#Rio Solace

[m00nbunny1]

Awwwwwwwww! This is so sweet, I love art where the whole family is involved, it's just nice. :)

I’m OBSESSED w Seb’s unnamed family. Very dear to me

Mak ( @doodledrawsthings ) and I did eventually give them names after much deliberation. Here's the post for that :]

But here are some more doodles I've done and haven't posted yet!

They're just catching up on lost time.

[delicate-sketch]

I refuse to believe rr made a character called Will that is from Texas uses flip flops (thats a Havaiana excuse me) cargo shorts has tan skin that everyone looked and said you know what he def knows how to shoot and didn’t gave him brazilian roots

[full-time-femboy]

Headcanon: Sebastian can play piano

I just think it's neat when big tormented monsters play little instruments to show how sad they are :3

Ko-fi - Sebastian Keychain Pre-Order - Commissions

Reblogs appreciated 💜

[zombiotical]

he likes to draw (but he doesn’t understand fashion design)

[onigirio]

the sun and the star is not sad in fact will and nico play ukulele and sing and hold hands i know this because i am rick riordan

[cuinaminute229]

With death comes life

pairing: Agatha x Rio x reader

summary: To fall in love with both life and death is almost impossible. They contradict each other, they are different sides to the same coin. Agatha once managed the impossible. But time and grief can break almost anything, and this time it breaks what feels like everything.

a/n: there will be more parts to this. I find this dynamic rather interesting and I am definitely going to explore it. not a lot of warning in this part except for mild swearing. slightly protective Rio.

...

Life and Death go hand in hand.

One can not exist without the other. 

It’s a partnership that transcends time itself.

Agatha Harkness does not understand this. She can not, because for the longest time all she has ever known is death.

All she has ever done is take. She takes and takes and takes until there is nothing left to give. Until there is nothing left you can give.

Death will love her. Life will despise her. 

That is how it will be for centuries.

…

The witches’ road is a place that does not welcome you. It fights you every step of the way.

It is a graveyard. It takes what it wants without thoughts of sympathy or solace. It digs up fear and trauma like gold. It twists and stretches and tears the desires of witches brave enough to step foot on the road.

You hate it and yet you are summoned.

The dirt between your fingers is a sensation that feels as familiar as holding death's hand. Clawing your way from beneath the earth is not something you're very familiar with.

You're not usually summoned alongside her, this is different.

The echoes of multiple screams ring in your ears as you crawl your way out of a fresh grave, growling through clenched teeth when you finally break the surface.

Your joints and bones pop as you twist and jerk to realign what's been broken. You swear you're going to ring the witch's neck that's summoned you. 

You tilt your head and feel a crack in your neck, you grimace before you jerk your head and relief seeps into your muscles.

With a flex of your fingers you adjust your clothes before the colors of the leaves scattered amongst the ground catches your eye.

Just as the realization settles and you finally understand where you are, a hand that brushes against the length of your back is the only thing that seems to ground you. You lean into her touch with a slow forced exhale.

Rio is here, that is the only comfort you feel. 

You absolutely hate the witches’ road.

When you finally glance up at the witches who were just screaming bloody murder, you notice her right away. 

Her thick brown hair falling against her shoulders, the white button up shirt that complements her dress pants, the locket that’s always with her. 

Agatha Harkness and this coven of four have summoned you and Rio to the road. 

The rage that heats your blood is a sensation that you will never get used to, it burns like the sun and yet it's all you can feel as you glare daggers at her.

The only thing that stops you from lunging at her is Rio’s quick reaction. The hand that was resting on your back has encircled your waist, she tugs you back against her, resting her chin on your shoulder. 

“Easy there tiger.” Her soft chuckle of amusement is not distraction enough from what you want to say. 

“What the fuck are you doing Agatha?” Your words are harsh and yet you feel no sympathy when she flinches at your tone.

“Excuse me?” The witch in the pink dress places a hand over her heart like you personally offended her. 

“You’re excused.” You pay her no mind, your eyes are only on Agatha. “Now answer the question.”

Agatha says nothing. Her eyes look from you to Rio and back like she can barely believe what she’s seeing. Like she didn’t intend for this to happen.

“Cat got your tongue?” Rio teases, her smile predatory, the hold on your waist a touch possessive. 

“How did you—?” This time she points at the two of you. 

“We were in the neighborhood.” Rio interrupts her with a casual response. There is no need to explain further, she will know the truth.

“But uhh,” The youngest member of the coven, a teenage boy, lifts his hand up like he’s waiting to voice his question. You frown at the notion, not quite understanding.

“Yes Teen?” The oldest of the group turns to look at the kid who answers once the attention turns to him. 

“Why are there two of them?” He gestures between you and Rio, his confusion clear as he then turns to look at Agatha like she has all the answers.

You scoff at the thought, she knows nothing. Not when it comes to you and especially not when it comes to Rio. That was made very clear centuries ago.

Agatha glares at you as if this time you truly have offended her but all you do is glare right back.

The moment of eye contact drags on longer than you thought it would. The witch's pride is a strong thing and you know she hates backing down first but you are not in the mood to give in. 

You refuse to give her what she wants.

When fingers dance along the thin fabric that covers your ribs you jerk involuntarily, turn to glare at Rio. She gives you an innocent smile but her eyes burn with something that silently tells you to calm down.

“Doesn't matter.” Agatha's anger is a harsh bite, hiding the vulnerability that comes with seeing the both of you. “We have a green witch. Now let's go.”

The whoosh of her coat is followed by a slow breath that relaxes your shoulders. You can not let your anger get the best of you while here. The road will only take it and twist it until it gets a chance to throw it in your face.

“Being summoned is so much fun isn't it? Just like old times.” Rio teases you, presses a soft kiss to your shoulder in a silent apology. 

Before you can turn and properly question her about why you are here a voice calls your attention. “Uhh hello?” 

You roll your eyes but turn to glance at the three witches that have lingered after Agatha stormed off.

“Hello.” You merely say in return. You owe these witches nothing more.

“So uh did we summon two green witches?” The witch with red in her hair gestures to the two of you. You feel Rio shake her head from where her face is still pressed into your shoulder, her chuckle is low enough that the others do not hear it. 

You find her amusement endearing and annoying.

“To keep things simple, yes.” 

The continued looks of confusion merely make you smirk at the unsuspecting women. 

With one last brush of fingers over your ribs, one last ghost of a kiss that tickles the skin of your neck, Rio steps away. Her smile is bright, the twinkle in her dark eyes promise nothing but mischief and self entertainment.

“We're supposed to walk this thing right?” She steps around you and points toward the road. When she only gets a few shrugs of consensus she hums in response before leaving you behind with these confused witches.

You shake your head with a soft smile, of course she would find a way to ignore all your questions for even just a little bit longer.

“Let's get this over with.”

...

part 2

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Life, Death, and the Space in Between Part Two (Agatha Harkness x Reader x Rio Vidal)

Summary: Centuries later, you find yourselves reunited once more.

Words: 2430

Warnings: Canon violence, language, arguing, etc.

A/N: I hate how obsessed I am with this couple but here we fuckin' are.

-X-

Three Centuries Later

Sipping your morning coffee, you idly flipped through the newspaper as you savored the stillness of the early hours. You had sorted through your expected duties, leaving you with a bit of time to yourself before the cosmic powers of Life dragged you back into its grasp. You may never be human, but you could at least enjoy a few mortal pleasures.

As the door to your temporary abode slammed opened, you sighed and tossed aside the paper.

“Hello, my love,” you greeted with an easy smile, tilting your head back to accept the deep, probing - almost furious - kiss from Rio’s painted lips. The aggression took you by surprise but you melted into the embrace, offering her whatever solace and reprieve she needed.

Dragging your chair back from the table, she dropped down into your lap, tossing an arm around your shoulders while downing the remnants of your drink. Protest died on your lips, knowing it would be useless to argue with the lady of death. It wasn’t abnormal for her and, honestly, you didn’t mind the quirk. You found it amusing.

“I found her.”

Head tilting curiously, you cupped Rio’s cheek, wiping a speck of blood from her cheek and knocking a piece of shattered glass from her dark tresses. “Who?”

“Agatha,” she practically growled, glaring at the dark wood table before turning her eyes to you. They softened, though you could see the fire raging within. “I wasn’t looking for her per se, but I did find her.”

Pressing your lips together thoughtfully, fighting your initial reaction, you slowly nodded. “And how did that go?”

“We fought. I made her front door explode.” She said it so casually that all you could do was blink up at her. “Turns out, little miss Scarlet Witch kept her trapped in Westview. She has no power now. Won’t be long until she has some poor idiots singing that song so she can rectify that.”

It was stated emotionlessly but knowing your former lover was mortal had clearly shaken Rio. Before, you could rely on Agatha being formidable. Powerful. To be lacking her purple, well…

“I see you didn’t reap her.”

Rio rolled her eyes, fingers playing with the baby hairs on the nape of your neck. “No. I…”

“She’s our weak spot,” you acknowledged, running a finger over the slope of her nose. “You and I are inevitable. A perfect balance. She was always our anomaly and we love that about her. Even if she still hates us three hundred years later.”

Pressing her forehead against yours, Rio poured. “Why doesn’t she want us?”

“She does,” you cooed, nipping at the pushed out lip teasingly. “She’s always been our stubborn girl. She just refuses to deal with her grief and instead-“

“Sinks a fucking unsinkable ship? Causes massive disasters so she can throw another tantrum or make a point?” she snarled, though there was little heat behind it. She’d always appreciated the dramatics of Agatha’s gestures, even if it often upset the natural order and balance you carefully crafted together.

“She was always incredibly skilled at getting our attention,” you chuckled, letting your mind wander back to the woman you remembered centuries ago. “There was never a dull moment when Agatha was around.”

“I miss her,” she admitted, shoving her head into your neck as her inhumanly sharp teeth scraped the flesh. “I cut her hand… and then I licked it clean. Tasting how mortal she is now is upsetting. I always liked how the purple sparked against my tongue.”

“If you were anyone else, I would mention how unsanitary that is,” you murmured, head tipping as a cool mouth explored the familiar expanse.

“Shut up.”

Tangling your fingers in her hair, you yanked hard and felt the lust rebound through your connection as the low moan met your ears.

-X-

As the dirt and grass shifted, the Road making way for a new witch to sink its proverbial teeth into, a passing thought flickered through Agatha’s mind but she brushed it away with a simple mental wave of her hand.

There’s no possible way. The universe can’t hate me that much.

Watching with bated breath, the newly formed coven gasped as two sets of limbs and bodies began to crawl from the wet soil.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding!” Agatha shouted, years of resentment burning in ocean eyes as you righted yourself from the fresh grave. Her stomach rolled with anguish - guilt, pain - at the brief expression of hurt that crossed your features before you leaned down, offering a hand to your other half and tugging her up from the hole she’d clawed her way out of. “Never mind, the universe does hate me.”

Teen glanced between Agatha and you, his eyes wide with fear and excitement.

“Heard you guys were having a party,” Rio greeted, her usual nonchalance in full bloom as she wandered closer to Agatha, forever drawn like a moth to its doom. “We were in the neighborhood.”

A flower blossomed from her fingers, beautiful in such drab surrounds.

“Surprise,” she gasped, eyes wide and bordering on deranged. “My lady.”

Always in step with your antagonistic lover, you were quick to wrap an arm around Agatha’s waist as she lunged at Rio, glaring at the smug woman pointedly.

“Come now, Agatha, it’s not worth the effort,” you murmured, trying to ignore how your heart fluttered at the close proximity.

She screamed in frustration, wrenching herself from your arms before storming away in a huff. The teenager chased after her, leaving you to stand awkwardly before Agatha’s makeshift coven while Rio petted the massive fucking spider on her jacket.

You might’ve been Lady Life but holy fuck, that thing was huge and kind of freaked you out. All life was important and sacred but it needed to stay far, far away from you.

“What’s up? I’m Rio.” You gagged as she guided the damned thing into her clothes, inching away as her eyes went wide and she crept towards you. “Aw, what’s wrong, baby? He’s sweet.”

“I’m sure,” you responded, stepping backwards warily. “He can be sweet… over there. Away from me.”

She growled playfully, stomping at you and cackling when you scurried back a few steps.

“So, you’re a green witch, huh? B-both of you?” the woman you recognized as Alice Wu-Gulliver. You remembered her poor mother, begging for protection for the young Alice. Watched Rio take Lorna’s soul when the curse overcame her.

“Less a green witch,” Rio replied, tilting her head in such an adorable way that you had to bite your lip to suppress a giggle, “and more the green witch.”

That frightening tone of Death startled the huddled women but you simply rolled your eyes, hooking an arm through Rio’s.

“She’s a green witch. I just came along for the ride, it seems,” you mused, studying the scenery around you curiously. To be standing on The Road, a place forged by Agatha’s lies and quick wit, was not quite what you’d expected when you’d been yanked from your home. It was born from a maelstrom of bullshit and naïve witches believing that power could simply be procured instead of earned.

