#Agatha is easily distracted
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rita-repulsa-ke · 8 months ago
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The wedding
“Agatha, look.”
“At what?”
“The wedding.”
In fact, it was hard to miss the wedding, a simple procession out of a nearby church, a woman in a hand-sewn dress clutching the hand of a man whose cheeks were apple-red.
“So?”
Rio looked over with an amused sidelong glance, a smile playing havoc across her lips. “It looks nice. Romantic.” She emphasized the last word, then giggled as Agatha pulled an overdramatic grimace, partially her normal reaction to talk of romance, partially to elicit that exact giggle.
“It isn’t. Mostly it’s an economic transaction, some man marrying a much younger wom—“
“Agatha Harkness, marry me.”
“What?! No!”
Rio’s shrill laugh echoed across the village square, and then she was standing in front of Agatha, her smile a challenge, sabers rattling at dawn, the first volley of cannonfire. Her hands settled, one on Agatha’s hip, one on her cheek. “Agatha Harkness, beloved of Death. Marry me.”
Agatha was going to spontaneously combust. She was rooted to the ground, transfixed by the woman in front of her. “Rio, stop,” she pleaded, face flushed, eyes averted, unable to look Death in the face.
“Say yes.”
She managed a more characteristic snort of contempt, slightly undermined by her continued inability to make eye contact. “What, we’re going to march over to the village priest and demand he wed us before the Lord?”
Rio took one of her hands, pressed her lips to Agatha’s knuckles. “Before the moon and the Goddess, as witches have done for centuries. Marry me.”
Agatha’s heart pounded double, triple time. It was going to explode in her chest and she was going to explode with it, and thank the Goddess for that, because exploding would get her out of this conversation. “I—"
A woman’s voice interrupted them. “Art thou Agatha Harkness?”
Agatha whirled, incredibly grateful for the interruption. “I am—“ she surveyed the other woman, and felt the power radiating off of her. Even better, another witch. Perhaps the other woman would try to kill her, that would be an excellent distraction, maybe long enough for Rio to get some kind of short-term amnesia . “Sister.”
She was very aware of Rio still watching her, looking very unimpressed.
“Our coven has a seer who speaks the future. She says only you may assist us.”
That, at least, prompted shrill giggles from Rio, along with a quirked eyebrow from Agatha. “Does she? Only Agatha? Really?”
“Well,” Agatha hurried to say. “If the sisterhood has need, then I will attend at once. I cannot neglect my duty to my fellow witches.”
“Coward,” Rio murmured close to her ear. “We are not done with this discussion.”
Agatha flashed her a bright, toothy smile that indicated if she had anything to say about it, they were very done with this discussion.
“And who is this?” The other witch asked.
Agatha reached for Rio’s hand, twined their fingers together. “My lover,” she said, and smiled to feel the other woman’s fingers tighten convulsively on hers. “Where I go, she goes.” She glanced at Rio, and was briefly swallowed by the whirlpool of adoration in the other woman’s eyes, sucking her down. She forced her gaze away, turned back to the other witch with a thin smile.
“Always and forever,” Rio told her, then turned to the other witch. “Soon, we will be wed before the Goddess and the moon," she announced.
The other woman brightened, even as Agatha choked. “Wonderful! Perhaps while you stay with us? My coven loves weddings.”
"Perhaps so," Rio murmured, squeezing Agatha's hand. "And perhaps my beloved will get me a gift, worthy of our union."
"You can have the gift," Agatha said softly, as they set off after the other witch. "I'll happily kill them all for you. As many bodies as you like."
"And the other thing, Ags. I want the other thing."
"Rio..."
"Do you love me?"
"You know the answer."
"Do you wish another?"
"No!"
"Then?"
"You know I don't like..."
"Romance. Sap," Rio rolled the words around on her tongue, and there was something edged in her tone, a bite to her words. Normally Rio was content to play along with Agatha, but sometimes she could be pushed too far. "I know. Do it anyway. Do it for me. Bind yourself to me for a day, for an eternity, beloved. Promise yourself to me and let me promise to stay forever with you."
Agatha swallowed, mouth gone dry. "Vows like that are dangerous."
"Agatha Harkness, suddenly afraid of danger?" Rio teased, though Agatha noted she didn't deny the danger.
"You're very pushy today."
"I am, aren't I?" Rio murmured, running her thumb over the back of Agatha's hand, stroking over knuckles. "You know I normally let you do whatever you want, right?" Agatha felt her cheeks heat further, volcanic levels of heat, alongside a squirming discomfort. "Push me around, drag me to and fro, assist in your slightly insane plan of the week—"
"Okay, you've made your point, where is this going?"
"I want this, Ags. I really, really want it."
"...I'm not getting out of this one, huh?"
Rio shook her head. "Doesn't seem like it."
"...Fine."
Agatha came to a halt, stood on a dusty road country behind a witch who hadn't yet noticed they had stopped. "Rio Vidal, beloved of Agatha Harkness," she said, dropping to one knee, Rio's hand clenched suddenly tight to the point of pain around hers. "Before the Goddess and the Moon, marry me. Pledge yourself to me and I to you."
Rio's breath caught, her hand flew over her mouth and for a moment, both Death and Time stood still.
"Yes," she squeaked.
"Good," Agatha said, popping to her feet, brushing dirt casually off her dress. "Come on, let's go see what this seer wants. And then we'll have a wedding to die for."
It took Rio a matter of minutes to say, "Agatha, that was terrible."
"I thought it was rather romantic."
"...The pun." Her hand squeezed tight on Agatha's. "...The proposal was very, very romantic."
"Feel free not to bring it up ever again."
Rio's smile slanted like the blade of a guillotine, crawling up one side of her mouth, but all she said was, "Yes, beloved."
****
The seer held Agatha's hand in hers, eyes closed, chanting softly, as Agatha rolled her eyes at Rio, who barely tried to suppress her giggles, still giddy from their earlier conversation.
The old woman's eyes snapped open, irises gone white. "Agatha Harkness," she intoned. "You will save the world."
"Oh," Agatha said. "Not really my area—"
"And in doing so, you will gain great wisdom and power."
Agatha's attention snapped to the old woman. "Tell me more, wise one."
"Agatha," Rio murmured.
"Ssh."
"We're still getting married, right?"
"Sure," Agatha agreed. "Right after I save the world."
Want to read one where they're exes and kind of feisty? Try Jealousy
Want to read one where they're exes and Agatha is an adorable pain-in-the-ass? Try the witch who cried wolf
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ennn · 3 months ago
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WIP ASK GAME
Prompt: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.
tagged by @yesokayiknow (ty!)
uhh well you know it's Agatha All Along all the way and haha funny considering how I just took on 7 more WIPs >_>
This is a Gift (It Comes With a Price)
Harkness, M.D.
Blood Ties
The Recovery Job
Teacher Evaluation
Bone Deep
Death Becomes Her
Fade Into You
The Secret Garden
(absolutely no pressure) tagging @isagrimorie / @grimorie-dos @paddingtonfan69 @thiswildernessismyhome @trickofthelights @thymejot @sapphoshands @alilbitgaywrites @momentary-ecstasy and the last slot goes to anyone who wants to do this - genuinely take me as tagging ya!
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ariadnew · 2 years ago
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CTJL MONACO
Today on risky entries:
(Dorothy Lawley & RDEC Gotica; 2015 KWPN m.)
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charliemwrites · 9 months ago
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Part 4 of Men at Work!
Just a note, I know I mix phonetic and Cyrillic spellings of Russian in this. Mostly it's so that people can easily translate the more complex words directly.
Content: Masturbation, very mild protective/possessive behavior
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It’s becoming a problem.
You think this from the overstuffed daybed recently purchased for the explicit purpose of feeding into aforementioned problem. Not that the porch is the problem, heavens no. If so much as a nail came loose, there’s a trio of men across the street all too eager to lend their hammers and bulging, glistening muscles to fix it.
Which, conveniently, is the problem.
Their muscles, that is. And how magnanimous they are with them.
Your house is nice. New. It took them three days to fix all the issues you’d been putting off for a day you were non-reclusive enough to schedule a handyman.
Your house is too nice and too new.
You’re feeding a Vegas buffet’s worth of appetites raised on old world sensibilities with no outlet for them to be expressed. There aren’t enough squeaky hinges, crooked cabinets, stuck windows, or leaky faucets in your two-bedroom for all that… chivalry. (Or whatever Krueger has that passes for chivalry’s surly cousin.)
They’ve taken to invading earlier in the evening for busy work before dinner. Cutting vegetables, tenderizing meat, cleaning dishes, setting the goddamn table.
Like, sirs, you’re a single woman with three cats and a sham of a personal life – the last time you saw a centerpiece on a domestic dining table was Christmas at your nana’s.
Until Konig shuffled in with a fistful of sunflowers and zinnias, promising that he double-checked that they’re non-toxic to cats. You didn’t have a vase, so you had to make do with an empty mason jar you were keeping for ostensible aesthetic reasons.
Now you’ve got an ongoing bouquet, kitschy salt-and-pepper shakers shaped like lemons that no one ever uses (as if your seasoning decisions are as good as god) and are contemplating cloth napkins like some kind of… of…
“Socialite?” you muse aloud. You glance at Rasputin. He blinks slowly. “Hostess? Woman of the night?”
You’re pretty sure Agatha didn’t mean that as a compliment when you overheard her gossiping to Margot yesterday. (She should really remember that if she can eavesdrop on you from her backyard, the same is true the other way around.)
You’re toying with an idea for a new series with your last one wrapping up and your solo-novel due for release come fall. Something about a rich young woman with a wild streak and her fantastically wealthy gentlemen callers…
“Scarlet woman,” you murmur aloud, eyes on the reason for your recent porch décor purchase.
Krueger is on the roof, cloth around his head to stave off the summer heat. Doing… something with shingles and a nail gun. Your face flushes with each flex of hard muscle, jump of thick tendons. The grip he has on that thing…
As inspiring as your neighbors are, they are also a huge (in many, many ways) distraction. Hence, they are a Problem.
And not just for you. On your right, you catch the flutter of curtains from your peripheral. Lisa taking another peek – to be properly scandalized, probably. (You’re not really sure what the neighborhood biddies tell themselves when they decide something is Simply Not Proper.)
“We’ll have to start charging admission,” you muse, sipping a strawberry mojito.
Curled up far too close for the weather, Little Guy chuffs and stretches. You smooth a fingertip up his little nose, between his eyes, and over the crest of his empty head.
“Jezebel,” you mumble. He yawns, tongue curling and pearly fangs gleaming. “Trollop.”
An annoyed grunt pulls your eyes forward again. Nikto is standing halfway up the porch, one foot planted on the last step like a sexy Russian Captain Morgan. His thighs stretch his workpants oh-so-nicely. There’s a smear of white paste across the material – caulking, maybe?
(You could do with a caulking too.)
“Has someone called you these?” he asks. “Who?”
You laugh. What would he even do if someone had?
“No – well, not to my face, anyway.”
He snorts, shoots a withering scowl at Agatha’s property anyway. You spin your pen around your fingers and try not to bite your lip at the way his shirt is clinging from sweat.
“Aren’t you hot?” you fuss. “You’re going to pass out.”
“Nyet, we have been in worse,” he replies, finishing the short journey up the porch. He pauses in front of you, taking in the sight of you and your cats. What does he think, seeing you lounging about all day while he and his friends(?) are working so hard? If it’s something negative, he’s never let on.
“Still,” you insist, “have you been hydrating?”
“Da, the water runs.”
You blink, put together pieces to assume he and the others are chugging tap water (probably right from the faucet) when necessary. Well, that just won’t do now, will it?
“No, no. Hold on. Rasputin, hold him hostage.”
And like the little angel he is, Ras gets up, stretches out, and begins rubbing his face all over Nikto’s pants. With him distracted, you hop to your feet and scurry inside. The house is almost uncomfortably cool after most of your morning spent outside, but you’ll only be a moment.
There’s a large ruby pitcher waiting in the fridge from last night, complete with various berries floating at the top. You use two hands to heft it out, set it on the counter, then flit to your cabinets for the travel cups you invested in for on-the-go wine sipping. Nice and insulated.
You pour a cup for each of them, stow the pitcher away again, and carry all three in triangle-formation back outside. (Maybe you should get a tray? The antique store in town probably has something pretty and lemon-themed to match the salt and pepper shakers…)
Nikto hurries to help as soon as he sees you, plucking the extra cup from your hands.
“I saw this recipe and wanted to try it since it’s been getting hotter.”
He blinks at you, then the juice.
