#agatha backstory

[d-z20]

The Ballad of Agatha Harkness Chapter 13

Summary: The time has come for Rio to face the music and tell Agatha who she really is.

Warnings: angst with a happy endning (they finally admit they love each other!!)

Words: 2.6k

A/N: This one is a little emotional but I promise there's a happy ending!!

AO3 link | Master List

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The Confession of Death

The air in the cottage hung heavy with stillness, the faint scent of smouldering wood lingering in the hearth. Moonlight filtered through the small window, casting silver streaks across Agatha’s face as she slept. Curled beneath the patchwork quilt, her chest rose and fell in an unhurried rhythm, her usually sharp features softened by the veil of sleep.

Rio stood by the doorway, leaning against the frame with an expression that no one—least of all herself—would have expected. Her usual sardonic grin was nowhere to be found. Instead, her dark eyes traced every line of Agatha’s face, their depths filled with something dangerously close to reverence. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her cloak, knuckles whitening. She had faced countless battles, countless endings, and yet none of them terrified her the way this moment did.

“I long to tell you,” she whispered into the darkness, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the dying fire. “But what if you don’t want me anymore?”

The words felt foreign, almost laughable on her tongue, but the fear was real—too real. For someone who had spent lifetimes indifferent to human connections, the weight of this singular bond was crushing. She pushed off the doorway, pacing soundlessly across the room, her thoughts tangling with every step.

Rio knew that this couldn’t go on, this precarious balance of secrets and stolen moments. Agatha deserved to know the truth about her. But what if that truth shattered everything? What if, after all this time, the woman who looked at her with such fierce intensity, who teased and challenged her at every turn, suddenly saw her as something monstrous?

—

As dawn crept into the sky, Rio slipped out of the cottage, needing space to think. The air was crisp, the faint tang of dew settling on her skin as she wandered down the familiar path. Behind her, the cottage stood silent, a haven that now felt like it was closing in on her. She couldn’t stay—not with the weight of her truth pressing so heavily on her chest.

The nearby village was quiet, the world still heavy with sleep. Rio walked without direction, her feet carrying her over cobblestone and grass, her thoughts replaying moments she both cherished and feared. Agatha’s laughter echoed in her mind, sharp and unrestrained as they’d argued over the merits of wine versus mead. It wasn’t the memory itself that haunted her, but the realisation that every laugh, every quirk of Agatha’s lips, could be snuffed out the moment Rio revealed who she truly was.

Her pace slowed as her eyes turned toward the riverbank, the same place where so many of their shared memories had taken root. The dark water shimmered faintly, catching the pale light of the rising sun. She stopped, staring into its ripples as if they might hold an answer she was too afraid to voice. She could still hear Agatha’s voice from that day—teasing, coaxing her to step into the cold water despite her grumbled protests.

“I’m not getting in there,” Rio had said, crossing her arms as she leaned against a tree.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Agatha had shot back, her tone carrying that infuriating mix of mockery and affection. She’d waded in with all the confidence in the world, water swishing around her calves. “Come on, Rio, what’s the worst that could happen? You melt?”

Rio had eventually relented, her reluctance fading in the face of Agatha’s relentless enthusiasm. That day had been easy. Simple. Agatha had splashed her, her wild curls dripping water as she laughed like she hadn’t a care in the world. That laugh—that genuine, unguarded joy—had lodged itself deep in Rio’s chest. Even now, the memory of it tightened something inside her, an ache that was both sweet and unbearable.

Rio sank onto a fallen log near the river’s edge, elbows resting on her knees as she raked her fingers through her hair. She couldn’t go back to what she’d been before Agatha—distant, untouchable, a mere shadow of existence. For so long, she’d been nothing more than a name whispered in fear, a force that ended things but never began them. She’d always accepted it, even embraced it, because it was easier to be alone when no one wanted you anyway.

But Agatha wanted her.

It didn’t make sense—none of it did. Everyone else always hated her, reviled her, cursed her name as their final breaths left their bodies. But Agatha? No, she was different. When Rio walked into her life, her eyes didn’t fill with fear or anger. Instead, they lit up. Her smile widened, her voice softened, and her embrace felt like warmth Rio had long forgotten was possible.

And now, Rio had to destroy it.

Her hands clenched into fists, nails biting into her palms. She had always been the end of things—an inevitability no one could love. If she stayed, if she let herself believe in the fragile beauty of what they had, she would only taint it. And yet, the thought of leaving was unbearable, a hollowing out of something she didn’t know she had until Agatha had filled it.

Rio stared at the river, her reflection rippling across the surface, fragmented and distorted. Wasn’t that all she was? A distortion of life, a shadow in its wake? She had spent centuries perfecting the art of not caring. And now, in the face of Agatha’s laughter, her stubbornness, her maddeningly beautiful way of seeing the world... she cared too much.

