#agatha is keeping herself in the spell

[aboutcustardcreams]

Wake up call

Agathario x reader

Another scene I'm deeply in love with is Agatha and Rio's fight happening in the first episode. So, here it is what would happen with r joining it.

pt. 2

Rio leaned closer to Agatha with a lopsided grin, “I’ve missed you,” she purred, tracing her former lover’s jawline with the curved blade in her hand. 

Agatha’s chest rose and fell, an expression of pure hatred flashed upon her blue eyes, mingled with a hint of something else, mabe fear. “I hate you.”

Rio lolled her head back and laughed bitterly, “course, you do.” 

The day you and Agatha vowed to never see her face anymore, her heart shattered until nothing was left of it. But she was Lady Death, meaning that no matter what you wanted, someday your paths would cross again and that’s what kept her going. 

You had just parked in the driveway, when an explosion coming from inside the house alerted you. On your way back from the grocery store, your memories came back one by one, and you almost hit a pedestrian or two at the realization that you and Agatha had been trapped under a spell for about three years. And now that you were ‘awake’, you were pretty sure she was too. You quickly got out of the car and stepped inside, silently praying that Agatha was okay. 

Last person you thought you’d see was Rio. 

“Drop the dagger now,” your voice came out sharp and dangerous. 

Both witches snapped their heads towards you. Your eyes locked with Agatha’s first. She breathed a sigh of relief at your sight, her blue orbs filled with all sorts of thoughts. 

“Hello, mi nena,” Rio quipped, tone softening at the sight of you. “Glad you’re awake too. Agatha and I were just.. catching up, right?”

You took a step closer, keeping your eyes on Rio. “I see– rude of you to start without me,” there was a hint of sarcasm in your voice, that both witches grasped. “Now, don’t make me repeat myself, you know I hate it.” 

“Uhm, I don’t know.” Instead of listening to you, Rio pushed the blade deeper against Agatha. The witch struggled to keep the blade at distance, trembling while doing so. 

Your hands turned into fists, a gust of wind rose up around you. Objects started levitating, the chandelier in the lounge room swayed and Agatha’s lips curled upwards, happy to realize your powers were still part of you. 

The vibrancy of your magic brought back all sorts of memories of the time you three spent together. “Looks like our sweet girl over there is in control of her powers. How does it feel, Agatha?” Rio asked in a mocking tone. “Don’t you resent her like you resent me?” 

The purple witch was quick to shake her head, scoffing to herself at the same time. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

When she looked at you, she saw one of the most incredible witches she ever had the pleasure to meet.

“You’re nothing like her.”

Rio let out a whiny sound, “why does she get special treatment and I don’t, huh?”

In the meantime, your irises turned the same color of your magic, a bright hue of silver and enveloped your entire body as well. 

“She did everything she could, while you–” she winced when the tip of the dagger pressed further against her skin. “What, huh? What are you blaming me for? I’m the natural order of all the things baby, and you know it. You always knew it!” 

When she pushed the blade further closer to her skin,  Agatha’s grip on Rio’s wrists loosened and the dagger scraped her. While Rio grinned at the sight of Agatha’s blood flowing so deliciously from her collarbone to her chestline, you levitated from the floor and your palms opened wide, exploding with your magic. 

“You’re nothing!” 

Rio let out a strangled yelp, as her body was thrown on the other side of the corridor. Agatha let out a sigh of relief, mouthing a fragile thank you in your direction as you rushed towards her. You didn’t say anything at first and simply hugged her, your heart thumping in your chest at incredible speed. 

“Are you hurt?” 

She shook her head, but you knew better. While that small cut wasn’t anything serious, you knew the pain in her heart was greater. You pressed your lips together, giving her a skeptical look. With a flick of your finger, you healed the wound on her skin,  and for some reason, it made Agatha feel even worse, but she didn’t say anything to you. 

Rio pulled herself up, stretching both arms and legs, “Ahw, did she make it better?” 

Agatha growled, fingers wiggling as if she could actually summon magic. 

You immediately stood in front of her, “don’t come any closer,” you warned her. 

The Green Witch hummed and her brows knitted in a frown, “where did I see this scene before?”

You swallowed thickly at the painful memories she was able to bring back with such ease. You had so many questions going on inside your head, the most important would probably be, why? Why the betrayal, why the lies, why the pain? 

“Cut the crap, Rio,” Agatha snapped, worrying about your sudden discomfort, “what do you want?”

She fake pouted at her angry tone, “you used to be much nicer to me,” with the tip of the blade, she moved a strand of hair from her face. And when you scoffed, a dark shadow passed through her eyes, “I’m just missing the old days. I want you back– in a way or another, meaning that if I have to kill you both, I will,” she added the last part with a strange look in her eyes. Almost hysterical. You only had a couple of seconds to react. Rio’s dagger flew in your direction, missing you and Agatha by a nose, as you shoved her to the side, shielding her with your body. 

Agatha grunted at the sound of Rio’s giggles, “I’m gonna kill her.” 

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, “it’s not possible, unfortunately.” 

Propping yourself up, you helped Agatha do the same. 

While doing so, you spotted the dagger behind you. You pointed at it to Agatha with a nod of your head. She was closer to the weapon so she lunged forward to grab it. Rio ignored her and focused on you. She gave you little time to anticipate her move and with a yelp she sprung forward, fuelled by her magic. Before you knew it, her fingers tightened around your neck and squeezed. 

Her head lolled to the side, and watched you with a mixture of nostalgia and admiration, “naughty, naughty–”

“Let her go!” Before Agatha could even make an attempt to stab Lady Death on the shoulder, Rio sent her flying in the lounge room, her back hitting a cabinet that after the impact, crashed on top of her.  

Your eyes snapped open, as you squirmed but to no avail, “Agatha!” 

“Do you remember pain, my love?”

“I never stopped feeling it since the day you betrayed us.”

You still resented her for the things she did. And you probably would for the rest of your life. Her face dimmed and her lips pursed into a grimace; the grip around your neck loosened, but she didn’t let go. Was that disappointment settling in her chest? 

“You’re so clueless about the things I did for you.” 

Tears pricked at your eyes, but despite them a choked chuckle slipped from your lips. She did nothing for you, nor for Agatha and even less for Nicky. She only took, betrayed your trust and hurt you in the most inexplicable way. 

“All you did was make things worse.”

Rio snarled at your accusation,“you knew that messing with the Fates wasn’t without consequences!” 

Your answer came out in a faint, yet determined whisper, “you were the one to send the Furies my way.” 

In the meantime, Agatha straightened herself out, wincing at the pain in her arms, as shreds of glass cut through her skin. She scanned the surroundings  in search of something, anything that could be used against Rio. While her eyes landed on a wooden tray, Rio blasted you against the wall behind you with full demoniac force, her voice distorted as well, sounding deeper and animalistic, “I had no other choice!”

Agatha mentally screamed at the chunks of plaster coming down at you. 

You whimpered, feeling Rio’s body towering over yours, “sorry, did it tickle too much?” 

Despite the dizziness, you found the sassiness to roll your shoulders, “No.” With the corner of your eye, you spotted Agatha coming your way, holding something in her hands. Realizing what it was made you almost chuckle. “But I bet this will.” 

Before Rio could ask you what you meant, the purple witch hit the back of her head with an angry growl and a deadly stare in the eye.  

“Dark Mother, I’m so sick of her,” she muttered, glancing back at you. 

You chuckled briefly, before erupting into a fit of coughs. Your throat felt on fire because of Rio. You were pretty sure it was bruising already for how much she squeezed. Agatha kneeled in front of you, her fingers hovering over your neck, but barely touching it, for fear of causing you extra pain,  “I’m sorry about–” 

“Don’t. The ‘s’ word isn’t allowed,” you chided her softly. She nibbled the inside of her cheek, blinking back the tears from her eyes. She hated feeling powerless, even more now considering you could really use some of her purple as backup.

Noticing the veil of sadness in her eyes, you tried to cheer her up, giving her a playful nudge, “what you did was rather hot by the way.” 

She snorted out a laugh, “are you turned on, love?” 

A playful smirk tugged at your lips, “maybe.”

She pulled you closer, tugging at the fabric of your blouse. Her forehead adhered against yours and you closed your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to inhale her sweet. Her hand ran from your collarbone up to your chin, her thumb gently grazed your bottom lip, pushing it down and making you smile. When you reopened your eyes, you took her hand in yours, and intertwined your fingers together in the attempt to brush aside all the worries you spotted in her eyes. 