“You don’t have to try it now, I just thought—”
Your voice abandons you as Nikto tugs his filtration mask down. The skin beneath is warped and scarred, discolored in some places. When he raises the edge of the cup to his mouth, the skin of one cheek stretches distressingly thin. You can see the individual indents of his back molars pressing against the flesh as he drinks.
You understand why he’s been hesitant to show you; it’s not easy to look at. Which makes you all the more determined to flick your eyes back to his and ask, eagerly, “What do you think? Too sweet?”
As he swallows, throat clicking, you think you hear him grunt something.
“Hm?”
“Nyet. Not too sweet. Is good, пчела.”
You grin even though you’re not sure what it means. All three of them have some nickname in their mother tongue that you can only hope is complimentary and not because they forgot your actual name.
“Good, then I can bring some to K and K while you help me with lunch. That’s why you came by, right?”
He nods. “Nearly noon.”
“That late already!” you say. Wow, staring at hot, sweaty men really makes time fly. “Alright, I was going to make chicken wraps and latkes. Could you start peeling potatoes? You know where everything is, da?”
“Da.” He clicks his tongue, luring Rasputin in and stirring Guy awake. “Come, малышу, before we leave you out here for vultures.”
“Nikto!” you scold. “Don’t threaten him.”
“I do not threaten. It is what will happen.”
You swat at his arm, but at least Little Guy has been lured into Nikto’s reach – if by nothing else than a hand has been offered and cats are helpless to resist a good sniff. Nikto scoops him up while you turn to flounce down the stairs.
“Make sure Susan doesn’t get out!” you call over your shoulder.
She was roused by your quick turnaround to get the juice cups and will certainly be stalking the door now.
Sure enough, you faintly hear him cursing in Russian as you reach the end of the yard. Luckily, you see him closing the door with all three of your demons inside, so you continue across the street.
Krueger hasn’t noticed your approach, his back to you, so you stop at the edge of the property to watch for a moment. Yep, just as good this close, too.
“Krueger!” you call. He doesn’t turn. You huff and try again. Nothing. Christ, you’re starting to think he’s ignoring you on purpose. “Sebastian!”
His head whips around alarmingly fast and finds you right there on the ground. No need to look around at all – sometimes they remind you of their profession in the oddest ways.
“Ja, ja, no need to shout,” he replies.
You open your mouth to do just that, but he’s already scaling down from the roof. You’re stunned into silence as he slides down to the edge of the roof, catches the edge, and swings down to the ground. Lands with barely more noise than one of your footsteps. It’s quick yet so graceful.
You stare (gawk, more accurately) as he saunters up, pants sinfully low on his narrow hips.
“What did you need, bienchen?” he asks. “It is too early for lunch.”
You stutter for a second before your brain reboots.
“What was that?!” you demand, a little shriller than necessary. If you don’t shriek about this, you’re going to shriek about that gorgeous chest and the tattoos and the everything else, and you absolutely cannot do that. “That was so dangerous! You’re going to break a leg!”
“You worry,” he scoffs. He shakes his head, but there’s a wicked, knowing grin at the corners of his mouth and his eyes are far too bright. “That was a little jump.”
“It was not!”
“It only seemed big because you are so little, but it was nothing for me.”
“You’re not that much taller!”
“It is sweet to worry,” he coos, “but it is too hot for it, yes?”
You scrunch your nose at him, not sure if you’re annoyed or turned on or both. (Probably both. It’s annoying how hot he is. And how hot he knows he is.)
“If it’s so hot, then here.”
You all but shove the cup at him. He takes it with a flicker of genuine surprise, sniffs at the liquid, then takes a sip. A pleased hum rumbles in his chest, raises the temperature another few degrees.
“My mother used to make something like this,” he muses, expression softening. You blink, lean in automatically for a peck to your cheek. “Danke schön.”
“Bitte,” you mumble, mouth drier than Reggie’s garden.
His eyes crinkle, mouth hidden by the edge of the cup as he proceeds to chug the rest of it. A droplet slips down his jaw and skips down to his collarbone. You force your eyes away before you’re driven to do something irreparable by thirst.
“Is Konig inside?” you ask. “I have a cup for him, too.”
He grunts confirmation, tongue curling around a blueberry to coax it into his mouth.
Yep, alright, that’s about as much as you can take.
“Scooch, before the punch goes warm.”
“Punch?” he repeats, arching an eyebrow at you.
“That’s what it’s called in English. Punch.”
“That seems like it would cause misunderstanding.” Except he’s grinning as he says it, like he cherishes the idea of someone confusing the two words and starting a fight. Considering how often you catch him and Konig smacking at each other, that’s probably not a stretch.
“Just please don’t swing on anyone, yeah?”
“Only because you ask so nicely,” he croons.
You click your tongue at him. “Wipe off before going in, I don’t want Shithead to stink after crawling on you.”
He barks out his usual sharp laugh and tugs the cloth – his own t-shirt – off his head to mop up his sweat. You make a mental note to tease him about sunburn later as you slip past him.
You can hear Konig singing off-key upstairs when you open the door. The house is sweltering, only mildly cooler than outside with none of the fresh air. You grimace as you pause at the bottom of the stairs; the boys have warned you that it’s dangerous up there and it’s best not to go wandering.
Thankfully, it doesn’t sound like he’s using power tools at the moment.
“Konig!” you call.
“Is that you, biene?” he calls back.
You grin. “Who else would it be, huh?”
You hear his footsteps right over your head, track his gait until the first heavy boot on the stairs. He meets you at the bottom with his usual ventilator on, but he tugs it down when he sees the cup in your hand.
“Is this for me?” he asks eagerly.
“Yep! Tell me what you think!”
With none of Nikto or Kreuger’s hesitation, he knocks back a big mouthful. Licks his full lips as he lowers it, eyes bright as they land on yours.
“This is perfect,” he chirps, “so refreshing! Thank you, biene!”
You beam right back, flushed with pride that all three of them liked the recipe you “happened to find” when you saw the temperature projections for today.
“There’s more back home,” you offer, “come out of the heat.”
“Okay, okay,” he chuckles. “I will wipe off first.”
You hum agreeably, watching him slip back upstairs with great enthusiasm. Konig in a tank top and those tight cargos… summer really is delivering this year.
That evening, you sigh as you recline across your huge bed, naked and cooling off with the night breeze rolling through your window. Ras and Shithead are happily distracted wrestling each other in your forgotten towel, and Little Guy is snoozing on his personal pillow.
You stretch out, feeling a bit decadent and indulgent with moonlight spilling over your body, and let your hands wander. It’s not the high-efficiency sleep-oriented wank you usually rush through, not this time.
You unspool memories of the day with each brush of your fingertips over moisturized skin. You hum as your skin tingles, imagining Konig’s calloused palms in place of yours. He’d be so surprisingly gentle, you’re sure. Big, strong hands but he’d play with you like a precious toy. Plucking your nipples and scratching his blunt nails over the plush of your hips.
As your breathing picks up, you see Krueger’s broad shoulders flexing behind your eyelids. Imagine them bullying between your thighs, hooking your knees over. That bright glint in his eye as he smirks against your cunt. Can practically feel the curl of his tongue around your clit, eating you out messy and mean.
You’re already halfway there when you curl two fingers into your pussy. You’re so wet that your fingers slip and slide, squelch lewdly as you rock your hips, trying to find just the right angle.
You imagine Nikto clicking his tongue at your struggle. Almost hear his low, hoarse voice chiding you for doing his job while he takes over. His fingers are so much thicker than yours, you have to press a third in just to maintain the fantasy.
You want to lean back against his broad chest while he strokes your walls, listen to him and Krueger and Konig talk about you like you’re not even there, debating if you should come. Ignore you as you beg and whimper, big hands pinning you down while they draw it out.
Please, please, please…
You clap a hand over your mouth just in time, hips jerking so hard that it makes your wrist ache.
Whoops.
Well, you doubt anyone heard. It’s pretty late, and you’re on the second story anyway.
Already sleepy, you’re too lazy to close the window after a pre-bed stop in the restroom. It’s such a nice night, after all.
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sapphicandgraphic · 19 days ago
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Teacher’s Pet—Drunk on Jealousy
Synopsis: When Agatha receives a letter from another student, you decide to get shit-faced at a local bar rather than examine your jealousy too closely. Agatha is waiting when you come home.
Warnings: One-shot in a longer “Teacher’s Pet” series! This story mentions drinking, fighting, and is mostly hurt/comfort exploring the evolving dynamic with witch mentor Agatha x witch student reader.
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“Another.”
The bartender gave you a doubtful look, but poured the drink and slid it across the glossy oak surface.
You clutched the glass between numb fingers, swirling the amber liquid, then tossed it back in one go.
“There’s only two reasons people drink like this,” he said, idly polishing a beer stein. “Women, or women.”
A bitter laugh bubbled up out of your chest. Your voice was dull when you spoke. “You’re not wrong.”
“You have my condolences then,” he sighed. “Must be quite a lady if you’re hitting the bottle this hard.”
“She is,” you said, ducking your head so he wouldn’t see the glossy shine in your eyes.
“Had a fight, did ya?” He asked. “Harsh words?”
You shook your head. “I think there’s…someone else,” you managed, fighting back bile at the very thought.
You didn’t consider yourself a jealous person. You’d made your own way in this world for many long years before crossing paths with Agatha Harkness.
But living with her, learning magic from her, getting to know the most intimate parts of each other…it had rewired your brain chemistry. And now the thought of someone coming between you, interfering with that, it had sent you spiraling.
He sucked his teeth sympathetically.
“My advice?” He said gently. “Go home. Talk to her.”
You opened your mouth to protest, fingers fiddling with the empty shot glass. He shook his head. “You’ve had enough.”
You gave him an incredulous stare. “You’re cutting me off?”
“I’m doing you a favor,” he laughed. “I’ve seen you in here before. You’re a good kid. Too good for this pity party.”
You sighed. Maybe he was right. This was borderline pathetic, after all. How many drinks had you had?
You stood up on unsteady legs, reaching for your wallet to pay. He raised his hand. “On the house,” he said. “Just do me a favor and get home safe.”
He waved as you stumbled toward the door.
The cold night air was bracing. You decided to leave your car in the lot—driving was out of the question. Besides, the walk home would help clear your foggy mind.
Agatha, Agatha, Agatha. That was the only drumbeat, rattling around your skull with every step you took.
You had noticed the letter on her desk a few days ago, glancing at the neat, unfamiliar cursive as you set a hot cup of tea by her elbow. She was poring over an old spell book, long fingers tracing down the page to mark her spot.
She didn’t look up when you placed the cup beside her, but she hummed in distracted appreciation at the honeyed smell. “Thanks, pet,” she murmured, a smile pulling the corners of her mouth. “You’re too good to me.”
You placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a light squeeze, relishing the way her eyes fluttered closed as you applied pressure to the knot near her neck.
“Distracting,” she sighed, refocusing on the page.
You returned your attention to the letter. Something about it made you uneasy.
You’d always had a talent for pickpocketing—it was how you’d survived before finding a home with Agatha—and you easily slipped the letter off the crowded desk. Upstairs, scanning it more fully, you realized it contained an apocalypse, an undoing.
How could a single piece of paper cause so much destruction?
A loud shout interrupted your drunken musings. Up ahead, a group of young men were spilling out of a club. As you passed, one shouldered into you roughly.
“Whoa,” he said. “Watch where you’re going.”
You were itching for a fight, could practically feel the reckless, radiant rage prickling across your skin. But there were several of them, and only one of you. So you put your head down, kept walking.
Then you heard him add, “Stupid bitch.”
You turned, flashed him a dangerous smile. It was the last thing he saw before all hell broke loose.
—————————————
It was well after midnight when you finally returned home, placing your key in the lock with shaky hands. You fumbled for a few seconds. Blood was dripping into your eye, making it hard to see.
You would normally be able to charm the door open, slip in without a sound. But alcohol interfered with your magic, making it slower, more sluggish, more unreliable. That was why the fight had turned a little sideways, why they’d been able to land a few lucky hits. You winced as you finally opened the door, leaning against the frame for a moment to catch your breath.
Okay, maybe more than a few.
The lights were out on the first floor and the house was cloaked in shadow. Presumably Agatha had gone to bed. Part of you felt relieved. You were in no state for confrontation, nerves all strung out and raw.
But another part of you felt lacerated by her absence. You’d been gone for hours. Had she even noticed?
Perhaps this was just further proof that you had misjudged your relationship. You certainly weren’t irreplaceable. The letter had proved that much. Maybe you weren’t even important to the other woman. She was a legendary witch, after all. History books were filled with pages and pages of her deeds and misdeeds. You were nobody, nothing.