How is this…

Dark eyes cut in your direction, a similar interest gleaming back.

Strolling down the dirt path, Rio whistled, knocking you into a patterned step-skip combination that was so innocent and bizarre that it made you cackle. You could hear Agatha ahead, speaking with Teen in a semi-quiet manner but your ears were keen to whispers. Despite the unsettling nature of The Road and the lack of understanding how, Rio seemed completely at home in this strange place.

It’s all real, but none of this is natural, she mused, chewing her lip thoughtfully as she peered around. I don’t think any of these witches are capable of changing reality itself but I guess I’ve seen weirder.

“I can’t tell if I hate her or if I want her number,” Jen whispered to the group behind you, nearly swallowing her tongue when Rio abruptly paused to turn and face them. An eerie grin crossed her flawless features and she waved before twisting back in your grasp and continuing onward.

“What a scary bitch,” Lilia breathed.

Should I be worried? you teased, snorting at Rio’s brow rising high.

Before you could blink, she had you shoved against a tree, tongue shoved into your mouth incessantly as she both made her point to the gawking witches and used the opportunity as an excuse to grope you. It was demanding and needy, completely indecent, and by the time she was willing to release you from her clutches, your knees were shaking.

“I-I was kidding,” you said breathlessly, panting as a familiar smirk curled the edges of her lips.

“Oh, I’m aware,” she purred, tugging you away from the still-gaping group and following after your former lover. “But we both know you loved that. You like staking your claim.”

Sliding your hand into her back pocket, you shrugged nonchalantly.

-X-

Standing at the doorway of the music booth, your eyes glided along the lithe form of Agatha Harkness. She looked good, especially in a 70’s outfit that probably would’ve looked weird on just about anyone else. It had been so long since you’d really gotten a moment to just appreciate her. Remember every dip and curve…

“Hey,” you grunted, nodding at Agatha’s drifting hand. “Must everything be a ploy with you?”

Dark eyes flittered to the witch’s wiggling fingers and she snorted, shaking her head. “You never change, do you, Aggie? Nice try, though. I almost bought it.”

“Of course you protect her. Again,” Agatha sneered, venom on her tongue and fury in her eyes at the perceived slight. “All you ever do is protect her. You can’t -”

“Bullshit,” you cut in sharply, glaring at the offended woman you still loved. It was a nightmare ignoring the burning ache in your chest, but you refused to let her grief insult your relationship with them. “I protected you just as fiercely. I went against my nature - my very being for you. So if you want to hate me, fine, but don’t you ever say I didn’t love you just as much I love her. That I wouldn’t have done anything for you. That I didn’t do everything I possibly could for you. And for him.”

Staggering away from your sudden outburst, Agatha stared at you with misty eyes. What you said was true. You both had always treated her as an equal, despite the odd, unending connection you would always share. Once upon a time, it had bothered her, that she would never have that same bond, but you did everything you could to never make her feel like an outsider.

When they’d been driven from town, you willingly killed for her and for Nicky. And for a brief moment, she considered apologizing for downplaying what you had done, for unintentionally spitting in your face, but righteous anger kept her tongue heavy as lead in her mouth.

Unwilling to suffer through your anguish any longer, you stalked out of the room.

“Hate me if you want. Believe whatever bullshit you tell yourself at night, but we fought against every power we could for him,” Rio said softly, watching Agatha’s features shift then harden. “She had to fight even harder than I did. Remember that. The universe and cosmos… they don’t forget. And they rarely forgive.”

-X-

Of fucking course it had to be that song. The bastardized, albeit sweet song-turned-protection-spell that was once Nicky’s creation. Luckily for you - and Rio - the curse haunting Alice didn’t seem to have any interest in the the ladies of Life and Death, so you flopped onto the couch to watch the impromptu jam session with unimpressed disdain. Truthfully, you hated what Agatha had done to the song, marring what innocence your son had left for the world.

I look so hot in this. So do you. Do you think the Road would be mad if you fucked me against that piano?

Shooting Rio a glance, you couldn’t stop the involuntary smile that befell you as she winked from behind the drums.

I think I might need these outfits. We can relive the 70s.

Pay attention to what you’re doing, you scolded. And maybe Agatha won’t die in this sham of a Road. And you hated the 70s.

Maybe that’s what I want, she replied flippantly, finding the beat effortlessly. I’ve been trying to collect her soul for centuries. She should’ve died quite a few times, if someone hadn’t interfered.

I…

I know.

Watching the performance, you couldn’t take your eyes off Agatha. She could hold the world’s attention if she demanded.

It brought you back to raising Nicky. How she would sing him lullabies as he fed, the songs far too mature though they seemed to soothe his moods. The nostalgia was overwhelming and for a moment, you thought you might get sick, before the tangy, metallic scent overtook your nose.

Blinking, you peered over at Teen, watching how he hunched and bowed in pain. You started to stand from your seat, but Rio’s shrewd look sent you crashing back down onto the cushions.

You can’t.

Watching the demon burst into flames, atop Alice’s shoulders, you were the first to meet Teen as his body went limp and he slammed into the floor.

“Oh shit! Teen!”

There was chaos and unfettered panic as everyone began worrying over the unconscious boy. Hands and words and thoughts came together in a crescendo of concern and nothing was truly getting done, other than Agatha snapping at her fellow witches as tears flooded her eyes. Swallowing your discomfort, knowing you probably shouldn’t intervene - that Rio would be less than thrilled by your choice - you stepped into the fray and lifted him with ease. Despite his age, he was a fairly light boy. Very unassuming. Meek.

Agatha shrieked, demanding you release him to one of the other witches, but you ignored her. You looked to Rio, whose eyes darted between you and Teen, before slipping down the stairs tucked within the piano and back onto the Road. His life was fading quickly, crimson dripping from his wound onto the ground beneath your feet and smearing across the fallen leaves.

Settling him on the nearest flat surface, you took two steps back as the coven gathered around him.

Rio took one step forward.

And all you could see was history repeating itself again.

[rezwrites]

Hey, can you write something for Agatha Harkness? I love her. Yandere/Dark! Agatha Harkness x reader, reader is summoned to be part of Agatha's coven and Agatha grows obsessed with reader after becoming her friend and feeling a connection. Thank you 🩷

Of course, also I’m very sorry that this took so long!

a/n: slight au where the road is real/Rio has no presence.

Agatha and Teen had approached you asking for your assistance in walking The Road. Laughing in their face at the absurdity, “The Road is a myth.”

Even if it wasn’t, it was a death trap. Many stories from your mother and her coven about The Road have passed your ears. Every witch, with the exemption of Agatha Harkness, lost their lives trying the reach the end. You’ve felt inadequate as a witch, unable to resonate with a coven of your own. Even though you’d love to have that sister and companionships you’ve done well enough without them.

Teen droned on as you walked away from them. Only stopping in your tracks when Agatha chimed in talking about forming her own coven. A lesson drilled into your brain since the day you were born resounded within: Agatha Harkness is not to be trusted. Turning around you regarded them both, warily. Awkwardly handing you a card Teen expressed that he’d hope to see you there.

Contemplation weighed heavy on your mind the rest of the day. The possibility of finding a coven was tantalizingly, but you’d have to suffer through the proximity of Agatha and the other witches she convened. Deciding the end outweighs everything else you make your way to Agatha’s house in Westview.

Agatha kept a close focus on you the moment you made your presence known in her home. Her eye constantly shifting to you as you sung your part of The Ballad. You’re voice is beautiful she thought, like a bird singing its morning song.

After pairing with Agatha in the first trial you notice Agatha gradually getting close to you. Thankful that you had her as an anchor in your hallucination, you doing that same for her. Taking the opportunities to know more about you, realizing she’s slow to open up about herself. Rightfully so, since much of the air is still tense with distrust around her. She seemed genuine when she asked about you, making small gestures to be sure your safe- keeping you close to her, guiding your steps so you don’t trip. Her hands softly brushing over you from time to time.

After losing Alice, your distrust cemented again. Insisting that she couldn’t control it, you strayed away from her. Agatha lets you go, not without keeping close eye on you. Watching you gravitate towards Lilia, Agatha internally seethes.

Lilia’s words of wisdom and talks about her travels brought you solace. It was a devastating experience to see Lilia close the Iron Maiden, locking herself in the trial room. Screaming her name, pounding on the door the tears rushed down your face. Agatha had to drag you away and calm you down, Teen staying behind to comfort Jen.

“Lilia, no. How could she?” You could help but sob at the loss of her. Falling to your knees, your face in your hands.

“There’s nothing we could’ve done.” Agatha rests her hand in your shoulder, lightly squeezing it. Wiping your tears, you stood up brushing yourself off.

“Stay with me. I want- no need you by my side.” Agatha’s voice firmed, “You need someone to take care of you.”

“No I don’t. You think I’m weak don’t you?” Your face twists in irritation.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Her fists clenching and unclenching.

“Then what exactly are you saying, Agatha?” You exasperated, throwing your hands up.

“In certain situations I can protect you. That’s all I want to do, darling.” She reached out to you, retracting her hands when you stepped away.

“I can protect myself. We’re almost at the end.” You walk back to gather Jen and teen, leaving Agatha alone.

Slipping into your shoes everything goes black until slit of light appears, revealing Agatha pulling you out of a body bag, “It’s alright dear. It’s just the last trial.” Observing Jen unbind herself and Teen find a body for his brother, your hope shrunk as they disappeared from the trial room.

You remained silent as Agatha grieved, planting something in the ground. You rested beside her as she cried, rubbing circles on her back. Humming a small tune you watched the lights go out by the second; attempting to make peace that this might be the end.

Agatha’s gasp caused you to look down where you saw a dandelion growing from the soil. As the ceiling started crashing down Agatha pulled you up from the floor, guiding you to the door. Coming out of the trial room you both find yourselves in Agatha’s backyard, Teen and Jen waiting for you both. Teen offered Agatha some of his power only is she doesn’t take all of it.

Watching Jen and Teen leave, you stared in thought. The Road was a waste. You didn’t find your coven, the one that Agatha conjured up dropped like flies. Back to square one with a heavy heart in your chest. A soft grip on your wrist pulled you out your bleak thoughts, but you didn’t face her.

“You think The Road didn’t give you what you needed, but it did. You’re just too stubborn to see it. The companionship you crave so much, you don’t a coven… you just need me.” Agatha’s pupils turned purple as your mind grew hazy, struggling for clarity.

“Shh…don’t fight it, darling. I’ve got you.” Agatha’s honeyed voice rang through vividly. Holding you tight against her chest, Agatha pressed her fingers closer to your temple, “I failed to protect someone once, I won’t let the same happen to you.”

[endangeredrandomfanfics]

"A Mother's Defiance"

Masterlist

Summary: Agatha x Rio x Reader Where in the scenario Nicholas never happened but the reader did and Agatha beg Rio not to take them, based on the episode 9 of Agatha All Along -Chapter I

A/n: I'm weak for Agatha and Rio being mother's

===============================

The forest was silent and heavy with mist, as if nature itself had drawn a veil over this secluded place. Agatha stumbled through the dense thicket, her hand pressed firmly to her belly, her breaths shallow and rapid. She could feel it—the heartbeat within her growing faint, slipping further from her grasp with every painful step.

“Please… stay with me…” she whispered, her voice barely a murmur against the rustling of leaves and the cold whisper of the night air.

Ahead, the shadows seemed to twist and shift, growing thicker and darker. A familiar presence manifested from the haze—a tall, cloaked figure who moved with an ethereal grace, as quiet and inevitable as the night itself. Agatha’s breath hitched. She knew who stood before her without needing to look up.

Rio. Her love, her partner, her solace… and the very embodiment of death itself.

The two women locked eyes, and for a fleeting moment, all the memories they had shared seemed to pass between them—years of devotion, secrets and laughter stolen in dark corners, and promises whispered under starlit skies. But tonight, there was no warmth in the gaze Rio held; her face was calm, but her eyes carried a sorrow too deep to fathom.

Agatha sank to her knees, her fingers trembling as they clutched her abdomen. “No…” she whispered, her voice cracking. “No, not them.”

Rio stepped forward, her hand reaching out as though to steady Agatha, but then she hesitated, her fingers hovering in the cold night air. “Agatha, my love,” she said, her voice gentle yet unyielding, as steady as the ticking of a clock. “You know why I’m here. You knew this day would come.”

A sob escaped Agatha’s lips, and she doubled over, cradling her belly as though she could shield the fragile life within her. “Please,” she gasped, looking up at Rio with eyes full of tears and desperation. “They haven’t even had a chance… our child, our hope… they haven’t even seen the world yet.” Her voice trembled. “Don’t take them away from me. Not yet. Please, my love, not now.”

Rio’s expression softened, and she knelt down beside Agatha, her face a mask of quiet anguish. She reached out, her hand cupping Agatha’s cheek with a tenderness that betrayed the sorrow in her heart. “You don’t know how much it pains me to do this,” she murmured, her voice laced with grief. “If there were another way, I would take it. But the balance must be kept, and I am bound to my duty, even if it means…” Her voice broke, and she turned her gaze away, struggling to keep her composure. “Even if it means taking this from you.”

