#Agatha harkness fanfiction

[florencebirdsong]

Trick or Treat

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

summary: with Agatha away planning a trick, Rio decides to have a little treat

tags: mentions of slapping, marking, biting, possible dub-con at the start regarding Rio as she uses magic, fingering (r & Rio receiving), praise kink, cunnilingus (Agatha receiving), bondage, bunny pet name 

authors note: when you’re only intending to write a quick one shot but the lesbians won’t stop playing tug-a-war 

masterlist | ao3

You hum quietly along to the old radio as you continue stitching. Agatha has yet to explain her need for a blanket covered in such a wide variety of runes but as her familiar you are happy to help anyway. 

You’re currently in a slump hobbies-wise and needed something to distract you while your mistress is away.

It’s Halloween Eve, which means she’s currently tormenting her victims into a corner so she can begin her real trick at the witching hour.

A fond smile graces your lips as you move onto the next rune. Agatha may complain about what the modern world has done to Samhain but that doesn’t stop her from enjoying herself immensely. You can already feel her anticipation through the bond and can’t wait to bask in her wicked glee when she watches her prey realise the trap they’ve fallen for.

Being able to fully bathe in the feeling is one of the reasons you don’t join her. The other is how long she likes to celebrate her victory when she comes home to a ready and wet pet.

The back door slams shut and you jump, needle piercing your finger. Blood oozes from the wound and you frown as the rune it’s resting against greedily drinks it up.

You pull your finger away with a quiet tut and poke the unrepentant rune with the sharp point of your needle. Instead of releasing the blood, it sucks up the drop still clinging to the metal. 

You sigh. That’s going to make the empowering stage much more annoying. Balancing is already hard enough when every rune starts at the same level. 

Another door slams, this one closer, and you frown. The back door could have just been the wind but you can’t even tell which door that last one was. The cabin isn’t exactly big. 

You pierce the current rune you’re working on so it doesn’t get any ideas and slowly lower the blanket. You can still clearly feel Agatha through the bond. She isn’t hiding from you and is still a fair distance away which means this isn’t her playing a game.

Rapid footsteps have you shooting to your feet with your hands raised. You may not have the powers of a full-fledged witch but you are the familiar of the most powerful witch alive and this is your home.

The footsteps stop at the door to the living room and then start to go around. Through the wall. They continue to circle the room as you try to think. Some sort of ghost, probably, but you can’t feel anything. Your mistress is a spirit witch, you have more of an affinity with it than most. You cast your magic and when that doesn’t show anything you begin muttering spells under your breath. Also nothing. Does that mean it isn’t a spirit? The footsteps reach the front porch and you decide it doesn’t matter. You bolt for the back door, where the sounds had originally started. You make it through one room before she appears in front of you. Dark hair, purple eyes, green jacket.

You freeze. Your Mistress’ magic sings at the sight of her but the animal part of your brain screams run. You don’t get the chance to take a single step. She has you trapped between her a second after you see her.

You’ve been Agatha’s familiar for long enough to know Lady Death. But only ever in spirit. A vague awareness that she’s there. Agatha is the one she talks to. For her to not only show herself but be in her physical form? For her to touch you? Your heart is going to beat out of your chest.

“Bunny, it’s so good to see you again!” she says with a big smile. “Is your mistress not home?”

You rapidly shake your head. Your panicked breaths reinforcing how tightly she’s pressed against you.

“Aw, what a shame,” she says, looking delighted. “I really was hoping to see her.” 

Her hands climbs up your sides and you desperately try to wriggle free. You can barely move at all. 

“Feeling shy?” she asks innocently. 

You’re too panicked to respond. You can feel Agatha worriedly looking down the bond but you don’t know how to respond. The clear intention behind Rio’s touch is breaking some very big rules, but that’s what a large part of her and Agatha’s relationship seems to be about. You manage to send a jumbled weird-fine-what do? down the bond which doesn’t do anything to ease Agatha.

“No need to call her,” she says and nudges your chin up. “I can take care of you.”

Her nose runs down your neck. You tense as you feel her get close to the familiar mark. Agatha’s mark. Anyone other than her touching or interfering with it results in quite a lot of pain for both parties. She pauses just above it and her hot breath has you squirming again. Something warm and wet touches just below it and you freeze.

Rio’s gives your familiar mark a long, slow lick. What should burn sends waves of pleasure through you instead. Your eyes roll back as you moan and buck into her.

Only Agatha should be able to get such a response from your mark. The fact that Rio can means-means something that’s too hard to work out with her sharp teeth scraping over it.

You whimper and instinctively bare your neck further. Her laugh is low and her breath hot against your skin.

The bond flares as Agatha’s presence fills your mind. No doubt looking through your eyes for who dared touch her pet. You force them open and on to Rio, who is still sporting the same grin. The teasing look in her eyes isn’t for you. They never leave yours as she gently brushes her lips against yours. Agatha, consciously or not, urges you forward and you lean into it willingly.

Rio pulls back with a victorious smile. You have to shut your eyes. Agatha isn’t pleased at being so easily played and between that, her own lust and yours it’s too much. 

Agatha breaks the connection to your sight with a snap. She’s still close but her emotions aren’t being directly shoved on top of your own anymore.

Rio nudges your head back up to bare your neck. You can feel her anticipation rolling off of her in waves. She practically vibrates with it. You whimper when you realise she’s going right back to your mark. She teases around it, working you up until she finally laves that last bit of attention on it and you’re limp and pliant in her arms. She eagerly begins sinking her teeth into the skin around Agatha’s mark. You don’t know enough about Rio and Agatha’s relationship to know which end it will send Agatha over, pure possessive rage or insatiable lust, but you can already feel the explosion growing with every step closer she gets.

Rio’s nails trail up the delicate skin of your inner thigh and you try to close your legs with a whine. You can’t with her pressed against you. 

One more swipe over your familiar mark has your legs opening for her. All thought of resistance gone as the ancient magic lulls you into an obedient, pleasure-filled haze. Rio slips her hand under the waistband of your pants.

“I can see why Agatha likes this so much,” Rio murmurs as her fingers delicately circle over the wet spot forming on your panties. 

You can feel Agatha getting closer and closer. Her emotions invade the bond more and more. Indignation, anticipation, pure lust. It has your hips rolling against the light pressure Rio is giving you.

Rio’s fingers move to your clit and she has you mewling for her by the time Agatha slams open the door. You can feel the way her magic pulses, inside you and against your skin, and it has you moaning.

Agatha tears Rio away from you. You whine at the loss, something that would have earned you a slap if Agatha’s hands weren’t full.

Agatha slams Rio against the apposing wall.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she growls. Her emotions are still wild and the fight between possessiveness and hunger has your knees weak.

“Enjoying Halloween,” Rio says innocently. “I thought I deserved a little treat and that you,” she leans her face closer to Agatha’s, “Would enjoy a little trick.”

“She’s mine. Find your treat somewhere else.”

“Like under your skirt?” Rio smirks. You can feel the anger and desire grow within Agatha. “She responded so well to me, didn’t you bunny?” 

She peeks over Agatha’s shoulder and you nod without thinking. It’s not entirely your fault. Touching the familiar mark in such a way is designed to flood you with the desire to please.

Agatha reaches through the bond and tugs you to your knees.

“Behave,” she snaps. The new position means you can squeeze your thighs together without falling. The tiny bit of pressure squeezing your sensitive clit has you grinding. “That is not behaving.”

You can’t stop yourself. Agatha enters your mind to find the source of your disobedience. All she finds is a lust-filled haze.

“Aw, did Rio touch my mark? Is that what turned you into such a mindless bunny?“ she says with mock sympathy as she advances on you.

You whimper up at her with pleading eyes. It’s a mistake. Moving your head clearly shows your mark, and the way it’s covered in Rio’s own.

Anger flashing down the bond has you barring your neck to her and the dark desire that hides beneath it makes your mouth water.

“That’s quite a sight, pet,” she says with a smile that stretches too wide. “It’s a miracle you aren’t dead on the ground.”

Unable to think enough to respond you continue to stare up while panting. Not wanting a dumb doll just yet, Agatha eases some of the fog from your mind.

Thoughts are still form slow and it takes you a few moments to realise she wants a response.

“It felt good,” you whimper like she doesn’t already know. 

“Oh?” she reaches down and grips your chin. “Are your loyalties so easily swayed?”

Anger claws at you. Your devotion to Agatha is complete. The familiar bond only cemented it.

“You know that’s not how it works,” you snap. Agatha looks at you with mock shock at your outburst.

“Then how does another bring you such pleasure, bunny?” she asks. You swallow. Such a dangerous question when it comes in regard to Rio. But not answering will be much worse than telling the truth.

“My feelings mirror my mistresses’ own,” you force out quietly. There’s more nuance than that to the bond, you don’t become a copy of her, but it’s true enough for what happened.

Her eyes flash just like you knew they would.

“I think that’s enough talking,” she moves her hand from your chin to your mark and presses down. Bliss bursts from the contact. It travels to your brain and down to your soaked cunt. Your eyes roll back. Your hips continuously move as you seek just a hint of pressure. Agatha kicks your thighs further apart to prevent you from getting any. “Naughty pet, telling secrets. Your mistress will have to teach you a lesson, won’t she?”

You whine, wanting to beg for mercy, but there’s barely her name in your head let alone a full thought. Before Agatha can continue, Rio breaks free from Agatha’s hold. She swings Agatha against the opposite wall with her magic. Agatha collides with a dull thud that has you trying to get up automatically. Your limbs are still weak and your brain fuzzy. It’s easy for Rio to push you back down.

“I sought out your pet for a bit of fun, Agatha. Not to be put in a corner,” she kneels in front of you and gently cups your face. Her thumbs smooth gentle circles over your cheek. You melt into it. “Your mistress is so mean, you poor thing. Trying to punish you for something that’s her fault.” One hand slides to the back of your neck and into your hair, gently scratching. You make an agreeing noise to get her to continue. 

Agatha’s indignation is clear through the bond but it feels so far away. So much attention on your mark has you floating and Rio’s soft touch isn’t bringing you down.

“Why don’t you let me help, bunny?” she says as she gently guides you to lay down. 

You make a noise of confusion. This feels like your mistress but not, and only your mistress can have you in such a way. You try and move her hands away but she shushes you. You try to close your legs but teasing fingers running up your inner thighs has them opening again. 

It shouldn’t feel so nice when your mistress’s presence is further away. You follow the bond and turn your head. Agatha’s pupils are blown and her breaths heavy. Her magic makes no appearance and she isn’t using the bond to force some clarity into your mind to stop Rio. 

“I promise to be nice,” Rio whispers as she slowly raises your shirt. Her cool touch feels so good on your overheated skin that you can’t stop her. “Let’s continue where we left off.”

Her hand slips back into your pants to your wet panties and she begins circling your clit again. You mewl quietly, eyes finding your mistress again. She’s leaning forward in her restrains and her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

You whine when Rio’s fingers disappear. Your panties disappear along with them and the chill air makes you shiver. Her fingers find your clit again and your legs spread wider.

“There’s a good bunny,” Rio says and the praise has you arching. “Such a good familiar.” Your body shudders. The bond has only increased your reaction to praise, especially when related to your behaviour as a familiar. “I wonder,” Rio says curiously. Her spare hand finds your mark and she presses down hard enough to have you going limp. Her other hand doesn’t stop. “You’re such a good girl,” she says. The heat curling around your core immediately snaps and you cry out as it flashes through you. You twitch and press into her hands. Rio laughs. “It really does make you so sensitive, huh Bunny?” her fingers circle your mark and you whimper pathetically.

“That’s enough,” Agatha says, finally using her magic to break Rio’s own.

“Is it? I haven’t finished enjoying my treat yet.”

“You know better than to break my things.”

“I guess I’ll have to do my trick then,” Rio disappears but you can feel her as clearly as you do Agatha. It’s strange to be connected to another in a way. You aren’t sure how much you like it. She isn’t your mistress. Still, a tug from Rio has you trying to stumble to your feet and a tingling sensation has her distinctiveness fading. 

“What are you doing?” Agatha asks as she steadies you. She’s right next to you. You frown and look towards the other presence. Why was she calling you from over there? You can’t make your lips work. Agatha uses the bond to brush against your mind. “Interesting trick, dear. But it won’t change who she belongs to.”

Oh, Rio was the other presence? But it doesn’t feel like Rio. It feels like your mistress. If it was her, wouldn’t Agatha be more angry? It doesn’t make sense. You just want her fingers inside of you.

Rio cackles and you’re pulled out of Agatha’s arms. The walls pass in a blur but you’re caught in a warm embrace before you begin to panic. Arms wrap around your waist and her chin rests on your shoulder. You eagerly lean back into the feeling of your mistress. She’s cooler than she usually is but you don’t mind with her skin against yours.

Frustration and delight flow through the bond and you nuzzle her neck to try and help soothe her. Since her head is on your shoulder you end up nuzzling her cheek instead. She purrs. It relaxes you further. Your eyes flutter shut.

“Rio,” mistress says warningly from far away.

“It looks like she wants to come with me, isn’t that right bunny?” she asks from right next to you.

Yes, you send clearly through the bond. Of course you want to go your mistress. Fingers find your chin and nod for you anyway.

Agatha growls and you feel magic wrapping around you again. It only pulls you for a second before it stops, her arms tightening around you. You don’t know why she’d send you away but you don’t question it with her so close. 

She summons you through the bond and you try to press even more tightly against her. A frustrated growl. Hands creep under your shirt again and you shiver. Nails lightly scraping along your ribs before fingers find your nipples. They squeeze and pinch and pull. A hot mouth finds your neck and begins sucking, thankfully giving your oversensitive familiar mark a break. You moan and arch into the touch, desire licking through the bond.

Fingers slip into your soaked core and you desperately grab her wrist. Just for something to hold on to. You’re too fuzzy to do much more than take it. 

You end up on your toes, back arched and mouth open with needy gasps. The building pleasure is much calmer with no touch to your mark. Mistress’ fingers pump into you lazily, her fingers curling as you get closer to the edge. 

“Be a good bunny,” she murmurs against your skin. “Come for your mistress.”

The warmth crests and pleasure runs through you. Desperate, needy sounds escape you as you grip her wrist tightly and grind down. Mistress doesn’t seem to mind, her other hand still groping your breast. 

You slump against her. She gently pulls out and holds her hand up, slowly opening her fingers so your cum stretches between them. You turn to try and hide your face in her neck.

“So messy,” she says. Her desire burns bright in your mind.

“You’ve had your treat, Rio,” your mistress says with a gravely voice. “And now you’ve played your trick. Time to give her back.”

“Why don’t you come and take her?”

The disorientating feeling of teleporting envelops you. Arms wrap back around your waist to steady you. 

You’re in the kitchen, facing the door. Which mistress slams through. Your bond bends and the presence of your second mistress disappears. You turn your head to find Rio. Mistress summons you and you try to squirm out of Rio’s hold. It’s as successful as the last time. Arms that were safe turn cage. You push at them but they don’t budge. 

Rio teleports you again and you stop pushing her arms to cling to them. The door handle turns and Rio does it again. She lets go this time and you wobble for a moment before falling forward. Your bed is there to catch you. The comforter is soft against your hot skin and the mattress cradles your sore muscles. You feel your mistress appear in the room but neither of them reach for you so you don’t bother to turn.

A body slams into wood and Rio moans loudly. Agatha is growling too lowly for you to understand but Rio’s teasing response ends in a gasp. You want to see but your body is so heavy, the haze making you sink down now that everything has stopped.

Wet sounds fill the room and Rio’s moans indicate that your mistress has won. You force your eyes to stay open, wanting to see what Agatha dominating looks like from the outside. Pushing yourself up onto shaky arms you manage to turn over. You can only see part of Agatha’s face and the movement of her hand but Rio is in full view. There’s still a teasing smile on her face but it’s slowly morphing into one of pleasure.

Rio’s mouth falls open as Agatha does something with her fingers and her smug look disappears as her eyes drop to Agatha’s mouth. The want in them has heat licking through your pussy again. One leg moves to wind around Agatha’s waist and her hands grips her shoulders. Agatha says something you can’t make out and Rio’s head falls back against the wall. Two thrusts later and she’s moaning, holding tight to Agatha as she comes. You watch in awe as Death unravels at the hand of your mistress. 

Death is still panting when Agatha pulls out, her eyes hooded.

Agatha raises her soaked fingers to Rio’s mouth. You’re surprised at how willingly she takes them. Rio’s dark gaze never leaves your mistress’ and you watch in fascination as her throat moves. Rio sucks as Agatha pulls her fingers out and you swallow at the noise. 

“No kiss?” Rio asks as she licks her lips.

“After stealing my familiar? No.”

“Pretty please?” Rio gives an exaggerated pout and bats her eyes.

“You’ll have to make it up to me first,” Agatha winds her hand in Rio’s hair and slowly pushes her to the floor. Rio never breaks her gaze as she gets on her knees.

She reaches up and undoes the button on Agatha’s pants before slowly pulling down the zipper. Mistress’ face is indifferent but you can feel her need flickering down the bond. It grows with every inch of skin Rio reveals.

Rio slowly pulls Agatha’s pants down before kissing Agatha over her panties.

“Teasing isn’t going to get you what you want,” Agatha warns. Rio gives a long, slow lick over the panties in response but doesn’t push it any further. She magics Agatha bare and immediately dives in.

Agatha moans and holds a hand out against the wall to steady herself. Rio isn’t easing into it. You can feel the corresponding waves of pleasure from every lick, swipe and press of her tongue. She sucks and Agatha’s other hand shoots out, head bowed. A finger teases her entrance but a flash of purple has Rio’s hands back in her lap. She huffs but doesn’t attempt again, moving to hold onto Agatha’s thighs instead. When Agatha said Rio has to earn it she meant it and you watch as Rio does. Her head constantly bobbing, lips making messy sucking sounds, the feeling of her running over Mistress again and again.

You want to touch but don’t dare risk Agatha’s ire with Rio turning onto you.

You can feel her orgasm building through the bond although she doesn’t allow it to show. Rio still hasn’t looked away from her face. 

Rio scrapes her teeth against Agatha’s clit and the feeling of Agatha’s orgasm floods you. Agatha grinds down on Rio’s face as she prolongs her high. You watch as Rio digs her fingers into Agatha’s thighs and give as good as she gets.

Agatha slows to stop as her high ebbs and jealousy runs through you as you watch Rio lap up the mess dripping down your mistress’ thighs. You haven’t gotten to taste either of them.

Agatha leans heavily against the wall as her legs continue to shake, she doesn’t take her eyes off Rio. A deep satisfaction fills her.  

Rio rockets to her feet, head popping up between Agatha’s arms and kisses her. Instead of gripping Rio’s hair like you expect Agatha cups her face and melts into her. It works to Rio’s advantage. 

She uses Agatha’s moment of weakness to force her to the floor. You watch with wide eyes as she climbs on top of her and pins her down. You push yourself up onto your arms so you can see them. You’ve been on top of Agatha before but never like this. Not with the control Rio has. 

Rio makes Agatha kiss her. Her hand moves to Agatha’s neck and squeezes. The way your mistress gasps has you squeezing your thighs together. 

Your desire is too loud and your mistress notices you. Her magic fills your mind. You beg to keep watching but her magic flows through the bond, encouraging you towards sleep. You try not to pout at not getting to see Agatha in your usual role but your eyes slip shut anyway. Pretending to sleep won’t work with you so connected and her magic coaxes you that last little bit towards unconsciousness. You slip into it just as Agatha breathes her first moan

[frost-queen]

Witches road (Fem!reader x Agatha Harkness)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @alex–awesome–22, @ellie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampything07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @erikasurfer @slythetic

Summary: Agatha seeks a coven to walk the witches path. Yet there is one name on the list, she had not thought about for a very long time. With no other faith, she follows a familiar to the darkest hour. [Witches road series]

Seekest thou the road to all that's foul and fair

A bell chimed.

Once, echoing hauntingly through her mind. Making her slowly turn back. Her gaze going up to the fence, seeing a black cat sit. It’s tail swishing from side to side. Agatha’s eyes widened, recognizing the cat so fondly. The cat meowed loud, making her jump out of her skin, hand pressed against her chest.

The cat’s green almond eyes piercing through her. It made her swallow deep as if being read by the cat. Agatha. She felt the world closing in on her as the cat kept staring back. Agatha. The cat’s head slightly bend forwards as it purred. Agatha.

Agatha. A hand grabbed for her shoulder, making her startle. Spinning round she came face to face with the teen. – “Are you alright Agatha?” – he asked furrowing his brows a bit. Agatha settled the fear in her expression, washing it away with a subtle change.

���Get a move on.” – she said giving the teen a shove. He stumbled forwards, looking confused back at her. Agatha gave him another shove when he wasn’t hurrying enough to her liking. The teen followed her to the divination shop. – “Let me do the talking.” – Agatha proposed slapping her hand against his chest.

The teen rubbed his chest mindlessly when Agatha adjusted the shawl around her shoulders. Entering the shop with a smile too grand. Putting on a thick accent, she proposed for a reading. Coming only with one purpose.

To find a coven to walk the witches road. To be rewarded at the end with her powers. Her powers that were taken from her when the darkhold was destroyed. Powers she desperately wanted back. Being vulnerable at the moment as the seven were coming.

The wind stilled as Agatha quirked an eyebrow up to Lilia. Confused looked Lilia down at the paper in her hand she had written vigorously on. – “This should be enough.” – she said giving the paper to Agatha to be rid of it. – “Now leave before I start charging you again.” – Lilia finished with a sway of her hand. Agatha curled up a smile. – “Well your name is on the list.” – she said turning the paper to her.

Lilia sighed loud as the teen approached her, handing her the address of Agatha. Agatha looked back down at the list, her gaze stopping at a certain name. A cat meowing chimed around her, startling her once more. Now there was no ignoring it. Something she had hoped to avoid for a very long time. Yet the chiming of a bell alerted her this was the path she needed to follow. A path that would lead her to someone she had long forgotten in the past. You.

“Who is next on the list?” – the teen asked once stepped outside. Agatha folded the paper in her hand. – “Shut it Toto.” – snapping her finger, she pointed at the car. The teen obeyed and got back in the car. Agatha tried to avoid the name on the list for as long as possible. Focusing on persuading the others to form a coven. A coven she needed for the witches road.

The teen and Agatha returned from the last one as she heard another cat meow. Making her turn her head to distinguish where the sound came from. To her surprise no black cat in sight. With furrowed brows, she walked to the car. Perhaps she had imagined it. Perhaps she had been fooling her head too much with it. Agatha and the teen got in the car. The car got in motion as the teen had to press the brakes hard. Making Agatha nearly fling forwards.

In the way stood a black cat. Staring hauntingly at Agatha. – “Agatha?” – the teen questioned when Agatha heard another chime of a bell. Numbly, she opened the door, getting up. The black cat meowed soft for her attention. – “Agatha?” – the teen repeated not sure what was happening. The cat meowed louder. Agatha didn’t move as the cat came running over to her.

Frightened Agatha stumbled back. – “Agatha? What’s going on?” – The teen could clearly see the fear on her face. Agatha was breathing loudly as the cat came jumping on the hood of the car. Meowing loud before turning his head in a direction. The cat jumped back down, strutting further up the road. Waiting in the middle for them.

“It want’s us to follow him.” – the teen said with a curious smile. Agatha shook her head inn protest. – “This familiar can’t lead us anywhere. Only to death and ruin.” – Agatha responded. Agatha got spooked hearing another hauntingly chime. The cat waiting patiently.

“I’m going to follow it.” – the teen said getting in motion. – “Toto!” – Agatha shout-whispered to keep him on his leash. The teen wasn’t listening making Agatha go after him. Down, down, down the road. Down the wide and wicked road. Leaves rustled with the wind around her. Blindly she followed the black cat, down, down, down the road.

The cat strayed from the path, leading to a woodsy part. Ground covered by brown crumbled leaves. Crunching beneath their feet. The teen looked happily back to Agatha. Agatha wary of what would await her at the end of the road. Another bell chimed as she could see appear between the trees a chapel. Agatha’s heart began thumping loudly as she entered the darkest hour. Following thy familiar down, down, down the road.

The black cat came to a halt underneath an archway. Agatha looked with wide eyes up to the archway. Cemetery. It read. – “Agatha?” – the teen said out loud, waiting for her guidance. The cat meowed once more, drawing her attention down. – “It can’t be…” – Agatha whispered. Knowing only blood, tears and bones awaited her. Down, down, down the road.

The cat got in motion once more as Agatha moved past the teen to enter the cemetery. Nothing but death and ruin breathing. With each step she felt her heart heavy down. Following thy familiar down the road. Her gaze fully fixated on the cat. Not straying from the path. The cat went down the path, disappearing as it made Agatha stop.

Gasping loud at the headstone. Reading thy name on it. The black cat appeared once more, having jumped on top of the headstone. Laying down, his tail swaying down over your name. The teen came joining Agatha, pantingly.

Agatha pulled out the crumbled piece of paper, unfolding it. There she read it once more. Your name. Salem was the last time she had seen you. Haven no idea you were dead. The bell chimed as it made Agatha look shockingly up. Seeing the bell move slowly, waiting for the next chime. Two more chimes rang, deafening the century. Earthly and divine. The cat looked down at the ground.

A second later, broke a hand free. Grabbing for Agatha’s ankle. The sudden grip made her look down with a scream. Lifting her foot up, the hand got pulled out more, revealing more of an arm. The grip faltered around her ankle as she stumbled back. The teen preventing her from tripping. Her eyes widened when another hand shot out from the ground. 

Feeling the wind around her set off. Swirling around her. The pair of hands were crawling for a way out. Down, down, down the road. Down the witches road. Carried along the wind. The earth tangling as an opening was made. A head popped out with a loud gasp. Hair caught with sand and leaves.

Agatha sunk to her knees watching you crawl out of the grave. A hand against her heart, with a heaviness in her eyes. The cat jumped down from the headstone coming to sit before you as you pulled out your legs. Reaching your mudded hand out, you petted your familiar. Then you slowly rose. Naked to the flesh. Risen from the grave. – “Y/n.” – Agatha whispered out. Tilting your head up, you greeted her with a trickery expression.

The bell chimed once more as it made Agatha grasp for her heart. – “I heard you seek the witches road.” – you said. Agatha slowly rose, holding her hand out to touch your cheek. Wanting to be certain you were here. You let your cheek brush against her palm with your eyes closed. Enjoying her touch.