Rio let out a frustrated growl, “Good job, Agatha. I’m impressed. A little higher and that would have really hurt.” 

On instinct, you tried to move Agatha behind you, but she resisted, making you frown. 

“Ugh!” Rio swept her tongue over her lips, “the way she would throw herself in Hell for you really warms my heart.” 

You said nothing because it was true. You would do the craziest things for her, just like you did for Nicky. 

Agatha smacked her lips, almost laughing in her face. “Please, you don’t have a heart.” 

Rio locked eyes with her, and for a moment you spotted a veil of hurt in her brown orbs. “Yes, I do,” she argued, before dropping her voice into a softer murmur, “it’s black and it beats for both of you.”

Agatha said nothing, while you couldn’t bring yourself to be quiet after that colossal lie, “you’re pathetic.”

Her gaze narrowed towards you; a flash of fury dimmed her features. “Madness turned you into a real brat. Perhaps you fancy another ride?” 

You swallowed thickly and turned stiff. Those words stung painfully, there was no point in hiding it. You hated how easily she could bring back the memories of your trauma, making you feel as if you were reviving it all over again. 

A single tear slipped from your eye, but you were quick to wipe it. Agatha’s hand found yours and squeezed; she felt your magic tickling her skin, it was mirroring your emotions and she knew it would burst soon. 

“You’re a monster,” Agatha’s voice came out in hiss. 

Then it happened. You let go of Agatha’s hand and tackled Rio on the floor. Her back hit the ground with force, and despite that, she laughed. You pinned her wrists above her head, digging your fingernails into her skin, wishing to hurt, to tear the skin apart, and make her feel even an ounce of the pain you endured because of her. 

Agatha’s eyes widened both in shock and surprise at your outburst. 

“My, my, aren’t you sexy when you’re mad?”

You smacked her across the face. Hard. 

“Woah, okay girl–”, she conceded, calling a truce, “tell me what you want.” 

“I want you to get the fuck out of my life.” 

Rio lifted her chin up, a dark chuckle escaped her lips, “All roads lead to me, mi nena. Whether you like it or not, you’ll die. Why can’t we speed up the process?” 

“You’re not allowed to kill us,” your voice dropped in an icy growl. 

“I second that,” Agatha quipped. 

Rio scoffed amusedly, “are you sure about that?” Before you could respond with another sassy remark, she headbutted you straight on the nose. You fell to the side, letting go of Rio’s wrists and allowing her to flee from your grasp. You groaned and cursed under your breath, when she kicked your side with the boot of her shoe. Agatha took you in her arms, as quickly as she could, then started crawling backwards with you firmly pressed against her chest, “you okay?” 

“Fine,” you croaked out, in annoyance. 

By the look on your bloody face, she realized you’d very well use a break. 

But Rio seemed to have other ideas, the knife was back in her hand as she approached you. 

“Wait, just wait a damn second–” Agatha held out a hand towards the Green Witch, while the other remained wrapped around your underarms. 

Rio hummed and traced the tip of the blade with her fingertips. 

“This isn’t what you want. Plus, I don’t have any powers so it’s not exactly a fair fight, is it?” She gave a nervous chuckle, hoping her words would buy you some time to recover. “Don’t you want us at our best?” 

Rio grinned, with a devilish light in her eyes, “Horizontal, in  a grave?”

“Not exactly,” she muttered, “I mean, in full control of our powers. Just let me get my purple back, let her recover and if you really want to– come back and find us.”

Your breath hitched, it was hard to breathe properly with the blood clogging your nostrils. You summoned your magic, and despite being a tad weaker, you knew it could heal you if given proper time. 

“Why don’t you take mine?” Rio’s suggestion made your stomach lurch. 

“That’s cute,” Agatha mused. “But you know that would kill me.”

“Then what about hers?” 

It didn’t seem like a terrible idea to you. But Agatha’s answer was categorical, “No.” 

You looked up at her, noticing the hesitation in her features. Maybe fear too. Truth was, she didn’t trust herself to do such a thing, not to you. You knew she found immense pleasure in sucking away powers from witches, she knew it was wrong, and for years the only reason why she did that was to keep Nicky alive. That’s the reason why you helped her do it. As a mother you could back up from your responsibilities and as a witch, you learned the hard way that in order to survive you had to do all sorts of things. 

There was something about your magic that scared Agatha. You were the only necromancer witch she ever crossed paths with, so she wasn’t sure she would be able to pull away from you, once she got a taste of your forbidden  magic.

Rio pursed her lips in a grimace, “you’re such a coward.”

“She isn’t,” you argued back. 

When Rio finally put the dagger down, both you and Agatha frowned in confusion. “Show me, then. Blast her. Help her restore her purple.” 

“We aren’t doing this, Rio,” Agatha insisted rather adamantly. 

“I’d think about it before making a decision, my love,” Rio leaned closer, her voice soft and eerily calm. “You see, I'm not the only one that wishes you dead. I’d expect guests at sundown.”

You frowned at her words, “who do you mean?”  

Rio’s eyes flashed with excitement. “The worst of them. The Salem Seven.” 

For a moment both you and Agatha fell quiet. You felt Agatha turn still behind you, and your heart ached for her. You turned to face her, as the grip around your middle loosened. 

“Hey, I’m here, Agatha,” your voice came out both firm and tender. “It’s going to be alright”

Rio laughed softly at that. She shoved your shoulder in a playful way, “I have a feeling we will meet again, very soon.”

She paused where once it stood the front door, “Hasta luego,” she waved her fingers before stepping out of the house. 

You considered Rio’s words, and as much as you wished to find another solution, there wasn’t really another way to restore Agatha’s powers, especially not in such a short time. 

“Maybe–”

“Don’t,” she cut you off, sharply. 

You raised your hands defensively, “Fine, sorry. But I think we should at least think about it.”

When she didn’t respond, you decided to give her a moment. Pushing yourself up, your eyes darted to the mess around you. There were pieces of furniture pretty much everywhere, shreds of glass, plates and cutlery and even sections of ripped wallpaper, along with chunks of plasters, “this is not how I imagined to spend this Friday…” you hoped your little joke would put a smile on Agatha’s face, but she remained motionless. 

Agatha started to regret having woken up from Wanda’s spell. Now not only was she awake, but she had no power, the Salem Seven and Rio wanted her dead, her house was falling to pieces, and on top of that, you were in potential danger because of her. The only reason why she survived the loss of Nicky was because of you. But if she lost you too…

She clenched her eyes and took a deep breath, refusing to dwell in such thoughts. 

“Uhm, Agatha?” You were wrong to think nothing else could surprise you that day. 

She made a hum sound, finally getting on her feet, face turned towards you. 

“Why is there a gagged boy in our wardrobe?”

[saphiccarma]

Hi, can you write something where Nicky gets lost in the forest and Rio and Agatha are desperately looking for him, or they find him with a witch in the forest and she's playing and showing her magic to him and it's cute? Please?

- Where Did You Go?

Relationships - Agathario x Reader

Summary - When Nicky goes missing Agatha instinctively panics. She doesn't expect to find him wth a strange witch who has unknown healing powers.

Warnings: None

A/N: Eee this was a fun little thing to help me get rid of the small writers block. Sorry it's not very long, but I hope you enjoy. Requests are still open it may just take me a minute to get to it

One minute, Nicky was right next to her, walking close as he was supposed to, and then he was gone. Panic surged through her as she noticed the absence of his small, and rather frail, form. Agatha had no idea what to do. They were in the middle of nowhere, with no town nearby, so he shouldn't be missing. Her eyes scanned the tree line, the large forces of nature surrounded her on all sides.

Nicky could be anywhere.

"Nicky?" she called, loud enough to attract his attention, but keeping her voice soft even as it broke, "Nicky."

There was no response. Agatha retraced her steps, trying not to let her panic consume her, and kept a careful eye on the tree line in case he magically appeared. Rio couldn't have- he couldn't be- No. She shook her head absently. He couldn't be gone yet.

Dirt was scuffed up as her steps became more frantic, her eyes scanning every inch of the area in front of her. All she was met with was trees that towered over and birds cawing. Desperation clawed at her as she grew more and more worried.

"Nicolas?" By now her panic had turned into something stronger, something raw and real. Her hands started glowing purple, a nervous reaction and a physical reaction to the anxiety that ran through her.