The sun rose higher, its golden light casting long shadows over the still village. But Rio felt no warmth from it, only the cold certainty that she was on borrowed time.

She buried her face in her hands, the weight of her turmoil threatening to crush her. For the first time in lifetimes, she wanted to stay. But how could she, when staying would mean breaking the one thing that had ever truly made her feel alive?

—

By the time she returned to the cottage, dusk had fallen, painting the sky in shades of purple and gold. Agatha was waiting, her arms crossed as she leaned against the doorframe. Her eyes tracked Rio as she approached, sharp and knowing.

“You’ve been gone all day,” Agatha said evenly, though her tone hinted at the irritation she’d likely been nursing.

Rio offered a crooked grin, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Needed to stretch my legs. You know how restless I get.”

Agatha stepped aside to let her in, but her gaze lingered, studying Rio with a scrutiny that made her want to bolt. Instead, Rio busied herself with the hearth, stirring the fire back to life as though she could avoid the weight of Agatha’s attention.

“Rio,” Agatha said after a moment, her voice softer now, but no less direct. “What’s going on? Where do you disappear to??”

The question hung in the air, heavy and expectant. Rio laughed—too loud, too sharp—turning to face her. “What, can’t a girl have a brooding walk through the woods without being interrogated?”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t play coy with me. I’d prefer you just spit it out.”

Rio hesitated, the mask slipping for a brief moment. She opened her mouth, the confession bubbling at the back of her throat, but the words caught, stuck behind the lump of fear that threatened to choke her. “It’s nothing,” she said finally, her voice strained. “Just… things on my mind.”

—

Later that night, the fire burned low, and the shadows stretched long, flickering across the small cottage with a restless energy. Agatha was seated in her chair, a book balanced on her lap, though she hadn’t turned a page in several minutes. Her gaze shifted occasionally to Rio, who stood across the room, her back turned, seemingly lost in thought. The tension was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words.

Agatha finally broke the silence, her tone sharp but edged with concern. “Alright, enough of this. You’ve been acting strange all day, and frankly, I’m tired of the guessing games. If it has anything to do with where you disappear to so often, now’s the time to say it.”

Rio stiffened but didn’t turn around. Instead, she let out a short, humourless laugh, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. “What’s the point in asking questions you don’t want the answers to?” she replied, her voice low and guarded.

Agatha closed the book with a decisive snap, rising to her feet. “Stop deflecting, Rio,” she demanded, stepping closer. “Something’s eating at you. If you think I don’t notice, you’re more of a fool than I thought.”

Rio turned sharply, her eyes blazing. “You think you want to know, but you don’t, Agatha. Trust me.”

“Don’t tell me what I want,” Agatha shot back, her voice rising. “You’ve built walls so high you can barely see over them yourself! Why don’t you stop running and let me in for once?”

The argument escalated, both women’s voices ricocheting off the walls of the small room. Rio’s demeanour flipped between nonchalant, erratic, and painfully needy, her usual confidence unraveling.

“You think I’m just running?” Rio shouted, her voice cracking with the weight of her words. “Maybe I am! Maybe that’s all I’ve ever done because staying means watching everything you care about fall apart!” She spun away, her hands raking through her hair as if trying to ground herself.

Agatha’s gaze softened, but her determination remained firm. “You’re not running now, are you?” she said quietly. “So stop pretending like you don’t care. I see through it.”

Rio froze at that, her back still to Agatha. When she finally turned, her expression was a warzone—panic and defiance battling for dominance. Her lips quirked into a shaky smile, but her eyes betrayed her, shimmering with unshed tears.

“You wanted to know why I keep disappearing?” she said, her voice uneven, a thin layer of dark humour coating her words. “Well, darling, I’m out reaping souls. I’m not just a green witch, I’m the green witch. I’m Death, sweetheart. Surprised?”

Rio’s hands trembled, and she clasped them tightly behind her back, as if restraining herself from reaching out to Agatha. Her voice, usually dripping with sardonic humour, cracked at the edges. “I’ve seen it before, you know,” she added softly, her gaze dropping to the floor. “That moment when someone realises what I am. The way their face changes. Fear. Loathing. Sometimes they’re polite enough to pretend, but it’s always there, that flicker of revulsion. And I couldn’t bear to see it on your face. Not yours.” She blinked rapidly, swallowing hard.

The confession hung in the air like a storm cloud, the weight of it pressing down on the room. Rio’s eyes welled up, and her voice cracked as she continued. “And now you know. So go ahead, Agatha. Say it. Say you don’t want me here anymore.”