“I’m sorry Agatha, but who is she?” – the teen questioned with a confused look. Agatha gazed upon you fully, smirking a bit. – “Y/n.” – Agatha responded holding her palms against your cheeks once more. In her eyes, you saw a question waiting to be answered. – “I hold death's hand in mine. Primal night, giveth sight. Familiar by thy side” – you told her. Agatha smiled.

She quickly undid herself off her jacket, giving it to you. You pulled her jacket closer to you, to give yourself warmth. Your eyes fell upon the locket dangling around her neck. It made you reach out to touch it. Letting your finger brush over the roughness of it. – “You’ve kept it.” – you spoke with a soft smile. She took your hand, placing a kiss on your knuckles.

“It is dangerous to seek out the witches road.” – you told her, lowering your hand. – “That is why I need you.” – she replied. It made you quirk your eyebrow up, looking briefly down at your familiar. – “My familiar says you have been avoiding him. Were you afraid to see me Agatha?” – you questioned.

Agatha chuckled nervously. – “Well…” – she started, gasping loud as you had grabbed her by the throat. Squeezing your fingers in her skin. – “Bound by earth and buried by thy coven from your mistakes.” – you reminded her, squeezing her airpipe shut. Agatha was grasping for air.

“Y/n let her go!” – the teen begged. With one last squeeze, you let go. She dropped to the ground, grasping for air. Agatha looked up to you, holding her neck. You walked past her, humming loudly. Down, down, down the road. Down the witches road. You sang hauntingly with a smile, leaving the cemetery behind you.

-------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[girlkisser13]

being married to agatha harkness would include

• as a witch who has been around for hundreds of years, she has an odd fascination with ordinary beings, cherishing the small moments— like the two of you making dinner together or enjoying a night out.

• the two of you live in a small cottage, but have a MASSIVE garden.

• she’s always picking up new plants and seeds and helping you plant them.

• agatha's sharp wit would keep things lively. you’d enjoy playful banter, with inside jokes and teasing that reflect her strong personality and sense of humor.

• she doesn’t really own a lot of clothes, preferring to wear one outfit for a thousand years before switching to another. however, she knows many intricate hairstyles that she loves to try out on you.

• as a result, your hair always looks great.

• agatha would enjoy winding down with you through relaxing rituals, like candle-lit baths infused with herbs or stargazing while discussing the universe's secrets.

• she’d always have your back, encouraging you to embrace your own power and creativity, whether that’s through magic or other passions.

• you might find yourselves going on time-traveling escapades, experiencing different eras and cultures while navigating the complexities of history.

• your home would be filled with magical artifacts, quirky decor, and plenty of enchanted plants, creating a cozy yet mysterious atmosphere.

• agatha’s adventurous spirit would lead to spontaneous trips to magical realms or historical events, where you’d learn firsthand about magic’s influence throughout time.

• you’d have a vast library filled with rare books and scrolls, where you both spend hours lost in stories, research, or planning your next magical venture.

• it’s adorable how seriously she takes the study and craft of magic, yet she often uses her powers for the most mundane things— like getting your attention or playfully teasing you.

• agatha completely dotes on you; anything you desire, she’ll find a way to make it happen.

• when you’re having a bad day, she stops everything to ensure you’re okay, often bringing you tea and settling in for a cozy movie night on the couch until you drift off to sleep.

• she’s promised never to use her powers on you without your consent, and while it’s tough for her to see you upset, she sticks to her word and supports you in ordinary, non-magical ways.

• the two share SOO many baths together !!

• the moment you enter the bathroom, agatha's beautiful laughter fills the air, and before you can even undress, she pulls you into the warm bubble bath beside her.

• the scent of lavender envelops you as you splutter from the water, and her hands pull you close, cradling you against her chest.

• she loves to playfully pretend to trip just so you’ll rush over to catch her, relishing the flustered look on your face. but you find ways to get back at her, too.

• when you call her your wife, you can’t help but notice the deep blush spreading across her face. even after all this time, that one word makes her heart flutter.

• she LOVES cuddling with you, wrapping a leg around your waist to pin you down, making it impossible to escape her warmth. soft whines escape her lips as you wiggle around, but once you flip over to face her, you press a gentle kiss against her mouth until her breathing settles.

• she loves to run her fingers through your hair, always finding ways to be physically affectionate.

• if you’re around, she can’t help but touch you— whether it’s holding your hand, resting a hand on your waist, or giving you hugs.

• the moment you see her, you instinctively reach for her, and she always blushes when you initiate contact.

• after facing the heartbreak and loneliness from her mother, it comforts her to know that some invisible string ties her soul to yours. no matter what happens or where she goes in this strange world, a part of her will always find its way back to you. <33

[multimilfs]

Agnes O'Connor x Fem!Reader: Beginning & End

Summary: Taking a late drive to get your mind off a few things, you get more than you bargained for from a not-so-routine traffic stop.

AO3

A/N: Wasn't sure how to tag this since Agnes is technically an Agatha... variant? persona? Also I didn't tag the Agatha taglist since this isn't technically Agatha? tricky tricky... This is basically just pure smut with a sprinkle of plot.. enjoy xoxo (also let me know if you want more of Agnes?)

Words: 6.2k

Included: Established relationship, Jealousy, Smut; choking, spitting, bdsm, possession, semi-public sex, car sex, fingering, cunnilingus, daddy kink, roleplaying, power dynamics, dom/sub, teasing, begging

Tag List: @escapetodreamworld @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix

You sigh as you lean into the leather seat. The music is loud enough to hurt, but you don’t turn the volume down, glad of the noise even if you don’t feel like singing along. Trees fly by outside the window as you drive. 

A sign passes in a flash but you catch the number; 45. Your speedometer reads 55. 

Making sure you’re alone on the road, you push it to 57 just for kicks. Even as the dark scenes on either side pass in a blur, the road ahead is clear. The moon hangs low and bright above, reflecting off the filled-in parts of the pavement. 

The song changes and you sigh again upon hearing the familiar tune. It only reminds you of your wife; who should be home and in bed with you, but ended up on night-shift instead after hassling a suspect a bit too hard, canceling your planned evening. 

Which leads you to driving the backroads between Westview and Eastview, hoping the journey will tire you out enough that you can sleep. Instead it lands you in the position of blowing past a hidden cop. 

Just your luck. 

You groan as you turn the music down and pull off the road into a flat area of grass. With the lights, you can’t tell if it's a Westview or Eastview officer at first. You have pretty good chances of getting off with a warning if it's one of Agnes’ coworkers. 

But it’s not one of the regular officers. It’s the Chief’s car. You hit your head against the steering wheel. He’s been riding Agnes’ ass for months and will likely give you a hefty ticket just to spite her. 

While you’re hitting your head against the wheel, there’s a knock on your window. You roll it down without looking, “Look, Chief, I know the deal. You can just write me a ticket and I’ll pay it tomorrow.” 

“Oh, will you now?” 

You pause. 

Looking up in disbelief, “Agnes?” 

“That’s Detective O’Connor to you.” Her face doesn’t change from the stern facade, “You were driving pretty recklessly back there. Have you been drinking tonight, ma’am?” 

Subtly as you can manage, you check your side mirror to see if anyone else sits in the police cruiser. It wouldn’t be unlike the Chief to put Agnes through some insane test. No shadows lurk in the other car. 

You drag your eyes back to Agnes. She’s waiting, still just as stoic, but you see the mischief in her eyes. Well, if she wants to play, why not up the stakes?

Tilting your head and smiling, “Of course not, detective. I’ve been a good girl.” 

A split-second pause tells you she wasn’t expecting that. She licks her lips before the act slips back into place. She scoffs. 

“That’s what they all say. Wait here.” Her hand pats the open window before she’s heading back toward the cruiser. 

You watch her walk away in the side mirror with a grin. Her confident gait stirs something in you, always has. 

For a split second you consider throwing the car in drive and peeling out of here. You’re curious to see what Agnes would do. You hope she’d chase you all the way home; that way when you get there you could finally have a taste of what tonight was meant to be. 

You want Agnes painfully. Between work deadlines on your end and long hours on hers, you’ve been too tired to do more than cuddle, or some heavy kissing on a better day. You miss the connection that comes from baring yourselves to one another. And the orgasms, too, of course. 

Agnes is back at your window, breathalyzer in hand. You make a split second decision. 

“Please, detective, I can’t afford another ticket, and my wife will be so mad.” You plead, using that innocent, wide-eyed expression you know turns her on, “Is there anything I can do to… pay it off, per se?” 

To her credit, she doesn’t crack this time, “Are you soliciting an officer of the law, ma’am?” 

“No, of course not! Unless that’s what you want.” 

“Step out of the car.” 

The commanding note in her voice goes straight between your thighs. You open the door and step out, watching her brows raise at only the long nightgown you’re wearing. There’s a chill in the air that makes you shiver. Her eyes are drawn to your chest before she shakes away whatever is going through her mind. 

While you’re enjoying the game, you do hope she’ll let you get back in the car soon. The cold is unmanageable without more substantial clothing. 

Agnes holds up the breathalyzer, “Open your mouth.” 

You do so without thinking. A blush races up your face. Agnes can’t help but smirk. 

It’s not the breathalyzer that finds itself between your lips, but two fingers that settle on your tongue and press. You jolt at the pressure. Tears come to your eyes as you gag, but the weight of her fingers doesn’t ebb. You fight against your gag reflex to curl your tongue around the digits. 

Closing your lips around them, you swirl your tongue like one would around a piece of candy. Even through blurred vision you can see how Agnes’ eyes darken. She leans forward, staring at your lips. 

Her fingers move deeper, pressing harder, fucking your throat. You swallow around them. 

You find your mouth and throat empty as Agnes pulls out. Her hand grabs your face before you can close your mouth and holds it open, fingers wet against your cheek. She grins meanly. 

“Stick out your tongue.”��

The second you do, Agnes spits in your mouth. You whimper. It’s humiliating and you feel yourself clench around nothing. You leave your tongue in the position she demanded, obedient as ever. 

Agnes laughs, “Swallow.” 

Humiliation, in combination with your startling need for her touch, forces the tears to spill over and down your cheeks. The sight of them seems to please her. She’s always loved seeing you thoroughly debased; loves knowing only she can break you down like this. 

Partners in the past did try. Yet they would hesitate, hold back, believing they knew the limits of your desire instead of trusting you. A few would panic when they saw tears in your eyes and pull out of the scene completely. You often found yourself pretending; toning down your desires to ‘acceptable’ levels and leaving yourself unsatisfied to avoid that worried look in your partner’s eyes. 

But you’ve never had to pretend with Agnes. From that first time, she went as far as she wanted, knowing that you were an adult capable of safe-wording if it was too much; it wasn’t. You had been dripping and needy the entire time. You had cried while she sat back and watched you polish her boots with your tongue, and had nearly come undone from the act alone. It was everything you craved—Agnes was everything you craved; trusting, dominating, cruel when it suited, and the most loving partner you’ve ever known. 

You had vowed then and there that you weren’t letting her get away. And how lucky for you that she put a ring on your finger; the ring that is so much more than a symbol of love; but a brand, too, just as you desire. 

“I wonder what your wife would think of you offering yourself up to me,” Agnes muses, “but you’re so eager for it, I can’t help but wonder if she’s not satisfying you properly.” 

“Only you can satisfy me, detective.” You flutter your lashes. 

That draws a real laugh from her. Something inside you preens. You lean forward into Agnes’ space, angling your head for a kiss, but she pulls back. 

“Be that as it may, soliciting an officer is a crime, as is reckless driving.” Her hands reach for her belt, where her handcuffs rest in one of the holsters, “I’m going to have to take you in.” 

Though the idea of being cuffed and fucked however she pleases excites you, you’re not entirely pleased with how your original plan was ruined. Agnes knew where the line was during interrogations and she crossed it. Knowingly. It’s safe to say you’re a little pissed she acted out. 

A mean-spirited voice in your head considers pushing Agnes away entirely, leaving her wet and turned on for the rest of the night shift while you go home and find solace in your favorite toy. The rational part of you knows that no toy can replace your wife, and it’s her you want. You’re just not going to make it easy for her. 

You fall to your knees before she can work the cuffs off her belt. She jolts at the unexpected change. You slam against the ground pretty hard and wince, but don’t dare stop. 

Your hands find her belt buckle. Deftly, you start to undo it, “Please, I can make you feel good. I’ll do anything.” 

Agnes raises her brows. She doesn’t stop you from undoing her belt or slowly lowering the zipper of her pants. There’s a tenseness in her jaw as she thinks over the request. Intent on sealing the deal, you move your hands from the front of her pants; instead leaning forward to place a kiss where they’d just been. 

Looking up through your lashes, you beg, “Please.” 

“Well, since you’re so eager for it.” 

Ignoring the screaming in your knees, you shoot to your feet, capturing Agnes’ lips in a hard kiss. You attack with lips and teeth and tongue. At the same time, you slip your hand inside her pants and past the waistband of her panties. 

She groans against your lips when your fingers play in her wetness. Your fingers ghost over her clit and you grin into the kiss. Two hands settle on your hips and shove, your back hitting the side of your car; it hurts for a moment before you’re once again lost in the feel of your wife, how she’s using her position to grind against your hand, the obscene noises leaving her throat.

Your clit throbs with every roll of her hips. It’s intoxicating that she’s just taking what she wants, using you as a toy to achieve her own pleasure. But the desire between your own legs reminds you of the end goal. 

Agnes’ hips pick up speed, her usual low groans evolving into panting, high-pitched whimpers. She’s so close. You consider letting her have what she wants. 

Moments before she can fall over the edge you pull your hand from her pants. Hands settling on her chest, you shove her back. She jolts and stumbles. Her fucked-out expression from seconds earlier shifts to confusion, then anger. 

“What the fuck?” Agnes snarls. 

“You’ve been bad, detective.” Still leaning against the car, you cross your arms over your chest, “Or should I say Daddy.” 

Agnes stands straighter. There’s steel in her spine now, jaw taught as darkness comes over her expression. Amusement alights inside your chest. 

Her hands begin to unravel the belt from the loops of her pants, “I’m going to paint your backside blue.” 

“I don’t think so.” Your voice is hard. “You see, I had a lovely evening planned for us. Dinner, a movie, clean sheets for us to spend all night ruining. And we didn’t get to enjoy any of it because someone couldn’t control her temper. So you, daddy, are going to fuck me until I decide I’m ready to forgive you.” 

“It’s cute that you think you’re in control, baby.” 

Agnes steps into your space, belt in her hands. You stop her with a hand on her chest before she can get close enough to do anything. 

“I am in control.” 

“Those with the upper hand don’t usually have to state the fact.” 

You tilt your head, “If you don’t give me what I want, you’re not going to touch me for weeks. I’ll fuck myself and all you’ll be able to do is watch. And I’ll stuff all the pairs of panties I ruin into your bag, your pockets… everywhere you go, you’ll be reminded of just what you’re missing.” 

The smug expression slowly slips from her face. She tries to push forward again, but you’re unyielding; clenching your fist in the fabric of her shirt until she feels the subtle bite of your nails. There’s fury and a small trace of fear in her eyes. 

It’s rare that you have the upper hand. Usually Agnes is twelve steps ahead of everyone—you included. But this time she miscalculated, and she’s going to pay for it. 

“Your choice, daddy.”

She scoffs. Shaking her head, a few pieces of her hair free themselves from her low ponytail. They lay in and over her face before she blows them out of the way carelessly. She hasn’t been taking care of it, you can tell; and briefly, you consider if you can get away with commandeering her into taking better care of herself. 

You likely shouldn’t push your luck. Agnes is going to punish you enough for this stunt, you’re sure. 

The belt is tossed onto the ground a few feet away in a silent show of surrender. Her eyes are dark, churning with a mixture of fury and arousal. A brief moment passes where you wonder if you’re taking this a bit too far, but you shove it down; Agnes is an adult just as you are and will tell you if you cross any hard lines. 

“Is the heat on in the cruiser?” You ask. 

She pauses, taken-aback, “Yeah, of course.” 

“Good. You’re going to fuck me in it later. But first—” 

You open the back door of your own car as wide as it can go, just so you can perch on the seat with your feet still outside. With a smile, you open your legs wide. You hadn’t considered this outcome when you left the house for your drive, so your panties are relatively plain, but it doesn’t matter since they’re soaked through. 

Agnes takes a step forward and you hold up a finger. She pauses. You point at the ground. 

Her face goes red, “Not fucking likely.” 

And then she’s on you. She’s holding herself up with one hand on the seat, the other dragging your face to hers. Her body rests perfectly between your legs. With a low moan, you roll your hips against her front. 

Her grip on your face is painful. Thank god her nails are clipped short. 

Agnes pulls away from your mouth to bite and suck at your throat. You throw your head back, still grinding up against her, moaning with abandon. The friction is nice but it isn’t what you wanted. 

“I want you to eat me out.” You force out. 

“I don’t care what you want.” Agnes growls. 

“Oh? Well, I guess I should be prepared to handle my own orgasms for a while, then.” 

As you say that, you stop grinding, and lay fully against the seat, one of your arms snaking its way down your front and between your thighs. You’ve only circled a finger around your clit twice before her hand catches your wrist in a punishing grip. 

“Try it and I’ll tie you to the bed everyday when I go to work.” 

“I made my terms abundantly clear.” 

“You know what you forgot though, brat?” Agnes taunts, lips right next to your ear, “You’re too greedy to settle for your hand or your little toys. It’s only a matter of time before you get bored and come crawling back to me.” 

“Maybe I’ll just crawl to someone else. Agent Vidal has been hanging around.” 

A hand closes around your throat and you whine. She squeezes, your vision going fuzzy around the edges. You roll your hips. 

“I’ll lock you in the house if you even think about it.” Her voice is hard, promising, “You’re mine, baby.” 

“Prove it.” 

That’s the wrong thing to say. 

Agnes pulls back completely. Her hands leave you, the pressure of her body is gone. You look up and she’s standing just far enough away that you can’t touch her. You growl. 

The look on her face is one you’ve seen a dozen times; the very same one she wears when you’re about to endure something you don’t like. But you vow not to let her have the upper hand. Not this time. This time, you’re going to make her bend. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” She says. 

The words are like a bucket of cold water over your head. You don’t spend long dwelling on the threat, there’s no time. 

Agnes is halfway back to the police cruiser when you worm your hand into your panties and bury two fingers inside without preamble. Despite being the source of your own pleasure, you jolt, back bowing off the seat. The moan that leaves your lips is exaggerated; pornographic. 

“Oh, yes!” 

You hear her footsteps come to a stop. You don’t dare open your eyes, not yet. The pleasure you’re experiencing is real, even if it is half of what it could be with Agnes’ help, but you have to keep up the act—have to make her jealous of your own fingers. 

Though she hates to admit it, Agnes is jealous in all aspects of life. There’s a bit of healthy competitiveness worked in there that you can admire. Yet some days… some days she comes home fighting mad, hair a mess and muscles clenched tight as she recounts the events that made her that way. And lately they’ve all had the same person involved—

Agent Rio Vidal. 

A loaner agent from the FBI, here to figure out some of the more poignant details of a murder on the Westview-Eastview county line. She’s confident and cutting and painfully attractive. Somehow, she knows how to push every single one of Agnes’ buttons, in work and play. 

You’ve only met her twice and each time Agnes was an animal afterward. The appreciative glances and suggestive words made you blush—and though you won’t admit it, turned you on a good bit—while Agnes could barely hold herself back from attacking the woman. So possessive. So jealous. 

You can use that. 

The door on the other car hasn’t opened and you know she’s watching with rapt attention. You put on a good show, rolling your hips into your one hand while pinching at your chest with the other. You could get off on her watching. 

Another exaggerated, high-pitched moan, “Oh, Agent Vidal!” 

Though the woman is attractive, you can’t imagine anyone but your wife. Agnes doesn’t need to know that. 

Strong hands grab your calves and pull you half-way out of the car. You squeak, eyes snapping open. Agnes looms above you and oh fuck you’re in trouble. 

“You little bitch.” She snarls, hand coming to wrap around your throat.

You try to moan but she doesn’t give you that much air. Another deft hand rips your own from your panties, even going so far as to rip the fabric off completely. There’s the ghost of her fingers above your center. You roll your hips. 

The sensation of loss and blurry edges is usually a huge turn-on; maybe it’s the intense change from oxygen to no oxygen, but you’re struggling more than normal. You tap her wrist three times. 

Agnes pulls away completely. Her hand is off your neck, the other gone from between your thighs. You take in large lungfuls of air and feel your heart-rate slow just a little. A little whine works its way from your throat, though it’s mainly a result of the throbbing between your legs that’s still driving you crazy. 

Your wife’s hands hover over you, eyes concerned, “Honey?” 

“I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.” You assure, sitting up and kissing one of her palms, “The quick change just… startled me. I’m okay.” 

“Should I… Do you need me to take you home?” 

“Oh no, Agnes O’Connor, you’re going to finish what you started.” Spreading your legs offers an obscene picture of just how soaked you are, made even more tantalizing by the ripped panties clinging to your thigh, “Unless you want me to find someone else who can finish the job.” 

It’s like flipping a switch. 

Overwhelming is a word that could be used to describe Agnes in bed—smothering, even. She has a way of overtaking every single one of your senses at once. Your skin is on fire with her touch, with the faint strands of hair tickling your face. The scent of burnt break-room coffee clings to her jacket. You even taste it when her tongue invades your mouth, moaning obscenely against your lips. 

You like being smothered, though. You crave it; aching for anything that will let you turn your mind off and just feel. 

Agnes pulls back. Her breath is hot against your lips, “You’re such a brat.” 

“Only for you, daddy.” You murmur. 

A shudder passes through her at the name. Her grip tightens on you, near bruising. You moan. 

“Where do you want me?” 

“With your mouth between my legs.” 

“Fingers?” 

“Yes, please.” 

Agnes chuckles, “So you do remember your manners. Interesting.” 

You roll your eyes. To your luck, Agnes doesn’t see—if she had, you would have been punished accordingly. Though you realize things are a bit off-balance with your threat hanging in the air; any other time, Agnes would have you bent anyway she pleased, taking all she wanted until you couldn’t handle any more. 

Being in control is… odd. Not unwanted, but odd. You have to be more aware of yourself, confident in every command that leaves your lips. You’re glad that this is Agnes’ preferred role even if you’re enjoying the change. 

Lips kiss the inside of your thighs and you shudder. When she sinks her teeth in, you squeal, jolting at the change. Your hand falls to the top of her head. 

“Not what I meant!” 

“Oh, then what did you mean?” She taunts. 

“If you don’t make me come right now so help me—” 

The heat of her mouth on you is enough to shut you up. Her tongue drags up your slit with agonizing slowness. She teases at your clit for only a moment before repeating the slow drag, making you whine, pressing her head closer. 

You feel the rumble of her laughter and god help you the vibrations feel amazing. Yet when you try to move your hips for more, her hands keep them pressed firmly to the leather seat. 

Another threat sits on your lips that never comes to pass. With the last slow lick, she fastens her lips around your clit and sucks, hard. It’s painful and wonderful and your back bows off the seat, hands scrambling for anything to clench into. The weeks have been long and you know you’re not going to last. 

“I’m going to come.” You force out. 

She laughs again. That, in combination with her attention focused solely on your clit, sends you straight over the edge. You feel wild, unhinged as your hips move without any guidance from your mind, chasing the waves of pleasure that make your every muscle go taut. 

But when the pleasure subsides, Agnes doesn’t stop. She pushes two fingers inside and curls them in that way you like so much. You clench around them, though you ache, not ready for more so soon. 

“I can’t—Please, I can’t.” You beg. 

“One more, baby. You can give me that, can’t you?” 

“I can’t.” 

“You can.” 

And you do. Her fingers know every inch of you well, her mind cataloging every spot that makes you whine, every move she performs that sends you over the edge. She calls on that knowledge as the pads of her fingers rub against that spot inside you with abandon until you can’t breathe, shrieking and moaning loud enough that you worry someone will hear you miles away. 

The pleasure tenses your body so tight that you worry the muscles will never relax again. It hurts in that delicious way only Agnes can bring out. 

When you do relax, she’s licking gently at you, collecting the flavor on her tongue and savoring it like a fine wine. You twitch. The hand you have in her hair pushes as you attempt to slide further onto the seat, away from her mouth. 

“No more,” you beg, “please.” 

“Am I forgiven?” 

You laugh, breathless, “Not quite.” 

You tug her up wordlessly until the weight of her is draped over you. It’s nice, comforting to feel her close. Her warmth helps fight against the cold biting at your lower half. Sighing, you bury your face in her neck, your hand coming up to lazily play with her hair. 

Agnes accepts the touch. She traces little patterns on your hip over the nightgown, soft and quiet. You can still see the red and blue lights from your hiding place in her neck. 

“Why do you have the Chief’s car?” You ask. 

She scoffs, “Mine broke down three hours into the shift. Had to call the Chief and walk all the way to his house to get the cruiser.” 

“What? Agnes, why didn’t you call me?” 

“I wanted you to enjoy your night in, honey.” 

You think about arguing, but you recognize the exhaustion in her voice, and decide not to push it—for now. It’s an argument you can save for later. 

“So what was it, the battery? I thought we just replaced it.” 

“I think the old girl might just be done for. We’ve had her for a while.” Agnes shrugs. 

“But that’s… we brought Nicky home in that car.” You whisper, chest aching. 

Another piece of your life—connected to your baby—that you won’t get to keep. Agnes tenses, her breathing growing ragged, and you feel terrible; she’s likely already thought about this the whole shift, spent all these hours remembering it alone. That’s why she didn’t call you—she didn’t want to drag you bag into the deep end of the pain, too. 

You press a gentle kiss to the side of her neck. No wonder she took the first opportunity to play with you, she needed the distraction. 

“I’m sorry, my love.” You murmur.

“Not your fault, honey. These things happen.” 

She sounds less and less like herself with every moment. You don’t want to shove the grief aside—the grief counselor said that only made things worse—but this isn’t how you want to handle it; Agnes draped over your freshly-debauched form in the backseat of your car. 

This is a conversation, a breakdown for home, where the two of you can take all the time you need to soak in the new loss. You need to distract her away from this. 

“Will the force offer you one of their vehicles?” 

“Yeah. They should.” 

“Where did you break down?” 

“By the bridge on Old Forest.” 

Perfect. 

“Let’s give her a proper sendoff, then.” 

Agnes pauses. The look she gives you is questioning, as if not quite believing your suggestion, but she knows better—knows you’re serious about this. 

“Alright.” 