Agatha’s face crumpled as she grasped Rio’s hand, pressing it desperately to her face as if she could hold onto her love’s touch forever. “Then break the rules,” she whispered fiercely. “Just this once, my love. You’re Death, yes, but you’re also mine. I’ve risked everything for us. I would give my life, my soul, anything… just to keep our child safe. Please…”

Rio closed her eyes, a single tear tracing down her cheek. Agatha could see the conflict tearing her apart, the war between duty and love waging a fierce battle in her eyes. “To defy the laws of life and death…” Rio whispered, her voice as fragile as glass. “It could unravel everything. It could destroy us both.”

Agatha shook her head, her grip tightening as she looked at Rio with all the fierceness of a mother’s love. “Then let it,” she replied, her voice fierce and unwavering. “If it’s a choice between losing you or losing them, then let it be me who’s lost. Just don’t take them, my love. I beg you.”

Rio’s composure wavered, her face contorted with pain. She glanced away, her voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the night. “You know that I cannot deny you… not when you look at me like that. Not when you call me by that name.”

Agatha felt a flicker of hope, and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against Rio’s. “Please, my love,” she whispered, her voice filled with raw, aching desperation. “Save them. For me. Just this once.”

Rio’s shoulders slumped, the weight of her choice pressing down on her like the weight of the entire world. She reached up, cupping Agatha’s face in her hands, her thumb brushing away a tear. “If I grant this mercy… it will be borrowed, not forgiven. The debt will come due, and one day, I will have to return.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “When that time comes, nothing will stay my hand.”

Agatha’s tears streamed down her face, but she nodded, her voice breaking as she promised, “Then we’ll cherish every moment until that day. I’ll guard our child… with everything I have. Just give them a chance, my love. Please.”

With a deep, shuddering breath, Rio closed her eyes and began to murmur ancient words, a language older than the stars. The forest seemed to tremble, the shadows rippling as if in protest. Agatha felt a surge of warmth spread through her, and the faint heartbeat within her grew stronger, vibrant, a light against the darkness.

A gasp of relief escaped Agatha’s lips, and she sank into Rio’s arms, her sobs turning to laughter as she held her love close, clinging to the miracle that had been granted. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she buried her face in Rio’s shoulder. “Thank you, my love.”

Rio held her, her own tears falling silently as she pressed a kiss to Agatha’s forehead, a promise and a farewell all in one. “This life is borrowed, Agatha,” she murmured, her voice heavy with sorrow. “One day, I will come to collect the debt, and no power will hold me back.”

Agatha pulled back, looking into Rio’s eyes with fierce determination. “Then I’ll protect them. I’ll protect us… no matter the cost.”

Rio’s fingers lingered on Agatha’s face, a final touch as the shadows began to pull her away, her form beginning to dissolve into the mist. “Until we meet again, my love,” she whispered, her voice carrying a promise of eternity. “Remember… I am yours, in life and in death.”

As Rio’s form faded into the night, Agatha clutched her belly, feeling the steady heartbeat within—a heartbeat saved by a love stronger than fate, bound by a debt that would one day come due.

The forest, now quiet, seemed to close around her as Agatha remained kneeling in the wet earth, her body trembling as she tried to catch her breath. The moment of peace didn’t last long.

Suddenly, an ache seized her body, sharp and overwhelming. She gasped, clutching her stomach, her eyes wide with fear. Her body, which had been so still just moments ago, seemed to come alive with the force of the contractions. The pain was unbearable, worse than anything she had felt before. It was as though her body was splitting in two.

“No… no, not now…” she whispered, her voice hoarse as she stumbled to her feet. The night air felt suffocating as her legs gave way beneath her. She dropped to the ground, pressing her hands against the earth, the sharp pain cutting through her like a blade.

The forest held its breath as Agatha cried out, her body betraying her with every agonizing wave. She could feel it now, the child within her, pressing against her, trying to force its way into the world. Their child. Her child.

Her tears mixed with the rain that had begun to fall, the forest around her alive with the sounds of her struggle. She gritted her teeth, her nails digging into the earth, willing herself to hold on, to keep fighting for the life within her. “You can’t… you can’t go… not yet,” she gasped, her voice broken.

With every scream, with every tear, the child within her fought to be born.

And then, with one final, overwhelming push, the pain shattered, and the cries of a newborn filled the air.

Agatha collapsed back onto the ground, her arms trembling as she pulled the tiny, fragile life into her arms. She held them close, feeling the warmth of their tiny body against her chest, their heartbeat a steady rhythm in the quiet night. She breathed in their scent, her heart swelling with a fierce love.

“You’re here…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You’re finally here, my love.”

The baby nestled against her, their cries fading into soft whimpers as they settled in Agatha’s embrace. She rocked them gently, her tears of joy mingling with the rain. For a moment, everything felt still. The world seemed to pause, and she held her child—her and Rio’s child—close, savoring the sweetness of this moment that had almost been taken from her.

And though the night was dark and the forest whispered all around her, Agatha felt a profound sense of peace. “I will protect you… with everything I am, my love. No matter the cost.”

________________________________________

A/n: Shall I turn this into a series?👀 Following the events of WandaVision and Agatha All Along???

[d-z20]

What We Have Left

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: After surviving the Witches' Road, you and Agatha find solace in caring for each other as you navigate the aftermath—her haunted by nightmares and you recovering from near-fatal injuries. (canon-divergence)

Warnings: physical hurt (R), emotional hurt (A), comfort

Words: 1.4k

A/N: Another request fic :) It took me so long to figure out how Agatha and Reader could survive without taking away from Agatha's character arc so it's as close to canon as possible.

AO3 | Master List

After the chaos of what happened with Rio and Billy, you don’t know exactly how you survived. The last thing you remember is the weight of magic swirling violently around you, the air crackling with danger. Agatha had been ready to sacrifice herself, a final act of redemption that would have consumed her completely. But something had shifted in the moments before her fate was sealed—your desperate magic, unpredictable and wild, surged in response to her intent. In a flash, it felt as though time bent, reality warping around you both. A surge of energy, as if the universe itself had decided you were both not yet finished, had pulled you from the brink of destruction.

But it had also sent you flying backward. 

You’d crashed into a jagged outcrop of stone, your already fragile body sustaining more injuries. A deep wound had opened along your side, nearly severing you in half, and your chest felt like it was caving in with each strained breath. It wasn’t just exhaustion; it was the real fear that you wouldn’t make it. You were too close to death, the darkened edge of your vision creeping in, when Agatha’s hand in yours had pulled you back from that final brink. You weren’t sure how, but it felt like she was holding you together in those final moments before you slipped into unconsciousness.

—

Your injuries keep you from being able to get upstairs, so you spend your days and nights on the couch trying to recover. Agatha promises to stay close, swearing she’ll sleep in the armchair beside you. But every night, you wake to find her pacing instead, her movements restless and agitated, her silhouette framed by the faint light above the stove.

The house is quiet tonight, save for the rhythmic sound of Agatha pacing in the next room. The soft creak of the floorboards betrays her unease, a subtle sound that feels much louder in the stillness. You know the routine by now—she doesn't scream out or cry, but she can’t seem to stay still. She’s trying to outrun something, her breath coming quicker, hitching in the air as though there's a monster that won’t let her rest. The nightmares are worse tonight. You can feel her anxiety through the walls—a tension in the house that makes it hard to breathe.

You lie back on the couch, a thin blanket draped over your legs, shifting carefully to avoid pulling at the bandages wrapped around your ribs. The dull ache is persistent, a reminder of what the Road has taken. What it has demanded.

“You’re awake.”

Her voice startles you, and you turn your head to see her standing in the doorway. She looks dishevelled, her hair wild and her lips chewed raw. Agatha Harkness, once a picture of control and sharp wit, seems smaller these days. Her sharp, calculating eyes are clouded now.

“So are you,” you reply softly, watching as she crosses the room and lowers herself into the chair beside you.

She looks at the floor, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. “I didn’t mean to wake you. The dreams... They’re worse tonight.”

You reach out, your fingers brushing hers gently. “You didn’t wake me. Couldn’t sleep from the pain anyway.”

Her eyes flick to your bandages, her gaze lingering on the blood seeping through them. Her face tightens in frustration, but there’s something darker beneath the surface—a flicker of panic in her eyes. Her hands tremble as they hover near your side, as though she wants to help but is afraid to make things worse. She’s breathing faster now, her chest rising and falling with each uneven inhale. “You’re still in pain.”

“It’s manageable,” you lie, though you know she can see right through you. She always does.

Agatha stands abruptly, her movements sharp. “Let me change the dressing. It’ll help.” She doesn’t wait for you to agree, disappearing into the kitchen and returning with the first aid kit.

She kneels by your side, her hands surprisingly gentle as she helps you sit up, unwrapping the bandages with practiced precision. Her fingers linger on the jagged cut running along your side.

“This one’s healing slower than the others,” she mutters, more to herself than to you.

You wince as she cleans the wound, but you keep your focus on her face. Her brow is furrowed, her lips pressed into a tight line. She is concentrating, but you can see the tremor in her hands.

“Agatha.”

She doesn’t look up. “Almost done.”

“Agatha.” Your voice softens. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Her hands still. For a moment, the only sound is your breathing, uneven and shallow. Then she shakes her head. “It was, though. I led us there. I put you in danger.”

“And we both survived,” you counter. “That’s what matters.”

She finishes rewrapping the bandage in silence, her hands lingering on your side before pulling away. She sits back on her heels, staring at the floor.

You reach for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She hesitates, her eyes flickering toward the window as if searching for an escape. But then her gaze softens, and she looks back at you. “I see them, you know,” she says quietly. “In my dreams. The ones we lost. Lilia, Alice, Mrs. Ha—Sharon... I see them; I hear their voices.”

Her voice cracks, and she quickly looks away, but not before you catch the glint of tears in her eyes.

You lean forward, wincing as pain flares in your ribs. “They don’t blame you, Agatha. None of them do.”

“How would you know?” she whispers, her tone tinged with bitterness. “You can’t know.”

“Because I know you,” you say firmly. “And I know you did everything you could.”

Her expression crumbles, and for a moment, she looks so much younger, so much more fragile than you’ve ever seen her. The indomitable Agatha Harkness, finally undone by the weight of her own guilt.

You cup her face with your hand, your thumb brushing away a tear that slips free. “Agatha,” you murmur, your voice soft. “You don’t have to carry this alone.”

“And what about you?” Her eyes open, sharp and searching. “You’re the one who nearly died, and you’re still acting like you have to take care of me.”

“I want to take care of you,” you say simply.

“I’m not sure I deserve it,” she murmurs, her voice cracking. Her hands shake slightly as she tugs at the hem of her sweater, the fabric clutched too tightly in her fists as if trying to steady herself. She won’t look at you, but you can see the tremor in her jaw. It’s a subtle thing, but you know that she’s fighting against something much bigger than just guilt. There’s a panic beneath it, a fear that maybe she can never escape what happened, that the person she is now—the one who’s failed so many—is someone who doesn’t deserve forgiveness, or love, or even peace.

“Too bad,” you say with a weak smile.

Agatha’s hand comes to rest over yours, holding it against her cheek. “You’re a stubborn witch,” she says, a hint of her usual wit breaking through.

“Takes one to know one,” you reply, your smile growing.

For a long moment, the two of you stay like that, the silence between you no longer heavy but filled with something softer.

“I didn’t actually know what I wanted from the Road,” you say suddenly, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

Agatha’s eyes open, and she looks at you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “What do you mean?”

“I thought I wanted knowledge,” you admit. “Or power. Or maybe to finally understand myself.” You hesitate, searching for the right words. “My magic’s always been... all over the place. Never strong enough in one area to fit anywhere. Protection spells don’t hold long, potions are hit or miss, divination’s a disaster... I thought the Road could give me something to make me belong.”

“And did it? Since Billy’s maybe made it real and all that,” she asks softly.

You nod your head. “Yes. It gave me you.”

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, you think you’ve said too much. But then she leans forward, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss so gentle it makes your heart ache.

It isn’t a kiss born of desperation or passion. It’s something quieter, something fragile. A shared promise that, no matter how broken the two of you might be, you’ll face it together.

When she pulls back, her hand lingers on your cheek. “I don’t deserve you,” she murmurs.

“You do,” you say firmly.

For a long moment, she’s silent, her lips pressed together as she absorbs your words. You can almost see her mind racing behind her eyes, calculating the weight of your reassurance. Her expression shifts just slightly, and for the first time since the Road, you see a flicker of something like peace in her gaze—a brief, fragile relief that she doesn’t have to bear the whole world’s weight on her shoulders alone. It’s like she’s finally starting to believe it. Then she exhales a shaky breath and stands, pulling the blanket up to cover you more securely.

“Get some rest,” she says softly. “I’ll be here.”

“And you?” you ask, catching her hand before she can pull away. “Will you sleep?”

Her lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile. “Maybe.”