For a moment, Agatha didn’t speak. Her sharp features softened as she absorbed the words. Rio could almost see the thoughts racing behind her dark eyes, and it was torture—she’s going to send me away, she has to send me away.

Instead of horror, a slow smirk crept across Agatha’s lips, the edges of her mouth twitching as though she were holding back laughter. “You’re telling me I’m sleeping with Death?” she said finally, her tone wry. “Well, that explains why you’re so relentless.”

For a moment, Rio’s expression faltered, caught between disbelief and heartbreak. “You think this is funny?” she said, her voice rising in frustration. “This isn’t a joke, Agatha. I’m telling you to your face that I’m everything people fear—the shadow in the corner, the end they can’t escape. And you’re standing there smirking like it’s a fucking game!”

Rio turned away, gripping the edge of the mantle so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Remember the river? The way you laughed when I refused to step into the water, calling me a coward?” She huffed a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “I’m not afraid of water, Agatha. I was afraid of losing that moment, that laugh—of you seeing through me. For centuries, I’ve been everything people run from, and I didn’t want to ruin the one time I felt... alive.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling as if willing the tears to stay where they were. “I just wanted to stay in that moment with you.”

Agatha stepped closer, her voice losing its teasing lilt as she continued. “Do you really think I’d turn you away? I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. Like I’m something precious. How could I ever hate you for something you never chose? For something that makes you… you?” She reached out, brushing her fingers lightly against Rio’s hand, though Rio flinched at the touch. “You’ve never given me reason to fear you, Rio. Not once. If anything, I’m more terrified of the idea of losing you than I ever could be of who you are.”

“Stop it,” Rio said, her voice trembling. “Stop pretending. You’re just… you’re lying, or—” She faltered, her emotions spilling over. “Don’t mess with me, Agatha. I can’t cope with that.”

Agatha’s expression softened, though her voice remained steady. She reached out again, this time gripping Rio’s face firmly in her hands, forcing her to meet her gaze. “I want you, Rio,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I want you here. I want you to stay. I want you. All of you. Let me to see you as you have seen me: whole and unashamed.”

Rio’s shoulders sagged as if the weight of a thousand lifetimes had finally slipped free. She met Agatha’s gaze, searching for even a glimmer of doubt, but all she found was steadfast certainty. Her lips trembled as a tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek. “I’ve spent so long convincing myself I didn’t need anyone,” she whispered. “But you... you make me wish I could stay. You make me want to be more than this.” She gestured at herself, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “More than just an ending.”

Agatha reached up, cupping Rio’s face with both hands. “You’re not just an ending,” she said firmly. “You’re my beginning. My middle. And I’ll fight you on it if you say otherwise.”

The seriousness of her words broke something in Rio, and she could no longer hold back her tears. “But why?” she asked weakly, her voice raw with emotion. “Why do you want me?”

Agatha’s eyes shone with an intensity that made Rio’s knees nearly buckle. “Because I love you,” she said firmly, her voice carrying the weight of unshakable conviction. “I don’t care who you are. You are mine, and I love you,” she repeated, her voice breaking just slightly on the last word.

The intensity of the moment shattered the tension like glass. Rio surged forward, capturing Agatha’s lips in a kiss that was both a question and an answer. It was messy and desperate, their emotions spilling out in every movement. They clung to each other as if the world outside the walls of the cottage had ceased to exist.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads resting together, Rio let out a shaky laugh. “You’re insane, you know that?”

Agatha smiled, her fingers brushing against Rio’s cheek. “And you love it.”

Rio laughed again, the sound lighter this time, filled with something that felt dangerously close to hope. She pulled back just enough to look into Agatha’s eyes, her voice soft but steady. “I love you, Agatha,” she said, the words carrying the weight of centuries’ worth of longing.

Agatha’s smile widened, her fingers lacing through Rio’s. “Good. Because you’re not getting rid of me now.”

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I told you there'd be a happy ending :)

[devflamme]

begging you people to just be normal about today's episode. "oh we did not get an agathario kiss" "i dont care about billy" "worst episode ever"... but we did get a gay kiss in a MARVEL show on fucking DISNEY PLUS. isnt that something to be happy about? that we're getting more queer rep in marvel? or are people just watching the show for agatha and rio? fuck the lore then? fuck the storytelling? fuck everything? oh please

[appropriatelystupid]

[michaun]

A long time ago, I loved someone.

[postureofashrimp]

Billy, after finding Tommy: oh her? yea so remember our old babysitter who like kind of had a bit of a thing with mom? yea so she's a ghost now and is not as evil and is like my spirit-guide/cool gay aunt figure

[batcavescolony]

Ok let's go back to this line from Agatha All Along

"it's underwater! There's a boy. It's a prank. They tricked him. He's gonna drown. it's a bad place. And the people, the family, there's no one to love him! He's got no one!"