Which is how you find yourself halfway across town, on a back road with no streetlights, pulling off perilously close to a ditch. Agnes' car is unmistakable even in the dark—from the extra mirror on the hood reflecting the moonlight to the dent in the back bumper she never got fixed. You feel suddenly overwhelmed as you trace your fingers over the body. 

So many memories, good and bad. Your late-night trysts in the back seat. Bringing Nicky home. The back seat full of his stinky sports gear. Agnes’ old case files winding up on the floor. 

Agnes comes up and drapes her jacket over your shoulders. The warmth of her body has seeped into the cloth, now blocking out the chill in the air, “This might not be the best idea.” 

You raise a brow, “Cold feet, detective?” 

“Mine are nice and warm. Yours, however...” 

She looks up and down your scantily-clad form with a worried furrow of her brow. It’s sweet, but not needed. 

“I don’t think our plans will keep me anything but warm.” You smile, leaning back against the car while pulling Agnes close, until every inch of her is pressed against your front. Her hands settle on your hips as she kisses you with a softness belaying the vulnerability she still feels, “Unlock the car.” 

“Honey—” 

“Agnes, would you rather I went home?” You murmur. 

“Of course not.” 

“Then what do you want?”

“Beats me.”

“You know what I want?” 

Using your leverage against the vehicle, you draw one of your feet up the inside of Agnes’ leg, careful to press every part of yourself against her. Her warmth radiates through her flannel and jeans and you smile. 

She raises a brow, “I’m sure I can guess.” 

“I want you to bend me over in the backseat of this car like you did that first time. You remember, don’t you? How pissed you were that I’d been teasing you for five dates.” You laugh at the memory, “You couldn’t even make it out of the restaurant parking lot.” 

“You were so loud we almost got caught.” She recalls, voice low, gravelly. 

“There’s no one around to catch us now.” 

Agnes wraps one of her arms around your waist and uses it to tug you sideways, making quick work of unlocking the car. With the hand not on your waist, she opens the back door, and eases her jacket from your shoulders. She lays it out on the cold seats with the warm side up. 

Not for the first time, you’re moved by her consideration of your comfort. It would be so easy for a partner to disregard the little things if it meant getting to the end goal faster; but not Agnes. You reward her with a long, slow kiss. 

When she pulls away, there’s a fond little smile on her lips. She pats your hip, “On your hands and knees.” 

You obey without question. Crawling onto the backseat, you’re reminded of just how confined the space of a car is. You have to keep your head bowed so as not to hit your head on the roof. It’ll be worth your while, but you know the two of you will be feeling the adverse effects of this choice for days. 

Agnes follows and shuts the door behind her. She works her way into the backseat until not a bit of space exists between the two of you. Every inch of her front is pressed against you, draped over you like a warm blanket. You push your backside back into her crotch, teasing. 

“I should’ve sent you home to get your purple.” You say. 

“Be good and you can have my cock later.” 

Warm fingertips trail up the back of your thigh until they snake under the hem of your nightgown. The soothing heat of her touch is lovely compared to the bite of the cold air. You lean into it. 

“Yes, daddy.” You sigh. 

Her body pulls away from yours and you turn, confused. A sharp slap to your backside makes your breath stutter, your core clenching around nothing. Your toes curl. 

“Interesting that you want to be good now, when you’ve been testing me all night.” 

“What can I say? I’m motivated by rewards.” 

You’re satisfied that Agnes seems to be in the moment, rather than locked up in the memories in her head. Intent on keeping it that way, you lean back into her, arching so you can match her entirely. Her muscles go taut and relax and being able to feel it makes you ravenous. 

Two fingers push your ripped panties aside and begin to drag up your slit, teasing. It should be noted that you are trying to be good for her, offering the control she takes to so well. You like to think she can tell, too. 

When she slips her fingers inside you without torturing you further, you’re sure she knows. 

You push back, desperate. You want more of her and bad. It’s as if the orgasms she gave you less than an hour ago never happened. Every muscle in your body quakes with the knowledge of what only Agnes can give you. And you want it so deeply that it threatens to bring tears to your eyes. 

“Please.” You beg without prompting, “Please, more.” 

A split-second hesitation belays her surprise, but she does slip another finger inside, stretching you even wider. You can’t stop how you move, nor the noises that come out of your mouth. You feel cursed with hunger only she can sate. 

It’s this car, this backseat, and the memories here that are driving you so mad. It’s the life attached to it that you never thought you would get; a family, a future, a wife who loves you despite all the ugly parts others had run from. It’s the years you haven’t had to live out alone, the pain you’ve shared. It’s the fact that this act was once a beginning and now it’s an end. 

Her lips press against the back of your neck, impossibly gentle, so unlike the role she’s meant to be playing. Something inside you breaks. 

“Agnes—“ You choke out. 

“It’s okay, honey.” 

You let go. 

You let go from holding yourself back—fucking yourself on her fingers until you shriek with pleasure. You let go of the ball of emotions in your chest, of hunger and pleasure and guilt. You let go of the pain and let tears spill over onto your cheeks. 

It’s not the best orgasm you’ve ever had, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s a goodbye to this piece of your life. It’s an end. And it hurts just the same as it feels good to embrace the potential of something new. 

Agnes holds you, steady as ever. You feel the dampness of her own tears on your neck. 

You turn and lay on your back, welcoming the weight of her. You use your thumbs to wipe away the tears coming from her beautiful blue eyes. 

“Am I forgiven, or do we have to go another round?” She asks.

You grin, not taking your hands from her face, “You’re forgiven, my love.” 

“Thank god.” 

Agnes drops her head until it rests on your chest. You laugh, extracting the hair tie so you can run your fingers through the length of it. Her arms wrap around you as much as they can. 

She presses a kiss to your chest, over where your heart is. You gently work through a knot in between your fingers. The windows are clouded with perspiration. Beads of water reflect what little moonlight peeks through the trees. Moonlight or no, you know every dip and curve of your wife’s form, and could identify every part of her without sight. 

The stale coffee smell has worn off, replaced by the faint undertones of the cologne she wears each morning. It’s deep and musky and comforting. 

Maybe it’s the weight of her head on your chest in combination with the memories that makes you speak, “Have you ever thought about us trying again?” 

She tilts her head so she can look up into your eyes without lifting from her resting place. Her brows are furrowed.

“Trying again?”  

The weight of her beautiful eyes on you almost makes you change the subject. These conversations are so much easier without that layer of intimacy. But you’ve started something and you’ll be damned if you don’t finish it. 

“To be parents.” You whisper. 

“I’m a little past due on that, baby.” Her smile is self-deprecating. 

“I’m not.” 

“You never wanted to carry. I remember that much.” 

“That was then.” You continue smoothing through her hair, “Now… If you want to try again, I’ll do it. I want to do it.” 

You can’t decipher the look in her eyes. She doesn’t pull away, but she’s tense. 

“We don’t need to decide right now. We have time.” 

She nods, “Alright.” 

“You’ll still be daddy, even if you aren’t my baby-daddy.” 

“That was terrible.” 

It doesn’t stop her from grinning, nor does it stop you from laughing. Something in the tension eases. You can’t lean down and kiss her like this, so you press a kiss to the pads of your fingers, and press them to her lips. She nips at them playfully. 

The quiet is nice, but you can feel the cold settling into your bones. You need to be back in a heated car before you get sick. 

“When is your shift over?” 

“In a few hours.” 

You nod, figuring out what time she’ll come home and how it fits into your schedule, “I have nothing after work if you want me to make good on those orgasms I owe you.” 

“I look forward to it.” 

It takes some time, but you and Agnes manage to untangle yourselves and worm your way out of the back seat. She sits, keeping you wrapped in her coat, until the inside of your own car is nice and warm. That earns her a few lingering kisses. 

She trails you on the drive home before speeding off to do god knows what during the last few hours of her shift. And when you fall asleep—already feeling sore—an eagerness sets in your chest of what awaits. With an end, a new beginning. 

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Love & Liabilities: Chapter 5 (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: While you prided yourself on your ability to always put your work above everything else, what happens when you find yourself haunted by a ghost from the past? (A ghost who brings baked goods, waters plants, and enjoys reminding you of what you’ve been missing)

Word Count: 4.4k

Warning: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage! Mommy Kink, degradation kink, light choking, dirty talk, blow job, strap-on sex

A/N: Lawyer!Agatha is back! Finally returning to this fic and planning on updating as regularly as my schedule will allow. If you'd like to be added to my tag-list, feel free to let me know! (if you changed your handle or aren't on here but were previously please lemme know and I'll add you back) Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy- would love to hear what you think!

Tag-List: @chiar4anna @harknessshi @neverfindmegone @ris-ris-mind @tr333sus @sabstance-blog

Previous Chapter

Present Day

If there was one thing you had learned from practicing law, it was that the world was filled with misconceptions. For many, misconceptions were nothing more than what the word suggests; small errors. However, as a prosecutor you found yourself unable to revel in that life of luxury. 

In your line of work, a misconception could result in something as trivial as having difficulty filling a jury due to anyone with a beating heart finding an excuse to be sent home. Or to the more extreme case of a criminal being able to walk with no consequences.

However, occasionally the opposite would occur, where the details of a case become so warped and misconstrued that someone innocent is found to be guilty. 

But, you weren’t supposed to worry if a defendant was innocent when your entire job revolved around proving why they were guilty. 

That’s what made the past few days so confusing. 

You had looked over the files Agatha accidentally left behind, and found they held more questions than answers. As crazy as it sounded, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was an accident, as any normal person would never compromise such sensitive details to their opponent. 

But then again, most people weren’t Agatha Harkness. 

To your knowledge, one set of the hospital records, Wanda Maximoff’s records, were previously sealed, and you didn’t want to imagine what the attorney had done to acquire them. 

You did wonder if perhaps this was some sort of trap that Agatha was hoping you’d fall into in order to incriminate you, because if there was one thing your former lover prided herself on it was always being ten steps ahead of her opponent before obliterating them in court. 

But that was surely just your paranoia talking.

A few days after Agatha’s impromptu break in you finally finished combing over every last possible piece of information you could gather from the hospital records. The two patients, one of them being Wanda Maximoff, had been involved in a car wreck. Wanda had been eight months pregnant at the time. 

The second patient, Victor Shade, died shortly after being rushed into emergency surgery.

You had scanned and searched the records for more information, perhaps on Wanda’s pregnancy, or even the severity of her injuries. But, and you were nearly certain this wasn’t a coincidence, the majority of the pages were missing.

It didn’t take you long to guess who most likely had a perfectly manicured hand in that.

Agatha Harkness was single-handedly the most pompous, deceitful, domineering individual you had ever encountered, but she was also the most intentional. Every movement she made was calculated, and you knew she had these papers for a reason.

You weren’t Agatha, nor would you wish that particular curse on your worst enemy, but you knew her better than anyone. Or at least you did, for a time. 

Closing your eyes as you rested at your desk, you briefly recollected how intimately acquainted you once were, before remembering how much had changed in the time since.

As you opened your eyes, they landed on the files and a small voice in the back of your head suggested you try calling Agatha. Just to give them back to her. 

You did already get all the useful information that was available, you reasoned. Knowing Agatha, she’d likely question why you had waited so long, but you already had an excuse for that.

You were fairly busy after all, and your paralegal was on vacation, so your normally clear desk now had a mountain-sized pile of papers that made your head spin if you stared at it for too long. If Agatha complained you’d just lie and say they had gotten lost until you sorted through everything.

Besides, you thought bitterly, Agatha lied to you plenty, about things of far greater importance than this. 

Checking the time on your phone, you wondered if nine pm on a Friday night was too late for a phone call, but Agatha had always been nocturnal, often working until the early hours of the morning. You used to find her passed out, slumped over her desk in the home office of the apartment you shared, and you’d drag her back to bed.

Your cheeks grew hot at the reminder of how you’d convinced her to follow you.

Clearing those thoughts from your mind you scrolled through your contact list until you landed on her name. There were a handful of times over the years where you considered deleting it, or blocking her number. But there was this unyielding force within you, prohibiting you from ever following through with it.

Knowing Agatha you wouldn’t be surprised if she somehow cursed you.

Your stomach did sickening flip flops as your index finger trembled, hovering over her name. This is ridiculous, you reasoned, finally pressing down, turning on the speaker setting as you set your phone on the edge of your desk. 

Unfortunately, instead of a familiar ringing noise, you were alarmed to hear an automated message, telling you that the number had been disconnected, before the line went dead.

She changed her number?

Your heart sank as you stared at the bright glow of your phone screen, the contact seeming to mock you. Letting out an agitated sigh, you snatched the device, holding it in your palm. Your hands were unsteady, and you hesitated for a moment, eyes locked on her name. The purple heart that accompanied it had been your idea, her signature color. It felt fitting at the time.

Without another thought, you swiped your finger to the right, permanently deleting the contact before shutting your phone off and tossing it in your bag, leaving your office without another thought. 

She changed her number.

You’d like to say you spent your weekend with your work laptop and phone shut off, enjoying your two days away from the office. But that would be a bold faced lie. You wouldn’t call yourself a workaholic, on the contrary your hours weren’t nearly as intense as when you were still in corporate law. 

Billable hours were a gift from the devil herself, truly.

You weren’t a workaholic, but you were a perfectionist. It was a matter of pride to be detail oriented, to be willing to go the extra mile and find the smallest flaw in a case. It’s what drew you over to the litigation side of things to begin with. Contracts, as thrilling as they could be, didn’t provide the rush of adrenaline being in court granted you.

It was ironic, you swore up and down this side of law could never interest you, but now you couldn’t imagine practicing anything else.

Well, you could, at times, as brief flashes of conversations with the one person you’d felt safe enough to share them with replayed in your brain. But that was a dream you’d given up on a long time ago, among other things.

As it turned out, time could change a lot.

When Monday morning came rolling around, you repeatedly hit snooze on your alarm, not quite feeling rested from your weekend. You took your time for once, even making yourself breakfast. With your paralegal still on vacation you realized how dependent you had become on her for the smallest of things, meals included. 

You should really talk about getting her a raise.

Despite your leisurely start to your morning, you were still out the door before most of the city was awake. You loved the chaos of Manhattan, the crowds of people and thralls of traffic were a warm contrast to the environment you had grown up in. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy a morning commute that took under a half hour, as your Lyft zoomed through the relatively light traffic for a Monday morning. 

Since you worked all weekend your email inbox was manageable, and you marked a few messages to reply to later that morning. You were thankful for the lighter workload, as it allowed you to solely concentrate on your case. 

The ticking time bomb of the one month continuance wasn’t something you wanted to worry about just yet. 

Strolling into your building, you were unsurprised to find you were the first person to arrive for the morning. Walking past some of the potted plants near your office door, you frowned, stopping in front of them and examining tiny droplets of water on the leaves.

Did someone water them recently?

Maybe one of the janitorial staff did it, you concluded, shaking the thought from your mind as you fumbled around for your keys. Pulling them out from your pocket, you went to unlock the door, but were alarmed to find the door was already unlocked.

You didn’t have to open the door fully to know she was there, but you did anyway. 

Swinging the door open, you found Agatha already in your office. Only this time she was sitting at your desk, her feet perched up on the edge, her shiny black loafers reflected by the light. She was engrossed in reading something, her thick black rimmed glasses hanging low on her nose. 

“What the fuck are you doing here,” you hissed, slamming the door shut behind you. 

Agatha didn’t look up from whatever she was reading, but you watched her lip curl upwards, forming a cruel smirk. “Good morning to you too, dear. Muffin?”

It was then you noticed the box of baked goods on the edge of your desk. The sweet aroma of pumpkin and chocolate wafted through the room, they were always your favorite. 

No. You knew what she was doing. 

“I already ate, thanks,” you coolly replied, dropping your work bag near the door, before locking it. “You can’t keep breaking into my office. Do you have any idea what my colleagues would say if they saw you coming and going?”

Agatha hummed, dramatically flipping the page, and you felt a wave of anger rush through you. 

“That sounds more like your problem than mine,” Agatha unhelpfully pointed out, finally setting her papers down to look up at you, and removing her glasses. “Although to be fair, it’s almost insulting how easy it is to get in here. You should really talk to someone about investing in more advanced security measures.”

“What are you doing here?” You questioned, folding your arms across your chest. 

“Are you not happy to see me?” Agatha asked, fake pouting as she put her arms behind her head, the bottom of her dress shirt riding up, exposing her toned stomach. 

Agatha gave you a sly grin, and you quickly averted your eyes. She was unbelievable, really. 

You don’t know what you ever saw in her.

Clearing your throat, you took a deep breath. 

“What are you doing here, Agatha?”

“I was just in the neighborhood,” Agatha explained, kicking her feet off your desk, standing up. She pulled what she was reading up from a stack of papers, waving it in front of you. “You had something of mine.”

The file she had left behind. 

You fell quiet, and Agatha took the opportunity to approach you, tilting her head to the side. 

“What a naughty girl, keeping something that doesn’t belong to you.”

Ignoring the embarrassing rush of heat that threatened to pool between your thighs, you glowered at her. 

“Save it, Agatha. You left those here and I had no way of getting in touch with you,” you spat out, quickly losing whatever patience you had attempted to hold onto. “Who the hell changes their number nowadays?”

You froze, and Agatha’s eyes widened for a brief moment, before taking a step closer to you, stroking her chin with her thumb. 

“I should feel flattered you saved my number all these years later,” Agatha teased, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You tensed at her change of tone, her words having too strong of an impact on you. 

“Is everything a joke to you?” 

Agatha paused, thinking over your words, a calculated grin forming as her blue eyes gleamed. “No, actually. The spousal support I owe my ex wife, for example? Not funny at all, although I’m sure she gets quite the kick out of it.”

You found it rather unsurprising that Agatha managed to marry someone even more deranged than she was, but the difference being you actually liked the ex wife more than the attorney in question.

You’d probably have gone mad as well if you had ended up marrying her.

“You have your papers, get the hell out of my office,” you ordered, not in the mood to continue arguing with her.

Frowning, Agatha set the file on your desk, coming closer to you as she brushed a few strands of hair behind your ear before leaning in, breath hot against your skin.

“Do you really want me to leave? If I recall, you used to enjoy our little games.”

Closing your eyes, you tried to ignore the pleasurable sensation of her voice echoing in your ear, as you rubbed your thighs together, wishing she didn’t cause this strong of a reaction anytime she spoke to you. 

“I want nothing to do with you,” you reminded her, stifling a gasp as the attorney blew in your ear.

“Are you sure?” Agatha mocked, her fingers playfully tugging on your blazer. “You’re so stressed, not that I blame you. Imminent doom tends to leave one feeling tightly wound.”

“I hate you,” you breathed out, but your words held no weight as you didn’t move away from her touch.

“Yes, good,” Agatha cooed, pushing you backwards until your back hit the desk, towering over you. “More of that.”

This needed to stop, you knew it needed to stop. Each time you let her back in it did more harm than good. She was parasitic, infecting you with the need to be consumed by her and her alone.

“Agatha,” you protested, shifting your weight around, unintentional brushing against her pelvis, and your eyes widened, shooting her an incredulous look. “You didn’t.”

Agatha feigned innocence, pressing her hips flush against yours, and you moaned at the direct contact, feeling the strap she was packing under her pants. “I didn't do what, dear?”

Your body betrayed you as you craved more friction, and Agatha leered, situating her hands on your hips to help you grind against her. Each roll of your hips made you lose whatever sense of self control you were barely grasping onto. The reminders of why this was dangerous territory slipping away as Agatha’s grip on your hip tightened.

The attorney raised one of her hands to roughly grasp your chin, forcing you to look up at her.

Gasping, you closed your eyes, not wanting to look at her. “You seriously put that thing on to come over here?”

“Bold of you to assume I wore this for you,” Agatha murmured in your ear and your eyes shot open, glowering at her.

Your taste in women was truly questionable.

“I hate you,” you said, choking back a whine as Agatha’s lips latched onto your neck, nipping and sucking on your exposed skin.

“I know you do,” Agatha said mockingly, the hand she had on your hip, moving to the front of your dress slacks, skillfully unbuttoning them. “That’s why I can smell you, isn’t it?”

“You’re insufferable,” you groaned, wriggling out of your pants as they fell around your knees, letting out a pathetic whine as Agatha ran two fingers over your underwear. 

“Soaking through your panties like a whore,” Agatha growled, moving the thin fabric aside to touch your aching cunt, feeling how soaked you were. “Is all of this for me?”

“Fuck,” you moaned, head falling back as you gave in to her once more. “Agatha, please.”

Agatha moved her fingers through your slick, finding your clit with ease as she rubbed, kissing the sensitive spot under your jaw. “Please what?”

Bucking your hips up you tried to indicate what you needed, and Agatha seemed to take the hint, teasing your entrance and you let out a guttural moan, trying to fuck yourself on her fingers. 

Letting out a disapproving hum, Agatha removed her fingers, smirking when you cried out in disappointment. She raised her hand, her fingers dripping as they circled your mouth as you parted your lips.

“Suck,” Agatha whispered, forcing you to take her fingers in your mouth. “Show mommy that you deserve her cock.” 

Your cunt clenched at that, the ache becoming more unbearable every second you were left empty. Greedily taking her fingers you sucked them clean, whining at the taste of yourself on your tongue. Agatha let out a low groan as she forced them deeper down your throat, fucking your mouth.

“Such a good slut,” Agatha praised pulling her fingers out, lightly slapping your cheek. “So obedient when your mouth is full. You just want something to suck on, don’t you honey?”

Breathless, you barely recognized the sound of the whimper that escaped your lips. Agatha released you from her grasp, moving to settle into your high-backed leather office chair, index finger curling in a come hither motion, beckoning you to join her. 

“On your knees,” Agatha ordered, removing her slacks to reveal her strap-on.

The dark purple cock was thick, and bigger than what you had grown accustomed to taking in the past few years, and you felt your cunt clench at the thought of having it inside you, stretching you out. Mouth watering you dropped to your knees, and Agatha leaned back in the chair, wrapping her hands around your hair to position where she wanted to.

“Desperate fucking whore,” Agatha degraded you, each word making you drip more than the last. “Make mommy come and I’ll consider fucking that greedy pussy.”

Wasting no time you eagerly leaned forward, tongue swiping out to lick at the head of the toy. Patience had never been the attorney’s strong suit, and she tugged on your hair, forcing you to take more of the cock down your throat. 

“Fuck, good girl,” Agatha moaned, eyes locked on your own as she watched you struggle to take so much at once. “So pretty for mommy when you struggle.”

Her words served as encouragement for you to put on a show, forcing yourself to take her to the hilt. Choking around the strap you felt tears begin to swell in your eyes as you breathed through your nose, and Agatha groaned louder than before. 

“That’s it baby. Swallow me,” Agatha hissed, fucking your face as her hips thrusted harder than before, getting off on using you as her own personal sex toy.

Swearing, Agatha’s hips stilled, face contorted in pleasure as she came, eyes rolling to the back of her head, fingers intertwined in your hair as she tugged on the strands to the point where you let out a muffled moan. Panting, the older woman released her grip on your hair, signaling you were allowed to remove your mouth.

Her strap was covered in your saliva as you caught your breath, but Agatha didn’t allow you much time to recover, a feral look in her eyes as she rose from her chair, yanking you up by the hair to face her. The attorney’s blue eyes were clouded with lust as she impatiently spun you around, bending you over your desk.

The humiliation of being exposed this way was too much, and came to the conclusion you could get off like this alone. You didn’t have to look at Agatha to know she was smirking, pulling on your hair again to make you arch your back. 

“Tell me you missed this,” Agatha murmured into your ear, hands groping every inch of your body she could reach. “Tell me, and I’ll give you what you want.”

You were almost too far gone to fully think about the implication of what she was saying, but not enough to give in so easily. 

“You wish,” you threw out, moaning louder at Agatha’s responding slap against your ass. 

“Tell me,” Agatha growled, spanking you again, harder than before, cackling at the way your body reacted to it. “So fucking pathetic, no one else can fuck you like this, can they? ”

You remained silent, trying to restrain yourself from climaxing before you felt her inside you again. Agatha spanked you a third time, the slapping sound echoing throughout your office.

“I’ll give you one more chance,” Agatha threatened, and you could tell she was just as far gone as you. “Tell me you missed this.”

“I…I missed this,” you breathed out, the unsaid words hanging heavy in the room, as both you and Agatha knew what you really meant. What she was really asking.

You missed her. 

Agatha rubbed the tip of the strap up and down your cunt, and you whined. She had been torturing you with the teasing, all you wanted was for her to be inside you.

“Mommy, please,” you said, nearly crying.

Without warning Agatha pushed inside your entrance in one thrust, making you take her to the hilt. You nearly screamed, her strap almost painfully deep and your walls fluttered around it. You were so full, the only thought on your mind was how you wanted her to stay inside you forever.

Giving you a moment to adjust to her size, Agatha tugged on your hair again, kissing your neck as her hips rested flush against yours. After a few moments she began to move, thrusting slow but deep, staying buried in your cunt.

“That’s it baby, squeeze my cock,” Agatha moaned, making you feel every inch of her. “Good fucking girl.”

“Mommy,” you whimpered, listening to the obscene sound of your hips thrusting against each other, the noise filling the office. 

“No one else knows what a slut you are, do they?” Agatha mocked, increasing her pace as she fucked you even harder. “You’re just mommy’s little cocksleeve.”

“Fuck yes,” you moaned, feeling a familiar tightening as your cunt pulsed around the attorney’s cock. 

“Say it,” Agatha grunted out, moving at an erratic pace. “Say you’re mommy’s cocksleeve.”

“I’m mommy’s cocksleeve,” you said obediently, relishing in the deep groan that left Agatha’s lips, the sound causing you to clench.

You were so close, you could feel it.

Agatha could tell you were nearing your peak, as she wrapped an arm around your waist, lithe fingers finding your clit and rubbing in time with her unwavering thrusts. Every second teetering you closer to falling off the edge of pleasure. 

“Do you want something?” Agatha teased, as you were left breathless after a particularly hard thrust.

“Please,” you begged, not caring how desperate you sounded. “Please I need to…”

“You need what, slut?” Agatha jeered, removing her fingers from your clit, bringing her hand to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly. “What do you want?”

“Mommy, please,” you pleaded, gasping as the attorney choked you, the delicious burn nearly causing you to finish.

“Come for mommy, baby,” Agatha said, voice hoarse as she kept her hand wrapped around your throat. “Soak my cock.”

You felt yourself let go, body rippling in pleasure as you came, sporadically moving your hips to meet Agatha’s thrusts as she helped you through your orgasm. The attorney grunted before her hips stilled against yours with one final deep stroke, staying inside you as you came down from your high.