You tried to be quiet as you crept across the room, heading for the stairs. Just as you placed your foot on the first step, a lamp flickered on behind you.
“I could swear we had this conversation before,” Agatha said silkily.
You froze, back stiffening at her words.
“I don’t like you going out unaccompanied and wandering home like this, all on your own.” Her words pricked something hopeful in your chest, but you pushed it aside. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Sorry, mistress,” you said, keeping your voice flat. “It won’t happen again.”
Agatha snorted at the formality, but something actually ached in her chest.
It had been almost a year since you arrived on her doorstep, full of power and pain and potential, asking for a teacher. She had nearly sent you away. But something about the  stubborn set of your jaw, the rangy, reckless magic thundering through your veins…it had disarmed her.
She insisted on implementing strict rules in the beginning, doing things by the book. You were her student and she was your teacher. Nothing more. But over time, you worked your way into her head, her heart…what little remained of it, in any case.
“Mistress?” She repeated, trying to keep her tone light. “You haven’t called me that in ages.”
You shrugged, still refusing to face her.
“That’s what you are, isn’t it?” Your voice shook a little, though from anger or despair she couldn’t be sure. “And I’m just a student.”
Agatha frowned. Something was very wrong—she studied your shoulders, noticing the rigid way you held yourself. Almost like you were in pain.
“What’s going on?” She said, abandoning the theatrics. “Where have you been all night?”
You laughed, mirthless and jagged. “Why do you care?”
Her eyes widened. That was the last thing she’d been expecting you to say. And suddenly she’d had enough of this infuriating distance between you.
Agatha pushed herself upright, and in three quick strides she was spinning you around, hands seeking answers that words couldn’t give fast enough.
As soon as her fingers brushed your shoulder she could feel the confusion, the pain, the sorrow at war within you. The storm was so profound that her own chest tightened uncomfortably. Who had done this?
She spun you around, and all other thoughts went out the window. Blood was splashed across your forehead, one eye blackened by a nasty bruise. Your bottom lip was swollen, split in the middle.
“You’re hurt,” she muttered, eyes sweeping over your body, scanning for other injuries. “How bad?”
“Just a few scrapes.”
But even as you said those words, you swayed slightly, sagged against the bannister. Agatha’s hands went to your waist immediately, long fingers curling into the fabric of your sweatshirt.
“I’m fine,” you insisted blearily. “Just let me go to bed.”
Agatha scoffed. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me who did this.”
“It doesn’t matter,” you said. “I started it, I wanted the fight.”
Her eyebrows furrowed, a look of genuine confusion softening her sharp features.
“Why?”
You shrugged, throat suddenly tight. “It doesn’t matter, Agatha.”
“Stop saying that,” she snapped.
For a moment neither of you spoke, locked in a standoff at the foot of the stairs. Then she placed her hand over your forehead, attempting to seal the tender flesh there. It was a peace offering. You sighed at the warm sensation of her magic soothing your skin like a salve.
“White magic isn’t my strong suit,” she said. There was a note of apprehension in her voice, like she didn’t think this was a good idea.
You hated that Agatha viewed herself this way, and you opened your mouth to argue, to thank her, to say it felt amazing, but you never got the words out. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your knees buckling. Agatha caught you in one swift motion, a spike of fear piercing her heart.
“Dammit,” the older woman swore softly under her breath, cradling you against her chest.
This happened sometimes with healing spells—she had difficulty modulating her power, localizing it to a specific area. She had only meant to relieve your pain. But you were hovering so close to exhaustion that she’d accidentally pushed you right over the edge into unconsciousness.
She carried you the short distance to the sofa, arranging you carefully against the cushions. She gazed at you for a moment, torn, then leaned forward and rested her head against your heart. Closing her eyes, she listened to the pulse, steady and soothing. She took a few calming breaths of her own, matching the rise and fall of your chest.
“Agatha?” Your voice was confused, tired. “What happened?”
“You’re trying to give me grey hair,” she sighed, lifting her head to glare at you. “That’s what happened.”
You smiled, lopsided and precious. “You’d look good grey,” you slurred. “You always look good.”
She felt a ridiculous fondness in her chest. “Drunken fool.”
Agatha went into the kitchen, busying herself at the kettle. She returned with a strong cup of tea, biscuits, and a warm washcloth.
“Sit up,” she ordered, gripping your elbow. You shifted and something fluttered to the floor beside you. Agatha stilled, not recognizing it at first. Then she leaned down and plucked the letter off the floor.
“Aha,” she said, comprehension dawning. “I was wondering where this went.”
You shrank back, squirming guiltily. She set the letter on the table, then brought the washcloth to your face, cleaning the blood by hand rather than risking another spell.
“Am I right in presuming this is the source of all your angst?” The words were laced with an unspoken reprimand, punctuated by her arched eyebrow. You gulped.
“I didn’t know you were taking on new students,” you said. “You never told me.”
She gave you a withering look. “You never asked.”
You opened your mouth to reply, then closed it again.
“What’s the matter, pet?” She asked, and there was a definite teasing lilt in her voice now. “Don’t you like the idea of sharing me?”
Even if Agatha had not been touching you at that exact moment, she would have noticed the powerful reaction you had to those words. The lights flickered and an icy breeze swept through the room, emanating from nowhere, from everywhere, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
Beneath her fingers, Agatha felt the surge of raw possessiveness crackling along the surface of your skin, a mix of pure loyalty and longing and love that made her light-headed.
Agatha drew a shaky breath, momentarily cowed by the sheer magnitude of your affection. “All for me?”
You let your head fall back against the sofa, utterly spent, too tired to be embarrassed. “Who else?”
Agatha resumed her ministrations. There were more small cuts around your jaw and neck. She carefully cleaned them one by one.
“If you had bothered to talk to me, rather than pilfering my personal correspondence,” she said pointedly. “Then you would have known I receive such letters quite often and my response is always the same.”
Your gaze pinned her where she sat, and she saw that your pupils were dilated, your jaw slightly slack as you waited to hear the answer.
“Return to sender,” she shrugged. “I have my hands full with you.”
The corners of your lips quirked upward in a hopeful smile. “Is that right?”
She hummed in agreement, never one to dwell on sappy moments. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
She helped you off the sofa. Together you shuffled slowly up the stairs and into your room. She pulled back the covers, fluffed the pillows.
“I didn’t realize you got so much fan mail,” you grumbled, slipping between the sheets.
Agatha gave you an imperious little smile. “Of course I get fan mail,” she said. “I’m a legend.”
She hesitated for a moment, then joined you on the edge of the bed. Her tone softened as she traced your eye, bruised and tender. “Do you really think I would let just anyone move into my home? Learn my magic?”
You bit your lip, uncertain.
“There’s only you, pet,” she murmured, absently stroking your hair. “You’re one of a kind.”
Your chest felt like it might burst at those words.
“Don’t cry,” she warned. “There’s nothing worse than a weepy drunk.”
“Weepy but violent,” you corrected, swiping your sleeve across your eye.
She pressed her lips into a thin line of disapproval. “How many of them were there?”
“Five,” you said.
Agatha gritted her teeth, nostrils flaring as she exhaled slowly through her nose. The thought of you squaring off with an unknown threat all alone made her furious.
“I could strangle you,” she said, eyes flickering over the marks on your face and neck.
“Somebody already tried that tonight,” you quipped, hoping for a laugh. “Didn’t end well for them.”
Agatha’s expression darkened, turning even more serious.
“You shouldn’t have left when you were upset,” she said. “It was reckless. And you shouldn’t be picking fights on your own.”
You stifled a laugh. “That’s a bit rich, coming from you.”
She stared at you through half-lidded eyes. In the low light of the bedroom, she looked ridiculously beautiful.
“Do as I say, not as I do,” she recited. “Isn’t that the line?”
“Sure,” you shrugged, hoping Agatha would drop it. You were suddenly very tired. Your entire body ached.
Agatha didn’t drop it.
“Promise me it won’t happen again.”
You nodded. The other woman placed a fingertip beneath your chin, raising your face until you were eye-to-eye.
“Words.”
You smiled, enjoying the attention. “Promise.”
“Very good,” she said, rising from the bed. “Now, get some sleep. We have an early start tomorrow.”
You snuggled down into the covers. “Night, Agatha.”
“Good night, pet.”
364 notes · View notes
aceday · 7 months ago
Text
Agatha Harkness x Reader
summary: you’re but a humble young librarian super into this milf who just happens to show up at an opportune moment.
warnings: age gap, public sex, oral, fingering
*afab gender neutral reader
@covenofagatha
i don’t do this btw
The Librarian
It’s snowing, the third time you meet her. Behind the circulation desk, with your feet kicked up against the long arch of desk that separates you from the rest of the library, paging through somebody’s hold (it’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover, perhaps some sort of premonition), you look every bit as bored as you are. When you look up and out the window, it’s the kind of black only 6 o’clock in the middle of January can be. Snow pummels against the window. It’s the kind of weather nobody should be out in, either.
Between you and your two other coworkers — the lifeblood, like Atlas holding up the last two hours of the library before its close — there is really only the odd, uncanny emptiness of one librarian and their empty shelves. Of course you’re surprised when she breezes in, in a long dark trench coat with damp shoulders, opened to reveal a pale turtleneck tucked into pleated trousers, snowflakes still dotting her long, thick tresses of dark hair. The snowflakes dissolve. She is panting, wind-blown, she turns around and you see the stark blue of her eyes set against the soft red burn of her cheeks.
“Hi,” she says, breathy, her chest rising and falling heavily. She flashes you a smile, an intentional, albeit distracted smile, the smile of someone who seems a little caught, a little embarrassed in the way you really only can be around strangers for no apparent reason. She carries a folded, closed umbrella and a black bag on her shoulder.
Her name is Agatha Harkness. You were here when she signed up for a library card, and spent the whole time kicking yourself that you hadn’t beat your coworker to helping her. She’s new in town, she has a son that loves to read, or be read to, and there is no ring on her finger, which, as far as you’re concerned, means you have a chance.
You don’t move from your seat, knowing that if you scrambled to put your feet on the floor and throw the book back on the hold shelf then you’ll really look like you’ve been caught. You set the book down on your lap and cross your arms.
“Hi,” you say, smiling easily.
She looks around the library and takes a few hesitant steps towards the shelves. The New section is the first thing to greet library goers, and she distractedly scans the books. You don’t take your eyes off her. She’s beautiful. And you know a lost face when you see one, so when she absentmindedly taps her umbrella against the floor and turns to you, you’re ready.
“Hi,” Agatha says again, approaching the circulation desk. This time you set your feet down.
You smile softly, “Anything I can help you with?”
“Yes, actually. I was looking to get some books for my son. He’s four.”
You point to the corner of the library, where the door frame labeled “Children’s Section” is tucked, leading to an entirely different section of the library. “The Children’s Section is over that way.” You’re a little disappointed to be sending her so far away, but you’re the only person at circulation and if she wants to check out any books she’ll have to find you anyway. But, to your surprise, she doesn’t turn towards Children’s. She taps the desk with a gloved finger, staring down the shelves. You take the opportunity to stand, leaving the book on your chair behind you.
“Is there anything in particular I can help you find?”
Agatha inhales slowly, clearly lost in thought. Then, she turns slowly to you. Her eyes are so blue. It’s like being pinned in place, the way her eyes meet yours. You’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, but you’d be lying if you said your breath didn’t flee your lungs.
“Are you busy?” She looks down at the book. Normally, you’d feign a little embarrassment, but you smile and shrug.
“I’m getting slammed right now, actually. But uh, I suppose I could help you out.”
She chuckles, peeling off her black leather gloves and stuffing them in the pockets of her trench coat. “Sure. Any recommendations? What are you reading?”
This time you do flush a little. “It’s, uh, Lady Chatterley’s Lover. It’s someone else’s hold.”
Agatha narrows her eyes a bit, a small smile curling at the corner of her lips. “Is it raunchy?”
“By today's standards, probably not. Is raunchy what you’re looking for?”
She raises her eyebrows. Your blush deepens. Working these lonely evening shifts has you forgetting you’re employed to work, not to flirt with patrons, which you never do anyway, but luckily Agatha laughs after a moment.
“What’s your name?” She squints to read your name tag, and you offer it up lazily. “I’m Agatha,” she says. “Agatha Harkness. Actually, I’m a bit new to town. I just got my card.”
“I know your name,” you say, looking away. Agatha, who, until now, has been a bit fidgety and distracted, suddenly stills. “I was here when you set your card up. You probably don’t remember me.”
“But you remember me.”