In an act of desperation, Agatha snatched a stick up off the ground, her hand clasping around the rough material. She traced a circle into the ground, adding an X through it and stood outside. The circle glowed bright green, the symbols illuminating the space that was steadily growing darker with the setting sun, before slowly fading. Rio stood in front of her, a flower twirling in her hand as she eyed the circle on the ground. Her feet scuffed it up, breaking the spell that trapped her inside and she stepped out.

"You called?" she asked, quirking a brow. The flower, a bright pink one, spun between her fingers as she took a step closer to Agatha.

She clenched her jaw and forced the words out, "I can't find Nicky."

Rio pinched the flower, one of the petals falling to the ground.

"You lost him?"

"I didn't lose him," Agatha snapped, purple flaring around her fingers. Rio eyed it with a hint of nerves, not for herself but for Agatha. The younger witch took a deep breath, reigning in her powers, and repeated her statement, "I didn't lose him."

"Hm," Rio hummed. She slid the flower into Agatha's hair, not caring for the other woman's scowl and the fury that radiated off her in waves. Taking off skipping, Rio moved through the woods, something pulling her towards Nicky.

There was always something pulling her towards him, a sense of death that kept her tethered to him. Rio never knew if it was because he was her son, or because he was meant to be dead. She didn't want to find out. The woods were getting darker the longer they went on, and Rio could hear Agatha clenching her hands impatiently as she trailed behind. As the force that was pulling her towards Nicky grew stronger, Rio felt another force of magic.

It was...soft. A soothing feeling that washed over her, calming all her worries and made it seem as if she had no responsibilities. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Agatha relax, hands falling limp at her sides and jaw unclenching.

She pressed forwards, stomping through bushes, but promptly stopping at the sight she was met with. A woman stood there; a green dress not so different from Rio's own covered her form as her hair covered her eyes. A red ball of magic swirled in her hand as she made shapes and figures with it, a small smile on her face as her tongue stuck out in concentration and she twisted her fingers. She looked so innocent. Untouched by the dangers of the world.

The magic, heat radiating from it so strongly Rio could feel it from here kept Nicky's attention. He didn't notice his mother's approaching. Flaring up in a way that could be compared to a flame, the magic wrapped around the two of them, and Nicky giggled loudly. It was a joyous sound that Rio wished she would hear more often.

But that joy was snuffed out when he coughed, hunching over and burying his face into his elbow. The other witch, with her red magic and innocent face, leaned forward and placed a hand on his back. It glowed a soft red, not like the strong color it was moments ago, and Nicky's coughing stopped. He looked at her with awe coating his face.

There was a knowing glint to her eyes as she glanced up at Rio, the smile on her face shifting from innocent to teasing. Her eyes flickered towards Nicky then back to Agatha and Rio. The woman paused in her magic making, making Nicky pout, his arms crossing.

"I am sorry," you said softly, "Your mothers are here."

The child, you think his name is Nicky, snapped his head around, his eyes locking onto Agatha's. You stood and out of the corner of your eye say Nicky's sheepish smile. He waved at his mothers.

"Hi mama, mami." He sprinted towards Death, a sight that you never thought you would see, and launched himself into her arms. Death herself laughed, burying her face in the child's hair and planting a soft kiss there. Even if she embraced him happily, you could feel the tension rolling off her in waves, unease etched into every one of her features.

"Hello my love," she said quietly, almost so softly you didn't hear it.

The other witch, one you didn't know, but you could feel the motherly presence radiating off her, eyed you suspiciously. You waved a hand in greeting, red still twirling around it as if it had a mind of its own. She eyed it like it would set the whole forest alight. It could if you wanted it to.

"Who are you?" the unknown witch asked, her voice terse and strained.

You smiled softly, "Y/N, protection witch."

"Fire," Nicky whispered softly, wiggling out of his mother's grasp and taking a hold of one of your hands, "Show them? Pleaseeeee?" He made his eyes wide, staring up at you with a puckered lip. You laughed, gently tugging your hand out of his grip and sparking a small flame to life in it.

Death eyed you oddly, her eyes transfixed on the fire while the other witch tugged her son closer, a protective arm rested on his shoulder. Wiggling your fingers with a small smirk, you put the fire out, dropping your hand to your side.

"Fire," you repeated.

"Who are you?" The unknown witch asked, and you smiled brightly. You glanced at Nicky who stood at your side, wide eyes imploring and innocent as they stared at you. But you knew he had seen so much more than he let on.

His sickness wasn't hard to notice, with the way he hunched over and even at a young age had dark bags under his eyes. Both women looked at him like he was such a fragile thing, ready to break at a moment’s notice. But most of all, you could just feel the death he gave off. Death shrouded him like a large coat. You knew that you could rid him of the death that clung to him stubbornly, cure him of whatever illness plauged him.

"Like I said, my name is Y/N. I'm a protection witch."

[pandorascripts]

Family Reunion

Uhm... hi... guys!!! Yes, I did go MIA for like a whole year, but I got better at writing and my gay ass got extreme motivation from Agatha and Rio soooo I'm here!!! Not sure if this is permanent, but I really wanted to write Agatha as a mother. Feel free to send in requests (platonic or romantic, either works), who knows if I'll get around to them, but they might motivate me!

Summary: Rio and Agatha begin to heal, too absorbed in familiarity to remember just how bad they were for one another. The Road decides to leap out of Rio's control, thrusting their young daughter away from the underworld and back into their lives.

summary shortened: you're pretty much Nick, except the road decides to throw you back onto the mortal plane for an unknown reason. warnings: some grief, mainly fluff, big smooch scene that we deserved, and me using my Spanish-II class for nefarious acts online (making rio and reader speak Spanish). Written before the shows ending, and I was going off of my theory of Rio controlling the Road! relationships: Agario/plantonic!reader

all spelling errors are mine, and I apologize, but I'm too excited about writing again to care <3. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Agatha listens as the other coven members cheerily laugh about past experiences -- each letting the burning weight of the trials slip off their shoulders for a moment. The past centuries of her life have been held as a solo journey for Agatha, coven-less, loveless, family-less, and yet, analyzing the people around her, she can't help but wonder if that had been the wrong choice. How is it that these "failed" witches can form a coven far more accepting than the last one she was in? Agatha's not sure, but that spark of humanity she swore died when her coven betrayed her is fighting against the brutal self-taught lessons of apathy. She finds herself drawn into the conversation with a question directed at her. Far too surprised that she's been included, Agatha doesn't clock who it came from at all. Her weight shifts on the log beneath her, fingers anxiously spinning the flower Rio's been harboring since she darkened the road with her soul. Agatha risks a glance at her, then turns back to the coven. Her elbow buzzes with a reminder of a rather bland battle, the hard knitting tool piercing her skin replaying in her mind again. Rio seemingly knows where she's going with this when Agatha hikes up her shirt, lifting her elbow with a small smile.

"You ever heard of the Daughters of Liberty?" her hoarse voice rings out, a faintly muffled chuckle coming from the woman on her right. Agatha smiles at her for the first time in years.

The group enthusiastically shakes their heads, all curious about where Agatha is directing her story. Well aware, Agatha knows she needs to seemingly open up to these women and keep her animosity for them. Letting them in on her past isn't going to do that, so with a snap of her hand the shirt is back down to her wrist, cocky eyes darting around the circle. "Exactly."

Despite how chilling this should be, the group just smiles and laughs at Agatha's story. Agatha won't look into it because that off-putting "joke" just got her respect points with the coven she may or may not choose to betray. That's a win in her mind that is immediately taken away when her old counterpart speaks up.

"I have a scar."

Her tone is a little dry, her face so blank as usual. Naturally, the coven is a little uneasy at Rio's presence, all still deciding if she's trustworthy or not.

Agatha's jaw is sharply outlined as she glares. With a hard breath her nostrils are inflamed, knowing Rio's antics far too familiarly. "No, you don't."

Rio sends her a glare, as if to tell her to shut up. "Yes, I do."

Agatha knows she cannot interrupt again, the coven would be far too suspicious of just how well they know one another. Who Agatha falls in love with is her business -- her weakness is her business. With a taste of defeat that's absolutely disgusting, Agatha lets Rio speak.

"A long time ago, I loved somebody," she starts softly, if not a little too apathetic for a claim like that. The coven is immediately a little interested -- most thinking that Rio is quite the psychopath. Agatha knows they're wrong.

"I had to do something I didn't want to do, and it hurt them," with these words spilt out, Rio gets a little angry at the next part of her speech. Agatha knows what this is going to, her eyes shooting away to look at the stars instead of the stars in Rio's eyes. "But it was my job."