Guys we're getting some Tommy lore and it's heart breaking💔 (we knew it would be).

[aflawedfashion]

We still know almost nothing about Agatha and Rio's backstory, which I think just means Marvel owes us an entire series set in the past that goes into their history.

[mayahawkeswife]

as much as i LOVE LOVE LOVE agathario… i really do hope people realize that this isn’t a romance show :/ idk just seeing all of the billy hate has been annoying as fuck imo. also people being just borderline homophobic towards him/joe ??? idk ???

like this show isn’t ABOUT the romance, it’s honestly been about family/family trauma/generational trauma. like this entire time. (agatha and alice and billy ft. their mommy issues like. also jen being a midwife, and honestly idrk about lilia but there’s gotta be something there too.)

also… there’s still 3 more episodes and i’m 85% sure episode 9 is ALLLLL about agatha and rio’s past. like guys there is still time !!! it’s called a slow burn they’re not going to randomly just kiss and make up in the middle of the series !!! we just also need to talk about this other main character for a bit !! because he is important too !! sorry ig !!!

anyways yeah no i could keep going i’m really annoyed rn :/

[vidalswife]

The Raven & The Witch

Word Count: 2,104

pairing: agatha harkness/rio vidal, salem timeline.

Summary: A young witch is a witch alone, the journey to power is a long one, and many fear what they do not understand. Agatha Harkness is a witch many fear. Only at eighteen did she make her mark, and in-grave her reputation on those of the world. She was outcast, isolated, and ostracized. A young witch with no friends, no family, meets a girl in the woods as she attempts to discover the secret of a raven, which has been tailing her for months.

author's note: as the days have been passing, ive been wondering on agatha and rio's past. when rio said, "how long has it been agatha" followed by, "since you got your hands on the darkhold and hid behind all that dark magic?" it started to make me think about their past. so im writing rio and agatha in salem, depicting a young (not underage) love, and how it lead to their current hatred of one another. im estimating the length of this fanfiction to be up to eight chapters. there will be smut within the fanfiction however there is none in this first chapter. minors, DNI. i hope you guys enjoy it! <3

When a young witch turns eighteen, she is allowed into the Witch’s Ward. The Ward is not a simple place, it is a maze inside of an enchanted library, and it leads to the ancient books of magic that fuel a witch and her knowledge. In a single pre-established coven there must only be one witch permitted per the year, and as the case with most covens are, they usually have more than one witch whom on her eighteenth birthday is ready to ascend. The maze inside of this ancient institution is most known for its merciless challenges and low survival rate. Sometimes three, maybe four witch-kin will enter, and none will return. Other times, many will enter, and only the one will return. Once a witch survives The Ward, she no longer will face challenges within it, and it will be open with all of its knowledge to any that can survive. Witches of all kinds dream of beating The Ward, but few have actually done so.

There is a tale of a young witch, bright for her age, and powerful among her coven. She was the sole victor of the maze.. at least for a moment. You see, soon after she emerged victorious from the race into Coventry, another witch surfaced. The established coven had never heard of this happening before, so they did the best they could to determine a new admission. They deemed the witch with the least injuries the strongest, and decided that she would be their new sister, but what was to be left of the other witch? She had survived as well, but they could not push back her entry for another year, there were more witches who would grow and age. The answer came to the coven just as quickly as they had decided their winner. On one formidable and dark night, the young witch who had suffered most, filled with vengeance and hatred, did not let her adversary achieve victory over her, taking the matters of ascension into her own, corrupt hands.

By the morning, the witch who was deemed the weakest emerged as part of her coven, with the other young girl gone, and never seen again. For many years the sisters searched for her, or a sign that she had been alive, but there was no sign. The weaker witch became one of great renown, a symbol of darkness, of all that a witch should try not to be. Witches around the world thought her a witch killer, a murderer, and a maniac. They ostracized her, abandoned her, and ran in fear from her. The coven’s leadership couldn’t bear to outcast or kill the witch, as she was the daughter of their most honored, and were not entirely sure what had happened that night. So, they instead ignored her. It was a lonely road for a witch all alone, until of course, she wasn’t alone.

_______________________

Agatha woke with the sun, its immense warmth flowing through the unshaded window of her chamber. Her body squirmed and began to stretch, as her eyes fluttered open. Her hair was a disheveled mess, and she wore only her undergarments. Her room was quite empty, except for some books and a small wardrobe.

She looked around in disappointment at her stockhouse, a subtle sigh escaping her lips. She was no stranger to loneliness, for the last year she had been the outcast of her coven, and witches alike. They all thought her a monster, but they didn’t know. They’d never want to know the truth, and she’d never tell them. If she were to be believed a witch killer, she would be deemed so.