She doesn’t say it like it’s a question. A knot forms in your throat. You offer a thin grin. “Of course.” Then you tap your temple, which is stupid and you immediately regret it, but Agatha doesn’t seem to really notice or care. Her smile stretches easily. She levels you with a knowing gaze, though you can’t imagine what it is she knows.
“It’s cozy in here,” Agatha says, beginning to rifle through her bag. Her hair is windswept and wild falling down her back, but you have the impression that this is its natural state, despite the wind. She pulls out her wallet, then her library card. “The roads are getting bad though. Especially now that it’s dark out.”
You nod. “Yeah, this is definitely the place to be. At least it’s supposed to slow down soon. There’s a fireplace back past non-fiction. Do you have any holds to pick up?”
Agatha smiles. You scan her library card. “Just one.” Your stomach drops.
“Ahh,” you pick up Lady Chatterley’s Lover sadly, “right. How about that?”
Agatha looks more than amused as you check the book out to her account, quickly plucking your place marker out from the pages.
“No, no,” Agatha says, “leave the bookmark. We can do a little book club, hmm?”
You’ve officially embarrassed yourself enough for one night. You smile warily. “I hope you enjoy it as much as I was. Drive safe.”
Still smiling, Agatha hums in response and tucks the paperback into her bag. “Did you say this was supposed to let up soon? You know, I could use a few recommendations while I have you here.”
You’re pretty sure you’ve already used up all your charm. It’d be ideal if she left and came back another day, but, the more you think about it, the more you realize that this is one opportunity you just can’t waste. Not a coworker in sight (one in the break room for the next half hour, the other shelf-reading in the basement), your work crush right here, mildly stranded in a snowstorm, willing to converse, nay, to joke with you, and- Jesus do you have a chance?
“Anything,” you say at the realization, a little more breathless than you’d intended but you feel renewed with your usual charm and ready to not let this opportunity pass without a fight.
“I was also looking for maybe a cozy mystery? What with the weather and all.”
Does she know the mystery section is the most isolated back corner of the library? You can definitely work with this.
“Sure. I can show you. Follow me.”
You step out from behind the counter, Agatha lingering on your heels. You haven’t had to think this fast in months. Maybe in years. What to say? What to do? You don’t even read mysteries.
You wind through the shelves, leading Agatha deeper into the more shadowy parts of the library, into the most definitely, undoubtedly empty and out-of-sight parts of the library.
“Here’s mystery. I mean, there’s obviously Agatha Christie, and then Laura Childs is pretty cozy, and-” you stop abruptly. You have no idea why you’re talking about mysteries. You face Agatha, who looks at you with one raised eyebrow. She looks expectant. Perfect.
“You’ve happened to find us in the coziest spot in the library,” you say as nonchalantly as you can, scanning the book spines, “But you won’t find anything raunchy over here.”
The look on Agatha’s face is both curious and knowing. Amused, even. She can read you like a book (hah), and some part of you feels like an animal in a zoo, watched by an audience far hungrier than you.
“I didn’t say I wanted raunchy.”
“Didn’t you?”
Agatha scoffs slightly. Her smile widens. She takes a step closer to you and you don’t move back.
“I have more than a few suggestions if that’s the case,” you say, tilting your head. You’re a good few inches taller than her, and when she looks up at you behind dark eyelashes…
“You’re bold,” says Agatha. The same grin hangs wickedly on her mouth.
“But not too desperate, I hope?”
Agatha laughs without taking her eyes off of you. You don’t think you could move backwards if you tried, you don’t think you could move if you tried, her face sings with an effortless amusement, like she knows every thought in your mind and every desire beneath your tongue. It’s vulnerable. Like you’re naked, or just bared, skin unprotected against a harsh wind or sharp rain.
“I’m old enough to be your mother.”
“I know.”
She hums, her gaze raking you up and down, studying. You’re nothing now but a specimen, an insect, pinned by the legs and wings to a cork board, shivering under a magnifying glass. You swallow, then take a step forward. Her chin raises. It’s cute, defiant in a way that reminds you almost of a petulant child, and this most momentary relief from the scrutinization of her gaze is all you need. You raise one hand and tuck her hair behind her ear.
“Cold out there, hmm?” you ask softly, almost boredly. Her unblinking stare doesn’t move from yours. She nods. “Warm in here though.” Your hands trace the lapels of her trench coat. “Damp.” You push it off her shoulders. It’s heavy, woolen, and water-logged, and crumples to the ground with a thud, taking the purse and umbrella with it. You let your gaze drag lazily, obviously, across her face, her eyes, her neck, her mouth.
You see her swallow, which feels like a victory in and of itself. Consider yourself spurred. “And of course, I’m-”
Whatever clever remark you had readied is cut off before even its effect is conveyed. Agatha closes the space between you two, shoving you against the bookshelf. You knock back against the shelves with an “oomph” and Agatha balls your shirt in her fists. She stares at you for a pulsing, pregnant moment before you crack and push your lips against hers. It’s a vicious kiss that’s barely a kiss and lasts for only half a moment anyway. Agatha pulls back severely and pushes you once more against the shelves. Your breath heaves out of your lungs.
“Something the matter?” you ask, grinning like a snake. Agatha scoffs. Her lips meet yours with a sharp inhale, her eyes closed. The kiss is not tender but not desperate, more inquisitive, curious, until a moan escapes your throat and your hands grab dumbly at Agatha’s waist.
You don’t want to be audacious, but you’re already past that point if you’re being honest with yourself, and you step off the wall. You don’t have that much time. You want. Agatha’s tongue slips between your lips and you feel the pit in your stomach empty out, heat flushing into a tense knot in your abdomen. Not much time.
Gentle — but firm —, you push Agatha back against the wall, and sink to your knees. Surprise flickers across her face, but quickly melts into an impish smile. Mischief looks good on her.
“Can I, Agatha?” you ask, very politely, your fingers working already around her belt.
“Yeah. Yes, sweetheart. That’s good.” The words send a twist between your legs and you tug her belt open and unzip the pants. While you pull them down, her hands shovel through your hair, fingertips digging into your scalp, and the feeling almost gives you vertigo. Her skin is impossibly soft. Her underwear is plain and black. You slide it down the swell of her thighs, swallowing. You can smell her on the air, skimming the top of it, and you fight the urge to lick your lips like some hungry dog.
Your hands feel up the length of her legs, one pushing under her shirt up her stomach, in a manner not short of exalted, and you can feel her shudder under your touch. It’s a power, of sorts, and you breathe into a taut smile.
Your mouth is on her legs, sucking at her thighs, and she hisses at the sting of your teeth on her skin. You don’t need to bruise her, really, but you do, if only to prolong eating her out, to hold what you’ve been waiting for in front of you just moments longer. Her breath hitches, she’s trying to be quiet, and in a moment of uncontrolled excitement you surge forward, your jaw widening, your tongue flat against her and your nose buried in her folds.
Agatha yelps a little louder than she meant to, and one hand leaves your hair to cover her mouth. She groans quietly into her palm as you eat her out, tongue scooping inside of her, the taste electric on your tongue, burning in your nose, your eyes heavy-lidded. Fuck. She’s hot. She’s so hot. One hand grips her thigh steadily, the other slides down beneath your waistband. What can you say? You’re desperate.
You whine into her and Agatha looks down, watching as you fuck yourself with your face buried into her cunt. She curses softly, her hand grabbing onto the ledge of a bookshelf by her head. “That’s great, baby, that’s-” your tongue flicks hard against her clit, interrupting Agatha as she spills into a moan. “That’s good, that’s good, that’s-” your lips suck airily around her clit, your tongue immediately continuing its flat and solid path through her folds. She’s dripping off of your chin by now.
Agatha’s breath stutters and she falls eerily quiet, but you know the signs. Her body tightens and then convulses, a delicate shudder gripped around your tongue, thighs squeezing your face, her manicured fingernails scraping against your scalp. She orgasms moaning your name quietly, in a hushed, devoted sort of way nearing on delirium.
When its intense waves wash away and you stand up you’re wearing a self satisfied smile, but Agatha doesn’t leave you long to bask in your pride. She stumbles forward and shoves you against the bookshelf, her mouth collapsing onto yours. She moans softly at the intense taste of herself on your skin; your mouth, nose, chin, cheeks. It’s overpowering. You can feel pearls of her rolling down your jaw and neck. Agatha bites your bottom lip, hard, and then her mouth finds your throat.
You sigh at the feeling of her above your pulse, the heat of her breath and the delicate trace of her fingertips across your sides.
“That was quite the orgasm.” There’s still a ragged edge to her voice, a lulled huskiness, and she seems to struggle to keep her voice balanced in the median between hush and speaking.”How do you feel touching yourself?”
Now with your back pressed against the bookshelves, you had given up all previous hope of getting yourself close. Not that you had minded, fucking Agatha was like seeing the gates of heaven. After that, who needed some masturbatory purgatory at the helm of your own fingers? You take too long to come up with an answer, lost still in the haze of the bruise you’re sure she’s sucking into your skin. Her fingertips, gripping at your sides, rush suddenly to undo the button of your jeans.
“Good,” you say, your head falling backwards, “not as good as this, I’m sure.” Agatha’s hand sinks into your jeans. You sputter forward and she leans harshly into you, pinning you against the stacks. Her fingers and palm slide down, and, God- she’s cupping you through your underwear, pressing testingly against you. It’s intoxicating. Fuck. Your arms sling around her shoulders and your hips buck into her hand. She smiles, kisses you.
“You want this?” she asks, leaning her mouth into your ear, her breath hot, as if it’s even a question, as if you’re not already dripping, soaked through your underwear, keening into her touch.
“Yeah, Agatha, yeah. C’mon.” At the sound of her name in your mouth, Agatha hums a moan. Her fingers slip under the seam. You pull Agatha into you, your hands tangled in her hair. It’s still damp from the snow.
Her fingertips slide into you. Cold, her fingers are cold, and the sensation of them curling inside of your cunt leaves you halfway to breathless. “Fuck.”
“You’re warm,” Agatha says mildly. She’s pulled back a bit in favor of studying your face, every twitch of your eyebrows and tug of your swollen lips, the blissed out, wired look in your eyes.
“Fuck. You’re- fuck.” She thrusts deeper into you, the tips of her fingers running against your walls, feeling for every jolt of your body. She thumbs your clit, rubbing soft circles into you. She’s good, fuck, every twist of her fingers and push of her thumb sweeps tides of pleasure through your body.
“I’m what?” Agatha teases, thrusting hard, then harder, and fast, and the library is so quiet and you can hear the wet slap of her fucking you.
“God, fuck, fuck,” you groan, your forehead falling against Agatha’s shoulder. She shrugs your head up, her hand smothering your mouth.
“We are in a library, darling,” she whispers, and your being silenced like this makes the slick sound of her fingers in your, against you, seem that much louder. You whine, whimper, keen, your body jolts, her fingertips hit against your g-spot and white pulses behind your eyes as you spill into orgasm.
Your body trembles, tense, your teeth closing around Agatha’s hand, and her fingers slip out of you. She pulls you into a soft hug, holding you up between herself and the bookshelf while you steady your breath.
“Jesus,” you pant, “that was so good, God.”
Agatha pats your hair and you pull back. She pushes a fast kiss against your mouth, and the heat returns, despite your orgasm still buzzing fresh on your skin.
“Thank you and you’re welcome,” Agatha says against your mouth. “Do you have a job to return to?”
“Only if you have a number to give me?”
Agatha smiles. She kisses your cheek and begins fixing her clothes. “I’m still old enough to be your mother.”
“I still know that.”
She eyes you warily, scanning you up and down. “You’ll give me your number, and you’ll wait to hear from me first.”
You sigh in relief and fall back against the bookshelf, running your hand through your hair. “Deal. Welcome to town.”
506 notes · View notes
gayforolderwomen · 5 months ago
Text
You wanted to be touched didn't you?
Pairing: dark!Agatha x reader + hinted at Dark!Rio x reader
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Agatha and Rio have kidnapped you, they've left you completely alone and isolated for months in hopes that you become touched starved, it works and Agatha uses it to her advantage
Warnings: 18+, smut, dub-con, non-con, mommy kink, fingering (r receiving), kidnapping, manipulation, implied mind control, Stockholm syndrome, extremely brief breast play, r has a pussy, r is referred to as a girl, use of 'good girl', touched deprived r, panty soaking, slight overstim, mention of a strap-on, lmk if I missed anything!