Agatha glares down at her purple pants, the fire a couple feet ahead casting them brighter than their original color. The avoidance is choking her out, but even when Rio speaks again, Agatha is too pained to look.

"She is my scar."

Rio looks over and up at Agatha, not caring that the coven has certainly understood the depth of the relationship between them. For a moment, weakness allows Agatha to breathe in deep, her head softly turning to glance at Rio. The moment the exchange is made, Agatha's body heating up with utter embarrassment, her head snaps. The crack of her knees is deafening, fingers flexing as she tries to loosen the hold on this flower. This damn flower -- why is it still in her hands? Agatha feels grossed out by the question, but more so by her internal response. Rio's face is still burned into her head, the parted lips, eyes open and unafraid of being known by the coven. Rio's look of pure, unaltered love that Agatha swore never truly existed between them.

"Well, I'm gonna take a walk," she snaps out, sending what's supposed to be a condescending smile to the group. Everyone sees through it, more so when Rio sighs annoyedly and rushes after.

Rio would be lying if she said she wasn't slightly pissed, the only thing easing that being the sway of Agatha's hips as she practically darts away from Rio's penetrating gaze. Her eyes remain narrow, watching Agatha fifteen feet up with no objective other than having her back again. Death is lonely, figuratively and literally. She's not found one person who's soul can ease her lack of besides Agatha. Years have blurred together, broken cries of rejection chipping away at the humanity Rio used to harbor, and everything over the millennia she's existed for has undeniably forced her to adept into stone cold apathy. Agatha healed that. During their fleeting time together, Death felt things other than her frozen over hell, she felt desired, understood, she felt human and she understood why humans hate dying so much. Agatha made Death feel like living. So yes, even after this time apart, she's angry that the one soul she refused to take could end up leaving her.

Agatha stops a couple feet ahead now, Rio's gaze running over her body to fully cement the fact that they're back together now, even if not emotionally. Testing waters which have laid still for so long, Rio's chipped nails faintly feel the back of Agatha's spine. When her fingers make contact again, she remembers every night they rested there too -- during walks along the Norwegian beaches despite how freezing it was, fooling around when Agatha was first dabbling in black magic, to nights when Agatha was falling asleep holding their kid and Rio asking hesitantly to take her instead. It's so much, Rio notes, and she understands that it must be for Agatha too because a sound so hauntingly familiar falls from her aching lips -- a moan rippling those waters untouched for years.

Silence is only exchanged after that, Agatha turning around to relent into Rio's care. Seeing her divine face this close again after so many years of punishment, is like allowing a sinner a breath of heaven for Agatha. Her nails rake along Rio's soft face as she soaks in this moment. Her bones are aching to crawl back into the grave she spent so long being comforted in, they're pleading Agatha to just allow them this reprieve, and so she grants it. Rio knows what's coming, her hands clinging onto Agatha as her face dives into her neck. Both their noses dip into the skin, smelling each other, holding each other, for the first time in years. That comforting smell of flowers, dewy earth, and the beguiling scent of death fills Agatha's nose, tears slipping down her face with familiarity.

Rio feels Agatha's hands gripping her head, her own chest stuttering as she struggles with the fleeting emotions entwined with humanity. It's so overwhelming and it's been so long since she's felt it again. Desperate to capture it, Rio grips Agatha's back, nails digging into her shirt as she feels her soul back where it belongs. Still, silence. There's nothing they need to say to her that isn't being felt -- love, security, a hint of forgiveness that Rio hopes won't be nipped in the bud.

Agatha pulls back, Rio tilting her head to analyze her features. When looking isn't enough, they both hold one another's faces, thumbs memorizing the skin along their paths. Rio can feel her eyelids droop, soulless brown eyes moving to the pair of lips in front of her. Agatha's filled with the same desire, darting forward before she can properly judge what's happening, nose bumping against Rio's. The latter pulls away, a soft hum leaving her lips.

"Agatha..."

There's a subtle nod from the addressed, eyes moving off from her mouth to Rio's eyes. It's there Agatha finds that she wasn't stopped out of hesitance or unwillingness, so she leans in again. Rio lets her, invites her when she tilts too.

Agatha hasn't felt a kiss like Rio's kisses in centuries. The moment she feels it again, she lets out a sweet moan. Rio notes how different it is from the ones she usually pulls out -- whether from pain or pleasure. Agatha's was slow and sweet, as if she had been longing for this all her life. It's comforting and full of love. Rio wants more -- she needs to know that this isn't one sided -- that Agatha has started to forgive her for a pain they share. Her hands move to support Agatha's jaw, pulling her into her furthermore as if she wants to swallow her with a kiss. Agatha's giving everything back, lips in tandem with Rio's as they refuse to part for anything.

They're like that for far too long, only stopping when Agatha rests her forehead against Rio's, trying to stifle her panting. Their eyes remain shut, soaking in the physical feel of being loved again.

"I can't -- I can't accept what happened, but -- but I want you to know, I know it hurt you too," Agatha softly speaks, the vulnerability something she rarely shows. It's been years and years of animosity because of their shared grief.

Rio's completely silent, her eyes opening to see the tears slipping down Agatha's cheeks. It takes her a moment of confusion before she realizes that she's crying too -- something that hasn't happened since she held that lifeless body in her heavy arms, crying as she pretended to be tucking her in her crib like she had so many times over the years. Rio's choked up as well, nodding her head as she desperately moves Agatha's hair behind her ears, needing to busy her hands with something.

"I --" Rio can't get anything out. Her thoughts are wilder than a tornado, each one fleeting and escaping her brain before they can be shoved out her mouth. For someone so witty, she can't speak. Rio nods again, lips pressed thin as she leans back in to feel Agatha's lips. There's no denial from Agatha, just like how there never was any all those centuries ago.

The next couple of minutes are spent exchanging sweet kisses, lips slowly and barely moving away just to reconnect seconds later. Rio's hand slips under Agatha's shirt, feeling the taut fabric against her hands when she pulls it out from the waistband of her purple pants. Malleable flesh against her fingertips makes Rio moan against Agatha, a small smirk on her lips when another moan follows -- but not from her. Rio's nails rake along Agatha's stomach, enjoying the feeling after being denied it for so long.

Lost in familiarity, they don't notice the tree cracking behind them -- not until it drops a couple feet out, a hoarse shriek coming from Agatha. Rio's back is turned to her now, hand on her waist as she keeps Agatha close. There's something under the rubble, her eyes thinning down as she glares at the rustling wood. Eventually, Rio steps away from Agatha and kicks over the wood, an unconscious face all too known in front of her. With a hard smack, Rio's knees are digging into the floor, hands grabbing out the sweet face she swore she wouldn't see ever again.

Agatha's stood behind, eyes slightly wide and confused before a soft, "hija" is echoed out in the cold air. Haunted, Agatha stumbles forward to drop down next to Rio, hands moving out to grab at your face. The moment she thinks she can, her hands shoot back and away, knees popping when she abruptly stands. In a hard panic and a heavy breath, her face is whipping around and looking around the road.

"Is this some sick trial?" she screeches out, her lungs aching as she sobs to whoever is controlling this.

Rio's still sitting, cradling your body as her hands touch your hair. The road bends to Rio's will -- after all, Rio only designed the road to bring her more souls -- but this isn't her. This is something else, something far more evil that's infiltrated her dimension. Rio doesn't understand how this is happening, who's behind it, or what the consequences are going to be, but she needs to just soak in this moment.

Rio hasn't seen your chest move in hundreds of years.

Shaky fingers press along your chest, feeling it rise against her hold, then fall, and repeat.

"Agatha," she calls out, turning her head to look at the panicked woman in front of her.

Bewildered and terrified, Agatha meets your sleeping face and freezes. There's a sick part of Agatha that reminds her she had forgotten certain aspects of your face, the guilt eating at her and choking her out. With a shake of her head, Agatha trips over herself as she tries to get away. The sobs are muffled by her vibrating hand, vision blinded by overwhelmed tears. There's too much happening for Agatha to even try regulating herself, so caught up in the face that has haunted her for centuries being thrusted against her in such a short time.

Rio gently picks up your body, head slack against her hard shoulder. The last time you were like this Rio was tightly holding you away from the Ferryman. Her hands rub your back, shifting to make adjustments for you. Centuries ago when you died, you were no more than six, now it seems as if something changed that -- you look like you're ten now. Rio doesn't understand how you managed to "age" if you hadn't had a beating heart in a long time, but she doesn't care.