But of course, it was hard on a young girl to face isolation, so inside, she burned, and faded. More and more with each day the young brunette found herself tempted to fall away from witchkind.

She would follow the same routines, waking with the early morning light, looking around her depressing chambers, dressing, dining, being avoided, attending the ward for a lesson, dining, undressing, and then falling to slumber with the rise of the moon. She never dared try anything new, not until she saw the raven atop the chimney of her mother’s station. It was a small, dark creature, but the longer she stared, the longer something seemed different. The laughter of young children skewed her mind away from the animal, as she watched them play with the witches her age. She scoffed, turning in the opposite direction, and retreating to her chambers. She didn’t notice that the raven watched her as she paced away.

The next few days were the same as always, wake, dress, dine, shun, lesson, dine, undress, and slumber, except the raven seemed to follow her. At first she was unsure if it was the same winged animal as before, but its brown, humanlike eyes were impossible to mistake. It followed her into the next week, and it began to arise anger in the witch. What bird dares mock her? What creature dares to follow and disturb her?

The raven became a symbol of frustration for Agatha, a reminder that she was alone and peculiar.

It followed her for months, brown eyes staring into her soul at every chance.

On the eve of her birthday, she decided that she had enough of the raven and it’s foolishness. She would get rid of it for good, and finally be at peace, without those beautiful brown eyes watching her at every turn. She waited inside her chambers, eyes glued to the raven which stood motionless across from her abode. It for once, did not have her in its eyesight, and she reveled in the fact that she would finally outsmart the desperate creature. The bird rose from its spot, flying off into the treeline. Agatha thought it odd the raven did not watch her on this night as it did many nights before, but she was too overcome with pride to think it anything but a coincidence.

The next morning, she woke with the sun, a warm smile entrancing her lips. Today she would conquer the raven, and then, maybe things could be different for her. She reached for the woven bag that lay atop her wardrobe, placing her spellbook within it. She wanted to be prepared for her battle with the bird. Knowing that the forest was typically warmer in the spring months, she dressed in a thinner fabriced skirt that surpassed her ankles and a white long-sleeved button down blouse. She did not wear shoes, as it was un-witchlike to walk in a forest unless barefoot. Her dressing may be looked down upon, seeing as she was expected to a lesson later that afternoon and may not have time to redress, but she must be comfortable when she faces her opponent. As the bell sounded to commence dining, she set off towards the treeline, her woven bag thrown over her shoulder, and her hair free to the wind.

As she met the entrance of the forest, she looked up to the height of the trees, wondering if she would find the raven in its nest. Agatha turned her head, making sure her coven could not see her. When she deemed it clear, she stepped into the everlasting ecosystem of trees, bushes, and plants.

Her plan was clear, she would track the raven, kill it, and then return to her lesson. The brunette looked around before slipping her bag from her shoulder. She pulled from it her spellbook, opening it to the page illuminated by a string between parchment. On the page was an incantation that was supposed to help her find the bird. Agatha read it over multiple times, memorizing the pronunciation and chant of the spell.

‘Venator factus est venatus, anhelitus invenias quo capis, et te ad raptorem capias’

With a deep breath, she looked ahead to the ensemble of green and then closed her eyes as she began to recite the incantation, “Venator factus est venatus, anhelitus invenias quo capis, et te ad raptorem capias.” She inhaled, repeating, “Venator factus est venatus, anhelitus invenias quo capis, et te ad raptorem capias.”

A warmth spread in her body, and she opened her eyes, in which a flash of purple was clear. She knew the spell had worked. Almost immediately, a path was found. It had no markers, yet Agatha knew exactly where to go. She wrapped around trees and boulders, stepped over a fallen greenery, and walked up a short incline in the terrain. She focused only on the raven, her mind filled with nothing but the image of its obnoxious brown eyes.

The spell led her to a creek. It was dark, and looked green from the reflection of the treetops, but not only that, there was another person. She was floating in the water with her eyes closed. Agatha noticed her hair floating atop the water’s surface, almost depicting a root-like symbol. Her eyes trailed down to her face, she looked angelic and not only that, she looked asleep.

That wasn’t the only thing she noticed about the other. Her body was uncovered, and she was naked. Lily pads covered her breasts, and the water was far too dark to see much else. This sent a rising heat to the brunette’s cheeks, and she was sure they were red. The witch contemplated leaving and acting as if she didn’t see a thing in the woods, but it was too late. Almost as soon as she began to think such a thing, the woman in the water spoke.

“Enjoying the view?”