Removing her hand from your throat, Agatha stroked your cheek, a stark contrast to how roughly she just fucked you. You let out a deep sigh, collapsing against your desk. It was unclear how long she stayed inside you before she pulled out, chuckling at your little whimpers from being left empty.

“I never understood why you enjoyed running so much,” Agatha said suddenly, body still pressed against yours as she left kisses on every inch of bare skin she could find. “I’ve always found this to be a much more…pleasurable form of cardio.”

You laughed, the sound echoing throughout the room as you felt your heart rate begin to go back to normal. “Funny, Agatha. Very funny.”

Peeling herself off of you, the attorney gently turned you around before settling back in your chair, allowing you to rest on her lap. 

“That was…” Agatha trailed off, brushing your damp hair out of your face. 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. Agatha didn’t have to finish her thoughts, you knew what she was implying.

You wish this could be easier, this gravitational pull you had towards one another; that things weren’t so majorly twisted between the two of you that you could invite Agatha to dinner and try again. Or to even just have a conversation that didn’t start with an argument and end with both of you naked. 

But that wasn’t the reality of the situation, which finally came back to you as you finally caught your breath. 

This couldn’t keep happening.

“I have a lot of work to catch up on,” you said suddenly, clearing your throat as you got off the attorney’s lap. “Um, thanks for…”

“For the muffins?” Agatha jested, avoiding your eyes as she stood up, helping you find your clothes. “Your sweet tooth is hard to forget.”

You smiled for a moment, a bittersweet feeling overtaking you as you let her words hit you. 

“Yeah, for the muffins.”

Agatha finished redressing, her brown hair splayed messily over her shoulders as she unsuccessfully attempted to tame it. You grabbed a spare hair tie from a drawer in your desk, and held it up to her. Agatha nodded, turning around, allowing you to gather her hair and pull it back. You swore you heard her sigh as your fingers combed through the tousled locks, but you quickly secured it, taking a step back.

The attorney turned back around, an uncertain expression on her face, eyebrows furrowed, her frown line becoming more prominent as she stared at you, deep blue eyes boring into your own. 

“You read the hospital records,” Agatha stated, in a tone so certain you questioned why she chose to say it at all.

“Of course not,” you lied, but Agatha’s piercing gaze saw right through you as she arched an eyebrow. “Okay, fine. Yes, I did.”

“And?” Agatha prompted, looking expectantly at you.

“And what?” You questioned, motioning to where the file lay abandoned on the opposite side of your desk. “The majority of the pages are missing. There’s nothing useful there.”

Agatha’s eyes shifted, looking to the ground for just a second, and when she looked back up her signature smirk had returned. “Of course, right as always, dear. I’ll see you in court.”

She snatched the file in her hands before leaving your office, slamming the door shut, leaving you alone, and wondering what the hell just happened. A sinking feeling in your gut was suggesting this case was far more complicated than you had been led to believe.

[prentisslover0812]

rewards ; agatha harkness

warnings : dom!agatha, sub!reader, innocent!reader, pet names, enchanted strap, nipple play, blow job, mommy kink, slight pain kink, praise kink, inappropriate use of magic, age gap, slight overstimulation, size kink, dacryphilia (mild), bulging, slight degradation, accidental seduction, etc.

The rain was falling lightly in the night, trees rustling with the wind, the cold coming in waves. The clicking sounds of a keyboard echoed in the house, steady and melodic, stopping for the occasional sip of tea. Agatha sits on the dining table, darkness surrounding her aside from a soft light above her.

She’d been working all day long — and she had started typing away from the moment she arrived home. You, as always, never complained. You brought her meals, the occasional snack, and a tea whenever she began to appear far too stressed for your liking.

But you wanted her to come to bed. You wanted to nuzzle against her, feel her body heat, smell her scent. You wanted to hear her steady heartbeat beneath your ear, the way her lungs expanded with each breath.

“Aggie?” Your voice flows through the air, entering your lover’s ears. You watch her glance up at you, peeking over her glasses as you bit your lip nervously.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Agatha replies gently, glancing at the time. She removes her glasses and sets them aside, eyes wandering over your body, unabashed. She knew you were too innocent to realize the effects of your outfit — she knew you just wanted to be comfortable.

Your body is clad in one of your soft, more snug shirts. It’s red — and the chilly air makes it obvious that you were lacking underwear, as usual. You wore a pair of black shorts, hanging loosely around your waist, threatening to dip too low at any given moment. She could see your defined v-line — your flat stomach before looking up at your chest, firm and round and plump.

“Are you coming to bed soon?” You murmur gently, leaning against the door frame. Your hair was fluffy and messy, framing your face. Your eyes, doe and tired, watched her expectantly, swimming with a hint of diffidence. Agatha lifts her finger and motions for you to come to her, moving her chair away.

You oblige quickly, quiet and immediate. When her finger points downwards, eyes still on her screen, you sink to your knees, hands landing on her thighs as you look up at her, pretty and doe-eyed. Her lips stretch into a smile, fingers gently pinching your chin as she looks down at you.

“You think you can come in here lookin’ like that, angel?” Agatha murmured, ignoring your previous question. Your doe eyes shimmer with confusion, tilting your head to the side curiously.

“Like what?” Her eyes burn with desire.

“Oh, bunny,” She sighed condescendingly. “This pretty head of yours is so silly sometimes — can’t even understand the simplest things, huh? So dumb, and so innocent, and all mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” You flush as she cups your cheek, nuzzling into her touch. “M’yours, Aggie.”

“Try again, little one,” She smiled, gripping your chin dangerously. Her eyes shone with a silent warning.

“I — I’m yours, mommy,” You answer, swallowing.

“Good girl,” She cooed. “Now, mommy still has some work to do, but I’ll let my bunny spend some time here. Would that make you happy, pretty girl?”

You nod quickly, “Mhm. Yes, please.”

Satisfied, Agatha hummed, placing down her pen. Your eyes were glued to her hands as they slowly undid her belt, making you swallow thickly. You kissed the button of her jeans before she undid them slowly, capturing the zipper and dragging it down soon after.

Her hand dips into her boxers, pulling out the dark purple dildo that she had made you become acquainted with. You glance up at her when she grabs your hair, making you lick your lips and part your mouth obediently, laying your hands on her inner thighs as she slowly slips the strap into your mouth.

She breathes out, letting her head loll back a bit. Your eyes are glued to the way her chest rises and falls slowly, though deeply. Slowly, like she had been teaching you, you sunk the strap deeper, making your throat expand slightly with the intrusion. Agatha lifts her head, mouth parted as she panted, watching your throat.

“Good girl,” She breathed. “Oh, such a good girl.”

Her hand tightens in your hair, forcing you to bob up and down onto the strap. She’s panting, moans coming close to whines as she uses your throat. Your hand comes up and wraps around your throat, squeezing. She jolted with a loud moan, watching you with wide eyes.

Tears stung in your eyes as you held back your gag reflex, tightening your grip around your throat. She moans loudly again, and you can faintly see her legs shaking. Your hands return to her thighs, bobbing your head up and down. Her legs are squeezing you, fingers digging into the back of your head.

“This fucking mouth,” She breathes shakily, thrusting her hips. Tears stream down your cheeks as she fucks into your throat mercilessly, hands gripping the sides of your head as she chased her own high. When she felt it coming, she pushed your head closer to her, groaning gutturally as she forced your nose to nuzzle into her pelvis.

Her eyes rolled back, legs tensing around you, keeping you in place as they shook. You could feel her release shooting directly into your throat, streaming down without stopping. She leaned forward, hand still tight on your hair, and moaned loudly, gasping. Finally, she pulled you off the strap, making you splutter and cough for air.

Your lungs were burning and your jaw was sore, but you took it either way. Agatha, still breathing heavily, ran her fingers through your hair. You lick off the cum on the strap, making her suck in a breath as she drops her head back on the chair. Her chest is heaving, thighs occasionally twitching.

“Fuck,” She breathed. “Where'd you learn that pretty trick, angel? Where's my innocent little bunny?”

You flush, “I — I was thinking about you a-and I was looking for things I could do to make you feel better and it just…came to mind.”

Agatha ran her hands over her face, “Such a good girl, huh? Just wanted to make mommy feel good?”

You nod, still flushed. You're looking up at her with doe eyes, the strap still standing straight, pressing against your cheek. Agatha gently caressed your cheek, humming as she looked down at you.

“...get ready for mommy, angel. You've earned yourself a reward,” She spoke softly, making you perk. You stand on your feet, knees sore from the hard floor, before making your way to the bedroom, kneeling on the bed obediently.

You can hear her in the kitchen, likely returning her empty mug. Her footsteps head toward your direction, and you feel yourself squirming. It was rare that you were rewarded or punished — you opted to stay in the middle, on her good side but not your best.

“Ready, bunny?” She asks as she walks in, smiling slightly. Her pants are buttoned again, strap pushed down under her boxers. You swallow and nod, hands turning into fists on your lap.

“Yes, mommy,” You nod, trying not to squirm. She smirks slightly, chuckling under her breath as she watches your body language.

“You're not usually this eager,” She hums. “Excited?”

“Uh-huh,” You nod. “Want mommy so bad…”

“Mhm, I see that,” She smiles, beckoning you over to the edge of the bed. You obey, sitting. Your legs hang over the bed, barely brushing against the floor as you look up at her. Her lips catch yours in a gentle kiss, different from her usual fiery kisses she gives you when she's eager to devour you whole.

Your hands reach up, grasping her shirt as your eyes close, opening your mouth to let her tongue slide in. She moans, grasping your jaw as she works her tongue inside your mouth, sucking and swirling with yours. She pulls back, hands move down to the hem of your shirt.

“Arms up,” She mutters, and you obey. She groans when she pulls your shirt over your head, watching your breasts fall into place, symmetrical and tight. Her hand pushes you back, making you lay on the bed. You swallow as she settles between your legs, letting them settle over her thighs. She smirks, eyes dancing with something dark.

Her hands gently stroke over your nipples, making you tense. She smiles widely, taking in the firm peaks between her fingers and pinching lightly. You moan out, back arching slightly, breathing heavily.

“You think mommy forgot about how sensitive you are here?” She chuckles, pinching again. You twitch, lips parting in a needy, breathy groan. Your eyes cloud over as she leans down, taking a nipple in her mouth while she toys with the other one.

“Mommy,” You breathe out, wrapping your legs around her waist. She chuckles softly, sucking harshly. Your body jolts with a high-pitched squeak, looking up at her with cloudy eyes.

“Wonder if you can cum like this,” She mumbles, biting down softly. You cry out, panting. She moves to the swell of your breast, sucking a mark on it. You can feel a coil tighten in your abdomen — it feels strange, weaker, but still pleasurable.

She switches to the other nipple, using her free hand to pinch the previous one. Tears sting your eyes — like there was a connection from your nipples to your clit. Your legs tighten around her waist, breathing heavily. Your eyes roll back, closing in concentration. Agatha’s lips stretch into a smile when your mouth drops open.

“M'cumming soon,” You breathe. “C-can I, mommy? Can I cum, please?”

She hums in approval, biting down on your nipple. Your eyes fly open, hands tangling in her hair as you moan loudly, hips moving as the coil in your abdomen snapped. Your mouth waters and your cheeks flushed, embarrassed. You came — and she hadn't even properly touched you.

“So sensitive,” Agatha chuckled, releasing your nipple with a pop. You sigh, slumping against the mattress. You could feel wetness between your legs, throbbing angrily — needily.

She tapped your leg, “Open.”

Your legs part immediately, making her move aside the shorts. You flush as her fingers run over your slit, collecting the small amount of white that strained them. The smirk she gave you was breathtaking — you just wanted her to take you already.

“What do you want, angel?” She asks softly, gently nudging your clit. Your thighs twitch as you breathe out.

“Want — want mommy's cock..” You whimper, opening your eyes and looking up at her. They're glossed over and cloudy, but desperate and wide. She hums, gently running her hand over your flat, defined stomach.

“Mommy's cock?” Her eyes don't leave the area where her hand is planted. Her lips curl into a smirk as an idea pops into her head — your entire body is covered with goosebumps when you see her unbutton her pants again.

“M-mommy..” You whine, and your eyes widen when the strap comes out. It's bigger than it was before — so much bigger. That could not have been in your mouth.

“You look nervous, sweetheart,” She chuckles, amused by your reaction. You swallow nervously, watching the large dildo glow with her magic. She made it bigger.

“S'not gonna fit, mommy..” You say nervously, eyes trained on it. Agatha’s lips stretch wider, pushing her pants down.

“We'll make it fit, bunny. We always do,” She answers, pushing your legs farther apart. You flush at the position you're in, bare and open for her. She presses the toy at your entrance, and you hear her breathe in. She teases your clit with it, watching your thighs twitch occasionally.

Slowly, she runs two fingers up and down your folds, collecting the clear slick and the bit of cum left, using them as lubricant to sink her fingers inside you. A breathy moan leaves your lips as she works you gently, breath catching when she adds a third finger.

She doesn't move, letting you adjust. She doesn't usually fuck you with three fingers, but she's made it happen once or twice before. Then, she begins her thrusting, feeling you tighten and squirm as you moan.

She wonders how tight you'll feel around her cock, and it makes her moan out. She slips her fingers out, making you whine, but presses the head of the toy against you, slowly slipping it inside. She moans as you suck in the tip, her thighs tensing at the feeling.

Then, while holding on to your legs, she sinks the toy further inside. You moan out, wincing at the unfamiliar stretch. The size is new. It makes it burn a bit, but you can feel her so deep inside you that you feel like you're losing your mind. Agatha is breathing heavily, trying to regain control, but you clench around her so tightly that she wonders how she hasn't cum yet.

“Fuck…” She hisses.

“Mommy..!” You whine, wiggling your hips. The movement causes a guttural moan to leave her lips, pushing the rest of the toy inside. She's bottomed out now, buried inside you completely. Her eyes are trained on the bulge of your flat stomach, and she swallows thickly.

“My bunny. You're all mine,” She breathes, thrusting in and out slowly. You whine and moan, nodding your head mindlessly. “Nobody’s ever touching my angel, okay? Mommy's gonna be your first and your last.”

“Yes, mommy,” You moan out as she increases the pace of her thrusts. Agatha, who is usually silent while she fucks you, is moaning out with every thrust, breathing heavily, ragged and desperate. Her eyes remain in the bulge and she grabs your hand, guiding it to your stomach.

You whine, flushing. You can feel her cock as it moves in and out of you. You press down on it, feeling her gasp as you clench tightly. Her thighs shake as you push, making your eyes water as your mouth drops open. It reaches your g-spot each time you press down.

“Oh my gods — mommy, it's so good!” You moan gutturally, feeling her fingers dig into your hips as she fucks you harder. Her panting and moaning is driving you so close, but the way her eyes gloss over when you press down on the bulge makes you want to burst. Your hands slide up her arms, eyes rolling back as you clench.

“Fuck!” She groans, pushing down on the bulge. Your mind goes blank, mouth dropping open as your eyes roll back. You see stars behind your lids as she jackhammer into you while you rode your high, the toy abusing your sweet spot until you're throbbing around her.

She keeps going, her pace becoming more brutal. She's lost in her lust, in pleasure, in the way you wrap around her so tightly that she may never be able to get out. Tears stream down your temple, and your hips lift from the bed as you arch. Her eyes roll back at the new position, fucking you harder.

“Too much-!” You cry out, thighs shaking, but you don't mean it. It's not too much — you've never had too much of her. It's never enough. You need her inside of you every waking moment of every day.

“You can take it,” She pants, groaning. “I know you can, bunny. Your pussy was made for me.”

Your eyes roll back as her thrusts grow in force, becoming sloppy. She's leaning her weight onto the hand she has planted on your stomach, pushing her cock against you. You're cumming again before you know it, and she growls as you pulse around her.

Finally, she releases inside you. She's filling you up so much more than usual, until you're dripping on the bed. Your moans are loud and unrestrained, nails digging into her arms. She's hovering over you, panting heavily. Her eyes are cloudy, glossed over.

You look up at her when she doesn't move, reaching up and cupping her face. You're still trying to catch your breath, but she's lost in another world. You wrap your arms around her neck, pulling yourself up. You moan as you readjust, the toy still inside you.

“Aggie,” You groan, shivering. “Are you okay?”

“Angel,” She groans. “Fuck. I'm fine. That was just…”

You breathe out, nodding. Your rest your head on her shoulder, relaxing your body as you shift. It makes you accidentally pulse around her, making her choke out a moan and thrust harshly.

“Fuck,” You moan. “Sorry. I'm sorry.”

Agatha breathes out and gently lifts you, making you wince. With a bated breath, she lays you back in the bed, unhooking the strap and sighing when the feeling of overstimulation eased. She watched her cum slide between your legs, gently kissing your swollen stomach.

“How are you feeling?��� She asks softly, moving up and kissing the underside of your breath. You hum, eyes closing as your hand tangles in her hair, scratching her head lightly.

“If I wasn't tired before, I am now,” You mumble, forcing your eyes open with a small smile. Agatha chuckles and leans to kiss your lips, gently brushing your hair away from your face.

“You were delicious today,” She comments, pulling away. “That trick you did with your throat? Excellent. And taking the entire strap when I enchanted it and increased its size? Delectable.”

You flush, “Th-thank you, Aggie…”

“You're welcome, bunny,” She chuckles.

[midnightscramble]

Hello I want to request one of Agatha Harkness x fem! Reader smut 🥹

Like Lightning Part 1 (Agatha Harkness x fem!Reader)

The Masterlist

Author’s Note: So, so many liberties were taken (if it’s not to your liking feel free to request again, don’t be shy!) Happy readings to you.

Summary: To Agatha’s surprise and relief her neighbor Y/n is not under Wanda’s complete control, Y/n has a feeling her and Agatha have met before…

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, pwp, slight angst/comfort, touch starved Agatha, thigh riding (Agatha receiving), biting (Agatha receiving), bottom Agatha, top reader, no Beta read

There was not much to do in Westview. The smart dressed college kids she went to school with had invited Y/n to hang out by the water tower, the go to spot for wanna be delinquents. But every night was the same, they discussed the same things with slightly more fluency than the night before, almost as if it was a rehearsal.

Rather than endure any more of the pseudo intellectual ramblings, Y/n had taken to walking at night. She walked just about everywhere, weaving in and out of neighborhoods, even taking to the near by woods. Although she couldn’t put her finger on it, there was something about Westview at night that intrigued her. The air had a dream like quality, perhaps it was the mysterious fog that invaded the town each night, or maybe it was just her imagination.

Either way, Y/n felt a keen sense of safety on these walks. The city council had recently established a town curfew, meaning everyone was supposed to be in their homes by 8 pm. Two hours later and it was guaranteed that all lights would be out as people retired for the night. Everyone seemed so eager to comply with the rules that there was not a single soul left awake to enforce them.

That was until she saw an abandoned bicycle propped up against a tree near the edge of the woods. Cautiously approaching, she let her hands run over the handles. They were warm. Someone had recently ridden the bike. Y/n looked around the empty streets, and then towards the woods. The odds were that some kid thought they’d be rebellious and runaway for the night. She huffed and debated her options: continue her walk, or prevent a would be search party.

Always the good samaritan, she trudged through the fallen leaves, letting instinct guide her. It was almost as if a magnetic force was tugging her deeper into the woods. No, a child wouldn’t have made it this far, a child would have turned back by now- the sound of crickets chirping suddenly ceased, replaced by the low hum of radio static. She stopped in her tracks a peered into the darkness.

Choppily, a disembodied voice sounded as if it were right in front if her “We ha-ve eye-s on an-other host-age”

Y/n took off in a sprint before she could process what was being said. She dropped her keys somewhere in her rush to safety but didn’t look back until she had reached the familiar pavement of the roads. Still running, she made a beeline for home, and to her great relief a light emitted from her neighbor Agatha’s window. She ran up to the front door and pounded on it. Her heart was beating so fast she feared her ribcage would give way to its force. Finally the door opened, and Y/n collapsed into the door frame.

“Oh, well hello to you too,” Agatha sing songed.

“Please you’ve got to let me in, there’s something in the woods…” Agatha’s eyes narrowed slightly as she peaked over Y/n’s shoulder to examine the outside.

With concern in her eyes, she guided the young woman in. She wasn’t quite sure if Y/n was lucid or not. It seemed unlikely that Wanda would suddenly decide to give her a gift, and equally unlikely that her wife, Y/n, was in control of her actions.

Wanda’s spell on Westview had cruelly separated Agatha and Y/n. Day after day, Agatha was forced to watch Y/n wonder, flirt, and be a pawn in the whatever plot Wanda was acting out. The two had not interacted a single time during this whole ordeal, making Agatha’s days feel endless.

Y/n being one door down and yet completely out of her reach had been driving her slightly insane. Although, she did appreciate the proximity as it allowed her to keep an eye out for any threats.

“What happened did someone chase you?” Y/n paused and looked around, she had never been inside Agatha’s home before. In fact she had never even spoken to the woman, and yet she had the oddest sensation that being here with the woman was exactly where she belonged. Y/n dug through the deepest recesses of her mind, and looked at the woman in question.

It was only then that it occurred to Y/n the peculiarity of the situation. How was it that Agatha wasn’t asleep? Everyone in Westview followed the town’s curfew, yet here Agatha was, fully dressed in day clothes and awake as ever.

She ignored Agatha’s question and posed one of her own, “How is it that we are both awake right now?”

The dark haired woman sucked in a breath. Y/n never ceased to surprise her, she should have known her wife would move against the grain even when dark magic compelled her to fall in line.

“We must not be susceptible to lullabies…” She searched Y/n’s eyes for understanding. Her crypticness only seemed to agitate her wife further. If she wanted to get away from Wanda’s prying eyes she would have to convince Y/n to come down to the cellar, where her ruins are.

Agatha arched an eyebrow, “Care for a drink?” Y/n nodded and followed her to the kitchen. On autopilot she started making the woman a vodka soda, but as she reached to place it down on the counter Y/n grabbed her wrist.

“How did you know my drink?” Not releasing her hold, Y/n pushed into the woman’s personal space, trying to intimidate her. Backing her into the wall she asked again, “What do you know?”

Agatha swallowed, the longing that had built up these past few months had left her positively starved for her wife’s touch. The feeling of the woman's body pressed against hers made her release a whimper. Y/n eyes darkened, and her breathe became shallow at the small noise Agatha emitted. Her grip on the woman's wrist loosened and she soothingly rubbed the pads of her fingertips against the reddened skin.

Even with no memory, Agatha thought to herself, the woman before her was still her sweet Y/n. Still caring even when frustrated and fighting.

For a moment, they stayed in that position, tightly pressed against the wall, breathing the same air until the lights of the house suddenly cut out. Y/n gasped as they were plunged into darkness. She clung onto Agatha, "What's going on, please I need to know."

She slipped out of the hold and tugged Y/n's hand gently, "You'll have to come with me." Silently they walked down the basement stairs. Large stones with carvings were littered across the floor, coming together to make a pentagram and Agatha guided them to the center. Wisps of purple floated through the air, like cotton candy being carried by the wind. In awe, Y/n reached out and gently touched it, it crinkled and cracked against her fingers like electricity. She turned to Agatha, waiting for an explanation.

...

They sat across from each other on the floor, far more relaxed as the reality of the situation was brought to light.

"And you're working to stop Wanda?" Y/n clarified.

"Well, now we're working to stop Wanda."

"But who exactly are we?" Agatha bit her lip before responding, "I'm your wife."

Y/n's eyes widened, she wished she could say it was in disbelief but she was mostly impressed with herself. A slow smile spread across her face, cat like and absolutely predatory, "Is that why you liked me corning you earlier?"

Agatha flushed, "You have to understand, I've been alone for months," as the woman explained herself Y/n started a slow crawl forward, "and having to watch you-"

"You've been watching me?"

"No! I mean yes, but not like that." Agatha buried her head in her hands. She jumped slightly feeling Y/n's hand close around her ankle, using her strength to drag the woman closer.

Once there was little space between them, Y/n carded her fingers through Agatha's hair, "That sounds awful, but I have to say, I'm glad you were alone" her grip tightened on the brown strands tugging her head back and exposing her neck, "I wouldn't want anyone else keeping you company."

Agatha's eyes closed as Y/n's lips met her neck, the feeling distracted her from the hand unfastening her jeans. She opened them when Y/n huffed with impatience. Agatha would have stopped to tease but she had waited too damn long for this. She made quick work of the pants and slid them down her smooth legs. The moment she was unoccupied Y/n hands were back on her, squeezing and rubbing every inch of skin almost as if she was confirming that Agatha was truly there.

Everyone else in Westview had seemed hallow, like a projection of a person, but Agatha was real. She was real and soft, and radiated heat.

Their mouths clashed against each other's and Agatha moved to straddle Y/n's leg. She slowly brought her hips down and rocked forward. Agatha broke the kiss as a shuddered breath left her. Purple clouds started gathering above the ruins, churning with energy. Peering above her, Y/n smirked at the display of uncontrolled magic. She could feel wetness gather on her thigh as Agatha's movements became rythmic, and the clouds above them rumbled.

Moaning into the other woman's mouth, Agatha's cunt clenched around nothing. Moving her hands to the woman's waist, Y/n forced her to move faster. Beads of sweat ran down Y/n's neck as the room grew humid, she looked at the beautiful woman above her, her wife. In act of pure possession she bit the soft flesh between her neck and shoulder, sinking her teeth in until she felt skin break. Agatha cried out and a loud crack sounded behind them, her hips stuttered to a halt and her toes curled at the sensation washing over her. Y/n ran her tongue over the bite soothingly and continued moving Agatha's hips until she pushed her away, overstimulated.

Cheeks flushed and out of breath, Agatha let out a laugh. Following her line of sight, Y/n turned to see what she was looking at. A spot on the floor was scorched.

It appeared as though lightening had struck.

[p-taryn-dactyl]

way down we go: the before (i)

the series: (i) (ii) (the aftermath)

a/n: hi! i really liked writing for this AU so I decided to give a little backstory! this is the story of the first meeting/date of reader and Agatha who is in her less than legal hobby phase. hope you enjoy!

word count: 2k

warning(s): reader is a little bit oblivious...or is agatha a mastermind?; cursing oh no; mentions of stalking; did i mess up the timeline i myself created? maybe shh; also guys, it feels weird to write about the police when im not their biggest fan...eh it makes a good AU so; theres a murder! but who did it 👀 ; made up forsenics; hehe i have a plan; i kinda just throw MCU names around as characters in here sorry

You were convinced the universe had a vendetta against you as you rushed through your morning routine. You had slept in forty minutes past your alarm, much to the distaste of your neighbors, who had been the ones to wake you with pounding knocks on your door.