"Agatha," she tries again, wanting her to see her daughter even if you'll get tugged back onto that old boat soon.

Whipping around, her hands still pressed against her mouth, she gently meets Rio half way. The tears won't stop, shock and disbelief on her aged face. "Oh God," she mumbles, hand slipping over to brush some brown hair away from your face.

You're still you, if not a little pale and older now, but Agatha can't register that. Her baby is back, in some sick way, her baby is back. Rio holds you tightly, feeling so confused as your body is warm against hers.

"What is this?" Agatha hoarsely questions, eyes darting away from yours to Rio's face.

"I don't know -- I didn't do it -- I swear," she sputters out, stopping only when Agatha presses her tear-soaked lips against Rio's own again.

"I know, I know."

Rio calms down at the belief, her arms heavy as Agatha starts to lift you into her own arms. There's a shift from you, Agatha's eyebrows pressing deeply together as she almost glares at you. Still convinced this isn't real, she's as stiff as a board against you. Up until you press into her shoulder, rubbing your nose twice before halting, Agatha doesn't believe it. That single act performed crushes her reluctance, heart stopping at feeling something you used to do all the time against her.

"Oh, baby," she cries out, nose pressed into the side of your hair as you stir. Rio watches with wide eyes, lips parted as she watches how easily Agatha slips back into her motherly tendencies.

Agatha cries until she can't anymore, eventually finding herself sitting down and just holding you against her. Of course, she doesn't want to wake you up but she also can't stop touching you. Desperately aching for the constant reminder that you're tangible -- that you're here -- Agatha's hands constantly touch your face, your waist, your hips -- gently running over your body as she shakes.

Rio sits down in front, hand resting just under your lower thigh, thumb rubbing against the side of your knee. With all this touch, you wake up slightly annoyed, pushing yourself farther into Agatha. Her tears only increase tenfold, fleeting attempts to stop it doing nothing.

"Momma, stop," you quietly whine as she plays with your messy hair, your nose crinkled up just like hers does. The similar aspect makes Agatha tear up, head nodding as she stills her hand on your waist.

"Sorry, baby."

Rio notes Agatha's cracking voice, and so do you. Tiredly, you look up at them both, confused as to why your parents had been crying.

"Why you guys crying?"

"Just really happy, honey," Agatha sniffles out, rubbing your face again. You don't fight against it, eyes darting down to look at Rio.

"Okay." Your soft tone makes Rio's lip tremble, her hand coming out to move some of your curly hair -- so alike to Agatha's -- out of your face. There's a small shake of your head as you adjust your big glasses -- the ones Rio always adored.

"I don't want you to cry, it makes me sad too," you softly admit, moving your face to rest alongside Agatha's sternum. Habits don't die, as proven when Agatha already moves to take off your glasses for you so they don't get bent by how you're laying. Rio acts on impulse too, taking the glasses from Agatha's hands and setting them on her shirt.

"Nosotras sabemos, hija," Rio speaks out, her eyes trained on your face. For a fleeting moment, Rio wonders if you've forgotten the language she taught you, her heart breaking in her chest before you respond with a nod. Agatha's a little behind before understanding what Rio means.

"We know," Agatha reiterates, letting you know that she understood the conversation and agrees.

"Where are we?" you ask, finally looking around to notice what's happening.

Rio can't think of anything to say, not until Agatha comes up with something. "Road trip, dear."

Trusting your mom, you just confusedly nod your head.

"¿Cuándo planeamos el viaje?" you ask out.

Agatha can't respond right away, but Rio does. "You were sleeping, Mama and I wanted to surprise you."

Turning her head to face the speaker, Agatha is a little confused at the question but goes with it. The answer isn't upsetting you, if not just making you a little confused, so she doesn't really care to figure out what was spoken.

"Can I sleep now?" you ask, yawning just after.

"Yeah, baby, of course."

Rio turns to look at Agatha's expression, her heart lurching at just how well motherhood suits her. Brown eyes watch Agatha's gentle hands -- hands that have slaughtered thousands -- sweetly caress your kind face. With a hum, you lean into your mama's hands, eyes shut as you try to sleep again. Agatha is completely lost in having you back, soothingly tracing along your face and down the slope of your nose, touching something she never thought she would again. Rio is too nervous to touch you again, the last time far too devastating for her liking.

As if a mind reader, Agatha brings up Rio's hand to your stomach, setting it there before looking back down at you.

Complete silence falls over you all, Rio's hand stiff before she hesitantly brings it to flatten against your stomach. Apathy is long gone from her usually conniving features, everything overtaken with terrified love. After a minute or two, Rio manages to calm down her anxiety and let her knuckles run against your shirt, remembering the nights when you'd both be sent into fits of giggles when she'd blow raspberries against your stomach. Much to Agatha's dismay, only because it'd rile you up before bedtime. Truth be told, Agatha let it happen a couple times, observing contently from the bedroom door before she'd break it up so you could sleep.  

You're knocked out again minutes later, a soft chuckle coming from Rio's lips. "God, she always was a hard sleeper."

Agatha silently nods, tears slipping down her face again. Rio brushes them away with her free hand, letting her knuckles trace against Agatha too.

"You know we don't have her back for long, right?" Rio asks quietly. In a hard, choked out response, Agatha nods her head. "I know, I know. I just need her for a bit longer."

Rio's lips are tugged taut before leaning into a frown, her forehead against Agatha's as they sit in silence together.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Dream a Little Dream

Dark Witch!Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Word count: 2K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Somnophila, dubcon, cnc, possesiveness, magic used like a drug

Authors notes: Mmmmmm somno

Agatha stepped through the door of the dimly lit house, her coat trailing behind her like a shadow, the soft sound of her boots against the floor the only noise breaking the stillness. The air was heavy with the scent of burning candles, herbs, and faint remnants of her last spell, lingering from her earlier work. It had been a long night of ritual casting, ancient incantations still tingling at her fingertips, but none of it compared to the pull she felt when she thought of you.

Her sharp eyes scanned the room, looking for you. The usual stirrings of life and warmth you brought to the home were missing. It only took her a moment to notice the faint glow of candlelight spilling out from the slightly ajar door of the bedroom. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She could feel you before she even opened the door—a soft, sweet energy that always welcomed her, even in your dreams.

Quietly, Agatha pushed the door open, her smile deepening when she found you curled up in bed, already fast asleep. You looked so peaceful, your chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. You had fallen asleep without her, completely oblivious to the darkness she carried with her from her rituals.

"Couldn't wait for me, could you, darling?" she whispered, more to herself than to you, her voice laced with affection and a hint of possessiveness.

She leaned against the doorframe for a moment, just watching you. Her fingers itched with the desire to reach out, to touch you, but she held back—for now. 

There was something about seeing you like this, so unguarded, so trusting in her presence. It stirred something deep within her, a dark satisfaction knowing that you were hers, even when you were unaware.

With a flick of her wrist, the lights in the room dimmed further, the shadows deepening around the bed. She slowly unfastened her coat, letting it drap over the chair in the corner, her footsteps almost soundless as she approached. Her eyes never left you, drinking in every inch of your resting form, how your body moved ever so slightly beneath the covers, your lips slightly parted in sleep.

"Such a good little thing," she purred softly, her fingers grazing the bedpost as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Her magic rippled through the air, wrapping around you like a second skin, keeping you tethered in your dreamscape, ensuring that you wouldn’t wake just yet.

Agatha leaned down, her lips hovering over your temple as she whispered, “Did you miss me, darling? I know you did.”

Her touch lingered there for a moment, just enough to make her presence known even in your dreams. She could feel the pull, the way your body unconsciously reacted to her proximity, even in sleep. It made her heart race, her desire for you stirring beneath the surface, dark and all-consuming.

Agatha lingered by your side, the edges of her dark power curling around the room like smoke, thickening the air with something almost tangible. She brushed a strand of hair away from your face, her fingers featherlight as they ghosted along your skin. You stirred faintly, shifting in your sleep, but her magic kept you locked in your dream world. A soft, pleased smile spread across her lips as she felt you relax again beneath her touch.

“Always so sweet for me, even in sleep,” she murmured, her voice velvet-smooth and dripping with affection. Her hand moved to your shoulder, tracing a lazy path down the length of your arm, as if savoring every inch of you. She paused when her fingers reached the hem of the blanket, her eyes flickering with a darker intent.