“Liar,” you tease gently.

She sighs, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ll try. For you.”

She stays by your side that night, her hand clasped in yours as you drift into a fitful but comforting sleep. Whatever the Road has taken from you, it has left this: a bond forged in fire, unshakeable and enduring.

[multifariousqueer]

im starving for 42 miles and i agree w ur hcs so can u pls write a fem reader fic where we’re chilling at home n he js barges in one night all roughed up n he has heaps of cuts n is bloody- and we get concerned but we know not to ask so we js silently patch him up while he stares at us (and hes got like sm thoughts in his head ab how much he loves us and appreciates us etc) and u can finish it off BUT YEAH

also pls include the pet names cos his accent has me WEAKKK and ik he def calls us ma and mami😩😩😩

Ofc Love!!! I’ve wanted to get this done for a bit now so here it is!!:

A/n: keep requesting miles!42 and regular miles fics please!! 🩷

Warnings: suggestiveness at the end, make out sessions, angst, fluff, groping(it’s consensual and it’s only seen when you squint), love confessions, possible spoilers if you haven’t seen atsv yet

3:00 AM

You: miles, baby are you okay?

Seen

You: are you mad at me for the joke I made about your braids being fluffy?

Seen

You: I didn’t mean it

You: text me when you can. Love you 🩷🩷

Seen

You fell asleep exasperated like you’ve been doing for the last three weeks now. Miles hasn’t been answering any of your texts or calls and has been leaving you on seen for no reason. When you did see him in person, he looked tired and diminished. Ever since his dad died, he’s been acting weird like this; but you could understand why. Although him and Uncle Aaron were closer, Miles was still really close to his dad and his dad loved you. You came over Rio and Miles’ house every day since then and tried to provide solace to them but Miles was always gone when you came over. His room looked different too, having ditched the bright superhero posters and traded them in for boxing gloves and a punching bag. Thankfully, you had established trust with Miles and he knew he could come to you any time, you just didn’t expect him to come through your window at 4:00 AM on a Saturday morning.

It was about 3:15 when he saw your message, he wondered why you were still up and what were you doing but he couldn’t ponder the question for too long because he had someone chained up to his punching bag.

“Miles? Get off your phone, man.”- Uncle Aaron’s voice brought Miles back to reality

Miles did as told and geared up to kill the young boy who looked exactly like himself when all of a sudden, the chains fell and the doppelgänger swung at Miles’ perfectly structured face. A few of the punches connected but he was still able to subdue the mirrored image of himself(if everything went right).

However, Miles’ suit had been clobbered, his clothes covered in blood from a broken nose and blood from the fight. Even though he won, he couldn’t go back to his house because his mom would admonish him for this and Uncle Aaron was keeping watch so he went to your house.

You heard faint tapping on the window that you had assumed it was a bird, until the tapping became a loud knocking. You scurried up grabbing the nearest thing that looked like a weapon and went to the window. You found a battered Miles and knew something was wrong:

“Miles?”-you whisper shouted

“Ola mi amor” he said, trying to be suave but flinching in pain

You opened the window and let him in. You knew he was rough and bloodied up for a reason but it was late(or early depending on how you look at it) and you knew he wouldn’t tell you why; a small part of you also knew but chose not to acknowledge it. You just silently grabbed the first aid kit and patched him up as best as you could. You noticed he had a broken nose:

“Rough night?” You Said, trying to ease the tension

Miles didn’t reply, rather he looked at you through bruised eyes and simply nodded.

“Your nose is broken. You should probably go the the hospital for that” you said, nonchalantly

“Can’t you fix it?” He mumbled

“not easily” you mumbled, mocking his tone

He gave you an annoyed glare before saying:

“I’m sorry to come in late like this. And I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you, Mami; it’s a lot going on that you wouldn’t understand and I’m trying to protect you.”

“It would’ve been nice for you to call or text” you said while closing the first-aid kit.

“I knew you would’ve worried about me and I didn’t want that” he said, hanging his head

“I’m your girlfriend, it’s my job to worry about you” you chuckled

It was like a Disney movie, Miles realized that if no one else would, you would hold it down for him and that you were gonna be there through thick and thin. He knew he loved you but this solidified it in his mind; he knew that if he survived long enough, you were gonna be his wife. It would be you waking him up everyday, it would be you kissing him goodnight and good morning, it would be you carrying and having his babies. Some days, he would wake up and wonder how he got so lucky with someone like you but he never thought too much into it because he knew he would find a way to sabotage it for himself but now, he didn’t care:

“I love you, Y/n” he said

“I love you too, Miles” you replied softly

“No. I mean like I love you so much that I can’t stand it, I wanna marry you, Y/n and be with you for life. If no one else has me, I know you do and I can’t even imagine myself without you.” Miles said

You started to tear up before crashing your lips onto his. Your lips moved in perfect sync as he grabbed your hips with one hand, and cupped your face in the other. You stayed this way for a while until Miles slipped his tongue into your mouth, battling for dominance against your tongue which he emerged victorious. He started moving his other hand to your ass as you moved yours to his chest when suddenly, you hear your parent call out:

“Y/n!!!”

“Yeah” you replied nervously, Miles leaving a trail of kisses down your neck

“Breakfast is ready” they shouted

You looked at your phone as Miles rubbed your back and saw it was 8:00 already.

“Shit” You Said under your breath, partly because of how Miles was making you feel

“Go Mamà, we’ll finish this later” he said against his neck

“Okay I love you, call me this time” you smiled

“Por supesto, Mami” he replied

You went down for breakfast and sat in your normal spot:

“Y/n?” Your parent said

“Yeah?” You replied

“What’s that on your neck?” They smirked

Damn it Miles

Translations

Por supesto- of course

[mindboogling]

can we get some solace siblings headcanons??

Sure! :]

Rio Solace

Like her name implies, she's usually the chill one - like a calm river.

After Sebastian's trial, she pursued forensic science in her career field.

She was a major theatre fan in high school and even as an adult. When you hand her the AUX chord, she plays show tunes. Notable favorite musicals: Six, Wicked, Fun Home, Moulin Rouge, Prom, and In The Heights. But there's a multitude of more. (Sebastian missed all of the 4 Horses of the Apocalypse: Hamilton, Heathers, Dear Evan Hansen, and Be More Chill while he was gone and that is crazy to her.)

She's married to her wife, who is also a lawyer! (Possibly had helped the Solace family gain a larger settlement for Sebastian's innocence post-death sentence?)

Speaking of her wife, Sebastian was gone when gay marriage was legalized, but since his sister came out to him way early on, he's more surprised that gay marriage is legal than his sister being gay herself.

She doesn't live with her mom anymore, but when Sebastian was brought up, she knew she had to be there for her family.

She knows the most Spanish among her siblings since she had to help their mom translate. She and her siblings are the second generation of a Chilean-American immigrant family.

Gabriel Solace

He appears much more normal next to his siblings, but if you look in his room, his special interests are A LOT more apparent.

As a kid, he always liked to build things - He enjoys taking things apart and putting them back together. That being said, he loves Legos, Beyblades, Transformers, Gundam, model planes, etc.

He is the casual anime fan of the house. He likes mecha, but he can appreciate a good show he can put on in the background while he assembles what he's building.

His music taste is much more diverse than his siblings, but his taste includes more Alternative/Indie and Electronic Dance Music. Notable artists: Mitski, The Living Tombstone, Chappell Roan.

He does introduce his music, shows, and movies to Sebastian.

When his name is shortened, it's "Gabri" (pronounced "GAHB-RI") over "Gabe".

Thanks to the settlement they acquired from Sebastian's revised trial, he goes to engineering school! His side project is making a body for p.AI.nter.

[fqrcefields]

no rest for the wicked. ಇ

summary _ , in the sleepy town of westview, new jersey, detective agatha harkness is working on an unsolvable case. agent rio vidal has come to solve it.

⋆ tags : alternate universe, office sex, power dynamics, dom!rio, touch starved!agatha ⭑ࣶࣸ 

read on ao3.

 ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀────୨ৎ────

“Shit.” She huffs, slamming her fists into the stainless-steel table, careful not to contaminate the evidence that lays there.

Agatha rubs at her temples, tosses her wild hair to the side, takes a deep breath. She hates this. Another case that feels unsolvable, as though the maniac she’s chasing is just taunting her with false clues, leading her nowhere. The stress of it all has been weighing heavy on her mind. She’s not slept in days and has the piles of coffee cups to show for it. Her house… she doesn’t even want to think about the state of it. Her car and office are the same, as though Agatha herself were a tornado, and with each step she creates disarray. Chaos.

The light flickering above her head is not helping her caffeine-fueled headache. Agatha feels a flash of anger, of wanting to tear the thing out of the ceiling and shatter it, but the flash disappears when she checks her watch, sees how late it’s gotten. She’s likely the last existing body in the building— save for those in the morgue. It’s more than time for her to go home, to give up, to fall asleep on the sofa like always. Though that wouldn’t work. The weight of the day would only follow her. This sort of mental strain knows no boundaries.

Agatha allows her eyes one last glance over the pile of chicken-scratch notes and bloodied knives, allowing the vision of it to seep into her tired memory, before she abandons the room. She’s at least lucid enough to know that driving home would be a terrible decision, that she’d fall asleep at the wheel. So, she climbs the stairs, feet clumping with the drag of heavy boots, all the way until she reaches the fifth floor, where she may at least find the solace of her own desk.

It's not much, but it’ll do. It’s done before. She thinks, chest heaving when she pushes open the heavy door to exit the stairs, dropping with a sigh of relief when she finally makes it to the bullpen. Though this is not a new experience in Agatha’s career, she’s always shocked by the serenity of the office when she stays overnight. The large windows grant a view of her town, the town she’s sworn to serve and protect, though so far, all it’s done is spit in her face. Despite her hatred for her position of authority over those who have never respected her, Agatha will always take a moment to look out at the glowing lights that illuminate the sleepy city. Her mind wanders to a list of crimes that very well could be committed right now, in the seedy alleyways and deep forest of Westview, but she forces herself out of her own head, blinks back to reality.

“Christ.” She mutters, stretching backwards, preparing for an uncomfortable night hunched over her desk. Though her bones are well used to it by now, the contorting into uncomfortable positions. She’s slept in her cruiser, even on the floor of the breakroom in the middle of the day when a nap was necessary enough. Her body is used to the pain, there’s no reason it should be comforted now.

Agatha pushes aside a few manila folders, tosses an empty soda bottle into the trash at her feet. She kicks off her shoes, losing an inch or so from the motion, and undoes a few buttons on her blouse. It’s the least she can do, but it’ll help. She’s sure to set an alarm on her phone, always awake well before her fellow detectives, even on her days off. Agatha allows herself one final stretch before wadding up her jacket and leaning her head against it. She so hopes that maybe, just for once, this night will be the night that her brain shuts off, that she’s finally allowed an easy night’s rest, but her wishful thinking gets her nowhere. She’s awake for at least an hour, despite her body’s aches and her throbbing brain begging for rest, she’s awake. She’s rolling over the details of the day, trying to crack each of her open cases even in her near-sleep state.

Agatha Harkness is an unstoppable force, unmoved even by the body’s natural motions. She only falls asleep when she believes she’s created an appropriate line of questioning for the teenage boy they’d brought in early this morning, lifted her head to lazily scribble a few notes onto whatever’s closest. Only then may she rest.

…

“Sleeping on the job?”

Agatha’s sleeping so soundly that she barely notices the presence in the room, the light filtering in through blinds she was too tired to close the night prior.

Not even a coma could have kept her from hearing that voice. The slow words, the sarcastic lilt behind the tongue. It surely doesn’t belong to anyone employed in the building, and the curiosity pierces through the veil of Agatha’s slumber, forcing her awake.

Agatha shoots up, hair tangled, falling over her shoulders in its typical crazed fashion. Her eyelids are still impossibly heavy, her body barely responding to her brain’s commands. She blinks ever so slowly, fighting the early dawn light, letting her head rest in her hands for a moment before she’s able to search for the voice that had stripped her from the best sleep that, while incredibly shitty, was the best she’d had all week.

“You’re drooling.” The voice calls again, and Agatha locates it to her right, whips her head so that she may finally find its owner.

There the owner stands, a woman, younger than Agatha but carrying herself with more professionalism than she ever had, dressed in a suit unbefitting a detective. Agatha could barely make out her features, only that they were dark, her raven hair tied back. The figure offers her a small wave, teasing, to match the smirk on her lips.

When Agatha’s ears finally register the words that were spoken a few seconds ago, she blushes.

She never blushes.

She wipes at her mouth, then at her eyes, hoping to wake them up, to rid them of their blurriness. Her sleep had been heavy, judging by the way her legs refused to move, the way her shirt was so very wrinkled. The shirt that was nearly entirely unbuttoned, she realizes, hiding herself a bit so she may button herself back up, regain any dwindling composure that may still exist within her.