"Why do I have so many fucking creams and serums?" You muttered angrily about the purchases your past self had bought as a celebration of getting the job. The new job that you were now dangerously close to running late to your first day. Finally your frustration came to a head and you finally just started on your makeup, pausing your blending and swiping to pull on pants and a sweater. A sweater you realized was on backwards and inside out once you were in your car and in front of your regular coffee stand. You had pulled the sweater off and was in the process of turning it right side out when you realized you had caught the eye of one of the coffee stand customers. You also realized you were only in your bra and your car windows were far from tinted. Heat rose to your face and you sheepishly pulled your sweater on over your head. If you ever had done the walk of shame, you imagined it would feel like how you did as you got out of the car. The customer who you had made eye contact with smirked at you as you made your way to join the coffee line.

"If I known I would be getting a show, I would've brought more cash."

While her voice held a joking tone, you saw no malicious intent in her blue eyes. Dear lord you had just flashed the most beautiful woman in the world. Forget your new job, you were just gonna run away to Argentina and change your name. You gave a small laugh, embarassment still coursing through you. The woman seemed to realize and bumped your shoulder with hers.

"Oh come on now, don't be shy. I liked what I saw." She whispered into your ear and made even more heat rise to your cheeks. The blatant flirting made you genuinely smile and a small burst of confidence had you responding.

"I guess the next logical step is to buy you dinner...or coffee! This coffee, I don't know why I jumped straight to dinner." You trailed off to a mumble, the burst of confidence gone. But the woman just looked at you with a fondness that you didn't know someone could have for a stranger.

"You'll offer me dinner before you learn my name?"

Your eyes widened and your hand shot out in front of you for a handshake.

"I'm sorry, that's just rude of me honestly. First I flash you and now this!" You started to pull your hand back, wondering why you even put it out but she grabbed it, shaking your hand softly. Her eyes shone with humor as she told you her name.

"Agatha Harkness, lovely to meet you dear."

You smiled but it quickly fell as you noticed the time on her watch and how long the coffee line was.

"Oh shit, I have to go. Guess I'll push through the day without a caffeine boost."

Agatha laughed, a sound you knew you wanted to hear more of in the future.

"Dinner?" You anxiously asked as you fumbled with your car keys, unlocking your car. Agatha nodded, cocking her head to the side as she smiled at you.

"I'll meet you here around 6? We can walk to The Bistro just around the corner."

While it was a question, Agatha spoke as if it was a demand. You smiled and nodded, internally hoping Agatha wouldn't take you up on your buying dinner offer. The Bistro was a delicious restaurant but was known for prices that normally took weeks saving up for. You waved at your date, climbing in your car with a giant smile on your face. Before you shut your door, Agatha called out.

"See you later, Y/N!"

It didn't occur to you that you never told her your name.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Agatha watched as you drove away, a smirk pulling on her lips. Finally. She had been keeping tabs on you for weeks, the new forensic scientist who was the new obstacle in her way. Over the weeks, she memorized your schedule, where you frequented and when. This coffee shop was a constant, a perfect place for an impromtu meeting. But even with all the information she collected about you, she didn't expect to genuinely like you. You were adorable, both in your mannerisms and how you spoke. If she didn't already know your history, she would be more concerned about the profession you had chose.

She also didn't expect you to ask her out, an interesting development. Agatha was prepared to inch her way into your life as a friend, slowly coercing information out of you as the friendship progressed. But this, this dinner would would change everything.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The universe definitely had it out for you.

Almost the second after you situated yourself in your new lab, after meeting the team and thankfully clicking with them, a call came into the precinct.

A body had been found.

The excitement of your first officical case made the whole process become a blur. But reality became stark the second you crossed the yellow tape. Red and blue illuminated the air, flashing in your eyes as you made your way to the body. Almost immediately, you were grabbing the arm of Detective Jimmy Woo, the man who had been kind enough to let you have the last of the coffee pot.

"This isn't where they were killed. This is a body dump."

Jimmy, quick to grab his notepad, started jotting down what you said before looking up at you, a quizzical look on his face.

"How do you know?"

You slowly started circling the body, Jimmy following you as you explained, careful to not disrupt the photos Darcy, the CSP, was taking.

"The way he's positioned," Jimmy looked like he was about to ask how you knew the sex but you held up a hand as if to say you'll come back to that, "His arms are up against his chest and so are his legs, rigor mortis sets in after death, meaning since there's no outward indicators on the scene of a struggle and from what flesh is left, it looks like the wrists and ankles were tied, creating the position he's in now. If I'm allowed to make an educated guess, he was stuffed in the back of a vehicle of some sort and died while back there. He probably was dumped when whoever put him in the vehicle realized."

Jimmy just stared at you and you fidgeted in place. The excitement of being in a crime scene made you break a rule you learned while completeing an internship at the Jeffersonian. Never make assumptions about how the victim died, wait until you have evidence for a hypothesis. But Jimmy just nodded, an impressed look on his face as he taped his notepad with his pen.

"We're lucky to have you as our main analyst, Y/N. Welcome to the team."

Jimmy went to talk with the couple who had found the body while fishing. If you had to guess, you would say they would be staying away from seafood for a long time.

Along with your new forensic team, you inspected the scene, collecting and bagging everything and anything that seemed out of place. Finally, it was time to head back to the lab.

Dental records of the victims skull gave you an identification quickly.

Vis Maximoff, 32, reported missing two weeks ago by a neighbor, who had chosen to stay anonymous. You were surprised to see a pending case attatched to his name in the system, one that had been open for almost a year. Vis's wife, Wanda, was reported as deceased under unusual circumstances but all evidence detectives had to even start thinking about arresting Vis was either circumstancial or non-existent.

You passed on this information to Jimmy, who had a confirmation from the coroner, Hela, that your theory of how Vis died was correct. Fibers found on his body matched those of the floor of a 2017 Buick Verano. He died of asphyxiation, meaning either he had no air in the trunk of the car, or something had been covering up his nose and mouth, keeping him quiet and ultimately leading to his demise.

The rest of the day went by in what felt like a second. Soon, it was coming close to your date with Agatha and you had no time to change. Darcy proved to be your savior as she walked into your lab without knocking, quickly clocking the panicked look on your face.

"Girl are you okay? I mean you did have to look at a dead man for hours so I guess that could be it but I'm also going to guess this is about something else because you keep picking at your sweater."

You looked up at Darcy, forcing yourself to stop plucking at your clothes.

"Maybe you should be a detective," you joked, Darcy snorted as she leaned on the table across from you, silently prompting you to explain, "It's just, I have a date with someone I met at the coffee stand and she's gorgeous - I mean really pretty, and we're going to a super nice place and I'm pretty sure I have dead man juice on my pants."

Darcy shuddered before coming around to loop her arms through yours.

"Well thankfully, this department has plenty of clothes used for undercover assignments and stake outs. I'm sure we can find something that screams 'FUCK ME' in time for your date."

If you had pearls, you would have clutched them. Darcy just rolled her eyes at your dramatic reaction. She pulled you up, dragging you to the giant walk in closet where the undercover clothes resided.

"Ok don't give me that scandalized bullshit, do you or do you not want her to fuck you?"

You murmmured under your breath as you looked at the racks of clothing. Darcy crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. You sighed, making eye contact with the brunette.

"I mean I was mostly hoping that she even likes me after this date, but yes, that would be nice."

Darcy laughed, shaking her head as she joined you in looking for an outfit.

"You're a funny one, Y/N. This woman better not break your heart because you just gained yourself a best friend and- ew no not that dress, it makes you look like a corpse." -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Agatha tapped her foot against the concrete as she waited for you. A small part of her wondered if you had forgotten about the date that was made so quickly, and she hated how that thought made her stomach sink.

"Agatha!"

Your voice called out as you turned the corner, looking slightly out of breath as you walked over to her as quickly as possible. You came to stand next to her as Agatha's eyes raked over you, taking in the dress Darcy and you had agreed on.

"Oh I don't know if we can go into the restaurant like this." Agatha said while slightly shaking her head. Your smile fumbled as you looked down at the dress, surprised at how much you ended up loving it.

"Oh I thought it was ni- I don't- Why is there a dress code it's breaking?"

Your panicked flurry of words made Agatha come to stand close to you, cupping your face in her hands and lifting slightly so you could make direct eye contact.

"I just don't know if I'm okay with everyone staring at my date."

You rolled your eyes jokingly as Agatha pulled away, swatting at her shoulder lightly.

"You scared me! Now if anyone is going to be staring, it's going to be at you. Did you literally jump out of my fantasies?"

You only realized what you had said once you saw the growing smirk on Agatha's face.

"Fantasies huh? We only met this morning and you're already fantasizing about me?"

You felt heat rising to your face, a seemingly normal occurence around Agatha.

"Let's go to The Bistro! Probably a long line to wait in, should get to that!"

Agatha wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close as she whispered in your ear.

"This is going to be fun."

a/n: hihi! God I love this AU! This and The Aftermath parts of Way Down We Go are going to be two parts each, and then there's something else i have planned that hopefully y'all enjoy too!! thank you for reading!

[maxislvt]

Fallen into Lust

pairing(s): fallen angel!succubus!agatha harkness x angel!reader

summary: curiosity didn't fare well in heaven, but agatha always had a burning desire to learn more. it was only a matter of time before the angels properly kicked agatha out of heaven. despite what you insist, being pushed from heaven changes an angel even if they hadn't properly fallen.

warnings: religious imagery and discussion, smut, loss of virginity, afab!reader, innocence kink, fingering, oral sex

a/n: shout out to literally the best baby big sister ever @our-blood-is-our-ink for requesting this. I love it so much.

Event Masterlist

Agatha was always an intelligent angel. She was curious about everything since the day she was created. She chewed curiously on her halo and plucked the feathers of her archangel's wings to examine the gold-dusted feathers. 

It was safe to say she never grew out of that phase. She'd read just about every version of the holy book she could get her hands on. Even the ones written by humans that were foolish and twisted the words of her lord. Agatha wanted to know more. She'd sneer at how carelessly humans would write their baseless ideals amongst words so pure and sacred. It was frustrating to see that nearly every holy book had been tainted by the violence of humans. 

To make matters worse, not a single deity, angel, or god seemed worried about it. Some of them were bad enough to encourage or profit from it. They placed bets and laughed as their creations slaughtered each other senselessly. 

Despite their holy status, many other angels didn't seem to care. Agatha's concerns were often met with scuffs and eye rolls. Not a single heavenly body cared as much as she did. Their hatred was so intense they began turning Agatha away. Some would turn their backs on her. 

Not you, though. You were different. Agatha's proclamations were above you, but you were kind enough to stand up for her. When the other angels would gossip or go out of their way to exclude Agatha, you'd be right there to defend her. Maybe you couldn't wrap your head around human politics, but you at least tried to listen. That was all Agatha cared about. You stayed. Even when her rants were incomprehensible and nothing more than a string of frustrated scuffs and grunts. 

Unfortunately, you were pretty popular amongst the other angels. It wasn't a shock. You were practically the perfect angel: kind, understanding, innocent. They'd huddle around you like you were the Messiah just to coo at you and praise you for the most minor thing. Agatha hated it. Not because you didn't deserve that praise, but because she was jealous.

Jealousy was a two-sided street. Every Time you dared to choose Agatha over your friends, she'd have to deal with it. They'd scold her endlessly for taking you away and corrupting you with her "nonsense." 

You'd only vaguely known about the conflict. Your friends would grumble about your tardiness or absence, and Agatha would always give you vague answers when you asked why she didn't get along with your friends. It was nothing more than a personality conflict in your head. Agatha was hungry for knowledge, but your friends were much more easygoing. 

Personality conflicts don't end with ripped wings and cracked halos. 

The day Agatha was brutally shunned from the community of angels was quiet. It made your stomach churn. The other angels said nothing, but you could feel something was off. You spent the entire day roaming around heaven. Then you found something. 

Surrounded by torn feathers and liquid gold laid a deformed halo. You didn't think twice before leaping off the clouds of heaven into the earth. Only gods had the authority to banish someone from heaven. If their halo was still glowing, they'd been pushed off. 

You searched the thick forest for any sign of a fellow angel—feathers, blood, or maybe even another halo. Instead, you found something worse. A silver ring with AH engraved on it.

Agatha had fallen. 

𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪

"Agatha, Agatha!" 

Your voice was hoarse at this point. There was no telling how long you'd been screaming. Time was irrelevant to you know. All that mattered was finding Agatha. Even if she was dead, somebody had to pay for their crimes. The golden trail of blood confirmed your fears. Agatha wasn't cast out of heaven; she'd been pushed. 

"Agatha! Oh, thank heavens you're alive!" The relief of finding Agatha was short-lived. You ran over and immediately tried to help her onto her feet. "Come on, I have to get you back to heaven, and I'll report whoever did this to you." A frown overtook your face when Agatha pushed you away. 

"I can't go back up there. I've fallen." Her voice was weak, and she could barely stand upright. Agatha leaned against the tree for support to avoid staining your sweater. "You..you shouldn't be with me either. Just go back up there and pretend I don't exist." The words left a bitter taste in her mouth. Being alone was a pretty scary thought, but she couldn't risk you being tainted by Earth. "I've fallen. I couldn't go back up even if I wanted to." 

Your chest felt tight. "No, just because you fell from heaven doesn't mean you're a fallen angel! I saw your halo before I came down there; it was still glowing!" You frantically searched your satchel for gauze and something to clean the wound. "I just have to get you patched up, and then-" 

Agatha's hand reached out and caressed your cheek. "You can't carry me back to heaven by yourself. At least give me some time to heal first." She could never bring herself to make you upset. Deep down, she knew there was no way she could return. Part of her didn't even want to. Even if God extended his grace to her, there was no telling how the other angels would react to her return. "I know somewhere for you to take me." 

The walk was sad and slow.

Agatha seemed reasonably adjusted to living on Earth. She didn't doubt herself as she guided you through the never-ending forest. She wasn't concerned about wildlife or getting lost, even in her weakened state. You would've mistaken her for a nymph if you hadn't known better. It only took about an hour of walking for you to figure out why Agatha was so relaxed. 

She had a cabin. It was pretty large, but you could tell that Agatha used every square inch of it. The shelves were jam-packed with books of all kinds in many different languages. Even though the kitchen was spotless, you could tell she'd been using them for a while. The decor felt so natural to her. All the deep purple furniture was taken care of, but not brand new. 

 You were glad Agatha had somewhere to rest while she recovered, but you felt excluded from her life. Agatha was your closest friend. It wasn't right to feel so alienated in her space. 

Agatha limped to her room before collapsing on the bed. All the pain from walking with untreated wounds had started to catch up to her. Angels healed fast, but without her halo, she'd be bedridden for weeks. "I've always wanted to take you down here," She confessed. 

It made you smile. "I appreciate that." The smell of holy alcohol was awful, but you had to commit. "This is going to burn a bit." You rubbed the alcohol-soaked towel against the ripped skin where Agatha's wings should've been. It was hard to look at, but you suffered through it for her sake. Every feather you plucked came with a hushed apology and a kiss on her back. "They'll grow back soon…I promise." 

Agatha didn't have much faith but wouldn't bring you down with her nihilism. She wasn't even sure you knew what that was. "It'll be a long time until then." She raised her arm so you could tend to the rest of her wounds. She didn’t want to push you away. She didn’t want to suffer another beating, either. There was no telling what being on Earth would do to your mind. Angels were strong, but you were definitely on the softer side. It would be nothing for you to fall victim to the whim of a mountain lion or any other of god’s wild creations. Heaven was the only place for someone as pure and perfect as you. 

You rolled Agatha onto her back so you could see her face. “I don’t mind waiting,” you said. There was a long pause as you thought about what you had said. “Well,” you said, bracing for rejection, “I wouldn’t mind waiting with you.” Earth was new to you, but you figured it’d be no issue if you stayed in the cabin the whole time. Agatha was the only reason you were down here. You had no interest in anything else.

She let out a defeated laugh. How could she ever say no to you? Her hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer. “You’ll have to go back to heaven eventually,” she warned. It didn’t hold much water. All you had to do was pout, and you could easily make Agatha change her mind, but she at least had to pretend she wasn’t on the edge of spoiling you rotten. “Every day you spend down here is a day you must stay in heaven, got it?” Agatha extended her pinkie finger out to you. She didn’t know where you got the idea of a pinkie promise, but it was cute. 

Without thinking, you wrapped your pinkie around Agatha’s. You knew it was only a matter of time before Agatha started a pinkie promise. “And you said you’d never start a pinkie promise!” 

Agatha fondly rolled her eyes. "I'll always make an exception if it means keeping you safe." 

𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪

Leaving Agatha was hard, but returning to her was confusing. 

You had spent two weeks on Earth with Agatha before she forced you to return to heaven. It was a dreadfully long time without her. You occupied yourself with your heavenly duties, but not even those could distract you from how much you missed her. 

When you finally saw her again, Agatha looked different. Her hair was curlier and seemed to be growing by the second.  You also noticed there were bags under her eyes. It wasn't typical for an angel's appearance to change so drastically unless they were promoted. 

"Do you think you'll become an archangel when you return?"

Agatha stopped chopping the vegetables in front of her. She knew you would notice the way she was changing. You weren't dumb. Just uneducated. Agatha hated how everyone in heaven fawned over you; she wanted to protect your innocence. "Maybe, but if anyone gets promoted to archangel, it should be you." She cut off the end of a carrot before handing it to you. "You were only here two weeks, and there's already vegetables growing around here." 

You tentatively chewed on the carrot. Then you lit up. 

Literally. 

Your excitement was too much to contain and showed in the form of a blinding light admitted from your halo. It filled the entire cabin within seconds and lasted nearly a whole minute. 

Agatha rabidly blinked and rubbed her eyes. "That's one way to say they taste good," she chuckled. 

You frowned. "I didn't realize Earth was so dim." Heavenly light was the brightest light imaginable. Agatha should've been used to such brightness, but you brushed it off as her eyes adjusted to the forest's darkness. "It's nice to see something that's not white, gold, or silver, but the forests are so dim down here." 

As the day went on, you started noticing other changes about Agatha. 

Being on Earth changed her preferences a bit. When you two would read together, the books were usually nonfiction. It wasn't uncommon for you to sit down and read through an entire book about alchemy or astronomy. It was always fun to watch humans scramble and debate about their inaccuracies about the planet they lived on. 

Now, Agatha seemed interested in more fictional things. Romance was her go-to for reading. You didn't mind it. Love was beautiful, even if it was trapped between print and paper. The problem was that the novels would get weird. Not bad, but sometimes you needed help understanding what was happening.

The only way you'd learn is by asking. 

"I don't know what this means," you confessed. The blush on your face was from shame. Agatha had taught you so much, yet you didn't understand such a simple book. "The words make sense, but I can't figure out what they're doing." You sunk back into Agatha's chest and looked away from the book. This was the third book where the actions were almost impossible for you to imagine. You should've said something sooner, but it embarrassed you. 

"That's okay. What don't you understand?" Agatha was quick to spread your thighs. "It's very physical; it's easier to explain if I can do it to you." Her hands massaged your thighs in just the right way to get you to relax. The thought of touching you had become overwhelming. Agatha was starting to feel things she'd never felt before. She'd heard many names for it. Love, lust, desire. All of them were genuine feelings, but she wasn't sure which one described how she felt. "Don't be shy. I won't judge you." 

You turned back a few pages and scanned them to find one of the words. "Well, a lot of it doesn't make sense. What's a clit, and what does fingering mean in this context? I thought you fingered instruments. How do you do that to a person?" You flipped back even further. "And why does it say she's wet all the time? Does she have a bladder problem?" 

Agatha could only smile. She rolled down your shorts until the top was at the middle of your thighs. It was indeed a blessing how thin the underwear in heaven was.  Her thumb rubbed tight circles around your clit. "This is your clit. It's a bunch of tiny little nerves down there." She wrapped her free arm around your waist to keep you still. "It's really sensitive, so you have to be careful." Feeling your squirm and wiggle was so much fun. "And if you keep rubbing it just right-"

"I feel sticky!" You would've jumped out of Agatha's lap if she wasn't holding you. A strange buzzing formed under your skin. It was so warm and inviting but so bold and new at the same time. Sitting still was nearly impossible. "Is it supposed to be sticky," you asked frantically.

 Agatha rubbed your stomach to ease your frantic nerves. "You're fine. Everything is fine. That's what it feels like when you're wet." Just one finger had a difficult time slipping into your cunt. You were untouched. Free of corruption and ready to be claimed. She kissed up the side of your neck to ease your nerves. "When you start moving, that counts as fingering." 

A shaky breath tumbled from your lips. You were too overwhelmed to speak. It felt like a tight knot under your stomach, and you just wanted to pull the right string and watch it all unravel. Agatha was close to hitting the right spot, but you were too shy to ask. 

Just before that knot could unravel, Agatha pulled her fingers away. She reveled in the way your breathing staggered. You were a mess — her mess. "Does that answer your question?"

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath. "Um, I think that's everything." It was far from everything, but you weren't even sure where to start. So you just sat there in silence. You're too flustered to pretend to read anymore. "Can we go for a walk after we finish this chapter? I need to clear my head." 

"Anything for my superstar," she said. Agatha was a bit disappointed she couldn't play on your curiosity, but she had plenty of time to teach you. It wouldn't be long before Agatha had you begging for it. 

𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪𓆩♡𓆪

"You're a succubus." 

It's not an accusation. Rather, you stated a fact that had taken you almost four months to realize, but the truth nonetheless. 

Agatha stopped reading as she pondered what you said. She wasn't an angel anymore, and being a human wasn't possible. It would explain her seemingly unsatisfiable appetite and the constant desire to have you. Though she could feel her body was changing, it appeared rather underwhelming. "I guess you're right."

You sat up and looked down at Agatha. "You'll never be able to come back to heaven." It broke your heart. All you wanted was to be with Agatha forever. How was that supposed to happen if she was stuck on Earth — or worse, be forced to live in hell? Your chest tightened, and you felt hot tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

"Don't cry. Nothing is going to change between us." Agatha wiped away your tears. "I promise what we have down here is much better than anything we could make up there." She kissed your lips firmly. Heaven was the least of her concerns. Agatha wanted to be with you. It didn't matter where you two were. "Earth has the both of us, a nice cabin, and a magnificent garden. What else do we need?" 

You sniffled as you considered Agatha's words. "B-but, who are you going to feed from? I don't want you running off and doing that with other people!" A moment of silence passed between the two of you. Then your face got hot. "I don't know how to do any of that stuff. Are you sure you want to do that with me?" Your face felt incredibly hot. Intimacy was a mostly unexplored area for you. "What if I'm so bad at it that you end up starving?" 

"I don't think that's how it works," she said affectionately, "but I think it'd be better if we found out." Agatha pinned you down to the bed. It was much nicer having you underneath her. You looked like a scared doe. "You're too cute for your own good," she whispered before kissing you. 

You held on to the collar of Agatha as you feverishly kissed her back. It felt good. You turned your head and tried to collect your breath. "Will it hurt?" You trusted Agatha, but you were terrified. "Do I have to take all my clothes off?" 

"I'd never hurt you." Agatha immediately leaned down to attack your neck with open mouth kisses. She cursed the fact every angel in heaven was so nosy. All she wanted was to stake her claim over you, but there was no telling how they'd react. "I've seen you naked plenty of times before." 

You chuckled nervously. "Yeah, but it's a little different when it's like this." Despite your apprehension, you let Agatha have her way. Each kiss she gave you caused goosebumps to rise. "Are you sure you've never done this before? It feels really good." A small gasp escaped your lips when Agatha's teeth dug into your hip bone. "Be nice!" 

Agatha just huffed at you before making her way lower. She loved the plumpness of your thighs, but they were in the way of what she wanted. You were more than wet enough for Agatha to do as she pleased. "Fuck you taste so good," she moaned after licking a long strip up your slit. Two of her fingers eased inside your hole while her tongue lapped at your sensitive nub. "You're adorable." 

Your body twisted and squirmed as Agatha pleased you. It felt weird being so wet. Your slick had ruined the bedsheets. "Agatha, I don't know if I can take more of this!"  Your hand tangled in her hair. One moment you were pulling her away, and the next, you pushed her closer to your cunt. "I think something is happening!"

Agatha wrapped her arms around your thighs to keep them open. She continued her assault until the inevitable happened. Her tongue stuck out flat, so no matter which way you turned, your clit would run against it. Your cunt still sucked in her fingers as greedily as it did the first time. Not a single drop of your cum was wasted. Agatha would've easily pushed you into a second orgasm if it weren't for the particularly hard push you'd given her. 

Your body collapsed against the bed. Once again, you had many questions, but all of them would go unasked. Not because of shame— that was long gone now—but rather because of how tired you were. Just the thought of speaking was too much for you. 

Agatha looked down at you with nothing but love in her eyes. Your sweaty, desperate body was like art to her. It was the only thing she wanted to see. She leaned down and kissed you passionately. "You were more than enough for me. I never want to hear you doubt yourself again." Agatha slipped her arms underneath you and lifted you. "I know, but you have to get clean." 

It was your turn to let out a defiant huff. Unlike Agatha, you didn't have a disobedient bone in your body. You let Agatha bathe and redress you, along with all the other little details she loved to fuss over. You felt so small and helpless, but you liked it. Everything felt right. Agatha could never return to heaven, but that didn’t matter. Home was down on Earth with the woman you loved the most. Being an archangel was just more work, anyway.

[peach-and-bugs]

So, hypothetically how would we feel if Passing Notes made a return???? And HYPOTHETICALLY-

what if there was an extra spicy level of drama that may or may not include a recently introduced canon ex girlfriend…

For those unaware of Passing Notes, my highschool teacher Agatha Au fic, read the first chapter here!

[madwomansapologist]

let me feel you | agatha harkness

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Agatha Harkness | AO3

synopsis: All you wanted was for Agatha Harkness to being you the towel you forgot. How could you know that your night would end with her magic strap-on inside of you? You wouldn't trade it for nothing else. [1K]

warnings: smut. bondage. penetration. strap-on. fingering. breeding kink. mommy kink. rough sex. spit. cum eating. praises. degradation. possessiveness. kinky use of magic. gp!agatha harkness. mean!dom agatha but also soft!dom agatha. she's a woman of layers. female!reader.

Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times...

You didn't even get out of the shower. The hot water continue to fall on you, relaxing your sore members, a thin fog dominated the bathroom. You just opened the box's door. "Babe!"