Gently, carefully, Agatha peeled the blanket back, revealing your body to the cool air of the room. Her breath caught as she took in the sight of you, still peaceful, still vulnerable, your chest rising and falling in time with your steady breaths. She could feel her desire for you deepening with every second that passed.

Her fingers danced along the edge of your sleepwear, tracing the fabric where it clung to your body. She leaned in close, her lips brushing against the soft skin of your neck, her breath warm as she whispered against you. "Do you know how much I crave you, even when you're like this? Especially when you're like this? You're mine—always mine."

She could feel the magic within her thrumming with anticipation, pulsing with the temptation to lose herself in you completely. But for now, she kept herself tethered, her control a thin thread that could snap at any moment. There was something so intoxicating about having you like this, in this state, where she could take her time—where every touch, every whisper was hers to control.

Slowly, her hand slid beneath the fabric of your nightclothes, her fingers gliding over your skin, warm and soft beneath her touch. You shifted again, a quiet sound escaping your lips as your body instinctively reacted to her, even in sleep. Agatha's smile widened, her heart pounding with dark satisfaction.

“Don’t worry, darling,” she purred, her lips brushing against your ear. “I’ll take care of you… even when you can’t ask for it.”

Her other hand followed, tracing over your body in slow, deliberate strokes, her touch growing more possessive with every passing moment. She watched the way your breathing hitched, your body reacting to her without thought, without reason, and it made her pulse quicken with a heady rush of power. You were so completely at her mercy, and the thrill of that realization sent a shiver down her spine.

She lowered herself beside you, her body pressing gently against yours as she settled into the bed, her lips grazing your collarbone now, leaving a trail of warm, fleeting kisses. “So perfect,” she whispered, her voice dark and honeyed. "So mine."

Agatha’s hand slipped further, her fingers ghosting over your abdomen, drawing soft, lazy circles as she continued to explore your skin. The tension in the room thickened as her touch grew bolder, more possessive. Every time you stirred in your sleep, she felt the rush of control tighten around her, and it made her desire burn hotter, deeper.

“You have no idea what you do to me, even like this,” she murmured, her lips pressing softly against your shoulder, her fingers teasing at the edge of your sleepwear.

Her magic pulsed again, wrapping itself around you, keeping you in your slumber, ensuring you were hers—body, mind, and soul. Agatha’s hunger for you deepened, the dark witch relishing every moment of your vulnerability, every breath you took in her presence. And she wasn’t done yet.

Not even close.

Agatha’s fingers slipped lower, tracing the curve of your waist as her lips pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, savoring the taste of your skin. You shifted again beneath her, the soft sound of your breath catching in your throat making her smirk in delight. The magic she’d woven around you pulsed softly, binding you to sleep, keeping you in that perfect, blissful unawareness as she toyed with your body.

Her lips hovered just above your ear as she whispered, her voice a low, sultry murmur. “You’re so beautiful like this, darling. Completely helpless… completely mine.”

Her hands wandered slowly, deliberately, taking their time to explore the dips and curves of your body, reveling in the way your muscles twitched beneath her touch. She loved knowing that even in your slumber, your body responded to her, as if it instinctively knew who it belonged to.

Agatha’s eyes darkened with hunger as her hand ghosted over your stomach, teasing the edge of your underwear, her thumb brushing lightly against the fabric. She could feel the heat radiating from you, and it only made her desire burn hotter. She leaned down, her lips brushing the shell of your ear as she whispered, “I wonder… if you’ll wake up when I touch you here…”

Her hand dipped lower, sliding beneath the thin fabric. The second her fingers made contact with your clit, a soft gasp escaped your lips, and Agatha couldn’t help the wicked smile that spread across her face. She moved slowly, her touch gentle but firm, teasing you in slow, deliberate strokes, her magic keeping you right on the edge of consciousness.

“Do you like that?” she murmured, her voice dripping with possessiveness. “Even in your dreams, you’re aching for me, aren’t you?”

Your body responded to her touch, your hips shifting slightly, a quiet moan slipping from your lips. Agatha’s breath hitched, her eyes dark with desire as she watched you writhe beneath her. Every sound you made, every movement you gave her, only fueled the fire inside her. She wanted to devour you, to claim every part of you, body and soul.

But she wasn’t in any rush. Not tonight.

Agatha’s lips pressed against your throat, her teeth grazing your skin as she quickened the pace of her hand, her touch growing more insistent. She could feel the way your body tensed beneath her, the quiet whimpers that escaped your lips only making her pulse race faster. “That’s it, darling,” she purred, her voice low and commanding. “Just let go for me…”

Her fingers worked you expertly, drawing out every ounce of pleasure from you, watching with wicked delight as your body arched beneath her, your breath coming in soft, shallow gasps. You were so close—she could feel it, the way your muscles tensed, your thighs pressing together as you teetered on the edge.

But Agatha wasn’t done with you yet.

Just as you were about to tip over, she pulled her hand away, leaving you gasping, desperate for more. She grinned down at you, her eyes glinting with dark satisfaction as she watched your body tremble, your chest heaving as you hovered on the brink of release. “Not yet, darling,” she whispered, her voice dripping with control. “I decide when you get to fall.”

She leaned down, her lips capturing yours in a soft, lingering kiss, her fingers brushing gently over your cheek. “You’ll get what you need… when I’m ready to give it to you.”

Agatha shifted beside you, her body pressing against yours as she slid her hand back down, her touch even slower now, more teasing, as if savoring every moment of your desperation. She loved the way your body reacted to her, the way your hips unconsciously sought more of her touch, more of the pleasure she was so expertly denying you.

“You belong to me,” she whispered, her voice low and commanding, her magic wrapping tighter around you, binding you to her will. “And I’ll take care of you… when I’m ready.”

Her hand resumed its slow, torturous rhythm, teasing you right back to the edge, keeping you on the brink, your body aching for release. She could feel the tension building again, your muscles quivering beneath her touch, and it only made her want you more.

With a wicked grin, she leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “Now… let go for me.”

Her fingers moved faster, pressing harder, and within moments, your body arched beneath her, a soft cry escaping your lips as pleasure crashed over you, waves of ecstasy pulsing through every inch of you. Agatha watched with dark satisfaction as you came undone beneath her, completely at her mercy, completely hers.

As you lay there, your body still trembling from the intensity of your release, Agatha leaned down, her lips pressing softly against your forehead. “Good girl,” she whispered, her voice soft but commanding. “Now rest… you’ve pleased me tonight.”

With one last lingering touch, Agatha pulled away, settling beside you, her fingers running gently through your hair as you slipped back into a deeper, dreamless sleep, completely unaware of how thoroughly she had claimed you.

And as she lay there, her magic still wrapped around you like a protective shroud, Agatha smiled, her heart racing with dark satisfaction.

You were hers—always.

[littlenahsstuff]

Way I request a Rio x reader x Agatha where while they hate each other, Rio and Agatha both adore reader? And reader trues their best to make them be at least somewhat nice to each other while they're around

Down the Right Path

Warnings: not proofread. You are Sharon’s replacement. I had only watched the first to episodes when I started writing this. Ignore the plot holes.

Word count: ~2.9k

The witches road was a dark place. The leaves beneath your feet may have been soft but the cold and misty air bit into them. Overall you were scared, but part of you couldn’t wait for the reward. You may have been a young witch, but you knew of the roads powers. Not long after you entered a witch named Rio joined you. You could not deny both her and Agatha were totally smoking but they seemed to have a weird tension. You could only notice it briefly before you were consumed with worries of the path ahead.

“Hello replacement,” Rio purrs into your ear. You startle. “Relax, I don’t bite too much.” You give her an awkward smile.

“It’s okay, um… my names Y/n, by the way. I’m a newer witch if you couldn’t tell. It’s Rio, right?” You question, falling behind the group slightly. Rio gives you a grin.

“Lovely name, baby witch. Yes, I’m Rio. Did you know Agatha before this, you seemed to be sticking to her like glue before I arrived?” Her grin sticks but the question is said with underlying bite. You glance up ahead to where Agatha grumpily walks fast.

“Yes,” you sigh ,”Back when Wanda was hexing everyone I happened to get swept up in it. Funnily enough I was her wife. Even though it wasn’t real it stings that she knew the whole time it was a spell and didn’t help. After she forgot everyone and became a mean detective she didn’t remember me so I didn’t see her much.” You admit.

“Wow such a sad backstory. I guess that makes you another one of her ex-wives. Even if it was fake,” Rio says with an airy laugh.