“Are you…” Agatha begins once she’s finally woken up, at least as much as she will without coffee, and turns to meet her visitor. Her eyes are finally able to see the smaller details of the woman’s face, the face that’s quite literally the most striking she’s ever seen, the face that makes Agatha want to unravel all of this woman’s mysteries. She dons dark makeup, not drawn on strong enough to be unprofessional, but still enough to be rebellious. Though she wears formal attire, her shoes either brand new or recently cleaned by a professional. And then there’s the badge around her neck. Not one that Agatha has ever seen, certainly not one of any office within Westview. “Who are you?” Agatha asks plainly, head tilting to the side as she stands, closes the gap of space between them.

“Agent Vidal.” The younger replies, outstretching a hand. Her voice is still blunt, still carrying that air of irony in her words. “Rio Vidal. I’m here to solve your case.”

“Agatha Harkness.” She laughs, takes the hand, revels in its softness against her own rough palms. “That’s awfully presumptuous.” Agatha says, her hoarse voice rough with tiredness, with none of the humor of Agent Vidal.  She holds onto the agent’s hand for dear life, lets their touch linger a second too long, drops it.

“Well, it’s true.” Rio shrugs, glances around before making a move towards the dilapidated coffee station (which is only a sad, one-pot machine and a few plastic cups of various origin), and starts the water’s dripping. Even her movements are nonchalant, slow yet uncalculated, a true opposite of Agatha’s frantic nature. She’s impossibly calm for someone about to enter the most difficult case of Agatha’s career. It must be overconfidence that keeps her so calm.

“I didn’t know we were getting any outside help.” Agatha follows her suit, pulling on her shoes without lacing them, pulling her hair back into a bun which she secures with a random pencil from someone else’s desk. She won’t return it later. “What agency are you from exactly?”

“FBI.” Rio replies, as though the rest of her story is need-to-know, a foreboding reminder of how these next few weeks are going to go. Agatha’s worked with a few interdepartmental people, but none of this caliber. She’s ready to be kept in the dark, to force over all of her hard work, to watch this agent sweep in and take all of the glory for a case that Agatha’s done all of the work for. It’s a shame that this particular agent is so damn pretty, Agatha’s going to have a very hard time being mad at her.

“Great.” Agatha groans, pinching her nose, steadying herself against the windowsill. It’s too early for this shit, she thinks, her foot beginning its habitual tapping by the time she’s handed a cup of coffee by her new dictator. “I’ll take you down to the evidence lockup in a minute. Just��� let me wake up.”

“I’ve seen it.” Rio cuts her off, standing over Agatha, staring her down, but without any interest behind her eyes. Maybe there’s some curiosity beneath the black pits of ink, some sort of attraction, but it’s well hidden under a mask of indifference. “You should go home. Get some rest. Change clothes. I think I can manage here by myself for a while.”

Agatha looks up at the woman, eyebrow lifted, searching her face for any sort of hint as to an ulterior motive, but finds none. She figures this agent must just really want to do her job and doesn’t care much for the people she meets while doing it. It’ll work well enough for her, Agatha feels a similar disliking for the people she works with, and has made no effort to make friends. She’s perfectly fine with not making one in Agent Vidal, despite the nagging at the back of her head that wants to win the agent over, to pull her out of her jaded attitude, to put a smile on those dark-tinted lips.

Agatha sets down the coffee and stands, but Rio doesn’t move. She holds her space, her gaze forced upwards only because of Agatha’s slightly taller boots. Agatha can’t hold back her sigh when she feels Rio’s breath against her skin, their closeness making her a bit dizzy. She’s not even so much as stood this close with another person, much less another woman, in far too long.

No, Agatha Harkness is not prepared for Rio Vidal in the slightest. But she’ll go home, have a nap, wash her face. Maybe that will quell the churning desire at the pit of her stomach.

…

When Agatha returns to the precinct, her hair combed and her clothes as clean as whatever was at the top of the pile in her bedroom, the bullpen is bustling with livelihood. It must be the FBI presence that’s sparked this drive in men who usually can’t even be bothered to walk down a flight of stairs to check in on an autopsy. Agatha herself is certainly not filled with this desire to work, but she’s at least a bit more well-rested, and her brain is functioning well enough now that another interaction with Agent Vidal won’t send her into a spiral of need.

Agatha pushes open the door to the pen, ears suddenly filled by loud chattering on telephones, voices barking for answers. It’s incredibly loud, maybe she isn’t as well-rested as she thought. She takes a look around the room, seeing the detectives whose natural position is slumped over their desk smoking cigarettes that Agatha had so desperately pleaded against, now stand around corkboards of photos, dialing buttons into copy machines, having boisterous arguments about possible suspects.

Whipped into shape, Agatha thinks, and a blush rises to her cheeks at the thought of who has done said whipping. She has to laugh off the thoughts that come to her lonely mind, forcing away her feelings once again. She’s been out of the game for far too long if one silly crush on a woman she’s barely interacted with is raising such vulgar thoughts in the middle of the workday.

She now searches through this sea of people, tricking her brain into thinking that she’s looking for somewhere to be helpful, but her eyes have their own agenda. Her pupils dart around, desperately seeking a certain suit, a head of black hair bobbing in the sea of police uniforms and aging detectives. Alas, she has no such luck. There’s no sign of the young woman that has so occupied Agatha’s thoughts for the past few hours, and as much as she’d like to continue the hunt, to track the agent down, to scour the entirety of Westview to find Rio, she has a job to do. A painful, thankless job, but it’s her job nonetheless.

Agatha sits down at her desk once again, looks down at the scribbled writing on the old receipt that she had found in the middle of her sleep-drunk haze last night.

“What the hell was I thinking…” Agatha mumbles to herself, only able to make out a few words in the scrawled mess before crumbling up the paper and tossing it into the bin. Her head is not at all in the right place for an interrogation right now. It never is, but she’s always kinder to suspects than her coworkers, always further away from possible police brutality than they are, so she bears the burden. It’s never pleasant, and the number of times she’s been called wicked names and spit on outweighs the confessions she’s gotten. It’s especially difficult to investigate teenagers, with their horrible attitudes and inability to answer a direct question. She’s not going to enjoy this one bit, but she pushes herself up and moves to the interrogation room anyway, her brain flipping through files of memories so that she may find what exactly she can use to win this kid over.

Instead, she’s only met by thoughts of her agent, of the woman whose face is burned into her brain, the cynical voice that’s been stuck in her head like a pop song. When she arrives at the door of the room she’s set to enter, Agatha takes a moment to herself, takes a long, deep breath. It’s becoming increasingly difficult for her to focus on anything but Agent Rio Vidal, but she finds her work mode, shakes the images for her brain. Let’s see how long this lasts, she thinks, pushing open the door and into the stale light of the interrogation room.

…

Agatha’s overcome by a desperate need for a cigarette when she finally steps out of the room, her head sore from horrible lighting and awfully crude jokes. She’s never smoked a day in her life, but now… now she could really use one. She was trapped in that room for well over an hour, and even though the kid was far from a lead suspect, she knew he was connected to every other young delinquent in Westview. So, she pushed for far too long, only to end up not getting anything from him but a few names. She now only had more highschoolers to interview, just about right back where she started.

“Good work in there.” That voice is back, still mocking and bold, but now with a hint of compassion.

Agatha leans against the brick wall, trying to cease the pounding in her head, taking a moment to settle the disquiet that runs throughout her. It’s no use, though, when she hears that voice again, and lifts her head so she may view the agent, her chest fluttering at the sight.

“Thanks, I guess.” Agatha laughs softly, but she feels a genuine thankfulness from any sort of compliment and feels the warmth in her cheeks from it. “But I didn’t get anything useful.” She shrugs, drops her head to look at the floor once again.

“No, you didn’t.” Rio returns bluntly, moving so that she stands parallel to Agatha, who, in realization of this fact, feels her stomach drop. Though their closeness is still at a length of professionalism, a chaste conversation between colleagues, any sort of closeness to Rio is enough to send a chill through Agatha’s entire being. “He was just an asshole. You’re good at the job.”

“Thank you…” Agatha’s sure her cheeks are bright pink, a smile teasing at the corner of her lips. She’s always been bad at accepting compliments, not that she had many to accept in the first place. She feels incredibly embarrassed, and as much as she wants to take in the image of Rio standing in front of her, it’s impossible to maintain eye contact with such intense eyes, so she turns away. “Have you… uhm…” She stutters, hands shoving into her pockets, so they won’t fuss with each other anymore. “Have you made any leads?”

“A few.” Rio responds, indifferent, seemingly not too excited about anything she’s done this prior morning. She very well could have a break in the case, be nearly done with it, but her flat expression wouldn’t show it. “Come with me. I want to show you something.” Rio winks, and it nearly causes Agatha to fall over.

Agatha’s head tilts in curiosity, as is her way, and when Rio turns on her heels to move down the hallway, Agatha quickly follows after like a stray puppy. She can’t help but admire the woman’s confidence, the slight sway in her hips, the strong thud of her steps. Rio is quite a force to be reckoned with, and Agatha giggles a bit as people clear the hallway to make room for her.

Agatha truly doesn’t give a damn where she’s being led. Rio could lead her out into the center of traffic, and Agatha would follow her with a big, dumb smile on her lips. She’s just that damn smitten.

She only wishes the young woman wasn’t leading her down the stairs towards the autopsy room.

Though she’s always the one sent down these stairs, her fellow detectives always having “something better to do”, it never gets easier. The stale scent of formaldehyde made her stomach flip over, and interacting with the medical examiners always made Agatha feel like she was interacting with Victor Frankenstein. There was a horrible aura emanating from the morgue, like a haunted shadow that cast over the entire basement that always gave Agatha an awful feeling that something would rise from the dead at any given moment. Perhaps she’d watched Night of the Living Dead at too young an age.

When they step into the basement together, however, Agatha feels less scared. More… impossibly desperate for the woman beside her. It’s no help when Rio looks back at her, decides Agatha is walking far too slowly, paces back and grabs her hand. And now, though she’s being tugged along, Agatha’s body still glitches for a moment, forgets how to walk. She’s stumbling over her own boots, but follows eagerly, her palm sweaty against Rio’s smaller hand.

This hallway that has so horrified Agatha in the past now feels as though it’s going on forever, and she never wants it to end. But eventually it does, and they stand at the door of some old evidence locker, one that hasn’t been used in at least a decade. Agatha looks down the hallway, then back to Rio, eyebrow lifting when she’s met with another expressionless look, but lips with the suggestion of a smile.

“There’s nothing down here…” Agatha says, her voice quaking a little from leftover fear of the basement in which they stand. She can feel the sting of the scents of medical equipment in her nose. She tries to ignore it and instead focuses on seeking Rio’s perfume, but the harsh odors of the autopsy room are no match for Rio’s sweet sandalwood scent. “What’s—”

She’s cut off when a hand presses against her back, forces her inside the small closet. Agatha can’t control her loud gasp at the sudden movement, her fingers trembling when the door is shut, and she’s left in the dark.

“Agent Vidal…?” She calls out, not able to sense the other woman’s presence, but hears the lock click, now filled with the fear that she’s been forced into this closet to rot. But this fear is suddenly replaced by another emotion, one much more powerful, when two hands plant themselves on her hips, thumbs sliding into the belt loops of her jeans.

“Rio.” Her voice has dropped an octave, and Agatha can feel the warm breath against her cheek. Agatha’s own breath hitches, and her eyes fight hard to adjust to the lack of light, but she’s left with only the pit of black, the agent, Rio, only a blob of darkness in front of her. Agatha tentatively outstretches her hands, searches for any piece of Rio’s body where she may rest her fingers against skin, finally settles on her cheeks. They’re warm, but not nearly as hot as the flesh of Agatha’s own skin. Her entire body feels aflame, the fire burning in her chest, and she can’t fight the heat building between her legs.

Rio’s silent now, and the closet is only filled by Agatha’s heaving breath.

It takes her only a second longer, enjoying the needy huffs of breath, before she closes the gap, pulls the taller woman down into a kiss. Rio chuckles into it, laughs at Agatha’s feverish motions, the way she grabs at her cheeks, her jaw, her shoulders. It had only taken their first conversation for Rio to recognize this desperation within the older woman, and right away she found it entirely adorable. Something she’d need to take away, so that Agatha never felt this emptiness ever again.

Rio’s hands slide up Agatha’s body, over the cotton of her plaid shirt, up her face, to finally tangle in her hair. The curls she’d been admiring all along, the hair her fingers itched to touch, to grasp, to tug. She’d never seen anything like it, and had developed such a profound fascination of the brunette locks. She admired even more the little whimpers that escaped Agatha when she tugged so gently on the curls, the way the woman’s hands gripped onto her even tighter at the motion. Rio can’t help but smile into their sloppy kisses, pushing hard against Agatha, so hard that the shelves behind them start to shake, their contents rattling around in their boxes.

Rio huffs gently, her fingers untangling from their new favorite position and sliding back down until they find Agatha’s badge around her neck, pulling on it until they’ve moved away from the shelf, messily making their way through the dark until they find a table. Rio leans into Agatha with all of her weight, forcing her down onto the table, the blood rushing to Agatha’s head. Her brain is barely functioning now, only focused on reciprocating Rio’s heavy kisses, on forcing the suit jacket off of her shoulders. Her fingers hastily work on the buttons of Rio’s shirt, and Rio does the same to Agatha’s, working much more smoothly.