Agatha’s cheeks were as hot as the sun, she couldn’t move anything in the moment. Her brow furrowed as she noticed how the woman’s eyes remained closed, begging the question of how she knew of her presence.

The stranger chuckled, and Agatha debated casting a spell on her. Something about the woman felt familiar, she couldn't place what, but she could feel that this was not their first encounter. Agatha began to speak, sighing as the words came out, “I was just looking for a raven— and you happened to be in my way.”

She took note of how the stranger’s lips curled in a smirk, and how her brow furrowed, “Looking for a raven? How come?”

Agatha realized she probably sounded crazy, and she felt a need to explain. “I’ve been tracking this bird– it won't stop following me, and my spell led me to you” in almost an instant, the witch’s hand flew atop her mouth. She realized her mistake and looked at the woman in the water with ferocious, squinted eyes. She didn’t know what to say, but she hoped the stranger would deem her insane and drop the interaction.

To the brunette’s surprise, she didn’t.

Instead, she watched as the woman opened her eyes and stood in the creek. The lily pads fell from her nipples and she stood in front of the witch completely naked, water dripping down her neck, breasts, and stomach. Yet, this wasn’t what Agatha was most concerned with, instead, it was her eyes. They were brown and beautiful, like the raven’s. In fact, Agatha was sure her eyes were the same as the raven’s.

The brunette’s eyes remained locked onto the brown eyed girl. They did not falter not once, not even as the stranger began to rise from the water and inch closer to Agatha.

They were only a breath apart, the woman’s eyes still captured by the other pair. Agatha spoke, aware of their closeness, “You’re—” but she was cut off.

The stranger’s lips were on hers, and she cupped her hand on the witch’s cheek. Those beautiful brown eyes disappeared behind her eyelids, and so Agatha’s eyes shut too. She hesitated at first, but as the time grew, she became filled with hunger and desire.

Their lips clashed together and the woman’s other hand was now wrapped around Agatha’s waist. The witch’s hands wrapped around her neck, one ending up buried in her wet hair.

They only parted when their lungs couldn’t deny the need for air anymore, and when they did, their eye contact resumed as if it never faded. Agatha only stared at the woman in shock, but then, she smirked.

“I knew you’d come, Agatha” she said, which resulted in a head tilt from the witch.

“Who are you?” she asked, biting her lip as her eyes trailed from the stranger’s eyes to her perfect figure.

“I’m Rio Vidal.”

Agatha smirked, crossing her arms.

“You’re a green witch, aren’t you?”

[sillybar]

feels like every agathario shipper just got drafted and sent to the the fix-it fic front lines

[d-z20]

The Ballad of Agatha Harkness Chapter 13.5 (18+, NSFW)

Summary: Death comes for everyone. Except this time, Agatha cums for Death

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, knife play

Words: 1.8k

A/N: As always, this chapter doesn't develop the plot and can be skipped if you don't want to read smut. I Was supposed to post this last night oops, but soft Agathario incoming next chapter it's what they deserve

AO3 link | Master List

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She Who Comes For Death

The firelight danced across the room, its warm glow flickering over Rio and Agatha as the air between them crackled with unspoken promises. Neither moved at first, caught in the gravity of their shared confession. Then, as if pulled by an invisible force, Agatha tugged Rio closer, her hands slipping from Rio’s face to thread through her hair. Their lips collided again, but this time, the kiss wasn’t messy or desperate. It was charged—an eruption of every emotion they’d been too afraid to voice.

Rio’s cloak slipped from her shoulders, forgotten as Agatha pressed her back against the edge of the table. They moved with an urgency that made the world beyond the walls of the cottage blur into nothingness. Hands roamed freely, grasping, pulling, exploring with a renewed intensity. Agatha’s fingers curled into Rio’s shirt, pulling her closer as their bodies pressed together, heat radiating between them.

"You are not about towalk away after confessing something like that?" Agatha murmured against Rio’s lips, her tone low and teasing, though her voice trembled slightly. She nipped at Rio’s bottom lip, her smirk a challenge.

Rio’s dark eyes gleamed, the firelight reflecting in them like twin embers. “Who said I was walking away?” she countered, her voice rough and breathless. “You think you can handle me now that you know the truth?”

Agatha’s response was to push Rio back, reclaiming control as her hands found purchase at the edges of her tunic, tugging it upward. Rio caught her wrists mid-motion, spinning them around so that Agatha’s back hit the wall instead. Her lips trailed down Agatha’s neck, peppering kisses along her pulse point with a deliberate slowness that made Agatha shiver despite herself.

“You’re infuriating,” Agatha gasped, even as her fingers tangled in Rio’s hair to pull her closer. “Always have to be in charge, don’t you?”