Your brows furrow, “She was actually married at one point, who got the real deal?” Rio bites her lip and wiggles her eyebrow.

“Looking at her. Welcome to the ex-wives club hot stuff-“ Rio is interrupted by Agatha’s angry beckon for her.

“See you later babe,” Rio finishes with a wink and teleports up to Agatha. You stay wide eyed in the back.

“You called?” She questions with a huff.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing with Y/n but leave your no good mitts off of her. She’s too good for you and you know that.” Agatha scolds, keeping her voice low and eyes ahead. Rio laughs.

“Oh come on, you of all people appreciate a little corruption now and then. Besides she already told me you weren’t interested in her herself. As far as I’m concerned she’s free game and a delicious way to get at you Aggie” she responds. Agatha fumes.

“Oh so you’re playing dirty now, got it,” Agatha glances back at you and you smile, making her heart beat a little uncomfortably fast. Rio’s eyes light up.

“No way, you really do care. This is going to be so fun!” She gasps. Agatha groans.

“Whatever, I’ve got places to be.”

***

The coven decided to set up camp, much to Agatha’s dismay. Agatha lit a fire for light and everyone sat around it. You sat on a log immediately followed by Rio to your left and Agatha to your right.

“So baby witch, you’re an earth witch too, what a coincidence. Seems like Wanda knew Agatha had a type,” Rio whispers in your ear, but loud enough Agatha could hear it. You feel your face heat up.

“I guess, yeah,” you laugh awkwardly, staring a little too intently at the ground. Agatha looks behind you at Rio with a death glare. Rio responds with a smile and slowly puts an arm around you.

“We have so much in common already. Tell me baby witch, you seeing anyone? It’s been three years after all.” Rio’s question takes you off guard and you look at her.

“Um, no.”

“Well what a shame.” She pauses and her eyes light up, “A pretty girl like you ought to have someone. Something… real.” Her voice sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t for the life of you figure out if she was genuinely flirting with you or planning something else. You stand up quickly.

“I- I’m gonna go get more kindling for the fire,” you rush out before speeding away.

Still at the campfire, Rio cackles and Agatha clears her throat. Grabbing Rio by the collar and pulling her up to stand.

“You’re coming with me,” she grits out, tugging Rio harshly to the opposite direction you went.

Once alone she lets her temper burn much like the fire at the site.

“You miserable bitch, why are you going after her like that?!” Agatha hurls, her arms flailing.

“Well… hmmm. Maybe because it’s so delicious. And at first it was just to get back at you… but, and I can’t deny this, she’s a pretty thing. You never did like sharing your toys, but you mistreated this one and now she needs a new home,” Rio’s eyes light up as she watches every angry twitch on Agatha’s face. Agatha puts her foot down.

“I know I did, but that doesn’t mean you can too-“

Rios eyes widen, “Now now, who said I would mistreat her? No no no. I want her terribly. I want someone a little more malleable. Someone I don’t have to worry will trade me for silly magic tricks.” She takes turns her back to Agatha.

“Don’t you turn your back on me! You’re such a child Rio. Don’t act like you weren’t gallivanting naked with young witches in the woods while we were still together!” Agatha groans in frustration as Rio walks away, “Hey, come back here!” Rio gives yet another cackle.

“You’re still invited to the wedding!” She calls back.

Agatha, disposed of her magic still, is forced to run to catch up. Just as she’s about to jump and tackle Rio, the other witch teleports back. Agatha is left huffing on the forest floor, spitting a stray leaf out.

***

Once enough time has passed, it never really was morning on the road, everyone continues the trek. Once again you find yourself at the back of the group, trailing behind everyone else. Everyone else but Rio and Agatha of course. The both of them cling to you like urchins. They aren’t actually touching you, but they’re a breath away each.

“So…” Agatha clears her throat, “haven’t been able to talk to you much since… you know. How have you been?” She hates that Rio had to be here too while this happens but it’s better to her to clear the awkward tension between you and her asap.

You sigh slightly, “not bad, um… how’s Señor Scratchy? I miss him.” Agatha gives you a soft smile despite the pang in her chest.

“Alive and well, still my little trouble bunny. I think he got it from you,” she says, tilting her head back and forth. You giggle and roll your eyes.

“Nope, all you. He’s your familiar after all. I’m glad he’s well. I’ll have to give him a treat if I see him again.” You offer it, an underlying sadness to your tone. Agatha picks it up immediately. You missed her too but would never admit it, after all you were the entranced one while you two were together.

“When. You’ll see him again…” she corrects, making you smile softly. The sight brings hope and warmth to Agatha’s chest. She looks at you, but she’s distracted by Rios maniacal face behind your head. Sensing it’s her turn to speak Rio seizes it.

“So… Y/n, you like animals? I happen to be able to turn into many, that’s my earth witch specialty right there,” Rio says cheerily. Her grin displays her pearly whites. You turn to her, making Agatha’s heart clench.

Your eyes light up, “really, wow. I personally work with herbs and plants more but that’s incredible. I do love animals, what kinds?” Agatha internally groans at having lost your attention so marvelously.

Rio beams with pride, “All kinds, but crows and wolves I’m particularly fond of.”

You ooh, “I love birds a lot.” You add, “maybe you could show me sometime?” Rio grabs your hand, making Agatha bristle, her hair practically standing up in outrage.

“Of course beautiful, it’s a date.” Your stomach does flips at the thought but you try not to read too far in it.

“Sure,” you chirp.

***

After another day of exhausting walking camp is set up again. Agatha cannot truly remember how long the trip was originally, but it seems about right. Much to Agatha’s surprise, you ask her to talk alone with you. Rio wants to join but she knows it would affect her chances with you.

You take a deep breath. This area of the road seems darker, but the magic lull does not cease.

“Agatha, may I ask you a question?” You start. She’s suspicious but nods. “If Rio was the one on your list, why did you bring me?” She shuffles, exhaling.

She knew she would have to tell you eventually… “well, I know there’s no excuse for allowing you to be in so much pain in Westview, but I felt awful. And Rio can be more manipulative than me. Don’t trust her too much. I know I couldn’t. But… I know you can’t trust me either. You’re a bright witch Y/n. As much as it kills me to admit it I truly am sorry. For what it’s worth I was having so much fun with you that I forgot you weren’t completely there.”

Her admittance was spur of the moment, but it made her feel better nonetheless. That may have been the first time she apologized in a very very long time. To her surprise you smile at her.

“That means a lot actually. And I kinda left you there for three years, so… I guess it’s safe to say you paid the price. Even?” You say, Agatha can’t honestly believe her luck tonight. She’s starting to think that genuine apologies are some sort of witch craft too.

“Thanks. Even.” She states, but she notices the frown on your face. You glance in the directions of the camp.

“Hey,” your brows furrow, “what do you mean I can’t trust Rio?” Agatha internally squeals at her luck.

“Well, Rio has been known to flaunt around the pilgrimage if you know what I mean. It’s half of the reason we broke it off,” she switches to a mumble, “the other half was me.” Your eyes widen.

“Oh…”

“Besides she’s using you to get back at me.” Agatha says too nonchalantly. Your eyes widen even more.

“What?” Your tone is angry. You kick yourself for getting too hopeful. Of course, they love each other still. How could you not realize. You’re just a stupid pawn. Again! “Oh…” you say dejected. Agatha was expecting to enjoy watching your relationship with Rio burn, but her stomach develops a pit.

“Well, hey now… I mean she was, b-but-“ Agatha would rather die than admit to you that it could be real.

“Let’s just go, we have a big day tomorrow. Just try not to fight each other too much.” It’s safe to say Agatha was in deeper shit now.

***

The journey continues and both Rio and Agatha have noticed you avoiding them the best you could.

“What did you tell her,” Rio grits and Agatha sighs.

She responds with, “the truth,” reluctantly. “That you were talking to her to get back at me.”

“Well did you tell her just that or the whole truth. Did you tell her of our feelings cause right now she’s all emo like the teenager,” Rio objects, her hands grabbing Agatha’s shoulders.

“I may have omitted that part yes,” she says unashamed (she was very shamed).

“Oh my god you don’t change do you! You always were so cryptic. It’s one of the reasons I love you but-“

“Love present tense?” Agatha interrupts. She’s internally freaking out a bit but she plays it off with a smirk and a teasing tone. “Oh that’s so sweet hun. Couldn’t get enough, could you.” Rio groans and rolls her eyes.

“Oh baby- one can hate and love,” Rio smirks.