Agatha pauses when her fingers brush past Rio’s badge, the symbol of authority that she so despised, yet was also so incredibly attracted to. She adored the power Rio held over, not so much the consequences that would come if they were found in this position.

“This…” She musters between bated breaths, which only hitch when Rio’s nimble fingers make their way down to her belt. “This is incredibly unprofessional.”

Rio only laughs, forces down the zipper of Agatha’s pants. She hears the seriousness of Agatha’s concern though, and, so that she won’t worry any longer, tosses both of their badges aside so that the reminder will no longer bother Agatha’s mind.

To hell with it, Agatha thinks, the last coherent thought that crosses her foggy mind before it goes entirely empty, when Rio slides her palm down the waistband of her jeans, her fingers teasing the soft material of her underwear. A devilish grin rises to Rio’s lips at the feeling, the warm, soaked-through material yet another indication of just how desperate Agatha is for her touch. She’s not one to portray her emotions out loud, but Rio can’t hide the low groan that escapes her lips at the feeling.

Agatha’s heart is beating out of her chest, and Rio can feel it when her kisses trail lower, nipping over her jaw and settling at her collarbone, pressing rough kisses to her skin as if it’s her job. Her hands push away the fabric, fingers finally swiping over warm folds, collecting Agatha’s moisture, reveling in it. The two women fill their shared closet with soft groans, Rio’s soft, whispered curses, Agatha’s begging for more. Agatha’s hands trail down Rio’s back, her own arching against the cold metal table when one of Rio’s fingers dips into her, her hips bucking in tandem with Rio’s pace.

“Fuck—” Agatha gasps, her hands furiously bunching up the fabric of Rio’s shirt, which was once so delicately ironed, bearing no wrinkles, that would now be ruined by Agatha’s harsh grasp. She’d have her own signs of this encounter to show, with Rio’s lips so vigorously kissing her neck, she’s sure to be covered in bruises. Rio pushes the unbuttoned shirt open, her free hand caressing over skin that hasn’t seen the sun in far too long, hasn’t felt this sort of touch in much longer. She caresses the woman’s stomach gently before her lithe fingers push aside Agatha’s bra, the contact to her chest making Agatha groan from her own over sensitivity.

It doesn’t take much for Agatha to reach her peak, to come unraveling against Rio, for her muscles to tense all at once, then to drop against the cold metal table beneath her, which she finds far more comfortable than the other sleeping positions she had found the week prior. Her breath is still incredibly shallow, her entire body flushed as her cheeks had once been. Agent Vidal’s fingers still glide within her, allowing the detective to fully ride out her high. She wishes the lights had been on, so that she may gaze upon the complete mess she’s made of Agatha, may see her puffy lips and flushed cheeks, the delicate rise and fall of her chest as she regains stability. It must be a beautiful sight, but one that can only exist in Rio’s imagination.

She lays a few more gentle kisses to Agatha’s lips, removing her hand from the woman’s jeans, licking them clean with another light laugh. She buttons her own shirt, searching in the dark for her jacket, puts it back on. She then finds her badge, pulls it over her head, tosses Agatha’s to her. Agatha, who still lays flat against the table, her legs dangling, her eyes seeing stars.

“Get dressed.” Rio says, her voice back to her normal brusqueness, but with her own breathlessness, as she gently pats Agatha’s thigh. “I have some evidence I need you to look over.”  Agatha can hear the smile in her voice, and before she knows it, she’s left in the dark to stare up at the ceiling, her brain running a million miles an hour.

She takes at least another five minutes lying there, her body entirely drunk on Agent Vidal, so much so that she doesn’t have a care in the world if someone were to bust into the room and see her like this. Eventually, though, she forces herself up, her need to please the agent more dire than her need to remain like this. So, she stands, re-dresses herself in the dark, runs a hand through her hair, leaves the closet.

When Agatha returns upstairs, back into the light of day, back to find the woman that had just left her so breathless, she stops for a cup of coffee, and is met only by a fellow detective that can’t hide his own laughter.

“Jesus, what happened to you?” He laughs, pointing out Agatha’s bright red neck and shirt buttons done in incorrect holes. Another blush falls over her cheeks, one that she’s grown certain will never disappear as long as Agent Vidal is within the walls of the precinct. Agatha forgets the coffee and instead races to the bathroom, shocked by what she sees in the mirror. Her hair has become a mess again, but she doesn’t care. It isn’t in shame this time, isn’t from lack of sleep. In fact, she only wishes Rio’s fingers had spent more time in her curls, made them even messier.

She fixes her shirt, splashes some water on her skin to cool the redness, and stares at herself in the mirror. The face that stares back is completely different, belonging to a woman that Agatha didn’t recognize, but she adores the sight of it.

Agatha freezes up when the door to the bathroom swings open, and though she feels like she shouldn’t she takes a glance, she does, praying that the body that enters belongs to Rio, that they may fall into a mess of kisses once again.

But it isn’t, only a random officer who offers Agatha a nod, goes about her business.

She’s going to be the death of me, Agatha thinks, drying her hands and slapping her face a few times so that she can fully ground herself in reality.

Then she’s off, moving through bodies of people whose names she does not know, for the only name important to her now is that of Rio Vidal.

[my-religion-greek-myth]

Freedom far away - I&J

GAh I lost my martial arts competition in the finals! The next part will be urm.. smut?

Fem Reader X Agatha X Rio

Warning: Just a bit of violence, and kissy kissy

Part A | Part B | Part C&D | Part E | Part F | Part G | Part H | Part I&J | Part K | Part L | Part M | Part ?

When you finally approached the gate of your household, the familiar sight of the looming walls felt colder than usual. The night had fully settled in, the stars offering little solace as you stepped through the entrance. As you paused just inside the gate, your gaze fell to your feet.

After the torrent of tears and hurried explanations, you finally noticed what Agatha and Rio had pointed out earlier: you were barefoot when you arrived at their house. A sharp ache brought your attention to the scratches and faint traces of blood marking your skin, souvenirs of your frantic escape. You hadn’t even realised in your haste that you had run all the way to their house without shoes.

The absurdity of it made you wince. How reckless had you been to not even notice? You recalled the moment when Rio exaggeratedly gasped at your bare feet, clutching her chest dramatically. Agatha had let out a deep sigh, her sharp eyes softening slightly as she knelt to inspect the damage. They had both fussed over the small wounds with surprising care before Agatha, with a flick of her wrist and a flourish of purple mist, produced a pair of shoes that fit as if they had always belonged to you.

Now, standing at your own gate once more, those shoes felt heavier than they should, as though they carried the warmth and reassurance of the heaven you had just left behind.

Almost immediately, a servant approached, their expression taut with unease.

"My lady," they began hesitantly, bowing low. "The Lord has given orders… you are to inform him immediately upon your return."

Your stomach twisted, but you managed a curt nod. The servant led the way, the air between you thick with tension. As you reached the door to your grandfather’s study, you hesitated, your hand hovering over the handle. The faint murmur of voices reached your ears, and you realised with a sinking feeling that you were not walking into a private scolding.

When you finally pushed the door open, the sight before you made your heart sink. The room was filled—your parents, siblings, uncles, and aunts—all gathered under the oppressive gaze of your grandfather. The size of the study, usually imposing, felt suffocating, with so many eyes turning toward you.

Your grandfather stood at the far end, his presence dominating the space. His glare was like a physical weight bearing down on you as you stepped inside. You barely had time to close the door before he moved.

With one swift motion, his hand came down hard across your cheek. The force of the blow sent you stumbling back, the sting radiating through your skin as gasps erupted around the room.

"Father!" your own father called out, his voice sharp with shock and anger.

Your grandfather ignored your father entirely, his steely gaze fixed solely on you. The weight of his glare was colder than you’d ever seen, and when he finally spoke, his voice was a low, dangerous growl.

"Do you have any idea what you’ve done?" he demanded, his tone sharp enough to cut. "Running away from your responsibilities? From the marriage proposal of a lifetime? Do you comprehend the disgrace you’ll bring upon this family if word of this escapes? The ridicule—our house, reduced to a laughingstock among the nobles?" His words fell like hammer blows, each one heavier than the last. The disdain in his voice was palpable, his fury simmering beneath a thin veneer of composure.

You clenched your jaw, the taste of iron faint on your tongue as you resisted the urge to reply. The weight of his words pressed down on you, but so did the memories of Agatha and Rio. Their love, fierce protectiveness, and the way they had made you feel seen—it all swirled in your mind, giving you the strength to stand tall.

"The proposal will proceed as planned," your grandfather declared, his voice final and unyielding. "You will marry into the royal family and not disgrace this household any further."

Your father stepped forward, his expression conflicted as he glanced between you and your grandfather. "Father," he began cautiously, "perhaps we should—"

"There will be no discussion!" your grandfather barked, his fist slamming onto the desk. "She is a daughter of this house and will do as she is told!"

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of your grandfather’s authority stifling any further protests. Your mother’s gaze met yours, a mix of worry and resignation in her eyes. Your siblings looked on in stunned silence, their expressions ranging from anger to concern.

You lifted your chin, and the sting of your cheek was a constant reminder of the line you were walking. "I understand, Grandfather," you said quietly, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you.

His eyes narrowed, his fury barely contained. "You will do as you are told," he repeated, his tone low and menacing. "Or you will face the consequences."

You held his gaze, refusing to back down, even as your heart pounded against your ribs. The room felt like closing in, but you stood your ground, knowing this was only the beginning of a new life.

As you left the study, your mind was already racing. The sting of his slap lingered, but so did the warmth of Agatha’s hand and the playful protectiveness in Rio’s voice. You did not know what you would do next, but one thing was clear—you couldn’t face this alone.

You needed them.

The heated sting on your cheek lingered as you sat in your room, lost in thought. The sound of the slap still echoed in your ears, the weight of your grandfather’s words pressing heavily on your chest. You barely noticed the door opening until your sister slipped inside, closing it quietly behind her.

She stood there for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then her gaze landed on your swollen cheek, and her frown deepened. Without a word, she crossed the room and knelt beside you.

"You shouldn’t have run away in the middle of speaking with Grandfather," she said softly, though her tone lacked any true reprimand. Her fingers brushed gently against your cheek, her touch cool against the warmth of the swelling. "I saw everything."

Your throat tightened. Of course, she had seen it.

"I could not just stay there and listen to his grand plan of marrying me off," you muttered, your voice trembling with frustration. "You know what he’s forcing me to do."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I do," she admitted. "And I hate it as much as you do. But running away like that only made things worse." She paused, her eyes searching yours. "You need to think carefully about what you’ll do next. Maybe…" She hesitated, then added, "Maybe run away for good?"

Your hands curled into fists as you looked away. "If I leave, he’ll just focus on you next," you said quietly, your voice thick with guilt. "He’ll push the same marriage talks onto you."

She blinked at you, startled before a hollow laugh escaped her lips. "That’s not your problem," she said firmly, her tone carrying an unexpected strength. "It’s not your job to protect me."

You turned back to her, shocked. "But—"

"No," she interrupted, shaking her head with conviction. "Listen to me." Her voice softened, but her words were no less firm. "You’ve always been the brave one, always trying to shield everyone else. Do you think I don’t know the things you endured from Grandfather to protect us? How much of his anger you absorbed so we could breathe a little easier? You’re the reason we’ve been carefree, the reason we’ve had any semblance of freedom from his suffocating demands. But this time…" She took a deep breath, her eyes locking with yours. "This time, you need to protect yourself. Not me. Not anyone else. Just you."

Her words cut through the haze of guilt and obligation clouding your mind, their weight undeniable. You opened your mouth to argue, but her unwavering gaze stopped you short.

"You’ve always been the brave one," she repeated softly. "But sometimes, being brave means choosing yourself. Not this family. Not Grandfather. Yourself."

Silence filled the room, heavy with unspoken truths. You clenched your fists tighter, your mind battling the instinct to stay and endure versus the undeniable pull to seek refuge and love with Agatha and Rio.

"He’ll be heading to the Capital tomorrow early in the morning," she added after a moment, her voice softer, like a breeze before a storm. "He’ll be busy all day with arrangements and demands, and probably won’t return until he finalises your marriage proposal. If you want to leave…" She paused, her gaze steady but heavy with unspoken urgency. "This is your chance."

Her words lingered in the air, a lifeline cast into turbulent waters. It was as if she were telling you that the tides had shifted, presenting you with a fleeting window of calm before the storm returned. Would you let it carry you to freedom, or stay anchored to a crumbling shore?

The idea was both terrifying and liberating. You wanted to see them again, to feel their warmth, their love—even though you had just left them an hour ago. The thought of returning to their realm, where the weight of your family’s expectations couldn’t reach you, made your chest ache.

