed as she noticed something unexpected. 

She raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with mockery as she crossed her arms and stared at Rio.  

“Why are you wearing a backpack?  What are you, twelve?” 

Rio’s eyebrow arched at the question, and that familiar, predatory smirk spread across her face, making Agatha’s confidence waver ever so slightly. 

Agatha was beginning to recognize what that look meant.

Oh.  

What the hell did Rio Vidal have planned for her tonight? 

[beauttifullife]

Watch mama work. 🤣🔥

“You are very smart, Rio,” she said allowing the compliment to leave her mouth.  Rio deserved that much.  “You’re a natural at pulling apart documents, at tracing every single thread in a web until you find something valuable.  Your report writing is impeccable and your knowledge of case law is far beyond someone of your age and rank.”  

She paused, letting her words sink in, her eyes never leaving Rio’s before reeling the overconfident rookie back to earth.   

“But this job is more than paperwork. It’s more than strategy. It’s showmanship .”  

As the car slowed, Agatha tilted her head toward the courthouse, the large building coming into view.   

She raised her chin, her gaze drifting to the entryway as if picturing the stage that awaited her inside the courtroom.  

“This,” she continued, her voice gaining an almost electric intensity that mirrored the feeling inside her, “is theater. What separates the good lawyers from the great isn’t a well-written brief or even a solid cross-examination. It’s the ability to control the narrative. To own the courtroom. To create a story out of every detail, every witness, every piece of evidence. And to do all of that while staying two steps ahead of opposing counsel.”  

She leaned forward, relishing in the way Rio’s eyes were locked on her with an intensity.    

“From the moment you step into that courtroom, you must command it,” stressed Agatha.   

The moment hung between them, and then slowly Rio’s lips curled into a smirk, her gaze dancing with amusement, a spark of something that Agatha recognized all too well in her eyes.  

“I think I’m pretty good at commanding— as you well know ,” she murmured back easily.  

Agatha felt her breath catch.    

She really couldn’t bother to be upset about it.    

She had literally set Rio up for that one.    

But today, Agatha felt just as emboldened, with the thrill of the case that laid ahead coursing through her, feeding her confidence. She met Rio’s gaze, allowing a dangerous smile to creep onto her face.  

“Yes, you are,” she said, her tone cool, layered with a hint of playful intensity. “But this— this is different.”   

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, soft and charged.   

“This isn’t the bedroom, darling. This is my arena.  Here, I am in control .”  

She heard Rio suck in a breath at that, momentarily thrown by Agatha’s words.    

And Agatha taking advantage of the rare feat, reached up and touched Rio's cheek lightly, before leaning in, purposely turning her tone turning low and intimate.  

“Watch mama work, and take notes,” she murmured into Rio’s ear, before pulling back and looking at her and giving Rio’s cheek a mocking pat.  “There will be a quiz afterward.”   

As she felt the car come to a stop, she released her and pulled herself gracefully from the car, stepping onto the pavement.  

Her heels clicked against the stone steps as she moved toward the courthouse doors.  

She didn’t look back, trusting that Rio would follow. 

[beauttifullife]

Preview of the next chapter of Unraveled by simply adding two new tags.

Literally buckle up. 🔥🔥

[beauttifullife]

The Power Play Between These Two 🔥🔥🔥

“Why are you here, Agatha?” Rio’s voice dropped to a low, almost teasing murmur, her head tilted with that smirk that never quite left her face. “Do you… need something ?”

Agatha hated how easily Rio could slip into this game, how quickly she could turn the mood with a single look—with a subtle shift in her tone.

The effect was immediate, visceral, and Agatha loathed how it put her on edge—yet she was acutely aware of the thrill that came with it, the way it made her senses sharpen, made her heart beat just a little faster.

And now?

Now, she was also now painfully aware of the fall that would come after.

She took a steadying breath, determined not to let it show, but Rio’s gaze was unwavering, her eyes dark and knowing. There was something almost maddening in her confidence, as though she knew exactly the effect she was having and enjoyed every second of it.

Agatha felt her cheeks warm, and she forced herself to hold Rio’s gaze, refusing to be the first to look away.

The silence between them was charged as Rio’s fingers drummed lazily against the arm of the chair, her eyes never leaving Agatha’s face.

Agatha swallowed, steadying herself.

“You know why I’m here,” she said, attempting a deflection she knew Rio wouldn't accept but grasping for it anyway.

Rio’s smirk only deepened, a glimmer of amusement flickering in her eyes.