"Towel", you heard Agatha yelling back from your shared bedroom.

She was right. It's the forth night in a row you forget it folded on your bed. Getting that she was waiting for you in bed, you're pretty sure Agatha noticed and waited to see if you would remember to get it. Of course you didn't.

You heard when she opened the door. You got out from under the hot water, wishing that somehow your temperature wouldn't change. With goosebumps rising on your skin, you shook the excess water out of your hair.

Agatha opened the box's door, a smirk decoring her face. She looked you up and down, admiring the way water runned down your body. It seem like don't matter how many times she sees you, it always feel like the first time. "That's such a bad habit of yours. What if one day I'm not at home?"

You reached out for the towel, but Agatha held it away from you. "It isn't a habit. It's a constant silly accident."

"So that's how you prefer to word it?" Agatha crossed her arms. You tried to get the towel again, but she took a step away from you. "'Cuz that sounds like a lie, sweet thing."

You extended your hand with your palm facing the roof. "Gimme that."

Agatha held your waist, not caring about the water. All she wanted was to feel your warm skin against her. Her thumb caressed your tummy, while her other fingers grabbed part of your thigh. "Don't think I should. I pretty much prefer this view."

"Than stop complaining", your nails scratched her forearm, fingers following the veins until you reached her hand. You closed yours over hers, making Agatha use more strenght to hold you. "And I promise to always forget my towel."

Agatha response came in a electric feeling against your wet skin. She was doing it again. You watched the purple strings circling your body, enclosuring your feet and hands. Agatha walked away from the bathroom, and her magic made your follow her.

You giggled, enjoying that feeling of being throw around without having to put on any effort. It feels so good when Agatha just put you were she wants and take everything she can from you. You feel like a doll. Like something precious.

"Let's seal the deal", Agatha dropped the towel on the floor and you on your bed at the same time. You couldn't care less about the bed sheets. "Open your legs for me."

She could have opened them. Agatha knows you like to give up control, just as you know she loves to take it. But she wanted to see you revealing yourself. To make you show her where you wanted to be touched, where you needed her.

She crawled and held your thights, pulling you closer to her. She bit your delicate skin, marking it with her teeths. "I won't ask twice."

You did as she ordered, and Agatha licked the bite as a reward for your good behavior. Agatha stayed there for some time, provoking you by being so near where you wanted her and still so far away.

"You'll ended up marking me", you tried to argue with her. To use your logic to make Agatha do what you wanted. You rolled your hips, but Agatha moved away from you.

Agatha kneeled between your legs, and it filled you with a sweet rage to see that you were naked and wet while she was wearing so many clothes. So unfair. "You're mine, aren't you? My dirty girl, my sweet princess, my pretty slut."

"You know I am."

Agatha caressed your cheeks, and that normally pure act of affection never felt so depraved. She kissed your shoulders, licked your neck, pushed her nose against your skin. When her lips were about to touch yours, she grabbed your chin and held you in place. Her nails scratched your face. "Then I can do whatever I want to you."

You put your hand on hers, stroking her skin while looking deep into her eyes. You kissed her thumb, scratched gently her fingers, pulled your face against her skin. You kissed each finger of her hand, then licked them. You kept eye contact, moaned with her fingers on your mouth, and let them go with a dirty pop.

"Please", you whimpered. "Touch me, please. Pretty please."

Agatha slide her fingers through your body, so slowly that for a second you thought she wouldn't do a damn thing. Then she smiled, and her fingers finally laid on your needy pussy.

While her fingers played with your lips, the speed changing whenever you were almost getting used to the feeling, Agatha finally kissed you. It was so rough, filled with a burning desire for one another. It made you feel hers. It made you want to be hers until the finish line.

Agatha moved to suck your nipples. Her tongue was made for you. The way she knew your body, doing exactly what you wanted her to do, made you moan her name.

Agatha groaned against your breasts.

So you did it again. You whimpered her name, whispered it, screamed. Her name was the only word your mouth knew.

"Such a good girl", Agatha moaned against you. You didn't even touched her, but you were doing exactly what gave her pleasure. You praised her, you begged for her, you treated her like your owner. Because she is. You're hers. You will forever be hers. "Doing exactly what mommy taught you."

Before you could even react, she penetrated your pussy. Her pussy. Two fingers, wet with your own saliva, made their way into you. They felt so right, so perfectly made for you. She curved them inside you, and with your eyes closed the pleasure expand into you as waves.

When her tongue rubbed your clit, not even her name was something you could say. You made inhumans sounds, so lost in pleasure. When she was fast, you felt your eyes turning. When she was slow, it was such a great torture you felt like anything would be enough to make you scream. Don't matter what Agatha gives you, it's always what you need.

When Agatha noticed you weren't breathing, she bit your tight and got next to your face. She kissed you, making even harder to breath, and made you taste yourself.

Agatha loves to feel you breathless against her.

You were being so good for her. So docile. You gave up control to her. Many would think that this means you're weaker, but those people aren't worth your attention. You trust her. You want her. Agatha can do anything to you but not because she owns you, but because she knows you.

And for being such a sweet thing, Agatha will do whatever you want. No games, no edging, just you and your pleasure.

"What do you want, pretty girl?" Agatha fucked you even harder. She didn't wanted you to think about it, to imagine what would make Agatha happy, she wanted the truth. "Mommy will give it to you."

Between lossen moanings and her rough kisses, your mind was reduced to something else. To something animalistic. "I- Want", your words didn't felt right. Were they even words? You don't remember. You can't remember. "I want... you. You filling me up. I want to feel you coming into me."

Agatha froze.

When the lack of any movement endured, you opened your eyes. Looking at Agatha, you understood what you have said. "Oh, no", you whispered. "I didn't mean to- Look it wasn't... I swear I wasn't imagining you're a man or anything I just... Dear lord, please kill me or I..."

But this time what shut you wasn't the cacophony of thoughts. It wasn't your fear that Agatha may think you want something more than her. It wasn't the shame of saying something and feeling judge. It was Agatha's fingers deep into your mouth.

"So my dumb slut want mommy to cum inside of her?" You blinked and unsure of what to do you nodded. It was such a pathetic view. You, clearly embarrassed, nodding with her wet fingers into your mouth. "Than that's what mommy will give to her."

A electric wave went throught your body, but this time it wasn't meant to you. When you looked down, you saw Agatha's magic doing something you never imagined that was possible.

Agatha has a dick. Not a strap-on, not a sex toy, but a purple member. And it was exactly how you like it. The exactly measurements you like the strap-on you use the most. The veins, the rounded tip. Have she ever saw it? Does she knows you uses it?

Without warning, Agatha entered you. It was so perfect. Just what you wanted. It felt so good inside you. So made for you. And when you thought it couldn't get better, Agatha moved her hips.

From there you couldn't think anymore.

But the best part was to look into Agatha's eyes. To see her almost whimpering for you. You knew she could feel everything. You could see it on her eyes. So you made your pussy get even tighter, torturing her on such a good way.

"Fuck", her breathless moans made you so wet. How could she never did that before? You will never want something different from now on. "I'll never get out of you. I will fuck this pussy until you can't take no more. I will be inside you forever."

Agatha kissed you, but both of you felt so sensitive. She couldn't close her mouth, so you licked her tongue. It made such a nasty sound. "You do me so good", you whispered.

Watching you licking whatever you could, so hungry to have Agatha on your mouth, she felt that you would do anything for her. That just as Agatha would turn every wet dream of yours into reality, you would make anything that could possibly make her feel good.

So Agatha decided to test her theory. "Open you mouth."

You did just as she wanted. You put your tongue out, almost as if you knew what Agatha wanted. As if it was your thought, your desire, and Agatha was just doing as you wanted.

She spat on you tongue, and you took everything she had for you. Agatha couldn't look away from your eyes. They were teasing her, begging for more while also demanding. You moaned as you drank her saliva.

That was her limit.

Agatha groaned against you, and slapped your thight. The sound you made was so perfect. She put your ankles on her shoulders, and fucked you like her life depended on it.

And at that moment, it was true.

Feeling your insides welcoming her, Agatha gave you everything she had. She went harder against your pussy. For a second she was sure you could see stars. That even herself would.

And when you closed your eyes, your legs shaking and pussy aching, Agatha reached her breaking point.

She came into you.

And for the first time in your life you felt complete.

Agatha buried her head on your neck. "I gonna burn every single towel on this house."

You laughed, or at least you tried since you hadn't been able to breathe in a while. You kissed her temple, and just then you realized that your nails were deep on her back. "Deal."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[florencebirdsong]

you can run but you can’t hide

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal

summary: you sleep with one witch without killing her and suddenly your girlfriend has the time to hunt you down. Go figure.

Or, Agatha wants Rio’s attention and now she has it. Quick and dirty style.

tags: top!Rio, brief power!bottom Agatha, they are switches after all, fingering (both receiving), knife play, no blood description, biting, thorny vine restraints, possessive Rio, little shit Agatha

masterlist | ao3

authors note: this is early-ish in their relationship. Before Nicky but when Agatha is already well into her serial killer phase.

“Oh, Agatha~” Rio sings. 

Her voice comes from all directions. Running from the original green witch in a centuries old forest isn’t the best idea but Agatha is quite literally out of options.

A branch rustles but there’s a suspicious shadow in its opposite direction. Agatha aims slightly for the left of the branch and finds herself sliding into a ditch. Her muffling spell deadens the sound of snapping twigs and sliding leaves. She resists the urge to cast an illusion over her little dip in the ground. Not only would it not work on Death but it would be a dead give away to her. There’s leaves sticking to her face, roots poking her ribs and something sharp grazing her ankle but she doesn’t risk moving.

Leaves crunching in a steady pattern give away footsteps. 

“Agatha~” Rio sings out again, a dark edge to her voice Agatha hasn’t heard in a long time. A warning that she’s toeing the line, and not one of the fun ones they like to draw for each other.

Two steps closer and Agatha can see the edge of Rio’s silhouette. Her hand twitches but she doesn’t take the bait. They’ve been playing this game long enough for her to know better. 

Her restraint doesn’t matter. Rio already knows where she is. Shrubs grab at her and propel her into Death’s waiting arms.

“Got you,” Rio says with a cheeky grin before slamming her against a tree. Agatha tries to grapple with her but her breath has been forced out of her. Rio has her pinned within a second. “Someone’s been naughty,” she says.

“Can a girl not spend a night curing her loneliness?” 

“You know the rules. That is not how you get my attention.” Rio’s pulls her knife out and pokes into the soft flesh under Agatha’s chin.

“You’re here now, aren’t you?” Agatha says.

“Don’t tell me you’re being the jealous one, Agatha. You can summon me whenever you like,” Rio says as she trails the knife down Agatha’s throat.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the area’s a little bare of witches at the moment.”

“And yet you still managed to find one to bed,” Rio’s smile edges more towards a snarl.

“A green one too,” Agatha smiles as Rio’s snarl stretches further. “I knew that would get under your skin.”

“Oh, Agatha,” Rio knife digs in, “We both know the only thing under my skin is you.”

“Prove it,” Agatha snarls back. She goes for the knife but Rio digs it in deeper.

“Careful, sweetheart, you know what happens when my claws come out,” she slides her knife lightly along Agatha’s neck. Just enough to make a thin, red cut.

“They’re not out already?” Agatha asks. “Was me fucking another woman not enough?” 

Rio growls and throws Agatha to the ground face first. Agatha doesn’t get a chance to push herself back up. Rio jumps on top of her and she narrowly avoids slamming her chin into the ground. She expects at least a few more verbal jabs but Rio’s been pushed past her limit. She forces herself between Agatha’s legs, keeping her down with a hand pressing her head into the dirt, and tears off Agatha’s pants. Half a second later and she’s forcing three fingers into Agatha’s soaked cunt. They moan together.

It only takes three harsh thrusts for Agatha to stop being disappointed that the game is over so quickly. She pushes back onto Rio’s fingers and Rio’s grip tightens in her hair.

“If you’re so desperate then come,” she demands with a snarl. 

They’ve only just started yet Rio curls her fingers and Agatha finds herself right on the edge. Rio leans down and sinks her sharp teeth into the vulnerable skin on her neck and Agatha comes with a muffled scream.

Rio removes her teeth and laughs against Agatha’s skin.

“She must’ve been bad if that’s all it took,” she says.

“Who?” Agatha murmurs through her post-orgasm haze. Rio laughs again. She ignores Agatha’s whine as she gently pulls out and turns her over. She settles on Agatha’s hips.

“Who owns you, Agatha?” she murmurs as she runs her wet fingers down Agatha’s throat, enjoying the way Agatha basks in the attention. One corner of Agatha’s mouth twitches up.

“That witch,” she says. Rio’s fingers close around her throat. She doesn’t break eye contact.

“You don’t even remember her name.”

“I never even knew it,” Agatha says with that same teasing smile. 

What should cancel out her previous statement makes it burn hotter by the way she says it. Thorny vines shoot out to wrap around her wrists and ankles.

“I could just leave you here,” Rio threatens.

“You won’t,” Agatha says with such certainty it infuriates Rio. 

Another vine caresses Agatha’s throat before wrapping around it. She’s right. Rio has gone too long without her to leave her so soon. That doesn’t mean she has to satisfy her.

Rio begins grinding down and Agatha watches her with that same lazy smirk.

“Don’t get too cocky, Agatha. I’m going use you to come and then leave you here wanting.”

“Just like that other green witch did?”

Rio gnashes her teeth together. She resists the urge to sink them into Agatha again. Her anger will create too much force and she’ll break something. 

Instead, Rio leans down, never faltering in her rhythm, to breathe the same air as her love. She watches as Agatha drinks in every inch of her expression as she gets closer and closer. That cocky look turns into desire which then turns into pure want as Rio nears the edge. Rio’s eyes flutter close and she leans that little bit closer so her lips brush Agatha’s. Agatha tries to close the gap but the thorns cutting into her skin keep her still. Rio moans into her mouth.

A needy sound leaving her has Agatha squirming but it’s too late. Rio shudders on top of her and comes before Agatha gets a chance to fully enjoy it.

The desperate eyes that greet Rio are almost as sweet as her orgasm. She gently runs her fingers over Agatha’s cheek before gripping her face tightly.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she growls, her eyes creeping towards their other-worldly purple glow. 

Or what? Agatha wants to say but Rio’s grip is too tight. The challenge is still clear on her face and Rio’s nails lengthen to dig into her skin.

“You are mine, Agatha Harkness,” Rio hisses. “I can make you wish you were dead as much as I can make you feel alive.”

There’s a much darker note under Rio’s voice than Agatha is used to. Her challenging look turns wary. She doubts this game will ever stop being fun but that doesn’t mean nastier moments can’t sneak through. She doesn’t want Rio to doubt her devotion. That would be more dangerous than anything she’s attempted before.

“I claim you, Rio Vidal, Death, The First Green Witch,” Agatha declares. Rio’s eyes widen a fraction. “You are mine as I am yours, until the end of time.”

The words carry a hint of magic and Rio’s snarl slides off her face. 

“I am yours as you are mine,” Rio breathes with the same amount of devotion. A hint of desperation hidden by Rio sealing the vow with a kiss. Soft at first but quickly devolving into their usual hunger. 

Rio removes the vine keeping Agatha’s neck pinned, so she doesn’t have to break the kiss as she rises slightly on her knees and slips her fingers back inside of Agatha. Agatha moans into her mouth and Rio swallows it eagerly. She wants to devour her, merge their bodies and bind their souls as one. For now she settles for chasing Agatha across the continent and pulling every lick of pleasure she can from her.

Agatha’s magic snaps the rest of vines holding her down, thorns slicing her as she reaches for Rio. Her hands find the back of Rio’s neck and the bodice of her dress. Rio’s less punishing thrusts allow her room to guide the kiss. Her hand moves from Rio’s bodice to the skirts of her dress and tugs them up until she can get it under. She gives Rio the same treatment she’s receiving and slips three fingers into her heat, quickly matching her rhythm. Fingers curl, thumbs find clits, teeth scrape over skin and tongues dips into mouths. They become one moaning, writhing mess as they both reach their peaks before collapsing into each other.

Panting slightly, Agatha gently moves hair out of Rio’s face. She’s wearing that look that means she wants to consume Agatha but her eyes are flashing violet in the way that means too many bodies are calling. The strain of ignoring it is apparent on her face.

“Go do your job, Death,” Agatha releases her. “But don’t be so long this time, hmm?” 

“You won’t leave the next one alive,” Rio says firmly.

“There are other ways to torture you, my love,” Agatha says softly, like it’s a sweet promise. Rio’s eyes flash a deeper purple, no death magic lightening them. 

“I shall return soon,” she promises. 

Soon to death can be very different to life but Agatha accepts the promise with a kiss.

“Te veo,” Rio whispers against her lips before getting up and fading back into the dark. 

Agatha lies there for a along while, getting her breath back.

[frost-queen]

Witches road// part 2 (Fem!reader x Agatha Harkness)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic,@alex--awesome--22, @ellie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampything07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @erikasurfer, @slythetic , @p0nycurtis , @quailbagutte , @fantasticcroissantpandagarden, @lanfear-is-my-darkmistress

Summary: Summoning the witches road, you are met up with the first trial. Being close around Agatha once more breaks unfamiliar things out of you. Can you overcome your fears and get a sense of what is becoming of you. [Witches road series]

Gather sisters fire

Water, earth and air

You quirked your eyebrow intriguingly up when you entered the house. Hand sliding on the doorframe whilst entering. Making a loud hum sound, looking around. – “What?” – Agatha asked entering behind you. – “Nothing.” – you responded looking over your shoulder to her. – “It’s just not you.” – you gestured at the clean suburban lifestyle, something unlike her.

“Well I didn’t have it to the picking Y/n.” – Agatha responded annoyed. Chuckling amused, you walked to the living room. Seeing another witch already present. With wide eyes, she looked at you. – “Are my eyes deceiving me?” – she questioned. – “They are not.” – Agatha responded walking past her. Your familiar jumped on the sofa making Agatha hurry over.

“Uh-uh no pets on the couch.” – she started clapping her hands to scare him away. Your familiar hissed back in defence, making her pull her hands back. – “Fine then sit.” – she replied bothered. Jennifer’s gaze went from you to Agatha, keeping a close eye on it. Trying to find something subtle in her behaviour.

She got quickly disrupted when the other witches walked in. – “Let’s summon the road.” – Agatha said happily, clasping in her hands. You started humming the tune of the hymn, going towards her basement. – “Is… is she alright?” – Alice asked with a point at you.

Agatha waved it away, going after you. Down her basement you all came to stand in a circle. Agatha came standing beside you. You glanced down at her offering hand, humming in disagreement as you went around taking Jennifer’s hand. Agatha narrowed her eyes with a soft glare.

Your familiar meowed near her feet, startling her. Looking down at the black cat, she showed him her clawed hand. It made your familiar hiss back at her, hairs up straight. Agatha straightened her posture. A sudden thundering made her freak out. – “Let’s get a move on.”

She grabbed their hands, readying themselves to sing the witches ballad.

Seekest thou the road

To all that's foul and fair

Gather sisters fire

Water, earth and air

Darkest hour, wake thy power

Earthly and divine

Burn and brew with coven true

And glory shall be thine

Your gaze went upwards sensing the hauntingly arrival. Their presence carried by the screeching wind. Like a banshee’s cry sending a wave of crumbled leaves with them. The pressing hour of the witches road nearing. Only one chance to succeed for else the seven would devour her.

Your familiar jumped on your shoulder, laying his tail around your neck. Squeezing your newly sister’s hands, you sang along. The words you had carved in your head for centuries. Down, down, down the road. Down the witches road. A pulsating force made you move your chest a bit back. Taken back by it’s intensity. The seven had entered the house. Having stepped over the boundaries.

Your gaze went to Agatha in front of you. Seeing her sing with fear in her eyes. Very well aware of the troubles waiting upstairs. Down, down, down the road. Down the witches road.

The chanting became louder and louder. Overpowering the rumbling from upstairs. The ceiling shuddering with snippets of dust fluttering down. Squeezing their hands tight, you felt the primal force of a coven brewing down deep. Gaze fixating at Agatha with a hard stare. Maiden, mother, crone. An ominous sound seeped through the house.

Thundering with an ominous omen. A path one should not take. Down, down, down the road. Down the witches road. Roared through the basement. Chanting loudly with every might from your lungs. Elevating with the brewing hymn. Looking up, you let the chanting fully consume you. To glory at the end.

Hands were released as all looked breathless at each other. For an eerie moment, everyone wondered if it worked. Emptiness. Whilst Agatha and the others were bickering. Knowing what was at her doorstep, you lowered yourself. Kneeling down to touch the cold ground. Your familiar jumped off your back, meowing soft.

You started to hum the hymn once more, brushing your hand over the ground. Closing your eyes briefly. When your hands felt roughness, you opened your eyes once more. Thundering rushed down the stairs as the teen appeared out of breath. – “Is that the door?” – he asked breathless. All looked at him before looking down at the ground. You were smiling wickedly at the door. Agatha immediately knelt down to pull the slots open.

“Help me!” – she yelled out with urgency. All came to her help. Revealing a set of steps. Stone and cold. You whistled brief as your familiar jumped on your shoulder. – “Down, down, down.” – you whispered taking the first step. Others quickly followed, going down. Letting the road consume them. Agatha closed the doors before the seven could claim her.

Following the glowing bouncing off the walls, you lead them down. A smile curling up when you met with the woods. Taking a deep breath, you let it consume your lungs. Letting it take over every breath of you. The teen came standing beside you, smiling excitingly at you. You smiled back at him as your black cat stuck his head out to him. The teen looked wonderous over to you.

With a simple nod of yours, you accepted. The teen reached out to scratch your cat behind the ear. – “May I ask you something Y/n?” – he dared to ask, lowering his hand. You hummed softly with a nod. – “How… why… why… were… you?” – he started, stumbling a bit over his words. Unsure how to phrase it. – “Buried?” – you responded knowing where he was going with it.

Staring off into the distance, your mind got pulled back a memory. Standing frozen as the teen tried to get a reaction out of you by waving his hand before you. – “Crawling all the way…” – you said numbly. Your cat meowed in your ear, making you shake your head awake.

Plastering on a smile, you looked back at the teen. Tapping his nose with a playful shrug. You then hummed loudly to hop after the others. – “Is… is she alright?” – Alice asked Jennifer lowly. Jennifer moved her gaze onto you. – “I’ve only heard rumours, but she was betrayed…” – Jennifer responded. – “By whom?” – Alice wanted to know. Jennifer only looked in Agatha’s direction as it said enough.

Alice nodded nervously as it made a bit more sense. Agatha came to a stop, turning round to everyone. – “We will be tested at every possible given.” – she explained. There were some uncertainties amongst the sisters. Unsure how they would be tested to find glory at the end. – “Shall we?” – Agatha exclaimed, clasping her hands together. She noticed your gaze was fixated on the ground. 

Staring lost at it, almost like in trance. Agatha chuckled nervously coming over to you. She came standing behind you, taking you by the shoulders. – “Y/n, let’s go.” – she whispered to you, her lips close to your cheek. You numbly rocked your body wobbly on your heel. – “Let’s go…” – she repeated tugging on your shoulder to follow her.

When Agatha turned around she noticed Mrs. Hart… uhum Sharon had taken off. It made her groan loud needing to search for her. All of you started to run, hearing screams. Screams filling the witches road like an embrace. Familiar and known. Your eyes widened seeing Mrs. Hart trying to pull her purse out of a puddle of mud. Slowly devouring her purse. Making it one with the earth.

You rushed over to her, grabbing her by the ankles, ready to pull along with Jennifer as your eyes fell on the mud puddle. Seeing how it was swallowing the purse whole. It made your whole heart empty, waiting for the beat to come out. – “Y/n! Y/n!” – Jennifer called out as you weren’t helping.

Agatha noticed the trauma reflecting deep in your eyes as it made her come to assist. Grabbing the ankle with your hands around it to assist in tugging. Mrs. Hart got pulled back, making you fall down. Blinking rapidly, you crawled on top of Agatha. A distant look in your eyes, as you held a stick against her throat. Pushing it slightly into her skin.

Cheeks trembling with fury as a part of you wanted to jab it through her throat. Agatha had moved her hands up, seeing you were miles away. A darkness deep in your eyes. – “Y/n.” – the teen spoke approaching you. – “Lower the stick…it’s alright…” – he said calmly, reassuring you. – “Y/n… it’s alright…” – he came kneeling beside you.

“Let Agatha go Y/n.” – he spoke softly reaching for your hand. Panting loud, your hand trembled. Once the teen moved his hand over yours, it seemed to steady. He slowly moved the stick away from Agatha’s throat. Taking your other hand to help you off Agatha and up your feet. Agatha touched her throat for a pinch.

“I’m…I’m sorry…” – you told the teen, not sure what overcame you. – “It’s alright.” – he responded with a soft smile. Your familiar came brushing against your leg, making you look down at him. Kneeling down, you picked him up, letting him snuggle against your chest.

The comfort of him brought you back to reality. Not sure what had overcome you. – “Has that always been there?” – Jennifer asked after some silence. Making you all look at the house in the distance. Agatha smirked coming nearer. All of you followed her towards the house. You remained in the back, feeling out of yourself. Like you had no idea who this person was.

This person that seemed to keep trying to crawl her way out. Been in the darkness for a very long time. Chained and shackled. The house was warningly welcoming.  Looking at the others, you saw there had been a change in appearances. It made you rub your hands nervously together. By the diner table, you stood holding the glass of wine up.

Mrs. Hart drank the wine in one breath, making you raise your brow at her. – “Shall we take the girl talk to the sofa?” – she said tipsy making you all return to the living room. You took a deep breath, feeling a shiver up your spine when Agatha stroke her finger up your arm.

“Do not drink it.” – she whispered to you with a witchy smile. It made you stare down your glass. Seeing the wine swirl around like blood. Glaring at her, you moved the glass up. – “I stray not from the path, I hold death’s hand in mine.” – you told her before emptying your glass down your throat. Down, down, down it went. Agatha’s gaze widened. With a beckoning look, you threw your glass against the ground.

Shattering into a dozen pieces. It made her jump back to avoid the shatters. The first symptoms appeared with Mrs. Hart. Her face all swollen, you could barely recognize her. Then it consumed the others. Taking each and one witch. Poison. The wine was poisoned. Your cat meowed soft at the first trial. Counting down till the hour of death. Waiting patiently at the door for unsuccess.

For the only wakening to keep death at bay was an antidote. Jennifer send everyone off. You went with Lilia and Agatha. Haunted by the hour of death and it’s testing. For a witch would be tested greatly.