A/N: this is a dark fic please pay attention to the tags! This is my first fic so please be nice and there's probably going to be some spelling/grammar mistakes sorry lol
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You don't know how long it's been
One moment you were walking peacefully in the woods the next two women appeared and you passed out, you woke up in this cell and ever since then it's been silence. No footsteps above, no muffled voices, no human interaction at all
Your meals just appear at the same three times everyday, the cell window too high up and small to tell where you are but at least it gives you a sense of time
It's been roughly three months you think since they took you, you don't know who they are or why they did this but the thing that confuses you the most is that they haven't even come here. No visits at all and it's starting to get lonely, you even tired calling out a few times but recived no response
All you have is the confines of the cell, you sit on the old mattress that's been your bed for the past few months and suddenly a door opens
Your heart leaps as footsteps descend the stairs and she appears. Fear lingers in your chest but the woman approaches the cell with a warm, deceptively kind smile on her face, as if her softness could vanish any minute but you'll take anything right now
"Agatha, Agatha harkness" she states with soft credence
Without waiting for your name Agatha opens the cell door and watches your reaction carefully, you stay still for a moment studying the woman. She's definitely one of the women that took you but she's being so kind and at least she's talking to you
Against your better judgement you stand up from the mattress and hug yourself slightly suddenly feeling awfully touch deprived
Agatha smirks slightly and slowly approaches you. Once she reaches you she cups your face in her hands, her touch gentle and grounding
You almost immediately nuzzle into her plams as if it were the most natural thing in the world, easily lulled into a false sense of security as Agatha's thumb caresses your cheek. She coos at you quietly and brings you closer to her body, her strength a subtle reminder of her power in the situation
"Sorry to keep you waiting little one I just had to make sure you'd be a good girl for me, you're a good girl aren't you darling?"
She asks with a sultry lilt, one of her hands moving from your cheek to wrap around your waist possessively, pulling you flush against her, her other hand still gently cupping your cheek caressing it almost as a distraction to her firmer grip on your waist
You don't even pick up on the implications of her question and just nod, nuzzling into her hand a little more just greatful to be touched
"Use your words little one" Agatha gently chastises her grip loosening slightly as a warning
You almost instinctively panic when her grip loosens desperate not to lose the gentle touch you been without for months
"I'll be good, I am good. I'm a good girl" you say quickly trying to nuzzle into her palm again, an aching need in your body to be caressed
Agatha smiles, a slight darkness flashes in her eyes, too quick for you to take notice. Her grip goes back to how it was cupping your cheek with one hand, the other holding your waist to hers
She leans in slightly, her hot breath tickling your ear "that's a good girl, you deserve a reward for being so good, don't you think darling?" She husks in your ear her tone no longer disguising the lust it's laced with
Agatha doesn't wait for your response this time and her hand leaves your cheek, prompting a small pout from you which Agatha chuckles at
"such a sweet little thing, so desperate for mommy's touch hm?" Agatha teases slightly, pulling back just enough so that her hand can slowly slide down your neck to your chest brushing against your breasts in a fleeting touch
Your cheeks flush slightly heat stirring in your stomach at the name Agatha gave herself. Before you can think clearly Agathas hand cups your breast through your clothes feeling your nipple harden easily, she smirks her plan has worked perfectly, leaving you alone for months waiting for your body to start craving any kind of touch and now you're as responsive and pliable as she had hoped
Her other hand now leaves your waist instead brushing across your stomach occasionally dipping under your shirt to feel the soft skin beneath, her long fingers teasing your pantie line watching your face with a careful determination
The action makes the heat in your stomach grow and you let out a sound of desperation and confusion, almost a whine, you've been aching for another persons touch but this isn't what you imagined
"Wh- i-" you stammer before Agatha raises her hand that was cupping your breast to shush you
"shh baby girl, mommy's gonna make you feel good, you wanted to be touched didn't you?" She says before her fingers slip under your panties and press against your clit, eliciting a gasp from you and making your hips buck involuntarily
Agatha smiles holding back a laugh "see doesn't this feel good darling?" She says as she starts pressing circles against your clit
A strangled moan escapes your lips and despite your mind reeling at the sudden change in situation you feel your body reacting, your folds starting to become slick with arousal, your hips bucking slightly more
Agatha presses her body against yours and starts waking you back until you hit the wall of the cell "oh baby you need me so bad don't you? Mommy's got you" she coos in an almost teasing manor enjoying seeing the way your body betrays your mind
Her thumb is now circling your clit occasionally pressing down hard to hear your beautiful sounds. She can't hold herself back anymore and slips two fingers inside you with little resistance, your warm slick walls enveloping her digits
You let out a whimper that quickly turns into a moan as she curls her fingers inside of you, the pain from the stretch mixing with the pleasure
"Does that feel good baby? You like mommy's fingers inside you?" Agatha husks in the your ear before starting to leave hot open-mouthed kisses on your neck
You let out an almost pathetic moan in response your mind suddenly too foggy to speak, it's odd though your mind was perfectly clear a mere second ago
Her fingers start to pump in and out of you, giving you no chance to think further, curling them perfectly in time with her thumb strokes on your clit. Her other hand holding you firmly against the wall trapping you completely. Your hips buck and twitch desperately not even knowing if you're trying to get away or want more
Agatha moans softly at the sight of you so confused and desperate, your walls clenching around her fingers each time they push in
"That's it's baby take mommy's fingers, you're so good for me" she says a hint of pride in her voice and she pushes a third finger into you once again giving you no time to think as she fucks you against the cell wall
The sound of your moans echo through the basement and your hips start to shake slightly the pleasure pain starting to get too intense, the mysterious fog clouding your brain coaxing you to just give in, Agathas lips still pressing against your neck as her fingers pump into you relentlessly her thumb curling your clit with increased power
"Go on baby, let go, cum for mommy" she commands in your ear before capturing your lips in a searing kiss, her tongue demanding entrance and dominating your mouth claiming you completely
The fog in your brain thickens feeling almost like a blanket wrapping around you, lulling you into security and compliance
Agatha keeps you pinned to the wall as your legs start to shake, her mouth still dominating yours swallowing the slurry of moans you produce and then it happens, a high pitched moan, your legs shaking so badly that Agatha is the only thing holding you up, pleasure crashing through your body and cum enveloping Agathas fingers soaking your panties in the process
Agatha finally pulls back from the kiss still holding you up to look at you, your face flushed, chest heaving, legs trembling, it's the most perfect sight to Agatha. She keeps pumping her three fingers in and out of you making you ride the high of your orgasm, her thumb pressing hard against your now swollen clit before pulling out and stepping back making you fall to the floor with a thud but the fog in your brain barely registers the pain
Agatha takes the fingers that where inside you and brings them to her mouth licking off the cum with a moan "oh sweet girl you taste delicious, I wish I could devour you right now but it's Rio's turn"
Agatha says and suddenly the other woman that took you appears in the cell. Rio, she stands over your trembling body and leans down, her hand dipping beneath your panties and proding at your entrance feeling how wet and stretched out it is
You want to squirm away, your body already tired and overstimulated but the fog keeps you still, keeps you compliant
"You did good my love, she should take my cock nicely" Rio states with a low growl of approval "clear her mind though, you know I like it when they're feisty"
It's then you notice Rio is completely bare, apart from a harness fastend around her hips
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saphiccarma · 7 months ago
Text
- Wouldn't you like?
Relationships - Agatha Harkness x Reader
Warnings: Smut. It's basically all smut.
Agatha Harkness was perhaps the best parent you ever had the pleasure of meeting. You taught third grade, which her son Nicholas was in, and he was an absolute delight. You met Agatha during the first parent teacher meeting.
She had shown up in a pair of black slacks and a white blouse tucked into them, a heavy jacket sitting on her shoulders. When she walked in her heels clicked on the floor and her eyes, a piercing icy blue, scanned everywhere. Wavy brown hair fell down her shoulders and she flipped it over her shoulder with long fingers when she sat down.
From the instant you met her, you were stunned. You stumbled over your words, cheeks flushing while you fumbled with papers to show her. She kept an amused, patient, smile on her face the entire time.
And since then, she continued to surprise you.
The school had a cultural day a few weeks later, each kid was supposed to bring some food from their heritage and share it with their class. Nicholas had been eager all week, saying his mother was the best cook ever, bouncing on his toes excitedly when the day had come. Turns out, Agatha was an amazing cook, her food tasted divine and nearly everyone ate it. You had to refrain from getting seconds.
That's when Agatha first asked you out.
You had been stunned at first, thinking it was some sort of joke. Agatha was a hot single mom, but you never expected her to ask you out. Sure, she never had a ring on her finger, but you were surprised to realize she wasn't even dating. Flustered, you had accepted her offer.
The two of you had been dating for a few months now, keeping it on the down low and making it seem like you were just friends. Nicky adored you, always happy to have you over, but he thought the two of you were just friends. Although a part of you thought he wouldn't mind you dating his mom.
Today, the school was hosting a fundraiser and had asked for parent and teacher volunteers. Naturally, you volunteered, but then so did Agatha. At first you thought it would be fun, until it seemed that Agatha made it her goal to distract you the entire time.  
At first, you hardly noticed. It was her subtly brushing her hand against yours when helping you put up decorations. Then she moaned loudly after trying some of the food prepared, all the while making direct eye contact with you, swallowing hard on purpose. That had gotten you to look away instantly, your face flushed and eyes wide.
She only got bolder from there, pressing a kiss to your neck and sucking slightly, when no one was watching, lingering touches on sensitive spots, and despite your many hissed warnings, she didn't stop.
You were constantly worried Nicky, or some other parent would notice.
Then everyone else arrived and the fundraiser dinner started. You sat next to her, and it made everything worse. Her feet trailed along your ankle, hand resting on your thigh, slender fingers trailing up and down, dangerously close to where you wanted her. Heat pooled in your stomach, and you shifted in discomfort as the slick feeling between your thighs. You sat next to her, tense, and casting anxious glancing towards the kids table where Nicky sat. A few other parents sat at the table with you, conversation flowing easily and they were completely unaware of your struggle.
At some point when you almost got caught, you made an excuse to leave the restroom. Agatha followed shortly after, using the same excuse.
"What are you-" Your words were muffled as Agatha shoved you against the wall, her hands gripping your collar and smashing her lips onto yours. All resistance left you at the simple action, her tongue poking into your mouth with practiced ease as she kept you pinned. Whimpering into her mouth, you grasped at her shirt desperately. As always, she was dressed nicely with a white turtleneck, flowy grey pants and a brown jacket.
Her lips trailed from your lips to your neck, leaving a hot, wet trail that had you whining. Her teeth bit down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, not caring to be gentle, soothing it over with her tongue.
"Agatha," already you could hardly form a coherent word, your brain fogging up with her touch. She had been teasing you all night with the light kisses and purposeful touches. It left you as a puddle of mush.
She smirked into your neck, hands slipping down to your breasts, cupping them through your dress, "Do you know how delectable you look in this dress?" Another nip at your skin that had you shutting your eyes, "I've been having such a hard time resisting you." As if she wasn't teasing you all night.
One of her hands fiddled with the frills of your dress and your breath hitched when she hiked it up slightly, her foot toeing your legs apart. She continued pressing tender, yet harsh, kisses to your skin, not caring if she was leaving marks as she sucked. You were hardly present enough to bother stopping her. Her fingernails scrapped on the inside of your thigh lightly, bunching your dress up until it was at your hips.
"Aggie," you muttered, eyes snapping open to glance around anxiously. The two of you were just in the halls, anyone could walk in at any minute. Agatha met your eyes, a small smile curling at her lips that gave away how much she was enjoying this. “Anyone could walk in.”
"I guess you'll just have to be quiet then."
You didn't get a chance to protest as her fingers pushed your panties to the side and swept through your folds, gathering your wetness on her fingertips.
"All this for me?" Bringing her fingers up, Agatha pressed down on your bottom lip, and you obeyed, letting her slide her fingers in. You sucked obediently, tasting yourself on her fingers. She pressed down your tongue. Tears brimmed the corners of your eyes and that only added to the desire.
A whine escaped you when she removed her fingers, "All for you. Only you. Agatha please." You didn't think you could hold on much longer.
She pretended to contemplate it for a second and you didn't notice her hand creeping lower, closer to where you needed it. Then she hummed casually and shoved two of her fingers knuckle deep into your cunt. You gasped, hands clawing at her shoulders, hips bucking. Squeezing your eyes shut again, you threw your head back against the wall as Agatha started moving her fingers hard and fast.
Your walls clenched around her. Lips teased the skin on your neck, biting and sucking and licking. Her hand toyed with one of your nipples. The added stimulation of her twisting and pinching them made the wetness between your thighs grow.
You had to bite down on your lip to stop from moaning loudly when her fingers curled just right, and her thumb pressed against your clit. She held you there for a moment before she began to thrust her hand again, palm slapping against your hand. It was embarrassing how fast you felt your orgasm coming, a tight coil of heat in your stomach and your walls fluttering around Agatha's fingers.