You nodded slowly, your decision solidifying. Your sister’s lips curved into a faint smile, a glimmer of relief in her eyes.

"And who knows," she said, her voice suddenly teasing, "maybe I’ll run away too. After all, I love someone as well." She winked, though the sadness behind her words was unmistakable.

You stood, your resolve clear as you gathered what little you needed. Your sister watched you quietly, her smile fading into something softer, almost wistful. As you turned to leave, she reached out and squeezed your hand, her grip firm yet reassuring.

"Go," she said simply, her voice steady yet filled with unspoken emotion. "Be happy. For both of us."

You nodded, but as you reached the door, you hesitated. Turning back to face her, you spoke, your voice filled with determination. "I’ll make sure you’ll be safe, too," you said firmly. "I’ll ask them to help you."

Your sister’s brow furrowed slightly in confusion, her head tilting as though to ask who you meant. But she didn’t voice the question. Instead, she nodded slowly, trusting you even without understanding.

With a final glance, you left her standing in your room, her silhouette framed by the faint moonlight filtering through the window. You quickly wrapped a few belongings into a bundle.

The cool night air greeted you as you stepped outside, wrapping around you like a gentle embrace. The world felt quieter and calmer, like holding its breath for your next move.

Your feet instinctively carried you toward the hidden house, the realm that had become your sanctuary. Each step felt lighter, as though the burdens of your family’s expectations were falling away with every stride.

A fond memory surfaced as you thought about them—how they made you feel comfortable enough to let go of the constant pressure to speak and act properly in front of others.

The three of you lounged comfortably on the floor, surrounded by abundant soft cushions. The surreal glow of the realm bathed the room in a gentle light, casting long shadows that flickered with a soothing rhythm. You were nestled in the middle, flanked by Agatha on your left and Rio on your right.

Agatha sat upright against a large cushion as she flipped through a black leather-bound book. The glow illuminated her sharp profile, and the soft hum of her turning pages was the only sound for a while. Rio, on the other hand, was draped lazily across the cushions, her head flopped back in apparent boredom. One of her hands played idly with yours, tracing circles on your palm, her fingers warm and distracting. She grinned faintly, her dark eyes occasionally flicking up to meet yours.

The serenity of the moment gave you the courage to ask the question that had been haunting your mind. You tilted your head slightly toward Agatha, your voice quiet but steady. "Agatha," you began softly, "why did you admit to killing the shaman? You could have avoided the topic or stayed vague like the night before."

Agatha didn’t look up from her book immediately, her expression unreadable. When she finally did, her gaze was calm but piercing. "Could have," she murmured lightly. "But I didn’t."

"Why?" you pressed, the courage from the comfort of their presence pushing you forward.

Agatha closed the book with a soft thud, resting it on her lap. Her sharp blue eyes locked with yours, and a faint smirk tugged at her lips. "Because you confessed your love to us," she said simply, her tone lacking any of her usual teasing.

Rio perked up at that, her head snapping forward from where it had rested. Her grin widened mischievously. "Love moved her," she declared dramatically, earning a soft snort from Agatha.

"Shut up," Agatha muttered, though a small smile betrayed her amusement.

Rio wasn’t deterred. She rolled onto her side, propping herself up with an elbow as she leaned closer to you. Her free hand, still holding yours, gave a gentle squeeze. "But it’s true, isn’t it? Our dear purple witch has been changed by love," she teased, earning herself a swift swat on the leg from Agatha.

"Don’t make me regret this," Agatha said dryly, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward. She turned her focus back to you, her voice softening. "The truth, doll, is that your bravery moved me. You stood there, vulnerable and honest, and confessed something most people wouldn’t dare to say aloud. How could I repay that with half-truths or lies?"

Her words struck you deeply, leaving you momentarily breathless. You felt the warmth of Rio’s fingers tighten around yours, grounding you as you processed the weight of what Agatha had said.

"Oh, she’s smitten," Rio said with a laugh, her grin turning fond as she glanced between you and Agatha. "You’ve made her all soft, my lady."

"Rio," Agatha warned, though there was no real bite to her tone.

Rio grinned unapologetically and turned her attention back to you, her gaze shifting into something quieter, more sincere. "But isn’t that what you wanted, my lady?" she asked softly. "An equal relationship. No secrets, no lies. Just the truth, however messy it might be?"

Her words echoed in the air, and you realised she was right. That was what you wanted. Not just love but the trust and honesty that came with it—even if the truth was sometimes hard to bear.

You nodded slowly, your heart swelling with an odd mix of gratitude and affection. "Yes," you admitted, your voice soft but certain. "That is what I want."

Agatha’s sharp gaze softened, her lips curving into a small smile. She reached over, brushing lightly against your cheek before pulling back. "Then that’s what you’ll have," she said firmly, her voice carrying a quiet promise.

Rio’s grin widened as she shifted closer, her head resting lightly against your shoulder. "Welcome to the chaos, my lady," she said playfully, her tone light but her dark eyes warm. "I think you’ll fit right in."

The three of you sat there for a while longer, nestled together among the cushions, sharing a quiet moment of understanding. You didn’t have all the answers, but for now, you had something better—a connection you knew you could trust. And in the warmth of their presence, that was more than enough.

That memory stayed with you, wrapping around your heart like a protective shield as you took each step. You were not just running from something anymore—you were running to someone. Toward Agatha and Rio.

Toward your love.

---RAR---

Even in the dark, you knew the way to their house as though it had been etched into your memory. You didn’t stop to rest, your legs moving with purpose as you hurried along the familiar path. The cool night air brushed against your skin, but you hardly noticed. Your mind was focused entirely on reaching them—on finding comfort and safety in their presence.

When you reached the gate, you didn’t hesitate. You stepped through, the familiar warmth of their realm washing over you. The air was different here—softer, calmer, and yet it seemed to hum with energy.

The moment you crossed the gate, the door to their house opened as though they had been waiting for you. Agatha and Rio stepped out into the glow of the surreal realm, their eyes locking onto yours instantly.

Without a word, you dropped your bundle onto the ground and ran to them, your heart pounding in your chest. You threw your arms around both of them, holding them tightly as though they might vanish if you let go. Agatha’s arms wrapped firmly around your torso, her embrace grounding and secure. Rio’s embrace followed, encircling you both, her warmth seeping into your skin.

None of you spoke as you stayed in their arms, the world around you fading into nothingness. For a moment, there was only the three of you, connected by an unspoken bond that needed no explanation.

When you finally pulled back, their expressions shifted instantly. Agatha’s gaze swept over you, her sharp blue eyes narrowing as they landed on your swollen cheek. A flicker of icy coldness flashed through them, a dangerous edge to her usual composure. Rio’s reaction was even more primal—her jaw clenched, her dark eyes narrowing as her teeth bared in a snarl.

"Who," Rio growled, her voice low and venomous, "did this to you?"

Agatha’s hand reached up, her fingers brushing gently against your cheek. Despite the cold fury in her gaze, her touch was soft, almost reverent. "Tell us," she said, her voice deceptively calm. But the undercurrent of menace was unmistakable. "Who dared to harm you?"

You swallowed hard, caught off guard by the intensity of their reactions. "It’s not important," you said weakly, though even you knew the words would not placate them.

"Not important?" Rio hissed, her teeth gritted. "Your face is bruised, swollen, and you’re telling me it’s not important?" She took a step back, her hand reaching instinctively to her side, where you noticed her familiar dagger gleaming faintly in the ethereal light. Her eyes glinted dangerously, like a predator ready to strike. "Give me a name," she demanded.

"Rio," Agatha said sharply, her voice cutting through Rio’s anger like a blade. Yet her gaze remained fixed on you, her cold blue eyes softening just slightly. "Let her speak."

Rio’s jaw worked, but she relented, stepping aside with a frustrated huff. Agatha’s hand lingered against your cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over the tender skin as though trying to erase the mark entirely.

"Tell us, doll," Agatha coaxed, her voice quieter now but no less firm. "We can’t help you if you don’t let us."

Agatha’s gaze was unrelenting, her hand still gently brushing against your swollen cheek. "Who hurt you?" she asked again, her voice a blend of concern and barely restrained fury.

But you shook your head stubbornly, stepping back just enough to break her touch. "It doesn’t matter," you said firmly, your voice trembling only slightly. "Everything is fine as long as I’m here with you two. That’s all I need."

Rio’s eyes narrowed, the fire in them undimmed. "You can’t just brush this off," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "Someone hurt you—marked you—and you’re telling me it doesn’t matter? I swear, if you don’t tell us, I’ll—"

"You’ll do nothing," you interrupted, your voice gaining strength. You turned to face both of them, your jaw clenched. "Because I’m not telling you. What’s done is done. I’m here now, and that’s all that matters."

Rio’s expression hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line. "That’s not good enough," she growled. "You can’t expect me to sit here and—"

"Enough," Agatha said sharply, cutting her off. Her piercing blue eyes turned to Rio, her gaze surprisingly pleading. "She’s made her choice. Let it go."

Rio’s growled furiously, her body tense as though she were barely holding herself back. But after a long moment, she exhaled sharply and nodded, though the fire in her gaze didn’t entirely fade. "Fine," she muttered, crossing her arms. "But don’t expect me to forget."

Agatha turned back to you, her expression softening slightly. "Doll," she said quietly, "you don’t have to carry this alone. We’re here for you—always."

You nodded, the weight of their concern pressing heavily on your chest. "I know," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "That’s why I came back."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the tension lingering like an unspoken question. But as the minutes stretched on, the weight began to ease, replaced by a sense of quiet understanding.

Agatha reached out, her hand resting lightly on your arm. "Come," she said softly, her voice low and soothing. "You need to rest."

Before you could respond, Rio stepped forward, her dark eyes boring into yours. "But first," she murmured, her voice dipping into something softer, sweeter. "You need to know how much you mean to us."

Her words jolt through your chest, the air around you seeming still. Before you could process what she meant, Rio leaned in, her hand cupping your cheek with surprising gentleness. Her lips brushed against yours, the kiss soft yet electric, igniting a warmth that spread through your entire body.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding as Rio pulled back slightly, her lips curving into a satisfied grin. "I’ve been waiting for that," she said, her voice low and husky, liking her lips.

Before you could respond, Agatha stepped closer, her sharp gaze locking onto yours. "Don’t forget about me, doll," she murmured, her voice rich with amusement. Her hand tilted your chin upward, and her lips captured yours in a deeper, more deliberate kiss, sending a shiver down your spine that differed from Rio's.

When Agatha finally pulled away, her smirk was wicked. "You're so beautiful," her thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. "I could get used to this."

Rio chuckled, stepping behind you to press her body lightly against yours. Her arms encircled your waist, her lips brushing against your ear as she murmured, "And you haven’t even seen the best of us yet, my lady."

The warmth of their combined presence, touches, and kisses sent your mind reeling. The pull you had felt toward them since the beginning now felt inevitable, undeniable love. And as they held you between them, their gazes filled with affection and desire, you couldn’t bring yourself to resist.

For the first time, you allowed yourself to give in—to the connection you shared, to the love you felt, and to the promises their touches held. And in their arms, you finally felt whole.

But the moment didn’t end there. Your breath quickened, each exhale unsteady as a new warmth began to coil within you. It was unfamiliar and consuming, and yet you welcomed it and yearned for more of it, for more of them. The sensation was almost overwhelming, but Agatha and Rio seemed to understand completely.

Agatha’s lips curved into a slow, predatory smile, her piercing eyes glinting with intent. Beside her, Rio’s dark gaze sparkled with mischief, her grin widening as though she were in on a secret you were only just beginning to uncover.

Agatha’s hand slid to your back, guiding you gently but firmly toward their large, inviting bedroom. The soft glow of their surreal realm filtered through the open windows, casting the room in a warm, almost magical light. The bed was massive, draped in luxurious fabrics that seemed to shimmer faintly as if touched by unseen starlight.

[zapreportsblog]

Embracing Happiness

➥ summary: Earth-42 Miles Morales finally learns to allow himself to be happy for once

➥ pure fluff

➥ one shot

Miles Morales had carried the weight of loss on his shoulders for a long time. The untimely death of his father had left a void in his heart, casting a shadow over his life. But amidst the darkness, a glimmer of light appeared in the form of (Y/n), his girlfriend.

Miles had found solace and joy in (Y/n)'s presence. Her infectious laughter and unwavering support had breathed new life into his world, allowing him to let go of his pain and embrace happiness once again. Those closest to Miles, his mother Rio and his uncle Aaron, could see the positive impact (Y/n) had on him.

One sunny afternoon, Miles and (Y/n) sat in Miles' bedroom, engaged in a playful conversation. Their laughter filled the room, as they shared stories, dreams, and aspirations. Miles' eyes sparkled with joy as he listened to (Y/n)'s infectious enthusiasm.

As the conversation lulled, Miles turned to (Y/n), his smile softening. "You know, (Y/n), I can't help but feel so incredibly happy when I'm with you. It's like all the weight of the world disappears, and I can just be myself," he confessed, his voice filled with warmth.