“Do I?” Rio’s tone was dripping with feigned innocence, her gaze steady, unyielding.

Agatha’s heart hammered in her chest as she looked at her.

Here it was—the precipice.

She had two choices: she could say why she was really here, lay herself bare, and finally get what she wanted, or she could lie, turn around, and walk away, resigned to living in this endless state of frustrated longing.

But Rio seemed to sense her hesitation, the way her resolve wavered. Her feet slid down from the table, her body leaning forward, closer, every inch of her focused on Agatha.

“Say it,” Rio murmured, her voice softer, lower, coaxing Agatha to cross that final line.

Agatha’s breath hitched, her gaze locked on Rio’s, the weight of the moment pressing down on her, the choice hanging between them.

And finally, she let herself give in, her voice barely a whisper.

“I came here because… I need you.”

Rio licked her lips at that.

“Need me how?” Rio pressed, her voice smooth, her gaze unrelenting.

Agatha let out a shaky breath, knowing the push was coming but feeling the impact of it all the same.

Rio couldn’t just let things be—couldn’t let her stay in the safety of ambiguity.

She always had to push, to strip Agatha raw.

Agatha held her gaze, trying to steady herself, but her mind betrayed her, filling with everything she craved: she needed to kiss Rio, to feel her hands on her skin, her fingers tracing lines over her body. She needed Rio’s mouth, her fingers—everything she had to give, every touch, every whisper. She wanted to be undone by her all over again, in every way that mattered.

But how could she say that?

Maybe she could— at least some of it.

The words were there, tangled somewhere in her chest, yet saying them felt impossible.

She hated how Rio did this to her—how easily she could chip away at her confidence, leaving her vulnerable.

Frustration and nerves simmered inside her, and Agatha wished she could somehow throw Rio off balance for once, to push back, to make her rise to the challenge.

And then an idea sparked—a bold, terrifying idea.

It was something she’d thought about in vivid, private detail over the past few days.

Words she never intended to say it out loud, but it would certainly even the playing field, let her take control, make Rio respond to her .

Her pulse quickened as she leaned forward, her voice coming out a touch softer than she intended, betraying her nerves.

“I didn’t get to touch you,” she murmured, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks even as she held Rio’s gaze.

For a moment, Rio’s face was unreadable and then—her steady composure slipped just slightly as Agatha’s words sank in.

The tension between them felt like a tightrope, and for once, Agatha was the one holding the balance.

Rio leaned back in her chair, her gaze flicking over Agatha, her lips curving into a slow, uncharacteristically uncertain smile.

Agatha could see her processing, that ever-present confidence wavering just enough to give her a flash of something new—a vulnerability, an edge of surprise.

“You want to touch me?” Rio replied, her voice quieter, her tone still challenging but softened by a hint of intrigue.

Agatha took a slow, steadying breath as she leaned forward, inching closer, savoring the thrill of finally turning the tables.

“You told me you imagined what my fingers would feel like inside you,” she said, her voice stronger, bolder now.

Her gaze traced over Rio’s face, catching the slight widening of her eyes, the flare of her nostrils as she exhaled a slow, measured breath.

For a moment, Agatha saw Rio’s composure waver, and the satisfaction that surged through her was exhilarating.

Oh.

Now she understood why Rio played this game—why she pushed, why she teased her.

There was power in holding someone’s desire, of watching them unravel beneath it.

Emboldened, Agatha pushed further, her gaze unwavering as she met Rio’s eyes.

“I’ve had days to think about what you said,” she continued, letting her voice dip lower. “And now…I want to know what it feels like—to be inside you.”

Rio’s eyes darkened as her words landed.

Agatha could feel the tension winding between them, taut and electric, and this time, she was the one daring Rio to close the distance.

Rio opened her mouth, and Agatha saw it instantly—the moment she was trying to wrestle back control. The smirk began to curl at the corner of her lips, her eyes shifting from surprise to that familiar, daring gleam.

Agatha knew exactly what she was about to say.

Ask.

So, she beat her to it.

“Can I touch you?” Agatha murmured, her voice soft but unyielding. “Will you let me do that?”

Rio’s mouth hung open mid-sentence, her expression frozen in a rare flash of surprise.

For a heartbeat, she was speechless, and Agatha savored every second, watching Rio struggle to respond.

It was a triumph—Agatha was still playing her game, following Rio’s rules, but turning it around, using her own rules against her.

And it was addicting .

[beauttifullife]

So far these are my favorite little tie-in lines from the Agatha All Along show to the AU law/romance story of Agatha and Rio. This story has been so much fun to write!