The chime of a bell made you stop in your tracks. Lilia and Agatha continuing. Another bell chimed as it send a shiver down your spine. Feeling the room turn, you slowly turned around. An ominous sound grasping you when you stared down at an empty grave. A bell chiming twice.

A banshee’s cry carried by the wind as crumbled leaves fluttered over your feet. Down. Down. Down. The empty hole in the grave seemingly enlarging till the very crust of the earth. A gaping mouth ready to swallow you whole. Your body started to shock a bit. Feeling a cough come up. The bell chimed for a third time. Trying to hold in the coughs. A thickness in your throat.

Coughing loud, you coughed up earth. Dry earth, coughed out like powder. Seeping out of your mouth as it made you sink to your knees. Kneeling at the bed of the grave, the bellowing emptiness below. Down. Down. Down. Coughing more, the earth from your mouth fell in the empty grave.  

Feeling yourself choke on the earth and sand in your mouth. There seemed to be no end. Thy breathing woven to earth. Trying to grasp for air, you grasped your fingers down your throat. Body wobbling as you felt yourself nearly tip down the gaping mouth of your boundness. All that gravel. Chained and shackled.

Body releasing gravity as you felt weightless. Tipping forwards, ready to meet your earthy bed. A sudden grip on your shoulder made you gasp awake. Blinking rapidly at the vast ground. No more cemetery. No more grave. Touching your mouth, it was clean of any earth. – “Y/n?” – Agatha asked concerned.

She came kneeling beside you as you teared up. Letting yourself fall against her chest, you cried soft. Agatha shushing you soothingly. She placed a sorrowful kiss at the top of your head.

Gaining your senses, you pushed yourself off her. Returning to Jennifer to assist her. She noticed the spooked expression on your face. – “You too?” – she asked, making you nod. One of the side-effects of the poison you weren’t keen on. Your black cat jumped on the counter, purring loudly as you stroke his back. – “Is it true?” -Jennifer asked making you look up at her. – “Did you truly get betrayed?” – she wanted to know.

“It's my whole heart. Weighed and measured inside.” – you responded as it sounded like a riddle to her. – “Deemed and delivered a crime.” – you went on, staring into the distance, still petting your familiar. Not wanting to engage in it further, you picked up your cat, moving away from Jennifer. Jennifer nodded respectfully. The others returned all with their ingredients for the antidote.

You held on close to your familiar, watching Jennifer brew the potion. Your cat jumped onto your shoulder when you held hands to change the potions colour. Needing it to be teal. With the teens blood it reached teal. Letting a fallen hair drop in. The hour of death at your shoulder, breathing down. Trying to outrun it. To escape the hour of death, you drank the potion.

“Hurry!” – Agatha shouted as the glass had broken. Sending a flood of water inside. Your cat jumped into your arms as you ran with it to the open oven. Jennifer crawled through it first. You followed with your cat as the others were behind you. Jennifer’s scream was loud when she went down the slide. Followed by laughter. Cackling with pleasure down the slide till your body bumped against hers. One by one, they went down the slide. All getting up but one. For Sharon was dead.

---------------------------------------------------------

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[multimilfs]

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader: The Reigning Game, Chapter (5/?) - Vows Made With Sacred Blades

Summary: With a new threat brought to light and victory on the horizon, what will you do next?

AO3

A/N: Not me showing up 3 years late to my own party...

In all seriousness, this story underwent HEAVY edits. I recommend rereading the whole thing as I added scenes and adjusted old ones. Also, I answered a bunch of questions in my end note on a03, so I'd also read that xoxo

Tag List: @white--lillies @escapetodreamworld @multifandomfix @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @imtrashinflames @thatmacrameisnotgonnahitchitself @thoroughly--confused (apologies if i missed anyone, it has been a while)

Warning(s): Blood, Suicide Mention

(Previous Chapters)

“Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away.” P.K. Dick

You don’t remember when Agatha fell to her knees.

The sword catches the light, dripping with thin, bright blood. Agatha’s blood. It startles you that she’s the same inside as you; you had expected corruption to flow through her veins, staining her black from the inside out.

Agatha groans. Barely propped up on her knees, she’s using one hand to support herself while the other glows and fizzles out repeatedly. The sword doesn’t vanish, the wound doesn’t heal.

The wound may not have been by your own hand, but is this… victory? Have you won?

“Coward,” Agatha spits, “stabbing me in the back.”

Your heart races with something strangely like fear, yet a little to the left. With every drop of blood staining the grass the emotion grows. Her winces with every move twist something in you. Revenge is like honey on your tongue—so why do you feel sick?

Let her die.

Lightness sweeps through your limbs. Walking away now would be so easy. It is your turn to have the last word.

“Help me up.” Agatha demands.

Her chest rises, though stutters each time as the pain of her flesh sliding over the blade renews. Under her breath she lets loose a string of obscene curses.

You tilt your head, your own voice sounding far away, “Why should I?”

Agatha freezes. For the first time since falling, she looks at you. You’re struck by the change in circumstances; not long ago it was you kneeling at her feet, begging. You’re seized by the desire to feel her beg.

You want to hold her heart in your hands and squeeze.

“Don’t do this. Not now.”

The laugh comes too easy, “I never took you for a sore loser, Harkness.”

“If you want to win, stab me yourself—don’t profit off of someone else’s fortune.”

You stare at her, hard; the paling of her skin, the way her fingers are clenched in the grass, palm sputtering purple. Her eyes are furious. There’s also something else there you can’t quite place.

“You don’t get it, do you?” You ask, “Being rid of you is winning. How it happens is irrelevant.”

Agatha’s lips pull into a smirk. It lacks the usual strength, but you still find yourself unmoored—fear creeping in where triumph was moments earlier.

Her eyes drag over you. Her own head tilts.

“You’d be beautiful like this—if it was really you.”

You can’t breathe.

“I beg your pardon?”

You stand back—watching, waiting. Her eyes bore into you, the pain in them becoming more evident. You feel sick.

It’s wrong to let her suffer, to watch her bleed out when you can help, but wouldn’t she do the same given the chance? How many battles had you fought, how many thousands cut down just so she could get to you? And she hadn’t allowed you the dignity of dying with your people.

No, she forced you into this circus.

You’re better than her; you’ll grant her the dignity of a swift death.

“You want to be the one responsible, always have.” Agatha says, the hint of a wheeze creeping into her speech. You’re surprised she held out as long as she did. “That’s why you put the poison in my tea, isn’t it?”

She… She knew.

She knew.

“Your death is for the best.” You say.

“She’ll s-slaughter them all. What was it you said—a Queen does what is best, even when it isn’t in her interests?” Agatha laughs, but it's hollow, weak, “Some Queen you are, signing their death warrant.”

You fall to your knees at her side.

Agatha Harkness is the source of all your problems, a tormenter you just cannot escape; but if you kill her now, you undo all you’ve done, and condemn your people to death—or worse. You have to act as a Queen ought. You need her.

“What do I do?” You whisper.

“Get… Get me outside this damn barrier. I’ll handle the rest.”

But hadn’t you already—?

When you stand, you’re barely able to lift Agatha to lean on you. If not for the little remaining strength she has you’d be done for. But you take what you can get and push through the screaming of your body to drag her toward the barrier that wasn’t there a moment ago.

The barrier gleams and twists in place. It's objectively beautiful, but what you’ve witnessed here has dulled your admiration.

You’re steps away when there’s a chuckle on your right, “I have to admit, you surprise me.”

You shove Agatha through before you can think. Without touching the barrier yourself, you turn, and stare into the eyes you’re coming to hate more than the original pair.

The too-wide smile again greets you, “With all that rage I expected you to take my sword and cut her apart.”

“I’m not a monster.”

“Aren’t you?”

“You said I had a fortnight.”

“You do,” She hums, unbothered by your glare, “this is a warning.”

“You think your promises weren’t warning enough? Your intentions were plain.” You snarl.

A distorted, hollow laugh crawls from her mouth, “You know nothing of what I’ll do to you. Your dear, sweet wife went easy on you.”

“You know nothing.”

She had been looking off at some distant marker, only for her head to snap violently to look at you, the crack making you flinch. The once-empty gaze is now full of fury. Behind the blackness, a flame burns bright.

“I know more of her than you’ll ever understand.” She hisses, “And if you were smart, you’d have let her die.”

And she’s gone, as if a product of your imagination.

You reach out and feel yourself pulled back through the barrier.

-- --

“If they never come out of there, what happens?” Darcy whispers.

Lady Darcy always prided herself on an excellent understanding of magic and magical theory; but with every moment spent in the world alongside Agatha Harkness, she grows less sure.

Agatha Harkness is an anomaly; the kind of witch born once in a thousand years. It seems as if magical anomalies follow in her wake, but are they caused by her, or merely drawn out of hiding by her power?

They stand alone in the clearing with their thoughts, Guards and company preparing to take their leave should the two of you return. Hope fades more every moment. 

Lord James looks utterly defeated, “I… I don’t know. They’ve left no heir.”

“Which means The Council will appoint one.”

A look of dread passes between the two.

“We can’t let that happen.”

“How are we going to stop them?” Darcy raises a brow.

Lord James Woo spent his life serving at your side, and proudly; you’ve held tight to propriety, unbent by corruption, guiding with level-headed and clear intent. The tactics in his mind now would never have your approval.

But if you’re dead, he has to look out for the living.

“We lie.”

Darcy blinks.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you properly. We lie?” She hisses.

“What else do you suggest?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, something less stupid!”

James winces.

“We say she appointed an heir prior to… this. Agatha didn’t sign off, but she didn’t speak against it, either. You and I were both witnesses.”

Pacing the small length between them, chewing on her nail, scenarios pass through both of their minds. Scenario one; somehow, the Council accepts the word as fact. Scenario two; they’re disbelieved and exiled at best, executed at worst.

You find lying reprehensible. But your goal has always been to protect the people, to offer them the best; they have to try and do the same.

“Say they buy it; who is her heir?”

The look the question earns her is particularly scathing for James. She smiles sheepishly.

Only one within the kingdom held enough of your trust to be named heir in your place. Only one person you knew would hold up under the weight of expectation and would keep the best interests of the people in mind.

The set up could not be more perfect if they tried. Not only is the woman of royal blood, but her Mother’s House widely acclaimed for their military and strategic prowess. Factor in her closeness to you and it makes the nomination impossible to ignore; far stronger than the minor Lord they would put in her place.

“Alright,” Darcy agrees, “but we’ll give them all the time we can.”

“Right.”

Luckily, or unluckily, they do not wait long.

One moment the space before them is empty, the next there is a heap of woman kneeling on the ground, propped up by a shaking arm. A heap with dark hair and clad in purple.

“Foolish fucking woman.” Agatha bites out loud enough for them to hear.

Darcy notices the sword moments before Agatha straightens, pushing said item out of her body with a long moan. James freezes. Darcy shrieks.

Agatha pays them no mind; slamming her hand onto the barrier that doesn’t allow her to pass, magic crackling at her fingertips and then pulling in, wrapping around the witch as she breathes it in. The wound in her middle knits itself back together before their eyes.

The barrier ripples. You blip into existence.

There is a split second where you blink and make eye contact with Darcy and James. The next, your eyes are drawn to the swirl of magic being pulled from the barrier and turning violet.

“Are you alright?” You demand, gripping her arm, turning her to face you as your eyes roam. Your body screams with exhaustion.

Agatha goes taut. Her theft stops when she turns to glare at you. When her lips pull up in a mighty sneer, you expect the lashing of a century; you had been seconds away from leaving her for dead, after all.

Her body relaxes in your grip, her voice careful, “I’m fine, dear.”

“Swear it?”

“I swear.”

Something inside you relaxes. You’ll live to see another day if she is near to lend her power—and well enough to do so. Your people’s safety is nearly assured.

How, though, to secure a promise of protection from her that isn’t all talk? You can’t bind a witch like her to law, try as you might. She will always have the upper hand of immeasurable power. You need that power bent to your will.

An itch scratches at the back of your mind; a memory long forgotten, a whisper of words once-said that you can’t quite understand.

“What the hell happened in there?!”

Darcy’s voice interrupts your racing thoughts. You hear the borderline panic in the question.

How heavy you feel, how weary. What about you attracts so many threats?

Agatha speaks before you can, “A new adversary has presented itself.”

“And they’re responsible for all… this?” James waves to the barrier.

“More or less.”

A look passes between Darcy and James.

“They’ve given us fourteen days to prepare, as if we need that long,” Agatha scoffs, breezing through, “but you’ll stay here and tell us of any changes. You have ravens?”

“We send word on horseback.” Darcy answers, slowly.

“Horseback? My god, how do you get anything done?”

With a wave of her hand, a metal cage appears with five ravens inside. They’re curiously quiet. Beady eyes look into yours, far more intelligence behind them than you anticipate. Their feathers shift violet in the sun but remain pure black otherwise.

Your Father seldom had the patience for training ravens; though he had attempted on and off throughout your childhood. The experience was rife with highs and lows. He would boast to your Mother, glowing with triumph one day, only to come back sullen the next. Every raven he attempted to train had flown away when it mattered.

Not for the first time, you wonder what had gone wrong; you did not know any creature that would flee permanently if endeared to their owner.

Agatha opens the cage door and holds out a finger. The nearest one steps up, though the others hop forward to nuzzle at her hand.

“Yes, hello,” Agatha coos.

Hand extracted, raven perched obediently on her finger, Agatha sets her shoulders. An air of arrogance surrounds her. She waves her other hand and a blank piece of parchment appears in the space between you.

“Write me a lovely note, darling, and I’ll show you all how to send it.” Agatha’s smile is saccharine.

“Would that I had a quill.”

“You know how to use your fingers, don’t you?”

The low, raspy note of her voice makes you flush.

You draft up a suitably nasty message and sign it with a flourish. Batting your lashes, you fold the letter, and go so far as to press a kiss to the back before handing it over. She smirks.

The kiss on the back raises into a wax seal. Agatha winks.

She beckons you forward with an impatient tilt of her head. You follow, stepping further into her space than you're comfortable with.

“Hold out your hand,” She commands and you do, mimicking her own position, “Repeat after me—Serva.”

“Serva.”

You don’t expect the raven to launch herself from Agatha’s fingers into flight; but when she does, you’re helpless to do anything but watch as she flips and twists in midair. Beside you, Agatha mutters something about showing off.

When the bird pauses and hovers, there is a flash of white light, and the letter is gone from your hands and tied instead around her leg.

Agatha scoffs, “Obedire.”

“Obedire.”

A strong burst of movement brings her back to perch on Agatha, head bowed. You tilt your head. Agatha strokes a finger over the back of the raven's head, scratching lightly.

“To the castle.”

A warble and she’s off, flying North with single-minded focus.

There’s a certain wistfulness in watching her go. What must it be like to fly, to have the freedom of the world laid out before you? Yet, she isn’t truly free; remaining captive to a Mistress who only lets her take to the skies when it suits her. How alike the two of you are.

James is staring at the still-caged ravens. One of his fingers is stuck through the bars and scratching along the raven’s head in a mirror of Agatha. It warbles, shifting closer, but doesn’t take its eyes off of its Mistress.

“It can’t be that easy.” Darcy says, arms crossed.

“Ravens are far more intelligent than horses,” Agatha shrugs, “and easier to care for. Treat them properly and they’ll do whatever you command.”

“They’re so sweet.” James coos, earning affectionate noises from the group, “Oh yes you are.”

One bird has remained on the other side of the cage away from James. Their eyes aren’t wary like you’d expect, just… curious. They sparkle with awareness.

Faintly, you hear Darcy and Agatha bickering over the merits of horses vs ravens, but you pay them little mind. You cross around the large cage to where the lone raven sits. They follow your approach.

You crouch to be eye level. The raven tilts their head.

“Hello,” You murmur, “what are you doing over here all alone?”

As expected they do not talk back. They don’t even warble. Fluttering their wings, you wait for them to cross around to another section of the enclosure blissfully absent of people. Yet, their wings settle and they bow their head.

The pose offers you a closer view under their plumage. You can see the true length of their dark feathers, where they come to connect to hidden flesh. A white protrusion among the plumage brings you pause.

Every glimpse of your Father’s ravens had been from afar; seeing them fly around his office and listening to his curses when they didn’t land at his command, or catching sight of one when they escaped their enclosure and dove through the nearest window. You’re left at a loss when faced with the trust being presented.

Would it be worth attempting to help, or will you only cause harm in your ignorance?

“A pin feather,” Agatha says right beside your ear.

You jump.

Agatha is bent next to your crouched form, propped up by one hand on the trunk where the cage sits. The position puts her face just slightly above your own. When you turn, your eyes unconsciously dart to her lips, before meeting her eyes.

The look on her face is curious. She’s taking you in like one takes in a specimen they’re studying.

“How do I fix it?”

“Pinch gently and roll it between your fingers.”

When you reach in, the raven bows her head again. She is utterly still as you follow Agatha’s instructions to the letter. Her head pops up and shakes—the white covering falling away. She nuzzles your hand sweetly.

“Say ‘thank you,’ Aquila.” Agatha says.

Aquila lets out a sound that is remarkably similar to thank you. You blink.

When you regard Agatha, you catch a glimpse of the expression leveled at Aquila and the other ravens; pure, uninterrupted affection. The emotion softens her features, eyes crinkled at the edges, lips upturned. Her beauty is striking.

Darcy and James watch from your periphery. You shake yourself from the trance you’re in.

“We should go.” You say, hushed.

Agatha turns, looking over your features, and nods. She straightens and offers out a hand. You take it. In a swift turn, she weaves your arm over her own, acting the part of lead. 

Her face is neutral, but beneath her gaze, your companions fidget and shift.

“If you return my ravens in any state less than what they’re in now, I will torture you slowly.” The statement is punctuated by a raised brow.

“We—We’ll take good care of them.” James vows.

Agatha nods. She regards you, waiting.

“Be careful. Send a letter if anything changes, but don’t go searching for anomalies—am I understood?”

Darcy nods. A haunted look passes over James’ face, dimming the usual light in his eyes. Without so much as a glance to his companion he steps forward.

“Your Majesty, may I have a word with you privately?”

You blink, grip on Agatha’s arm tensing unconsciously.

“Of course.”

Agatha releases you with a sideways glance. You focus on your advisor and friend, who at the moment resembles a wilted flower. Grim is the expression he wears; an expression you haven’t seen in a long time.

He leads you until you stand at his side under a half-blackened tree. The bark on one side is perfect, not a divot out of place, while the other side crumbles at a glance. You run your fingers along the dying side and wish for it to one day grow strong again.

Looking back, you see Agatha and Darcy side-by-side, both pointedly ignoring one another; Agatha reading a book without actually handling the pages and Darcy looking around, lips puckered in a whistle.

“Is something wrong, James?” You ask when he comes to a stop.

He fidgets. Meeting your eyes, he gives you a long look. Tilting your head makes him look away. He clears his throat once, then twice.

“Your Majesty, I— Well, you see, we—” James sighs, then blurts, “Have you given any thought to an heir?”

You blink.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Marriages usually bring about heirs to fill the succession, Your Majesty, and with another conflict seeming imminent I believe having something in place is worthwhile. Has there been a discussion between you and your—Her Highness?”

“I’m familiar with the expectations of marriage,” If your voice is a touch frosty, you don’t give it much attention, “and I don’t much appreciate that the topic of conversation in private parlors pertains to my marriage bed.”

“Your Majesty—”

“What is it you suggest, James? Am I to bring a child into what could turn out to be another war?” You snarl.

James flinches. Upon seeing this, regret turns a knife in your chest.

“No,” He says, quietly, “You know I’d never suggest such a thing.”

Anger is rung out of you like water from a towel, you ask, carefully, “What would you suggest I do?”

“Appoint a successor. If you do it, The Council can’t do it for you should you…”

You nod.

“I will consider it.”

“Safe travels, Your Majesty.”

When you walk from the half-dying tree, you walk alone to the carriage. Along the way Agatha falls into step at your side. You cannot find the energy to hate her company.

-- --

You had been a precocious child; at only six, testing the might of your station against the will of those left to care for you. As Crown Princess, your commands had superseded that of your minders the second you drew breath. Once or twice you’d felt guilty about how Celine—your governess—would puff up, only to deflate and bow with a ‘yes, Princess’—but the guilt was washed away by the incentive of whatever you’d wormed your way into.

By seven, your Father had been made wise to your behavior; though you could never figure out how; you had long since commanded all your minders not to speak a word of your commands. But he knew and sought to punish you in a manner that made a lasting impression.

He let you sit in silence.

Silence, he had said, was the best teacher. One cannot ignore their innermost self if they’re forced to face them.

The room he had the servants make up was plain; boasting only a cushioned chair in the center of the space. You were not permitted to drag said chair over to the window. The task of sitting with your thoughts was as simple as the room, and far more boring.

Guards were posted outside the door to see you were not disturbed or harmed. No servants were allowed in otherwise.

You’d thought him a silly old man. In the absence of distractions you had your wild, adventuring mind to keep you busy—you would not fall into whatever trap he believed he’d set.

But two hours turned into four and your head ached with the effort of conjuring up more daydreams. Then you slept. When you woke, there was no more sunlight, and your head no longer hurt. You imagined you were a bird flying through the window and laughing in your Father’s face. It did not satisfy you. You paced the room, then sat back down, then paced again. Despite having rested, your body began to ache with exhaustion and the pain in your head from before returned.

“I hate him.” You’d whispered, then immediately regretted it.

For how busy he was, he still found a sliver of time each week to see you. Sometimes it was something quick like sitting in on one of your lessons, or, on special occasions he’d join you and your Mother for dinner. For how harsh he could be at times, you’d never been anything but excited when he walked in the room. 

The guilt at the words spoken to yourself prompted your mind to spiral. How else had you been cruel, spewing awful words where it was not deserved?

You had been unkind, you’d realized. By commanding the servants in ways you had no right to, you had opened them up to punishments of which they were undeserving. Above all else, you were still a Princess; not yet of the right to command in the ways your Father did.

Guilt was a powerful emotion. And when your governess was permitted to peer in, she found you on the floor before the seat you’d been allowed, knees to chest, shaking with tears.

The moments following had been a blur. You think Celine had tried to usher you to your feet, but it’s a missing piece; all you remember is being carried from the room and falling asleep, waking to your Father standing above you.

“You’ve learned your lesson?”

You nodded.

“Good,” He offered a stilted pat to your head, “Do not forget it.”

The guilt had made you sick for the remainder of the week; everything you ate, save for the smallest portions, found the way back up. Celine was one of your only visitors, with the exception of your Mother and your teachers.

Your Father had been right in the end; silence had been your greatest educator.

You wish you were alone with the silence now, but as of late, everywhere and everything is touched by Agatha. She sits on the other carriage bench, book held magically aloft as she reads.

To say you’ve been through a lot in a day would be selling your experiences short; yet your mind keeps returning to the blood on that sword and the sickening pride of knowing she had no way out. You had, for a moment, tasted victory—revenge. And now you close your eyes against the nausea it brings. How close you’d come to condemning your people, all to satisfy your sickening desire.

She had remembered your goal; but was it only to manipulate you into keeping her alive? In her words there had been a subtle promise of usefulness, of protection. Subtle isn’t what you need.

You’ve no idea how long Agatha’s been alive. The true weight of her power is a mystery to you that you’re not likely to solve alone. Her peers could judge her power, but would any come if you called? You need to bind her power to what serves your people but short of a Witch’s Vow there’s nothing—

A Witch’s Vow.

The forgotten thought itching at the back of your mind is realized. You thrum with satisfaction.

“You made a promise today, to help my people—I want you to swear on it.”

Agatha gazes up, a lazy smile stretching, “Very well, dear. I swear.”

“Make a Witch’s Vow over it.”

She goes still. The smile vanishes and something passes through her eyes. The book that levitates before her dissipates in a pop.

“And if I don’t?”

“You will.”

“Demanding a Witch’s Vow does not bind me to one.”

“It would protect you.”

“Protect me?” Agatha scoffs.

“You make this vow to me and I’ll pause my attempts in killing you.”

“I’m not afraid of you, dear.”

“Maybe not, but I’m sure you’re afraid of her.” You say, tilting your head. A smug smile stretches over your features, “And what’s to stop her from coming after you again, should I ask?”

“Your shortsightedness is embarrassing, darling, I thought we were past this; if I die, you and your people follow.”

“Given your unwillingness to swear aid, it seems we’ll die either way. I’m simply planning for the outcome with the greatest reward.”

You watch her, she watches you. Her narrowed eyes dart over various planes of your face and for once you have no desire to shrink under the scrutiny. Had she wanted to kill you, you’re confident she’d have done so already; no, she wants you alive, and that can be used to your advantage.

Her eyes glow purple and hands clench in her skirts. Agatha sighs and her eyes return to their normal blue.

“You’re as open a book as they come, it’s a wonder she even needed into your mind.” Agatha rolls her eyes, “We need to work on that.”

You tuck your curiosity away for later, “Will you make the Vow or not?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll make your silly vow. Name your terms.”

“I want you and your magic sworn to the service of the kingdom—and that you will not act against it over the duration of our agreement.”

“No. New terms.”

“Those are my terms.”

“Swearing my magic to the service of your kingdom restricts my use of it for any other purpose. I’m not wasting my time on the same trick.”

“It wouldn’t be forever. You’re only bound until I dissolve the agreement.”

She leans forward, baring her teeth, blackened hands stopping just short of grabbing you. Her nails seem longer, sharper. Should she grab you, you fear for the damage they’d wreak on your flesh.

“I know your manipulative little mind, darling, and I won’t let you chain me to your kingdom until it no longer pleases you.” Agatha snarls, “New. terms.”

Despite the show of force, that sense of calm remains. You see the heart of her, the fear swimming in her eyes over the idea of being chained, restricted. Powerless. Does the fear of losing her own power fuel her joy at taking your own?

You should feel offended that she thinks so little of you—never have you desired to chain someone, to bind them—but the better side of you seldom interacts with her. The idea of her in chains pleases you. You shift as that pleasure makes itself known at the apex of your thighs.

“During the duration of our deal, you’ll act in the best interests of the kingdom. If there are threats, you’ll do what you can to handle them; and if there are people in need, you’ll lend your power to aid them.”

Agatha regards you thoughtfully, “No little clause about not killing you?”

“My death serves no benefit to my people.”

Her eyebrows raise. With a shake of her head she holds out her hand, palm up. You mimic the action.