"Agatha- I'm gonna-" A pitiful keen left you when she suddenly stopped, her fingers resting in your wet cunt, and your eyes snapped open, "Aggieeee." You were so close and then she just stopped.
She smashed her lips onto yours, teeth clashing as you squirmed. Her tongue was practically fucking you after a moment, but you wanted nothing more than for her fingers to start moving again.
When she pulled away from the kiss, you gave her big, pleading eyes, "Agatha please. Fuck me please."
That was all it took for Agatha to begin fucking you hard again and your orgasm came upon you quickly. It washed over you like a wave, a shuddering sense of pleasure filling you as you trembled and tightly held onto her shoulders. Your teeth sunk into your lip to prevent yourself from screaming her name, but a small whimper did leave your mouth. Agatha placed one last tender kiss onto your neck, her lips lingering lightly for a moment before she pulled away, taking her fingers away.
You panted against the wall, flushing even further when Agatha sucked her own fingers clean, moaning at the taste of you. Your dress fell back into place but that didn't change the fact that you were insanely wet. Agatha's lips curled up tightly, enjoying the way your thighs rubbed together in discomfort at the dull pain between your thighs from how hard she fucked you.
Before either of you had a chance to say something, there were voices around the corner and you hurriedly wiped the couple droplets of sweat on your face and readjusted your dress. Glaring at Agatha, as you touched your neck and instantly you knew she left marks. You smoothed down her blouse and started casually leading her away. Two parents rounded the corner, and it took one look from one of them to tell you they knew what was up. They stared a little longer than they should at your neck.
A hot heat filled your cheeks, and you ducked your gaze down, slapping Agatha's arm once they were out of sight.
"That was dangerous. And you left marks," you hissed, gesturing at your neck, "What if one of the kids walked in on us?"
Agatha laughed, walking ahead of you, but not before glancing back with her pink lips grinning, "That's part of the fun darling."
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covenofagatha · 5 months ago
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my dears please do not aspire to be me.. the horniness consumes you and your work! it's horrendously and deliciously distracting.. i have way overdue studying that has not been done 😭
anyhow, thank you miss covenofagatha for replying me so quickly <3 i saw your reply about being on the rowing team, and afterwards i headed to the gym where i got complimented by an acquaintance who said i "gained a lot of muscle". obviously i ran away because i can't talk to women but the agatha brainworm persisted! so i present a very self-indulgent baby brainworm:
sub! needy! agatha who's obsessed with your body, and she can't stop thinking about riding your abs. even if you're asleep.
(contains g!p daddy! reader, i might not have abs but let me pretend for a sec, bratty agatha, sweat mention, suggestive showers™, consensual somno, pillow riding and grinding which becomes ab riding and grinding, degradation)
the moment you come home from work, agatha's all over you. "i missed you," she mumbles, words muffled by your broad shoulder that she's buried herself into. you grunt out a half-exasperated "agatha", pushing her off you gently because you're sticky with sweat and you really, really need a shower.
(it's funny because when you're out together, most people assume agatha's the dom, the top. little do they know how she melts into putty in your hands, all whiny and desperate for your cock. and agatha loves feeding into it, because every time rio brings up agatha pegging you as a joke, you drag her into a nearby bathroom stall and fuck her against the wall, snarling about "what would they say if they knew you were my little brat, huh? that you're so fucking needy for daddy's dick?")
she clings back onto you, and while agatha harkness does not pout, the narrowing of her eyes at you certainly feels like she is. you sigh, shaking your head fondly as you meander your way to the bathroom. she does this song and dance with you every time you go off for work, your part-time job as a physical trainer at a nearby gym. each time, she mutters about how she can provide for both of you easily, but you brush her off because you don't want to be a burden. you already live in her house basically for free!
one upside of the job, is that whenever you come home in your tank top and sweatpants, agatha gets all flustered and needy. you asked her after the fifth time she jumped you why she gets so worked up the moment you get home; and she'd spluttered a sorry excuse, cheeks blushed a faint pink, and you just had to fuck her again then and there.
this time, though, you're still aching from your workout. "hit a new PR, baby," you say as you turn away to strip for the shower, "m'a little sore," hoping it'll deter her advances a little. when she doesn't respond, you turn back to realise she's raking her eyes up and down your body, licking her lips, pupils dilating greedily. You raise an eyebrow curiously, and she seems to snap out of whatever daydream she's in.
"I'm going to shower," you warn, implying that there will be no shower shenanigans, and she huffs, arms folded. "I'm joining you," she declares, and leaves no room for argument as she begins unbuttoning her shirt seductively -- normally, you'd pounce all over her, and your cock hardening cements its approval on the idea, but you really are a bit sleepy.
by the time the two of you get in, she's facing you directly as you lather soap all over your body, her fingers trailing up your abdomen. "sweetheart," you groan, and she mocks you with a saccharine call of "daddy". she moves, and you can feel the heat radiating from her cunt, her fingertips ghosting each ridge and dip and scar while she noses into your neck.
"you're such a brat," you grumble, and she coos, grinding her clit upwards against your raging boner with a "then punish me, daddy," and you keen loudly. fuck, she's good at this. "I'm tired, baby. really," you protest again, and she slumps in irritation.
"don't pout, darling," you console her, stifling a chuckle at the great agatha harkness getting grouchy because she isn't getting fucked. "I'm not," and her eyes glint with something mischievous. you'd be a little concerned if you managed to see it, but unfortunately for you, she steps out of the shower before you can decipher it.
after soft kisses and promises to fuck her silly tomorrow, agatha seems to have settled, accepting that she won't cum tonight. "my sweet girl can hold out a little longer, can't she?" is what tides her over until you fall asleep, breathing evening out as you relax next to her.
there, as you fidget with the sheets, your shirt riding up, she spots the central object of an embarrassing number of wet dreams; your abs. agatha never thought she'd be so enraptured by a part of your abdomen, always liking your tits or ass or cock, because duh. but as she grows accustomed to those, she finds that every time you flash her with your soft tummy with the hard edges of your core muscles, she gets soaked.
the idea that you're so fit, that your perfect body is owned by her the way hers is by you, drives her insane. she needs to run her hands over them, plant kisses along the ridges, lick up your happy trail, suck marks over your skin -- fuck, she's so wet already.
she glances over, and you look so utterly perfect, all ready for her. she battles herself for a little while, because contrary to popular belief, she *does* want to be your good girl. but you wouldn't even know, right? so she wouldn't be breaking the rules if you didn't know she was.
she tries with her pillow, imagining its your hard muscle and gentle skin, but it isn't enough. the fabric runs rough, and it's smooth as silk but it isn't *you*. agatha turns, looking at your snoozing form -- and makes a decision.
.. it's your fault for being so damn hot, honestly.
you wake up to a moving weight on your stomach, a sticky hot wetness coating your lower abdomen. blinking your eyes open, your mind hardly registers the moans above you, and your body flexes reflexively. agatha whines a loud "daddy, fuck-" and your eyes shoot open, hips bucking up, and your gaze settles on her.
agatha straddles your waist, one thigh on each side of you, ass sitting on your bulge as she bunches up the blanket in her grip; most importantly, though, is the furious rutting of her cunt against your abs, and it sounds so fucking wet. her head is thrown backwards, eyes rolled back too, and the noises coming from her mouth are positively *filthy*.
frantic whimpers of "daddy" and "feels s'good" and "please" drive you feral, and you swear under your breath before sitting up, agatha whining at the clench of your muscles under her.
"you're so fucking desperate," you grip her hips, stilling her movement and agatha genuinely wails. "couldn't wait, huh? daddy's needy little slut. can't even use my cock, getting off on my abs? pathetic whore."
"need you, daddy, please," her cunt throbs, and she feels your hardened cock pulse underneath her, and agatha gasps as you move to dig your fingers into her supple ass. "oh, baby, I know," your core muscles hurt from the awkward position, and they contract. when she pants, out of breath from her earlier endeavours, you roll your eyes mockingly.
"hump," you bite your lip at the moan that erupts from her at your command, and she obeys, her juices slick as she slides against you again. "so you can listen, hm? you just choose not to, little brat. need daddy to fuck your brains out? couldn't control yourself, had to touch yourself while daddy was asleep?"
she whines again, nodding quickly, "yes, daddy, fuck, couldn't help it- you looked so good, daddy, please-" cooing at her, you knead her soft cheeks, humming condescendingly.
"aww, my pathetic girl has to cum? beg for it, then."
-
okay I'm tapping out here because this is getting too long and i cant decide if i want her to be edged or cum without permission....... you get to decide, i guess!
(i personally am more on the beefy side and i do not have abs... so this is probably inaccurate lmfao. sorry dear i dont train for the aesthetic, as long as i can lift big things im good, so this is likely not uber accurate.)
hope you like your reward! let me know if anything was too much etc. i hope your exam went well / goes well, haha. take care dear 💜
-lots of love, worm anon
Oh my god 🫠 brb about to go to the gym in the first time in over a year and get those swimmer/rower abs back (completely unrelated to this of course)
I didn't know bottom!Agatha could be so hot HELP
Hmm I do think reader would let her cum for being so good and asking for it so nicely
I very much like my reward (thank you SO much) and as always, I can't wait for your next brainworm
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florencebirdsong · 5 months ago
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Could I request Agatha + Rio + Deaf!Fem reader?? I was thinking of possibly they learned how to say I love you or something meaningful to sign to Reader..or something along the line of them being protective of reader on their date because people are quick to judge reader because she is loud without realizing it..
( I would like to say that I am a irl deaf person myself so I would love this!!)
Yes, I can! I only know super basic Auslan. Like the stuff you’re encouraged to learn in multiple languages (hi, how are you, I’m good, finger spelling, where’s the bathroom, I love you, help, hospital, etc) and I don’t know which sign language you use so I’ve kept the actual sign language descriptions vague. I hope that’s okay :) Please enjoy!
Valentine’s Day Event 2025
Tags: annoying man, small moment insecurity, ficlet
Authors note: sorry the bickering isn’t actually written at the start. I’m trying to keep these as ficlets and those two could go for pages
You watch fondly as Agatha and Rio’s hands fly as they sign. Their bickering-like banter easily picking up your mood. The start of the year has been rough but tonight is just what you need. A romantic dinner at a fancy restaurant that you’re going to leave far too early to go and find something much more unhealthy to eat.
A particularly witty response from Rio has you snort a laugh. Agatha quips back just as fast and you laugh freely. She winks at you before turning a smug look on Rio, who would look annoyed if it weren’t for the smile tilting the edge of her mouth.
Both of their faces drop at the same time and it takes you a moment longer to realise a man has stopped by your table and interrupted you all. He looks agitated, his gestures sharp and his features hard. He’s on the other side of the table from you and clearly only addressing your two girlfriends. You can’t tell what he’s upset about and you watch Agatha and Rio for any indication of this becoming a serious altercation. Relaxing when they only look slightly madder than usual, you wonder what the man is talking about. They both seem more pissed off than their usual reaction to being hit on by a man, even when being interrupted during a special dinner. But it is Valentine’s Day. Surely the man has some clue?
They continue to sign when they respond to him but you still can’t glean what exactly this is about. Only that they seem to be about to chew him out.
“No one asked,” Agatha snaps, her hand movements short and sharp.
You tap the table to get Rio’s attention. The dark look means she needs to be distracted. Agatha may be vindictive but Rio is merciless.
“What’s happening?” you sign.
“He thinks we’re being too loud,” she signs back. “Like he hasn’t been bellowing for the last half hour.”
Your eyebrows furrow, suddenly self-conscious. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt badly about being too loud, but for it to be bad enough for someone to try and interrupt a romantic dinner…
Rio taps the table within sight of your dropped gaze. You reluctantly look up.
“He’s been shouting half the night,” she reminds you. “It’s not your fault. Don’t apologise,” she adds pointedly.
Your eyes flick to Agatha, whose disgusted scowl is directed at the man’s retreating back. She notices your gaze and her face immediately softens.
“You know the study, dear,” she signs. “Women speak up slightly more and men think they’re dominating the conversation. I’m sure it’s the same for volume.”
You nod, hesitantly. Knowing you aren’t likely to stop thinking about it without a distraction, Rio stands up suddenly.
“I want cheap chocolate in stupid shapes,” Rio declares.
Agatha doesn’t take any more prompting. She picks the napkin from her lap and flings it onto the table. Rio holds her hand out to help you out of the chair. You all have finished eating and you haven’t even glanced at the dessert menu yet so you don’t feel too badly about taking Rio’s hand.
“Such a gentleman,” you sign after she helps slip your coat on.