(Y/n) reached out, gently placing her hand on Miles' arm. "I feel the same way, Miles. Being with you has shown me what true happiness feels like," she replied, her voice filled with love and sincerity.

Miles' eyes flickered to a photo on his desk—a picture of him with his father, Rio, and Aaron. A bittersweet feeling washed over him as he thought of his dad. He missed him dearly, but he knew his father would want him to find happiness in life.

Rio, who had been passing by the room, stopped in the doorway, a warm smile gracing her lips. She observed the tender moment between Miles and (Y/n), her heart swelling with pride and joy. She had witnessed her son's transformation, from a grieving teenager to someone who had found happiness and love.

As the days turned into weeks, Miles' newfound happiness became apparent to everyone around him. His uncle Aaron, who had been like a second father to him, took him aside one evening. They sat on the rooftop, the city sprawled out before them.

Aaron observed Miles, his gaze filled with pride. "You've come a long way, Miles. Your father would be proud of the person you've become," he remarked, his voice filled with affection.

Miles nodded, a mixture of emotions washing over him. "Thank you, Uncle Aaron. I know he would want me to be happy, and being with (Y/n) has brought that into my life," he replied, his voice filled with gratitude.

Aaron placed a comforting hand on Miles' shoulder. "I can see that, nephew. You deserve all the happiness in the world," he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

In the following weeks, Rio also noticed the change in her son. She sat with him at the kitchen table one evening, their conversation laced with warmth and understanding. "I'm glad you found someone who makes you happy, Miles. Your father would have loved (Y/n)," she expressed, her voice filled with a mix of joy and nostalgia.

Miles smiled, his heart filled with love for his mother. "I think so too, Mom. (Y/n) brings out the best in me, and I'm grateful for her every day," he replied, his voice filled with affection.

Together, Miles, (Y/n), Rio, and Aaron formed a supportive network, celebrating each other's happiness and offering love and guidance. As Miles embraced the joy in his life, he became an inspiration to those around him—a reminder that even in the face of loss, happiness can be found.

[onigirio]

remember me; pcj

percy jackson x amnesiac!reader

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble but it got way longer than planned ^^; i hope you enjoy!

warnings: amnesia, brief mentions of pain and headaches, mentions of death, everyone is a little ooc (my bad)

when consciousness returned to your body, all you could see was the void. your vision was filled with an expanse of black, broken only by a faint glow in the distance. ‘did i die?’ you thought to yourself. you were beginning to understand the phrase ‘seeing the light’ a little bit more. as feeling returned to your body, you realized you were on something soft, like a cloud.

maybe you did actually die, and this is heaven’s waiting room. it was feasible, and that’s what you would’ve concluded if your head didn’t start pounding like all hell. if you weren’t dead already, the pain would definitely finish the job.

“…not okay! they could’ve…” a feminine voice said

“…one’s fault…” a masculine voice responded

the words faded in and out of your ears, a loud ringing overshadowing all other noise. you groaned, your eyes opening slowly. sitting up, you were met with the sight of three teenagers bickering at the foot of your bed. what scared you the most was the fact that one of them held a bronze sword in his hand, and the other had small horns. the only normal one was the blonde, at least until she turned to look at you. she had sharp gray eyes, like the sky before a storm. those same eyes widened and exclaimed your name in relief. the blonde wanted to approach you, but stopped at the way you flinched when she called your name.

“how are you feeling? you weren’t looking so good” the boy with horns asked you. sword boy (you really had to ask them for names), chuckled before replying, “they took a literal boulder to the head”. blondie then proceeded to punch him in the shoulder, swiftly shutting him up, “percy please-“

“it’s true!”

all you could do was look between the two of them as they started bickering back and forth. you raised an inquisitive brow and goat boy could only smile nervously, “you know how they can get”. that began the snowball of your confusion. you felt like you should know these people, but you don’t. how could something feel so familiar yet so foreign.

“i-i don’t think i do”

the arguing pair froze to look at you in confusion. the blonde in particular, stared at you with a steely gaze, “don’t what”. you averted your gaze, opting to count the small scratches which littered your hands, “i don’t know how they can get-“ you paused, “because i don’t know them, i don’t know you! i don’t know where i am, why i’m in bed, why my head hurts so bad-“ all the questions that had been stirring in the back of your mind rushed out like an avalanche. you had more to say, but you were cut off by someone slamming the door open. another blond kid. great. already two blonds and neither one had told you their name

“how about the next time someone wakes up after being knocked out, we call the medic” blond boy (this is getting ridiculous) scolded, proceeding to give you a quick once over with his eyes. “will, we would have-“ sword boy (blondie called him percy you think) started, “no you wouldn’t have” he replied, taking your pulse and noting it down, “you’re not even supposed to be here”. ‘percy’ pursed his lips, knowing that will was right. the blonde girl rolled her eyes in annoyance, “right or wrong- it doesn’t matter. they don’t remember anything”. will stopped, gaze switching between you and blondie, “like from the fight?”. blondie shook her head

“like from their life, at least after camp half blood”

will turned you, “well” he started, “what’s the last thing you remember”. you took a deep breath, recalling your thoughts, “running, i think. for a while- and being chased by something or someone?” you did your best to recall from the top of your head, but the pounding was still prevalent. even if it was the last thing you remembered, it still felt like it was so long ago.

the one with horns spoke up again, “that’s the day they got to camp half blood. they were attacked near the border, and i had to help them to the infirmary”. percy’s brows furrowed, concern prevalent on his features, “so they don’t remember anything after coming to camp.”

the four teens looked at you. it wasn’t apparent, but you could see the pity hidden behind their eyes. how do you reply? it wasn’t your fault, but you felt terrible. from what it seemed, these people were close to you, yet all the moments you shared together had vanished into thin air blondie cleared her throat, “i suppose weshould start with names then. i’m annabeth” she said, “the satyr is grover” he gave you a comforting smile, “the guy helping you is will, and on the wall is-” annabeth paused, her words getting caught in her throat. “percy, right? i think i heard annabeth say it” you questioned, looking at him for confirmation. the green eyed boy nodded, a small smile finding its way to his lips. it was hard to place, but you felt familiar with percy. everyone else was a stranger, but somehow you knew him. you couldn’t place it, but every time you two made eye contact in the infirmary, your heart stopped for just a minute.

will cut them all off, beginning to usher them out of the room. he spoke about doing some tests and giving you more ambrosia (you were both concerned and intrigued). the trio left, but you didn’t miss the way percy glanced at you over his shoulder

—

after a quick brief with will about your injury (rock to the head, seriously?), he sent you off all bandaged up and equipped with a lifetime supply of pain medication for your headaches. amnesia was not the worst part of your situation, surprisingly. your past self was either extremely brave or extremely stupid, and somehow managed to mess up your shoulder too. now your good arm was out of commission for the foreseeable future.

great

at least you wouldn’t have to worry about any demigod related activities for a while, meaning no capture the flag (some girl named clarisse was not happy about you being benched). being free from the game meant a lot of things. most notably was the apparent lack of kids on the grounds. you sat bored in your bed, in what was supposed to be your cabin. your hoodie was long gone, lost among the vast expanse of laundry you had. the bandages wrapping your shoulder were out on display, barely covered by the black tank you wore. piles of magazines were strewn around the duvet, haphazardly closed from your frustration.

you don’t remember reading them (slipped your mind along with everything else), but the content was so familiar you found yourself getting bored within the first few pages. with a groan, you flopped over onto your pillow. the annoyance quickly turned to confusion when you felt something hard under your head. pillow discarded, you found the source of your discomfort. it was a book. a mid-sized book with your name on the cover. the leather cover was worn, and you could see just how much was in it from the thickness alone. curiousity beat you to the punch, and you decided to open it up.

on the first page was a picture. you, percy and annabeth standing in front of the lake. captioned with your signatures and a date. on the page parallel, doodles bordered paragraphs of what looked like descriptions of the day. after reading more, it got more apparent that this was your bullet journal. the next page listed important dates like birthdays and events, and the next was personal goals, followed by more polaroid photos of you and your friends.

the further you read, the more your heart ached. you looked so happy, and so did your friends. the last one was written just last week, and it was paired with a candid photo of you laughing on your bunk next to percy. tears pricked the corners of your eyes. it was you in that picture, you knew that for sure, but it felt like you were looking at someone else’s life. these were your memories, with your friends. it felt so weird that you had no recollection of it

this camp seemed to shape you into the person you are — well, were — and you couldn’t remember any of it. would you get your memories back? how long would it take? are your friends still well, your friends? closing the journal, you tucked it back under the pillow and opted to stare at the ceiling. thinking about the life you lost with your memories. what was it like? bickering with annabeth, or play fighting with grover, kissing percy-

wait

that was a new one. it wasn’t something that you had thought about before. you weren’t sure where it was coming from, but you had a vivid memory of spending time with percy. it wasn’t a feeling, but you saw it. it was a memory. you didn’t remember who you were, but you did remember being so close to percy that you could feel his breath on your lips.

maybe you needed fresh air. the smell of dust and sweat was starting to get to you

the sun hung low in the late afternoon sky. capture the flag had ended a while ago apparently. you were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the ambient noise of the other demigods outside. people greeted you and you feigned recognition, but it was hard to pretend when everything you knew slipped through your fingers so easily

everything except a night with percy. how cliché

you found yourself on the docks for a reason you can’t quite place. you swung your legs aimlessly, staring into the horizon. a sigh left your mouth. as the world went on around you, thoughts of the journal clouded your mind. you let yourself zone out as a small break from reality. you wished all of this was just a sick daydream

“oh, hey”

you almost jumped out of your skin, your stupor broken by a familiar voice.

“at least you still remember our spot” percy said, taking a seat next to you on the dock. you laughed dryly, “remember is a strong word, i just wanted to get away from everyone”. sea green eyes flicked from the water over to you. he couldn’t say a lot of the things he wanted to, because gods know you would think he’s a creep. percy was just happy you’re okay, but he missed a lot more than he could say

“so, how are you doing” he slowly broke the silence. you shrugged, “i’ve been benched, mentally and physically”. percy laughed lightly at your words, “i’m guessing it’s hard finishing tasks you have no clue how to do”.

“someone asked me about how i fight and he started describing things i didn’t even know i could do” you both laughed, like you were old friends. which in retrospect, you really were. “do you think you’ll get them back, your memories i mean”. you pursed your lips in thought, “hopefully, i’ve been thinking about it a lot. i found my journal, and it seemed like we had so many good memories” you said, reminiscing. percy looked at you again, hearing the longing in your voice. “i’m just some person now. even if i do remember life before camp, i lost so much of myself along with those memories” your voice began to tremble. a single tear rolled down your cheek into your lap, beginning the downpour.

“people know me percy. i have relationships with a lot of people here. hell, some even look up to me”, in the absence of tissue, you opted to wipe your tears away with your hands, “i don’t remember who i was percy! i don’t remember people, or my beliefs. all i remember is kissing you!” you paused, taking a breath to stable yourself, “why do i remember kissing you”

in the heat of the moment, you let it slip. you hadn’t meant to open up so much, but you were tired of feeling like a stranger. the pent up emotions were too much to handle for you. it was silent between you two for a moment, the void filled with sounds of dusk

“that night” percy started, “when you told me how you felt, it’s like the world stopped”. you looked towards him with curiosity. hopefully, this was the night you remembered. it clearly had some form nuance in your life, since it was the only thing you remember.

“maybe it’s a good thing i didn’t ask you out that night” he started, “it hurts a lot when the person you care so much about doesn’t even recognize your face”. you opened your mouth to speak, apologies lingering on your tongue, but percy quickly cut you off, “don’t blame yourself, i know how you are” he stated, “besides, im happy you remember me” the boy flashed you his signature smile, and your heart melted. “it means i was important to you”

for the first time in what felt like ages, a genuine smile found its place on your face. percy was about to continue, but was cut off by the sound of someone calling his name. he looked disappointed, but began to get up nonetheless.

“i guess i’ll see you at dinner-“ “percy wait”, you grabbed his wrist, stopping him as he was about to leave, “thank you” you stated simply, heat rising to your cheeks. he laughed at your bashful expression. “maybe amnesia isn’t such a bad thing” he said, pulling you up out of your position on the dock. you raised a brow, looking at him with apparent curiosity. gesturing for him to go on, percy continued, “well, it means you get to fall in love with me all over again”. he feigned pain when you playfully punched his shoulder. the voice from before was louder now, annoyance evident in its tone. percy said goodbye, but before he could fully turn away, you used your good arm to pull him towards your form. the boy yelped in surprise, but confusion turned to joy when he felt your lips against his cheek. a smirk crept onto his lips, and the brunette began to tease you endlessly. rolling your eyes, you pushed him away, “someone needs you, dork”. he pouted, “can i at least get one for the road?” he called out. you shrugged in reply and laughed as he groaned and walked away from you.

you retook your seat at the dock, legs swinging over the edge. it was darker now, and the moon painted your face with a dim glow. you were alone again, but this time your heart was left feeling a little more full than before

likes/reblogs are appreciated <3