An artful flick of her fingers and a wisp of violet summon an ornate dagger into her open hand. The hilt is short, silver wrapped in indigo briars that while appearing sharp don’t seem to mar Agatha’s hand. A blade of black metal extends from it, curving to-and-fro, until sharpening to an intense point.

You wince at the sight of it, “Can you not… use magic?”

“You want a sacred Vow, don't you?” Agatha scoffs, “There’s no Vow more sacred than that made with a Coven Blade.”

“You don’t have a coven.”

Agatha scowls, “I am aware. It was inherited.”

“From who?”

“My Mother.”

“If it belongs to her coven, shouldn’t one of her fellowship have it?”

“They would,” She says, turning and holding the blade point-down above her palm, “if they weren’t all dead.”

Without so much as a wince, she carves an X in the center of her palm, flesh parting cleanly. Blood pools in her hand.

“Oh.”

She moves so fast you don’t know to anticipate the pain until it blossoms up your arm. Looking down, you wear a matching X, complete with the ever-growing pool of blood.

Agatha presses her palm to the top of your forearm, just below where it meets the elbow. Blood seeps between her fingers and around the curve of your arm.

“I, Agatha Harkness, swear upon my blood and gifts, that I will act in the best interests of your kingdom. I will destroy any entity that threatens these interests and lend my power to those within your borders that require its support.” As she speaks, she drags her hand down the length of your forearm, leaving a smear of red in its wake. When she clasps your palms together, she looks at you, magic swirling in her eyes, “This is my Vow to you.”

Upon the final word, lavender flame erupts down the length of your arm and her own, burning away the blood left behind. It moves and wedges its way between your interlocked palms. The light that emits, violet and white and so bright it burns, forcing your eyes closed. The flesh of your palm is mended as if nothing happened.

Agatha’s palm still bears the X, though healed.

“So I don’t forget.” She winks.

“If you did, what would happen?”

“For something small, maybe a little zap, some exhaustion.” Agatha shrugs, “Something large… I’m sure the punishment would fit the crime. Eager to see me tortured, are you?”

You do your best to ignore the salacious grin.

“I want to be sure you won’t get off easy, that’s all.”

“Getting off is plenty easy with the right help.”

The roll of your eyes doesn’t hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. She cackles at the sight. You don’t attempt to muster a glare, convinced it would only amuse her further.

“What is your plan for protecting the borders?”

Her eyes still twinkle with amusement. You’re not sure what is so funny.

“Protecting the borders is a little difficult since she’s within them, dear, but I can exclude that section from my wards if it pleases you.”

“How?”

“We do not have time for you to learn the basics of casting.”

“Fine,” You sigh, “but I want the wards handled discreetly.”

“I’m not all explosions and smoke-clouds—that was only to get your attention.” She smirks.

“Is everything a joke to you?”

“Yes.”

Villages faced with the might of Agatha’s forces had once chosen between fighting or fleeing. Though some had made a third choice; hanging themselves from rafters at the whisper of impending invasion.

Monica had gone to pay respects in your place, once. When she returned, she had requested three days leave. The look in her eye she returned with has never gone away.

It’s been weeks since the threat of Agatha was settled; what would the people do if they caught wind of another war on the horizon?

Agatha sighs, as if reading the thoughts on your face, “I will be discreet. Best interests of the kingdom, remember?”

“I want to go with you.”

“That is the opposite of discreet.”

“We’ll go under the cover of night—”

“I know you’re woefully uneducated in the ways of witchcraft, but the weight of transporting two beings and setting wards of the size we’ll require? Too much, even for me.”

“There has to be a way. Please.”

The hard lines of her face soften just so. Her blue eyes are contemplative, seeing more than you would like.

“Two of the sites are on our way. The others I’ll handle alone—a sudden tour of the borders might raise a few suspicions.” 

You deflate. Something within you that had once been ready to argue turns to liquid, slithering around your heart, tugging on all the little strings that make your eyes water.

“Thank you.” You say. 

“Don’t thank me yet.”

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

The Lark Ascending: Chapter Four (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: The working relationship between a conductor and their soloist was supposed to be seamless. But what happens when you're dealing with the notoriously fickle (and your ex to boot) Agatha Harkness?

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: Hello! Here's chapter four of my conductor!Agatha sequel. Updates unfortunately depend on my schedule, but I always try to write when I can :) I've updated my tag list for Lark, so if you'd like to be added feel free to let me know! This is my favorite chapter yet, and I've linked the main piece I listened to while writing, Rachmaninov's 14 Romances: Op. 34: No 14 (Vocalise) . As always I hope you enjoy and feel free to let me know your thoughts!

Tag List: @fanficreadinglistandarchieve @chiar4anna @marisacoulterswife @getlostsquidward @rigglemethat @aquvr1us @dazzlinghahn

Previous Chapter

The relationship between a conductor and a soloist was special, as you had learned throughout your various performances. There was a certain level of trust that was required on the soloist’s end; to have no doubt that the conductor would follow their lead and guide the rest of the ensemble along with them. 

The conductor needed to hold the same belief, only that the soloist was confident enough in their music to make it through the selected concerto without faltering. One missed entrance or unsteady tempo change could send the entire orchestra falling off the cliff with them.

It was a push and pull dynamic, with the temperament of the conductor and potential ego of the soloist threatening to throw everything off balance. You had never experienced any issues with past conductors you had worked with, but none of them were Agatha.

You had scarcely seen the conductor since your intimate conversation at the gala the week prior. While her words of encouragement had been giving you the boost of confidence you had been lacking, it was hard to focus on any of that when your brain had been so fixated on what happened right after. Or rather, what would have happened if you hadn’t been interrupted. 

It didn’t help that you failed to catch Agatha alone in the days after. She was usually with Tony going over (rejecting) his new marketing ideas, or being trailed by a frazzled looking Scott frantically writing down whatever instructions Agatha would bark at him from over her shoulder. 

The more you thought about it, you really didn’t understand how that particular arrangement was working out.

You had been trying to work up the nerve to approach Agatha all week, which was why you decided to come in earlier than was needed. There wasn’t a rehearsal you needed to attend and no meetings until the afternoon, so you were hoping to catch the conductor when she came in.

It was strange, feeling this conflicted. To not really know where you stood with her after all this time. You believed her when she said you were friends, and maybe that was all you were supposed to be. 

You didn’t want to linger on why that thought made you as upset as it did.

However, it appeared luck was on your side this morning, as Agatha was rounding a corner, engrossed in reading something on her phone. Her dark brown hair fell over her shoulders, and your eyes focused on her white dress shirt that was tucked into her purple dress slacks. You couldn’t help but notice her bare skin, as she had left a few of the buttons undone. 

She noticed you after a moment, and her face lit up.

“What are you doing here?” Agatha asked curiously, pocketing her phone and removing her glasses. “I don’t have you scheduled for rehearsal until Friday.”

“I know,” you said suddenly, craning your neck to look over at her. “I was hoping we could talk about the other night.”

“Hm?” Agatha responded as she glanced at you, rolling up the sleeves of her shirt. “Whatever do you mean?”

You averted your gaze at the sight of her toned arms and her lithe fingers securing the sleeves stayed in place. If Agatha noticed the faint blush on her cheeks she didn’t comment on it.

Clearing your throat, you gave her a pointed look. “After the gala?”

The conductor had a blank expression on her face, before she nodded. “Oh, you mean my assistant? It’s so hard to find good help nowadays.”

“No, I don’t mean Scott,” you dismissed her, frowning as you tried to get her attention. “Agatha, come on, are we really not going to talk about what almost happened?”

Agatha feigned innocence, giving your arm a quick gentle squeeze . “You’ve been under so much stress these past few weeks, dear. Consider it all forgotten.”

“What?”

As the conductor went to open her mouth, she shook her head. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an assistant to reprimand.”

Whipping your head around, you found Scott struggling to carry three huge cardboard boxes down the hallway. 

“Lang! I know I asked to have those delivered to my hotel. What are they doing here?” Agatha seethed as she stormed off.

As Scott started to explain, he dropped one of the boxes in the process and you watched as it comically fell to the ground. Agatha pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, not assisting him in picking it up, merely instructing him to take them one by one to her office. 

“Believe me, none of us get it either,” Monica said as she came to stand next to you, observing Scott and Agatha. 

“How long has Scott been working for her?” You asked, as you couldn’t help but wonder if he had just started.

Agatha wasn’t known for her patience, or for giving second chances. The multiple assistants she had apparently fired before you, and dozens of interns after, serving as proof to the high standards she tended to live by. 

“I think he’s been her assistant for over a year now,” Monica explained, looking puzzled as Scott tried pushing all three boxes stacked up on top of each other. “It’s funny, it’s the longest she’s kept someone around since…”

It took you a moment to realize she trailed off, and you forced yourself to look away as Agatha told Scott to stop, insisting that she would take care of it herself.

“Since what?” You prompted, and Monica uncomfortably looked to the ground.

“Well, since you,” Monica said, keeping her voice low enough so none of the other musicians could hear her. 

“I’m sure that’s not true. She had to have kept someone around for a while, right?” You asked, thinking back on if your former stand partner ever mentioned any of your replacements, until you came short. 

Out of all the things you and Monica would discuss whenever you both had time to catch up you realized she never once brought up Agatha.

Monica grimaced, shooting another quick glance in Agatha’s direction as she was shooing Scott away from trying to help her. “Not really, no. It was pretty bad after you left.”

“Bad how?” 

Monica sighed, and it seemed like to you she was torn between telling you or not. She tugged on your arm, leading you away from the concert hall to a deserted corner.

“None of us thought anything of it at first. You know how she can be,” Monica said quietly, and you nodded because you did know how difficult Agatha could be to work with. “A few people thought she was trying to annoy Hayward by firing them so quickly, but then he was arrested.”

“Yeah, you could have mentioned that before,” you said, remembering Agatha dropping that bomb on you last week.

Monica shifted then, an uneasy expression on her face. 

“What?” You questioned, not liking the way she was looking at you.

“Nothing,” Monica insisted, but she refused to meet your eyes. “Hayward was gone, and she seemed to get along better with the new guy, but she was still going through a new assistant every few weeks.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” you commented, but Monica looked at you then and shook her head. “So what changed?”

“No one knows,” Monica admitted. “She hired Scott on and it’s been that way for around a year, maybe a little longer. To be fair she’s been gone a lot of the time, but still.”

Right, you thought to yourself, Agatha had been traveling a lot. Not that you knew where she was going.

Unfortunately that was the moment the conductor in question came traipsing back around the corner, more agitated than before, and you could just barely hear her telling Scott to go feed Scratchy after rehearsal. 

“Orchestra,” Agatha called out, roughly running her fingers through her hair as she strolled past you. “As much as I’d love to sit around a campfire with all of you and join hands as we go around sharing stories on our past traumas and various metaphorical battle scars, I believe it would benefit all of us to be on stage for rehearsal, yes?”

“I’ll see you later,” Monica said reassuringly, before taking off in the same direction as the rest of the orchestra. 

Later that afternoon, you were getting ready to go home for the day. You had a rather productive meeting with Pepper over any changes you wanted for promotional materials going into opening night.

Unfortunately, you spent most of the time stewing over Agatha’s typical elusiveness. You were used to it by now, but you couldn’t help but feel frustrated over her hot and cold behavior. It was just how she was with everyone, and if Agatha hated anything it was being inconsistent.

As you prepared to leave, you noticed someone entering the building. It was a woman you had never seen before.

She was beautiful, you noted, and wore an expensive looking pale pink pantsuit. Holding a matching clutch in her hand, she took off her designer sunglasses and she appeared to be lost. When she noticed you, her face lit up, heels click-clacking on the floor as she walked over to you. 

“Excuse me,” the woman said, lowering her clutch to her side as she looked at you. “Do you know where Tony Stark’s office is?”

“Oh, yeah it’s right down that hallway. First door on your left,” you answered, pointing in the correct direction. 

“Thank you,” the woman replied politely, sticking out her hand to shake yours. “I’m Jennifer Kale, but I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

The name sounded relatively familiar, but you failed to place how you knew of her. Giving her an apologetic smile, you shook your head.

Jennifer raised her eyebrows, surprise coloring her features. “Well, I’m the founder of Kale Kare. We focus on providing musicians with holistic health and wellness.”

Kale Kare…you had heard of that once or twice, but you still couldn’t remember how. Maybe a social media ad?

“Oh cool,” you said sincerely, blushing slightly at the small smile Jennifer gave you in return. “I’m-”

“I already know who you are,” Jennifer said, and laughed at the dumbfounded look on your face. “I mean, how could I not? Half the city is plastered with posters of your face.”

Oh right, the LA Symphony promotional posters, you had actually passed a few on your way into rehearsal earlier.

“I keep forgetting about those,” you quietly admitted, and Jennifer laughed again.

“Besides, even if I hadn’t seen those, you certainly look like her type,” Jennifer added conversationally, and you froze.

“I’m sorry?”

“Agatha is a lot of things, but she’s always been predictable,” Jennifer sighed, looking you up and down. “You’re not the first soloist she’s been with.”

Letting out a nervous chuckle, you looked down at the ground. “I’m not with Agatha. You must have confused me with someone else.”

“Oh?” Jennifer asked, tilting her head to the side as she regarded you. “Are you not the assistant she was sleeping with back in New York? The one who left for Vienna?”

Oh.

“That’s not…” you trailed off, wondering if maybe you somehow hit your head earlier and were actually dreaming this entire interaction from a concussed state. “That’s not how I’d describe it.”

“I must have it wrong then,” Jennifer shrugged, but gave you a look that suggested she didn’t believe you. “That’s just what I had heard.”

“Heard from who?” You hesitantly questioned, as you had been under the impression you and Agatha had been rather discreet during the time you spent together.

“You know how musicians are, always gossiping,” Jennifer offered, giving you a wink. “But I guess they were mistaken.” 

There had been a few instances in which you had wondered if you and Agatha weren’t as careful as you once thought. But, replaying the conversation you just shared with Monica, you wondered if there was truth to what Jennifer was suggesting. Both that you were less discrete than you thought, and more troubling- that Agatha actually cared when you left. 

No, that can’t be it. You were sure Agatha’s attitude after you left didn’t have anything to do with you, she didn’t strike you as the type to pine. 

If only you had been as lucky in that department.

“Yeah, they must have been,” you insisted, trying to shove those thoughts to the back of your mind.

Maybe you should talk to Monica later, get some peace of mind.

“I thought I smelled the faint stench of desperation and fraud,” Agatha’s voice cut through the awkward silence that had filled the hallway, and you jumped at the sound. 

The conductor approached you and Jennifer, hands in her purple dress slacks as she sauntered over, a hesitant Scott closely following her. “What pray tell have we lowly peasants done to deserve such a pleasant surprise, Jen?”

“I’d say it’s nice to see you again Agatha, but lying is more your specialty than mine,” Jennifer greeted the conductor, a smile tugging on her lips. “I’ve heard you’ve been keeping busy.”

Agatha sniffed, tossing her bag at Scott, nearly taking him down to the ground. “No more than usual. What are you doing here?”

“I’m expanding my business to the LA Symphony,” Jennifer announced, her eyes locked on Agatha’s. “I have a meeting with Tony to go over our upcoming partnership.”

“Oh good, another potential lawsuit to add to your ever growing collection,” Agatha quipped, raising her left hand as her index finger tapped against her cheek, a contemplative expression on her face. “By the way, how are your legal woes faring?”

It was then you remembered how you knew of Kale Kare…Agatha. The conductor had once briefly ranted about the company and its founder, Jennifer. It was unsurprising that Agatha wasn’t sold on the holistic remedies that the company swore by, but you never asked what had happened between the two of them that made the conductor as sour as she appeared to be.

“Funny, Agatha, but almost all of those were thrown out by the judge,” Jennifer fired back, and you wondered what ‘almost all of those’ meant. “Besides, based on what I’ve been told, you could actually benefit from some of our treatments.”

Agatha pursed her lips, the frown lines on her forehead becoming more prominent as she arched an eyebrow. “I highly doubt that, I’d be surprised if any of that goop you sell is actually organic.” Turning to Scott, she tossed her keys at him, shaking her head as he fumbled attempting to catch them. “Lang, why don’t you make yourself useful and go lock up my office.”

Scott looked thankful to be excused from the conversation, as he scurried away. You had to admit, you were slightly jealous he was able to leave, as you were currently stuck between Agatha and Jennifer.

“Well Stephen certainly seems to think differently,” Jennifer continued, taking a step closer to the conductor, folding her arms across her chest.

“Of course he’s one of your clients. That man has been living in LA for far too long,” Agatha deadpanned, shooting Jennifer a nasty glare. 

“Typical Agatha, hiding behind some biting insults,” Jennifer observed, giving you a quick once over. “Besides, there’s no need to be so humble. I’m sure your…soloist was flattered by it.”

“Flattered by what?” You questioned, looking back and forth between the conductor and Jennifer, confusion growing.

“You didn’t tell her, did you?” Jennifer guessed, poorly attempting to stifle a laugh whilst Agatha balled her hands into fists at her side. “It’s nice to see you haven’t changed, Agatha.”

“Didn’t tell me what?” You asked, focusing on Agatha who shrugged in response.

“That’s my cue,” Jennifer said, brushing her hand against your arm as she started to walk away. “It was nice to meet you, good luck with your concerts.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, waiting until the woman was out of earshot before narrowing your eyes at Agatha. “Agatha, what was she talking about?”

“Ignore her, all of those wellness treatments and supplements have made her more delusional than normal,” Agatha insisted, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to turn you around in the opposite direction.

Your breath hitched at the physical contact, but attempted to remain your composure. “I thought we were done with the games. What aren’t you telling me?”

Agatha froze for a moment, eyes shifting around before refocusing, not removing her arm from where it was wrapped around your shoulders. “It’s nothing to worry about, dear. Jen just enjoys getting under my skin.”

Only, the more you thought about it the more you realized you didn’t believe her. There were far too many inconsistencies in the conductor’s stories, but what you were failing to grasp was why she wasn’t just telling you the truth. 

What she was doing in LA. What happened to Stephen, because that particular question had more bad possibilities than good. Where she had been traveling to so secretly for the past year. 

Why she refused to talk about your almost kiss.

Shaking her arm off, you shook your head. “No. This isn’t like before, Agatha. I’m not just some assistant you can boss around and belittle.”

“I don’t think I ever belittled you,” Agatha lightly corrected you, and you let out a deep sigh. 

“That’s not the point.”

“Oh? Is there a point to this little temper tantrum?” Agatha questioned as she crossed her arms across her chest. “I was worried you were breaking barriers and rising above the diva allegations most soloists succumb to. It’s nice to see that isn’t the case.”

“That’s really nice,” you said sarcastically, attempting to keep your temper in check. “What did Jennifer mean when she brought up Stephen?”

There was a flash of displeasure on the conductor’s face before she masked it. 

Giving you a sly grin, she winked. “Are you interrogating me, dear? Should we take this somewhere more private?”

“Stop it,” you said dismissively, growing more irritated with every word she spoke. “Why can’t you just give me a straight answer.” 

“Well I think we both know the answer to that,” Agatha teased, leaning in closer until her breath was warm against your face. “But if you need a reminder, I’d be more than happy to provide one.”

“Stop it,” you repeated, patience wearing thin. 

Agatha always enjoyed having the upper hand, and as easy as it felt to slip back into a role you were once very comfortable with, things had changed. You changed. Deciding to switch up your line of questioning, you thought back to what Monica had just shared with you.

“Why did you go through so many assistants after I left?”

Agatha noticeably tensed at that, her eyebrows furrowing and she took a step back, putting her hands in her pockets. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Of course you don’t,” you said, letting out a bitter laugh as Agatha’s expression hardened. 

“Whatever it is you’re implying, I suggest you stop. Maybe spend more time focusing on your upcoming performance,” Agatha suggested, lips curling upwards to form a smirk. “After all, we wouldn’t want a repeat of last week’s…incident, would we?”

The memory of your anxiety attack and conversation that had followed with Agatha came rushing back to you. You bowed your head, feeling your cheeks warm at the humiliating reminder. 

“I should have known better,” you mumbled, each second you chose to stay in this conversation proving to be a mistake. “I thought maybe you missed me, but you aren’t capable of feeling that way towards anyone, are you?”

Agatha’s eyes flashed menacingly, and she recoiled as if you struck her. Turning on her heel she stormed off without another word, leaving you alone once again.

The regret hit as soon as she was out of sight, you knew you shouldn’t have said that to her. But then again, maybe if she was more forthcoming and honest with you, then you wouldn’t have snapped. 

Agatha had a special talent to make you lose your mind, in more ways than one. She was unlike anyone you had ever met, and as many positives as that held there was the occasional reminder of her darker side. 

You sometimes questioned if any of her feelings for you back then were real, or if she just got off on the power trip. 

It was hard, being this torn, and as much as you still cared for her you were starting to get the feeling that it wasn’t reciprocated. At least, not in the way you wanted it to be. You didn’t just want to go back to how things were before. You weren’t just an assistant anymore, you had made a name for yourself.

It was foolish to think you’d ever be as well-known or talented as Agatha, but you liked to believe that you were on a more equal footing this time around.

But it appeared Agatha didn’t feel the same way.

As you finally left for the day, one of the interns came running up with a bag addressed to you. Apparently Jennifer Kale had left some of her products for you to try, along with a note suggesting the two of you talk about a possible PR partnership for the brand.

You spent the rest of your afternoon and evening the way you typically did when you needed to unwind and not spend too much time practicing. Setting your violin in the sitting room, you spent a few hours curled up on the couch reading a book. You would periodically check your phone, some part of you secretly waiting for a text or message from Agatha, but there was nothing.

It did cross your mind that maybe you should apologize, but knew it was moot. You both needed time to cool off.

Deciding to look at the products Jennifer gifted you, it wasn’t a surprise that everything looked and smelled nice enough. Her company certainly seemed to spend enough time with the presentation, as the bottles were all beautiful and almost looked like potion vials. You decided to try out one of the face masks, and you briefly read a few of the ingredients. 

A small voice did question how 100% natural it was, but it smelled nice and it was free so you weren’t going to complain.

You were so wrapped up in applying the face mask you barely heard your doorbell ring. It took you a moment to register the noise, and you checked the time on your phone to reveal it was half past ten. You weren’t expecting company, so you ignored it, spreading the mask evenly over your face. 

The buzzing of your phone caused you to pause, rinsing your hands in the sink before grabbing the device to reveal you had a new text message.

Agatha: Knock knock

After your last conversation with the conductor she was the last person you wanted to see right now, but if there was one thing Agatha was, it was persistent. The doorbell rang again and you huffed, she really had some nerve. 

Storming out of the bathroom, you whipped the front door open, revealing Agatha with her finger pressed against the doorbell. The conductor’s dark brown hair was pulled back with a hair tie, loose strands flying everywhere. You did a double take at her casual attire, the baggy black sweatpants and tight fitting t-shirt that read ‘What’s The Difference Between A Conductor And God? God Doesn’t Think He’s A Conductor’. 

“Took you long enough,” Agatha mused, nose scrunching in disgust when she saw what you had on your face. “Didn’t realize you were interested in having hives break out across your face.”

“What do you want, Agatha?” You questioned, ignoring her jab.

The conductor paused, appearing to realize how irritated you were. Her bright blue eyes were locked on your own, and she took a small step forward, placing her hands against yours. “Can I come in?”

“You’re joking,” you retorted, the earlier argument still ringing in your ears. “You have to be joking. No, you cannot come in. Goodnight, Agatha.”

As you went to slam the door in her face, she stuck her foot in, blocking it. She gave you a rare pleading glance. “Please?”

You could count on one hand the number of times she had ever said that word to you, or to anyone for that matter. Feeling your annoyance fade slightly, you relented. Moving to the side to allow her to come in, trying to restrain the shiver of feeling her body brush against yours. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked again, folding your arms across your chest after you shut the door, locking it.

The conductor was looking at you with an unreadable expression, as her tongue slowly licked her lips. Your eyes were fixated on the gesture, unable to look away until you finally cleared your throat, forcing yourself to look at her with a newfound sense of confidence.

“If you don’t have anything to say I think you should be going,” you asserted, something that surprised both you and the conductor as she raised her eyebrows. 

“You’re wrong,” the conductor said, so quietly you could barely hear her.

“What?” 

“You’re wrong,” Agatha repeated, louder this time.

“If you came here to insult me, you can leave,” you stated, going to open the door.

It was hard to say how it happened, really. Agatha was a lot faster than she looked, and she had your back pressed against the wall, hands pinned at your sides before you could blink. She towered over you, chest heaving as you felt her breath hot against your neck. 

“Agatha…” 

“I’ve never met anyone as stubborn as you,” Agatha breathed out, releasing one hand to gently cup your chin, forcing you to look up at her. “Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?”

You blinked, feeling your head spin as you wondered if this was really happening. Agatha had made countless appearances in your dreams over the years, each feeling more real than the last. It felt like she was haunting you, a cruel shadow you could never escape from. 

But this was real, you noted as you breathed in the subtle but rich scent of her floral shampoo. After all this time, she was really here.

“Agatha,” you whispered again, heart pounding against your chest as blood rushed in your ears. 

The conductor released your other hand, raising her own to tangle in your hair as she pulled you impossibly closer to her, lips ghosting over your own. 

Before you could form a coherent thought, Agatha finally did the one thing you had been yearning for since you left her all those years ago, closing the distance as she smashed her lips against yours. 

All of the times you had reminisced on this, the random bodies you had used as replacements over the years, nothing could ever come close to the real thing. The very real feeling of Agatha’s mouth moving fervently against your own, as she hungrily drank from you like a woman dying of thirst. Her tongue darted out, seeking entrance to your mouth and you could only let out a small whimper as she deepened the kiss.

Agatha let out a muffled groan at that, growing more desperate in her attempts to unravel you, which is why you let out a disappointed whine as she broke away, fingers still woven in your hair.

Panting, the conductor closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath, and you were thankful she had you pressed against the wall because you doubt you’d be able to stand on your own. When she reopened them, her pupils were fully blown out. Her hand caressed your cheek, and you leaned into the tender gesture. 

“I missed you,” Agatha murmured, and she was holding you so delicately, like she was afraid you would break if she pushed too far. 

“I missed you too,” you echoed, feeling tears begin to swell in your eyes.

You thought getting your big break as a soloist would fix the giant hole leaving Agatha had created. But despite all you had accomplished, it still felt like something was missing. You had tried everything, but it wasn’t until this very moment, feeling Agatha’s body flush against your own, with her bright blue eyes searing into your soul, did you come to the startling revelation of what you had been missing. 

Agatha. 

It was always Agatha.