Agatha steps closer to you both and signs without shame, 
“I doubt you’ll be saying that once she has you in bed.”
“Nope,” Rio agrees with a sharp smile. “But chocolate first.”
You don’t even glance at the man on your way out.
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ennn · 8 months ago
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Very much enjoying your analysis. There seems to be a disconnect on whether Agatha kissed as a manipulative tactic or if there really as love there.
I’m in the middle on this. Agatha was crying when she kissed Rio. We know from interviews with Kathryn that Agatha hates herself for loving Rio. I’m just afraid that didn’t come across very strongly. However, I feel like my opinions are veering more negative because of all of the negativity 😂 your opinions are markedly more positive, so I’d like some positivity, please 😭
Thank you for enjoying! 💚💜 Always happy to throw some thoughts anyone’s way if it helps :]
So, the trick I think for Agatha in general and even for Rio – or really, any character that's complicated – is this:
A few things can be true at the same time
Let’s start from a meta (Doylist?) outside-the-text pov first:
Jac Schaeffer loves ambiguity and complex characters. She’s positioned Wanda and Agatha as both their show’s protagonist and antagonist. She doesn’t see characters as set heroes or villains. She seems to genuinely enjoy people having their own interpretations, and things not being black and white or having a single definite answer.
In interviews I think Kathryn Hahn has also been careful to talk about how Agatha and Rio have a long and complicated relationship. If she had to pick one word it would probably be that. If she had to pick three words I think it would be "love, respect, and hate" – which she used in her recent interview.
And to be honest, I think all the interviews with Schaeffer and the cast have been limited in really digging into this relationship because they've had to avoid spoilers for most of the season as Rio being Death feeds so critically into their dynamic.
I get that people tend to have confirmation bias and focus on bits that fit with their world view so while yes, Schaeffer does talk about how Agatha and Rio fall back into the muscle memory of that love and the love they have is true, there's also the other side of the coin to this complicated relationship which is the hate, resentment, anger, and manipulation (mainly from Agatha).
So back into the text: Was Agatha manipulating Rio by kissing her? Probably yes? But that's Agatha.
And importantly, Rio knows this and that's who Rio fell in love with.
You know the ol' fable about the scorpion and the frog? Rio knows she's in love with a scorpion. Rio sees through Agatha's more obvious lies. She even finds a lot of them amusing. She knows she's going get stung and it hurts like fuck but she's also Death. In one form or another, she can endure.
I'm reminded of that Doctor Who quote: Do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?
Was there love there? I like to think yes, there was. There are enough glorious GIF sets going around for you to fully appreciate it in the performance.
Here I ask: what's Agatha manipulating Rio for, with the kiss? Is she distracting Rio so she can more easily become a ghost?
The whole ghost thing would annoy and piss Rio off yes, but if you think about it, that's actually a win for Rio because she was genuinely upset seeing Agatha dead.
Yes Rio will probably be mad – she grieved for you dammit – but I think she'd eventually find it amusing her clever witch got away again. Rio wants to keep coming after Agatha. That's their thing. That's why when Agatha sets the cost of taking Billy to be Rio not seeing her ever again, Rio is crushed.
Agatha becoming a ghost is kind of an overall win for all parties really: Agatha wins by having Rio let Billy go, and she can continue to go after power and knowledge, and Rio can continue to chase her and they can continue annoying the hell out of each other.
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fakeagatha · 7 months ago
Text
Mrs Fletcher | Prof!Eve Fletcher x Fem!Reader | Chapter Four: Coincidence
Summary: After an awkward encounter, you accidentally run into Eve at a local cafe.
A/N: After realizing how much you all like this series I began writing the fourth chapter. Thanks for the support!
Warnings: Implied nightmares, swearing Word Count: 1631 Genre: Fluff, Romance, Crack Date: 7/12/2024
Check out my new Headcanon Generator!
Agatha All Along Community
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You stirred in your sleep. The images you saw haunted you, and it felt like you were back in the bathroom where it happened.
Your eyes fly open, taking in the familiar surroundings of your university dormitory. You let out a sigh, wiping at a fresh tear that has fallen from your eye in your sleep. You couldn't go a week without having at least one night terror anymore.
Turning to look at your phone, you almost threw it across the room when you saw the time. You jumped out of bed, but quickly relaxed when you saw the day.
Saturday, 17th of January
You laid back down, wrapping yourself up in the blankets, only to be disrupted by a knock on the door. You groaned, getting up and opening it.
"Miss L/N." A familiar voice spoke. Your eyes adjusted and you panicked when you saw Eve standing in front of you. You quickly moved your hair out of your face to at least look presentable for her.
"Mrs Fletcher, what... Are you doing here?" You asked curiously, and she simply handed you a text book.
You looked at it in confusion, and your heart dropped as you saw your diary. You quickly snatched it from her.
"H-how do you have this?" You asked shakily, and she bit her lip.
"You gave it to me yesterday instead of the textbook I assume you have your assignment in..." She rubs her forehead, looking at you awkwardly. "I didn't read anything, as soon as I read the first few lines I realized what it was and I stopped." She assured, and you sighed.
You looked towards your desk, and saw your textbook she was supposed to have received. You walked over and opened it, having accidentally written your last diary entry in there instead. You ripped the page out, and handed her the book with your assignment.
"Sorry for the confusion, Mrs Fletcher, uh, thank you for respecting my privacy, too." You smiled sheepishly, and she gave you a smile, nodding as you closed the door.
"Fuck!" You whisper shouted, sitting on the end of your bed. You really dodged a bullet there. The last entry that was in your diary, was the one you wrote about your feelings about her.
You quickly flipped through, to see exactly what was written. She had apparently stopped reading after a few sentences, but even those few that she read were talking about your distraction in class because of her. You bit your knuckle as a weird habit of anxiety, and closed the book.
You recall how hungover you were and how easily you could've mistaken the two books. But, all you could really do at this point was hope she didn't read enough to realize you were talking about her.
You took a breath and recovered, and sighed in annoyance when you realized how rude you had initially acted towards her. She was kind enough to have returned it but your panic and fear had gotten the better of you. You assume that she would understand, you hoped anyway.
You contemplated messaging Steve, but you weren't sure if you wanted to share the awkward situation with anyone at that moment. You knew he would ask what she could have possibly read that would be that bad. Admittedly, it wasn't, but admiring your teacher and boasting about her like a fan girl wasn't something you were exactly proud about.
Meanwhile, Eve had just gotten back to her office to grade her students' assignments. She looked through the one you had just handed her, and smiled as she recalled your flustered and panicked expressions. The work she had given was an essay in particular, and although she would never admit it, she hated having to read twenty essays on the same subject every week. Every single one of them would use the same examples and summaries, and she was hoping that occasionally she would find one that stood out a bit more.
And she did. Every time.
She was always excited, almost relieved when she would read yours. They always stood out to her, and it was almost as if she could actually hear your  voice when she read them, unlike the rest that she felt she could hear the in same, robotic voice of repetitiveness. Whether it was the fact that you would voice your opinions without shame or way you structured your essays, she would silently smile to herself when reading them.
She marked your assignment as she finished reading, and went on to the text, sighing when she read the same opening sentence that almost everyone had already used. She was knocked out of her thoughts when her fellow professor knocked on the door frame.
She looked up to see the familiar face of Mrs Davis. "Ah, how are you, Rose?" She smiled, putting her papers to the side. The woman was only a couple years younger than her, and they were able to relate to each other which made them get along easily.
"I thought I saw your office door open. Also spending your Saturday grading?" She chuckled, and Eve nodded in response.
"I am. I feel more productive doing it here instead of at home. Maybe because I associate the papers with class?" She shrugged, looking over at the pile. Mrs Davis nodded, setting down her coffee mug on Eve's desk. 
"I'm the same. I'd rather just get it done with, and have the rest of the evening to myself." She replied, pausing. "Which reminds me actually, I came to ask if you were willing to come out with me, Carlos and Tyler for lunch this afternoon?" She offered, and Eve blinked.
"Oh, yeah, sure! Sounds good to me. Where should I meet you?" She asked, smiling up at her.
Mrs Davis checked her watch, "In about an hour from now at the cafe down the street from here?"
Eve quickly nodded, "Awesome, I'll see you then!" She waved to the woman as she exited the room.
It had been a while since Eve had gone out with her coworkers, and she was pleased to be getting out and about with them. She looked at herself through her phone's reflection, and figured she looked presentable enough already. She put her graded papers in a separate folder, and packed up her bag to go home to change.
Simultaneously you hung up the phone on Steve, "I'll see you soon, thanks again." You put your phone on the bedside table, and got up to change out of your pajamas and put on deodorant. You brushed through your knotted bed hair, grimacing at the pain when you yanked the brush sharply.
After making yourself look decent, you grabbed your phone and keys and left the room. You were starving, having woken up so late, and when Steve suggested going to eat, you didn't hesitate to agree.
You headed downstairs towards the campus, and then walked down the road to the nearby cafe you had agreed to meet at. You pushed open the door, and almost instantly walked back out when you saw Eve just sitting there. You stood outside, completely frozen. What the hell were the chances of that happening?
You bit your lip, and walked inside. You saw Steve at a table next to one of the windows, and you had to walk past her to get to him.
You took a breath and walked past Eve and her group. "Oh, hello Professors!" You greeted, looking over at Mrs Davis, Mr Rogers, Mr Butterfield and of course, Mrs Fletcher.
Eve's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the sight of you, her cheeks flushing. "Good afternoon Miss L/N!" She exclaimed, and you gave her and the rest of your peers a smile. "Out for a coffee?" Eve asked, and you nodded.
"Getting something to eat with a friend, I woke up pretty late today and I was ravenous." You joked, making the older woman chuckle.
"You go and eat something then, dear." She patted your shoulder, and you quickly smiled back at her, meeting Steve at the table.
You let out a breath, looking up at him. He simply smirked, biting his lip. "Well that was a coincidence."
You looked at him suspiciously, your eyes widening, "You didn't tell me to meet you here on purpose, right?" You asked cautiously, and he shook his head.
"What? How could I have possibly known she'd be here?" He whispered, "I'm not that much of a stalker!" He said defensively, and you shrugged.
"I guess you have a point. Anyway, I have to tell you what happened this morning..."
On the table nearby, Eve was still red in the face. She didn't know why your sudden appearance affected her that much. She had mild crushes before, and whatever she felt about you would have normally passed by now. 
"So Eve, you excited about the trip?" Mr Rogers asked her, and she nodded eagerly.
"Very! I've always wanted to go to Malta." She grinned, "Speaking of which, are we getting our own rooms this year or will I be sharing with Rose again? I can't bear to hear her snoring another year." Eve groaned, making the woman next to her gasp.
"I do not snore! If anything, you kept me awake the whole time with your farts!" She retaliated, and Eve's mouth flew open. "I bet you didn't know they wake you up, either."
"I don't fart in my sleep, therefore I don't wake up because of them. You're such a liar!" Eve argued back jokingly, as the two women continued bickering, making the two guys look at each other awkwardly.
The rest of the afternoon went by smoothly. The food you ordered tasted heavenly, and you did your best to pay attention to Steve's Minecraft rant but your eyes kept darting towards Eve. You had never felt this way about someone since your last relationship, so it was difficult to accept your new crush. Maybe, it will all go away soon.
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pizzazzgf · 7 months ago
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heyyyy i have more episode four observationssss . that help understand agathario
-agatha already knows that teen is billy by episode four, and so she knows that rio will consider him an abomination.
-rio makes eye contact with billy right before the “boo” scene and scares him off (which is easily missed but made me laugh when i noticed.)
-agatha says rio is too early because the sigil isnt broken yet. but rio doesn’t know that. agatha doesn’t know that rio doesn’t know which is why she says that, because in the beginning, she says rio “doesn’t have a heart”, and once the sigil is broken, says “every witch with a beating heart can hear you now.” the fact the sigil worked on her is so funny to me like girl you’re DEATH.
-rio points out “that boy” and agatha immediately distracts her by trying to seduce her, rio plays along bc shes whipped
-i still think it was rio who blasted billy through the glass, but upon confirming to herself that agatha cares about him, she throws her a bone about lorna using the ballad to protect alice—which is kind of sweet of her in a twisted way. she might’ve felt bad. when she recalls taking lorna over, she closes her eyes first.
-when agatha is visibly distraught and says “don’t”, she still thinks rio knows hes an abomination & it further makes rio believe that agatha thinks he is nicky
-rio is like. i know grief makes humans irrational. i need to make sure she doesn’t get false hopes. bc i love her and i can’t bring him back.