Quote 1:

Agatha remembered being a child, dreaming of being a superhero, of wielding magic, saving the day, and standing above mortal men. But that was fantasy.

Magic didn’t exist.

Power, though—that was real.

And she had it.

Quote 2:

The Witch of Wall Street.

At first, the term irritated her. A witch? As if she relied on magic or illusion to get to where she was. But then she understood. It wasn’t her presence they doubted—it was the control she commanded. The icy stillness that filled the room the moment she walked in, the subtle shift in posture, the way conversations died on people’s lips. Her arrival wasn’t seen—it was felt. A chill that made everyone sharpen their focus, as if they could sense the power she carried in her wake.

She wasn’t invisible; she was inescapable.

Agatha didn’t just win cases or close deals—she devoured them. She dismantled everything in her path, leaving no room for her opponents to recover. When she entered a courtroom, it wasn’t just about money; it was about domination. She didn’t simply defeat people—she unraveled them, stripping away their confidence, their sense of self, leaving nothing but a hollow shell of who they once were.

She didn’t just win; she consumed.

When Agatha Harkness stepped into a courtroom, she didn’t just take your money.

She took your power.

Quote 3:

Red was overrated. It washed her out, and besides, it carried too much cliché. Everyone thought power was red. But if you listened to the real whispers of Wall Street, the ones that floated through the corridors of power and wealth, they knew the truth.

The devil didn’t wear red.

It wore purple.

Quote 4:

“What?” she snapped into the phone.

Silence.

“Hello, Jen. How are you doing, Jen?” came the mocking tone on the other end.

Agatha rolled her eyes harder, settling back into her seat.

“Talking to yourself now? All those illegal moisturizers you put into your face finally melting your brain?” she bit back, the sharpness of her tone unmistakable.

Quote 5:

Agatha gave her a look, full of skepticism.

“And here I thought you were finally inviting me into your little sisterhood of the traveling jade egg.”

Alice gagged at the comment.

“Gross, Agatha.”

Quote 6:

It was enough to bring a suit, but Agatha knew this was going to be an uphill battle. Vanguard was too big, too powerful. And they’d already hired the only firm in the U.S. that had a reputation to rival her own.

A firm out of Boston: Crescent, Hillman, Dawson, Raines, Torres, Finch, and Chen.

A fucking mouthful.

But most people just called them The Salem Seven.

It had a certain gravitas to it, didn’t it? 

The Witch of Wall Street v. The Salem Seven. It felt like something ripped from a Marvel movie—two juggernauts going head-to-head, each wielding their own brand of legal magic.

But this wasn’t a movie, and reality was a much harsher beast.

Quote 7:

The scar on her elbow was proof enough—a lasting reminder from when she was eight years old, and the neighborhood boys had goaded her, claiming she’d never make it over the Grand Canyon-sized ditch outside their trailer park.

Every kid in the neighborhood had tried and failed.

But not Agatha.

She pedaled harder than her little legs could manage, threw caution to the wind, and fucking flew.

She cleared it—of course, but the landing was less than graceful.  Her front tire caught on a rock, sending her flying over the handlebars and straight into a barbed-wire fence.

Twenty stitches later, she’d earned her first scar and her mother’s fury.

Quote 8:

Rio Vidal had to be death personified, because this woman was definitely trying to kill her.  

Quote 9:

The next few days were, in every way, a gauntlet Agatha could never have anticipated. It was like some cruel twist from a TV show Disney would make—where the heroine must face an endless string of trials to reach her goal.   

Only, in this version, Agatha’s prize wasn’t a throne or treasure at the end, but the chance to make it through each day with her dignity intact.   

Quote 10:

The door swung open almost instantly, and there was Rio, phone pressed to her ear. She gave Agatha an apologetic look and gestured for her to come inside.   

Agatha didn’t move, instead her gaze traveled over her—hair thrown up in a messy ponytail, loose gray sweatpants, and a faded ¾-sleeve T-shirt that read, “Bohner Family Reunion: Pitch a Tent.”   

Quote 11:

Turning back to Rio, she broke the silence.   

“I didn’t peg you as a ‘ plant person ,’” she said, gesturing to the lush surroundings.  

Rio gave a casual shrug, glancing around the greenhouse as she took a slow pull from her bottle, her eyes eventually finding their way back to Agatha’s.  

“I come from a family of migrant farmers,” Rio said, her tone softened by a hint nostalgia. “I grew up working in the fields with them. I find it comforting, having dirt under my nails. It feels like… home .”