Rio’s lips curved into a wicked grin against her skin. “If you want to be in control… you can be,” she murmured, her voice a challenge, before biting down gently on the curve of her collarbone.

The tug-of-war between them escalated. Agatha wasn’t one to back down, her nails raking across Rio’s shoulders as she found her footing and pushed forward, reversing their positions once again. The table creaked beneath their weight as they leaned into each other, laughter bubbling up between stolen kisses, the sound raw and intoxicating. They moved as though testing the boundaries of who would yield first, each one refusing to give the other the satisfaction of surrender.

The room was filled with the sound of gasps and whispered names, their movements synchronizing as the frantic energy shifted into something deeper, more profound. There was a reverence to the way they touched now, each caress deliberate, each kiss carrying the weight of all the things they had been too afraid to say. Rio’s hands roamed down Agatha’s back, finding the sensitive spots that made her gasp and arch against her, while Agatha’s lips claimed a path across Rio’s jawline, her teeth scraping lightly against the shell of her ear.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Agatha demanded, her voice rough with need, as her hands gripped Rio’s hips.

Rio let out a shaky laugh, her breath catching as Agatha’s nails dragged lightly across her skin. “I’m yours, my love. I’ve been yours,” she admitted, her voice cracking with raw honesty. “Longer than you’ll ever know.”

The tension broke like a dam, and they melted into each other, their playful battle for dominance giving way to something more tender and vulnerable. They moved as though the world outside didn’t exist, as though this moment was all that mattered. The firelight danced over their entwined bodies, highlighting the curve of Rio’s shoulder, their shadows merging into one on the walls.

Rio’s breath was heavy as she pulled back slightly, her dark eyes meeting Agatha’s with a predatory glint. Before Agatha could react, Rio’s hands gripped her thighs firmly, lifting her with an effortless strength that sent a thrill racing through her. Agatha found herself laid back on the sturdy wooden table, the cool surface a sharp contrast to the warmth between them. Her legs instinctively wrapped around Rio’s hips, pulling her closer, but Rio held her ground, teasingly staying just out of reach.

A wicked smile curved Rio’s lips as she reached to her belt and withdrew her knife, its polished edge gleaming in the firelight. Agatha’s breath hitched as Rio ran the flat of the blade along the seam of her clothes, her touch both dangerous and exhilarating. “Don’t flinch now,” Rio murmured, her tone low and teasing, the blade pausing just above Agatha’s heaving chest. “I’d hate to ruin something so precious.”

Agatha arched an eyebrow, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Rio chuckled darkly, her confidence unshaken. “Wouldn’t I?” she taunted, the tip of the blade tracing a careful line down the fabric, parting it with practiced ease. With a quick flick of her wrist, the cloth fell away, baring Agatha’s skin to the cool air and the intense scrutiny of Rio’s gaze.

Agatha shivered, but not from the chill. Her body burned under Rio’s eyes, and when Rio leaned down, her lips brushed against the newly exposed skin, a tantalizing mix of soft kisses and sharp bites that made Agatha gasp and writhe beneath her. Rio worked her way down slowly, savoring every inch of skin, her hands roaming over Agatha’s body with equal parts reverence and possession.

Rio’s lips curled into a devilish grin as Agatha squirmed beneath her, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The firelight gleamed off the blade in Rio’s hand as she dragged its flat edge down Agatha’s torso, the cool metal drawing a sharp gasp from her.

“Sensitive, are we?” Rio teased, her voice dripping with amusement as the blade skimmed over the curve of Agatha’s hip. She paused, letting the tip linger just above Agatha’s waistband, her other hand splayed possessively on Agatha’s thigh.

“Keep playing with fire, Rio,” Agatha shot back, her tone steady but her body betraying her, arching into the tantalizing sensation. “You’re going to get burned.”

Rio chuckled low, a sound that was as dangerous as it was seductive. “Oh, darling,” she murmured, leaning down to press her lips against the hollow of Agatha’s throat, her teeth grazing the tender skin. “I think we both know I’m the one holding the blade.”

Agatha’s retort caught in her throat as Rio’s lips and teeth worked their way down her neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Her free hand roamed upward, rough fingers brushing against the barest edge of her ribs, teasing but never quite giving her what she wanted. The blade traced a slow, deliberate path along her side, its coolness a stark contrast to the fire igniting wherever Rio touched.

“Do you trust me?” Rio whispered against her skin, her voice soft but carrying the weight of the question.

Agatha’s eyes met hers, challenging yet filled with something deeper. “You’re insufferable,” she quipped, though her voice wavered slightly. “But yes.”

That was all Rio needed. Her grin widened, and she let the knife slide just under the waistband of what little fabric remained. With a practiced flick, the blade did its work, leaving Agatha exposed and utterly at Rio’s mercy. The firelight caught on the edge of the blade as Rio held it up, tilting it so Agatha could see her own reflection in its polished surface.