-“that boy isnt yours” agatha took this as, “he’s mine and i have to take him.” and that’s why she pulled away from her
-which leads to. it’s a MISCOMMUNICATION TROPE! and agatha might’ve even almost forgiven rio, thinking this time, she’ll let this boy live.
—> which recontextualizes So Much. about ep 8 guys. i have more to say on that but im tiiiired
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sunflowerscottie · 8 months ago
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Okay, I have some thoughts based on what I’ve been seeing people post.
The first thought is about Rio and Agatha’s kiss. I do not believe that any kiss with Rio would automatically kill Agatha. I do think that Agatha kissed Rio and used that as a way to siphon Rio’s powers (remember, it was established that this would kill Agatha). The visuals in the scene are very much like those they use when Agatha is draining another witch and you can see a brief moment of confusion on Rio’s face when it starts. Agatha’s death is not what Rio expected from the kiss. I think this is also supported by the episode four scene, because there’s no way that either one of them would have been so cavalier about that.
The second thought is about the reasoning behind Agatha killing all those witches. I have two theories on this that I feel very strongly about. It could be one, it could be the other, or it could be a combination of the two. I think that Agatha was killing witches to distract/placate Rio to prevent her from taking Nicky. It’s possible that Agatha thought the deaths could restore a balance and, in a way, pay for her son’s continued life. The other reason could be that Agatha was killing the witches in the hope of gaining enough power to stop Rio from taking Nicky when she did eventually come for him. Either or both could be true (or neither, I just think these are the most plausible reasons).
The third thought is about Agatha and Rio’s relationship as a whole. I see a lot of people posting that they were never in love, that Agatha was only using Rio to delay her own death, but I don’t think that’s the case. The scene at the end of episode four, the way Agatha takes such comfort in Rio, I don’t think that scene would have gone the same way if Agatha didn’t still love Rio, or if Agatha had never loved Rio at all. The way I see it, Agatha made her a promise, “If you do this, I will hate you forever,” and for once in her life, she’s following through. Hate and Love are both passionate emotions, and they turn so easily—but also not at all. If we see more of them, and I am praying to Jac Schaeffer that we do, I think we’ll see that between them. The hate that Agatha feels toward herself for failing Nicky (“The truth is too awful”, “I can’t face him!”) that she’s projected onto Rio for doing the one thing Rio had to do—her job as a keeper of the balance of life and death—and also the love that Agatha had and still has for Rio despite everything.
[Still on that topic, I do think that Rio’s giving Agatha more time was a mistake on her part. Rio thought she was giving Agatha what she wanted, but realistically, I think it ended up hurting Agatha more in the long run.]
The fourth thought is about the posts saying that because the Road wasn’t technically real, Alice’s, Lilia’s, and Sharon’s deaths didn’t mean anything. Just because the physical road they were on was Billy’s creation doesn’t mean it wasn’t real. I’m so confused about why people are saying that. Nothing is real until it’s created. Billy created the Road, and the Road gave them the trials, and in the end they did achieve their goals. Billy’s involvement in the Road’s ‘reality’ doesn’t undo any of that, and I don’t understand why people are saying that it does. I mean, technically, Agatha created the Road and Billy just brought it into existence using his magic. It’s not any less real for that, and their experiences certainly aren’t any less real.
The fifth thought is that we were definitely left with a lot of questions about Agatha. It’s clear that they set some things up with the intention of having those questions answered in later projects (I, personally, am hoping for a prequel or something). How did Agatha get the Darkhold? How did Rio and Agatha meet? What’s the beef between Rio and Agatha’s mother (because there was such tension between them that reeked of history)? Why did Agatha’s mom think Agatha was evil from the moment she left the womb? That’s pretty extreme so there had to be a reason. There’s just so much that wasn’t fleshed out, so I’m hoping they left it in order to have some things to play with later.
If the show had been entirely about Agatha, I think these questions would’ve probably been answered, but it wasn’t and they weren’t. There was a whole coven of witches to go into (and honestly I would’ve loved to see more of them, too). The main point of the show was to introduce Agatha into her role per the comics: a mentor. While the show did that, I think it would’ve benefited from a longer season so that all of the things that got introduced could be fully explored.
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sunshinepanic · 1 year ago
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Overbearing
Pairing: John B x LittleSister!Reader
Summary: Request is for John b: Reader is John b's little sister and she decides to surf the surge when there is a storm without telling John b. She gets a little injured while surfing and hides it from John b. John b finds out she is hurt and scolds her for going surfing in the storm and hiding her injury. I went ahead and made reader surf the storm from season 1 and just made it like John B and Pope never did it.
Warning: Angst, Fluff, reader gets hurt
Notes: I’ve never written for John B before so this is my first attempt.
Not beta read we die like men
WC: 1,370
John B Masterlist - OBX Masterlist
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Your older brother had always been ridiculously overprotective of you, even more so now that your dad was missing at sea and DCS was threatening foster care. You needed a way to blow off some steam because John B’s helicopter mom routine was driving you insane. When Hurricane Agatha hit, you saw your opportunity for some fun, and you ran with it. Grabbing your surfboard, you snuck out of the chateau while everyone was storm-prepping and made your way to the beach.
 The swells were massive, but JJ had taught you everything he knew about surfing, and he was the best; even John B said so. As you raced out into the raging water, your excitement only grew. This is exactly what you needed. An adrenaline rush that nothing else could give you. Surfing the waves and getting tossed around in the storm, you were having the time of your life. You decided to go for one last run before you packed it in and made your way home. A massive wave headed your way, and you caught it easily, but the waves were unpredictable, especially in a storm, and you got rolled. When you went under the water, your leg hit something sharp, and the pain was immediate. You struggled to the surface, finding your board broken and having to fight your way back to shore. John B. was going to kill you if he found out.
 As you made your way back to the chateau, you hoped that the pogues would be asleep or at least distracted enough not to notice you limping into the house and bleeding everywhere. Luck seemed to be on your side when you found everyone asleep. You managed to make it to the bathroom past everyone’s sleeping forms and locked the door. The gash on your leg didn’t seem to be too deep, but it was definitely going to leave a nasty scar and hurt for a while. You patched yourself up as best as you could and managed to make it into your bedroom, where you collapsed and promptly passed out.
 You woke up to your brother smacking you over the head with a pillow. “Get up! We got a lot of shit to clean up, and we need all hands on deck!” Grumbling that he was an ass, you rolled over as he laughed while making his way outside. Slowly, you got up, but your leg was throbbing, and you had already started to bleed through the bandage you had put on last night. You hobbled into the bathroom to change out your bandage and take some pain killers. When you made it back to your room to get dressed, you realized you were going to have to wear long pants if you were going to have any chance of hiding what had happened.
 After getting dressed, you made your way outside to the rest of the pogues to start helping with the storm clean-up. You forced yourself not to limp, as you didn’t want to give any indication that something was wrong. As the day went on, your leg was getting worse, and it was getting harder to hide the fact that you were hurt. JJ and Kie had already started giving you weird looks, and you knew they were starting to suspect something was wrong. Everyone else was busy, so Pope asked for your help moving a particularly large branch that was blocking the twinkie. Begrudgingly, you sighed and made your way over to help, but as the two of you lifted the branch, your leg gave out, and you screamed as you fell to the ground. Pope panicked, managing to drop the branch away from you as the others came running over, hearing your scream.
 John B crouched next to you, frantically looking for any sign of injury but not seeing anything. “What’s wrong!?!? What happened? Are you hurt?” You tried to shrug him off, insisting that you were fine, but when you tried to stand up, your leg gave out again, causing you to fall. Your brother managed to catch you, stating that you are clearly not fine. He helped you over to the porch, setting you down. He glared down at you. “I swear to God, you need to tell me what is wrong, and don’t you dare say nothing because clearly you can’t walk.” You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to respond when JJ piped up. "Dude, her leg is bleeding.” John B’s eyes snapped down to your leg, where a clearly visible patch of blood had started to form on your gray sweatpants.
 He crouched down, gently grabbing your leg, and lifted your pants leg to get a better look at what was going on. He thought you had cut yourself on a branch when you fell, but he wasn’t expecting to find an already bandaged wound that was clearly not from today. His head snapped up, making eye contact with you that you were trying to avoid. “What in the hell is this? What happened?” You rolled your eyes at his overly protective behavior. “It’s nothing, B. I’m fine.” “You are bleeding, and you can barely walk! Clearly, you are not fine! Now tell me what in the hell happened!”
 Sighing, you looked away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I got hurt surfing yesterday.” A look of confusion passed over John B’s face. “When did you go surfing yesterday?” You looked up, accidentally making eye contact with JJ. A look of shock crossed JJ’s face, and before he could think, he shouted. “No way! You actually surfed the surge!?!?” Everyone’s heads snapped towards him, and he quickly held his hands up. “I’m just learning about this for the first time too.” John B quickly looked back at you, and you refused to look at him. “Is that true? Did you surf the surge? Do you know how dangerous that is? You could have seriously been hurt! You could have died!” He was going off on a rant, and you were already fed up. You finally looked at him and yelled. “This is why I didn’t tell you! You are so overprotective, and I knew you wouldn’t let me go! I just wanted to have some fun, and guess what? It was amazing! It was so much fun, and yes, I got hurt, but it was a fluke accident, and I didn’t tell you because I knew you would freak out and act like this! I know things are different now that dad is gone, but you are not my father; you are my brother!” You got up and limped your way into the house, leaving John B. stunned.
 You made your way to your bedroom, collapsing backward onto the bed. You sighed when you heard a knock at the door, but before you could say anything, John B walked in with a first-aid kit. He sat on your bed, pulling your leg into his lap, so he could change out the bandage and clean the wound. He worked silently, and when he was done, he finally looked at you. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not dad, and I know I have been a little overbearing lately, but I just can’t lose you. You’re all I have left, and even though you’re my pain in the ass, little sister, I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.” Without saying anything, you sit up and wrap your arms around your brother. “I get it, B. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you either, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I got hurt.” Just then, your stomach started to grumble, causing John B to laugh. “Kie should be here any minute with some sandwiches. Let’s go eat.” As you made your way outside, everyone was already gathered on the front porch eating. You sat down next to Kie, who handed you your favorite sandwich. As you took your first bite, you heard JJ pipe up from where he was sitting in the hammock. “So for real, how bad ass was surfing the surge?” John B. smacked him across the chest as you laughed.
Tags: @mirellef2001
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holyblanchett · 7 months ago
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i’m like that other anon and i don’t blame anyone who thinks agatha never loved rio and i hate that i can be one of them easy enough sorry!!! i don’t want to, of course i rather believe agatha loved/loves rio, but it was a choice, they wanted the idea that death loved agatha, that she was on her knees for her and they found the time (and somehow marvel ‘let’ them) to make it very clear. heart beats for her, my scar, spent centuries chasing her, lost her fucking mind in the end while asking why doesn’t she want her but agatha? even the almost kiss could be a manipulation to distract her from billy like she said she was doing, looking at rio longingly while flying, rio is hot and how good it is for her ego that death itself loves and wants her, that ‘my love’ without any kind of backstory can be easily a desperate manipulation to save her baby, the kiss their ‘breakup’ when they weren’t even together. even becoming a ghost, the show still made sure that we knew rio hated ghosts so that could be a fuck you to her ex. after everything, rio was devastated with her ‘death’ but wait she became what rio hated ha ha ha
the only thing that is telling me agatah genuine loved rio is jac schaeffer (and im only thinking loved, not even loved) but she said a lot, do I believe everything even when they make no sense and contradict themselves. i think kathryn hahn also said agatha loves rio but it could just be her headcanon who knows, she didn’t get any script saying that for sure. i still love the ship and the fics, and at least there i can believe they love each other
when i think about jac schaeffer saying that there will be other chapters for agathario when she knows it won’t be i just feel mad. maybe there will be a wiccan show, there’s probably even a decent chance but they couldn’t bother with their relationship in agatha’s show, to actually believe that they will give us those ‘chapters’ in a show where she’s billy’s sidekick full of new characters that are connected to billy and with aubrey plaza nowhere near is madness
This tea is piping hot oomfs. It's such a shame that people feel that way. The fact that Rio knew Agatha was manipulating her to distract her from Billy makes me want to to storm marvel HQ. I mentioned earlier that jac even said in an interview that Agatha often uses her body to get what she wants. So it can be hard for people that don't over analyze everything like we do to be kind of confused.
The writers made it very clear there is absolutely no chance of them getting back together. Which i understand but like damn you didn't have to destroy their relationship like that. I would have been more satisfied if they talked and then went their separate ways tbfh.
Everything about how this ship was handled makes me want to crash out as time goes by. But I refuse to let them take anything else from me 😭 back to ao3 I go.
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