“Beautiful,” Rio said softly, though whether she meant the blade or the woman beneath her was anyone’s guess.

Agatha shivered under Rio’s intense gaze, but she wasn’t about to let her captor win so easily. “Are you going to keep staring, or do you plan to actually do something?”

“Oh, I plan to do plenty,” Rio replied, her tone a mix of promise and mischief. She dragged the blade over the woman beneath her, digging the tip in just enough to draw a drop of blood. Her lips followed, healing the wounds, leaving no inch of skin neglected. She kissed and bit her way down, savoring the way Agatha’s body writhed and arched beneath her, each gasp and moan a victory.

Rio looked up through hooded eyes to gaze at Agatha, whose body trembled with arousal, rressing a soft kiss to the brunette’s pelvis. The sudden change caused a moan to sound from the back of Agatha’s throat who threw her head back as she tangled her hands in Rio’s hair. “You better start doing it then, darling.”

With a low chuckle, Rio brought her lips to Agatha’s heat quickly swiping her tongue through the slick folds. It was Rio’s turn to moan now. She started with soft licks, teasing Agatha more and more until she was dripping on the table, but soon enough Rio lost her composure and pushed her face further into Agatha. 

Just as Rio started to focus on her clit, Agtha felt the cold blade of the knife against her neck. 

“My love, you need to look at me while I fuck you,” Rio growled, her face pulled back ever so slightly.

Agatha obliged and held her gaze. She was rewarded when Rio suddenly thrusted three fingers inside of her and she moaned as the pain mixed with pleasure, but still she held her gaze.

Rio was relentless with her ministrations; pumping her fingers in and out, curling them into Agatha’s walls, her mouth never leaving Agatha’s pussy. Rio didn’t notice herself pressing the knife harder into Agatha’s throat as she lost herself in the heta of the moment.

When Agatha finally broke, her back arching off the table, her hands clutching at Rio’s shoulders, the sound she made was raw and unrestrained. Rio held her through it, her lips and hands coaxing every last ounce of pleasure from her until Agatha lay trembling, her body spent but her spirit still sparking with defiance.

Panting, Agatha managed to smirk up at her. “You think you’ve won, don’t you?”

Rio grinned, her own breath coming in shallow bursts. She reached for the knife again, letting it rest lightly against Agatha’s collarbone, a silent reminder of her control. “Won?” she echoed, leaning down to press her forehead against Agatha’s. “Darling, this isn’t a battle—it’s a conquest.”

Agatha chuckled, her laughter breathless and tinged with exhaustion. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” Rio countered, pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips before letting the knife clatter to the side. She pulled Agatha off the table and onto the floor, the firelight flickering softly around them.

For a moment, neither spoke. They simply lay there, their breathing slowly evening out, their hearts still pounding in sync. Finally, Rio broke the silence, her voice softer now, almost tender. “You make surrender feel like victory.”

Agatha smiled, her fingers tracing six letters along Rio’s back. “And you make domination feel like trust.”

M-Y-L-O-V-E

They stayed like that, entwined in each other’s arms, the fire casting long shadows on the walls as the night stretched on, leaving the world outside to wait.

Next Chapter >

[to-be-a-dreamer]

Not to get too involved in discourse but “Agatha is a deeply traumatized person who is acting out of a place of hurt and deserves sympathy for the pain she's had to endure and understanding that the majority of her wrongdoings were committed out of desperation for survival” and “Intention doesn’t erase outcome and her pain doesn't undo the trauma and horror she's committed against others; her victims don't owe her forgiveness before redemption and it is reasonable for people who know nothing about her past to distrust her based on her reputation and the persona she displays” are both true statements that can coexist.

Please remember that "morally gray" means a person is neither good nor bad. Please do not reduce this incredibly complex character to entirely evil or entirely innocent because she is neither. She has done truly terrible, unforgivable things and is also a victim of cruelty and injustice. Let her be both.

[iheartsteve0704]

It took me reading my 288482 agathario fanfic to realize we don’t actually understand what they were talking about in the sound booth (Like old times? Works and play?) because we didn’t get their backstory. Like yes we can assume and fill in the blanks but it just hit me now that we don’t actually know what their “work” dynamic and situation was like pre Nicky

[michaun]

Are you really defending a noted serial killer? You creepy lurker.

[hopelessfandomfreak]

rio defending agatha is so important to me

[clarasdoctahs]

Alice overcoming a generational curse due to the groundwork of love and protection laid down by her mother and then to risk her life trying to protect Agatha from her mother who tried to destroy her only an hour later

Alice Wu-Gulliver the woman you are