Agatha’s about to give another witty reply when a scream breaks out in the distance. They know it’s you. They break into a run… well Agatha does. Rio teleports.

You’re on your elbows trying to get away from some sort of invisible force they can’t see. What they can see is an ugly gash on your arm.

Rio immediately calls upon some vines and they thrash around. Blindly hitting something

Agatha grabs a big stick and tosses it at the creature. She holds her breath, internally freaking out. She feels so helpless, the full effects of her being without magic getting to her. Thankfully the creature lets out a yelp.

You back up more, the invisible beast swipes at you again. Alice sends a protective shield over you, giving you enough time to get away. Right as the beast is (presumably) stunned, Rio stabs a sharp root right through it.

Everything stills. Agatha kicks it carefully and there isn’t a reaction.

Now that the coast is clear both Agatha and Rio focus back on you. Lilia is holding you. The gash doesn’t look too deep but you don’t look good. You feel the cold of the road run deep through your bones.

“Oh shit,” Agatha murmurs, kneeling down.

“Jen, tell me you can find something to help her. There’s mushrooms and roots up the wazoo!” Rio stresses, her arms flailing. Jen’s eyes search the ground for any herbs or mushrooms. As if the road felt like it’s done enough, Jen spots a cure.

“Agatha, Rio, I need two rocks, preferably one pretty big and one small without dirt on it,” she says, frantically de rooting the herbs. Rio looks around and spots a rock. She frantically tosses it to Agatha who barely catches it.

“Did you just throw a rock at me!” Agatha yells. She brings the rock to Jenn. Lilia had already given her the small one.

Rio runs her fingers through her hair. “Relax bitch, you just need to work on your hand-eye coordination!” She sneers. The volume makes you wince.

“Guys- if I die please don’t let your loud-ass bickering be the last thing I hear,” you speak weakly. Jen grinds the roots and herb into a paste, using the dew of a leaf to bind it. Agatha and Rio shut up, both a little embarrassed.

“I mean seriously you both still love each other.,” you add, hissing. Jen is applying the paste to the gash. It’s chilly, but healing. It’s magic of course so the healing process quickens. Jen smiles at her work. Both let out huffs and give one another a begrudgingly hopeful look.

“No,” Rio speaks, “We just both have our eye on the same thing.” You scoff, able to sit up.

You argue, “Are you kidding, I see the way you sneak glances at one another when the other doesn’t know they’re looking. The same thing is each other.” They mull over your response but Agatha sighs and looks down.

“Perhaps that is true…” she starts, “But Rio is right too, we both want you.” Your eyes widen.

“No, you’re using me. I just want you two to get along.” You rebut. You feel as if it would be too good to be true, but you did see that you were being used. You stand and wince. “The witches road is dangerous, it’s best to get these feelings out now when we may never be able to later.”

Rio crosses her arms defensively. “No, we really do like you, each other is debatable but you my dear are the poisoned apple of our eye.” You actually give a giggle.

“I’m flattered I suppose… but Rio, that’s the cheesiest thing you’ve said to me in the time I’ve known you.” Your laugh makes Rio want to escape, but she can’t resist the fact that it completed her in a sense.

“It was,” Agatha adds, “and yes you’re part of this.” She gives you a pointed look. You smile.

“So you both mean it? No witches tricks?” You double check. if you’re about to achieve your life long dream you better make sure you’re not getting punked.

“Yes,” they sigh, exasperated and in unison. You embrace them both, putting them eye to eye between your arms.

“Well thankfully I’m still here…” you turn to Jen, “thanks to you Jen. Glad I was able to grow those herbs in time.” There’s a certain pride in your voice.

“That was you?” Agatha says surprised. You nod.

“What can I say I’m an earth witch.” You curtesy goofily.

“All I can say is that I’m glad they’ll stop the bickering now,” Lilia adds. “You lovebirds have fun with all that messed up shit.”

“You mean Agatha?” Rio chuckles.

Agatha’s eyes widen, “Why you-“

“LADIES!” you but in. “Stop that. You like each other, remember that before I force you to hold hands the rest of the way.”

“Fine” they both huff. You smile. They’re a handful, but they’re now your handful.

[milfloveer]

Hello! Good morning, good afternoon, or good evening! I’d like to know if you accept fanfic suggestions. If so, I’d love to request a fanfic of Lilia Calderu x Female Reader, where the reader is drawing, and Lilia approaches to take a look and asks if she can see the drawing. However, while flipping through some pages, Lilia ends up finding several drawings of herself. It would be similar to that scene from Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, when Gwen picks up Miles’ sketchbook and sees several drawings of her. (I imagine Lilia’s reaction would be the cutest ever (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)).

Drawings of you

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

Prompt: (request)

Warnings: scars and history about them (reader has whip scars)

A/n: Hiiii!!! Thank you so much for the request!! Hope this is what you've asked for, please tell me what y'all think cause I think I've wandered a little 👉🏻👈🏻 Also I added some more plot hope it didn't ruin it tho.

As we finished the second trial, Alice's trial, and made sure Teen was alright we settled down and made a fire so we could rest for the night.

We sat by the fire and were currently sharing our battle scars, Lilia pointed out to her neck pulling her shirt aside making me shift on my seat "Check this out." we all reached a little closer to see better, my cheeks painted with a soft pink and then Jen asked what we were all thinking "What is that?" and Lilia, still showing it says "Vampire bite. Right before I knock out his other tooth." she says making all of us laugh.

Alice then turns to me "What about you, y/n? Do you have any battle scars?" she asks innocently, I couldn't hide my sudden face drop as my body tenses, my eyes fall to Rio cause she knows what my scars are about, her expression unreadable and then my eyes fall to Lilia's, her eyes curious about what I have to show and so I sigh "I do have them, yes. But they're really ugly and how I got them... Well, let's say it's not as funny as Lilia's." I say softly, preparing them to see my scars. I turn around, my back now facing them, and I lift my shirt, they gasp and an 'Oh gods' left Lilia's mouth.

When I turn around they all have a shocking and scared face, I look down at my intertwined hands as I could not bear their gazes directed at me "It all happened when I was in Salem, I was held captive by a powerful man... Not by power tho, but by money and other things, he was well known and respected by the people. So one day he found out I was a witch and how powerful I was, all because of a stupid mistake I've made." I said sighing in frustration memories of that haunting me "All those years he held me captive he made me do things for him, like cure people, read their fortune and if needed I would do some potions and cast some spells.... Curses even. If not or if I did it wrong he would whipp me over and over again until I had no skin left. It was that or burning in a stake." I tell as they all share a look "Dead almost caught me that time." I scoff taking a glance at Rio. Lilia shifts in her seat, her mouth opens to say something, but Agatha arrives and sits down next to Rio, so Lilia stays silent, but her eyes remain in my figure like she's trying to read me just like a book.

To take the tension out and to divert the attention from me I turn to Agatha "Agatha, do you have any battle scars?" I ask and she smirks pulling her sleeve up, Rio makes a snort knowing full well what she was going to show. Her scar is in the elbow "Knitting needle to the elbow." she says while showing it around as we all made a disgusted face "Ever heard of the daughters of liberty?" she asked and we all answered with 'no' while shaking our heads "Exactly." she says making all of us laugh.

And then, out of the blue, Rio says "I've got a scar." as Agatha quickly replies "No you don't." that makes me raise an eyebrow "Yes, I do." Rio reinforces taking a look at Agatha as she keeps explaining "A long time ago I loved someone. And I had to do something I did not wanna do... Even though it was my job. And it hurt them... She is my scar." she finishes and looks directly at Agatha, not even trying to hide who it was. Agatha then gets up saying she needs to stretch her legs and Rio follows her, leaving us four at the fire.

We all look at each other and shrug, I mean we all knew they had an history, it was clear as water, so we didn't bother. It's not like they're gonna tell us anyway.

I take a glance at the three witches "Y'all get some rest, I'll take the first watch." I tell them and they all nod, Jen and Alice got comfortable against the rock they were, Lilia did the same.

To pass time I conjured my sketchbook and pencil so I could draw something and by something I mean the elder wise witch sleeping a couple of feet in front of me. I couldn't take her out of my mind since the first day I saw her at Agatha's house, her curly hair, her curved nose, her soft looking lips, oh how I would love to kiss them, those dark irises I could drown in a matter of seconds, her angelic voice, the whole of her, I could not stop thinking about her and only her. And I couldn't stop drawing her since, my sketchbook was full of her images, profile, full body, different expressions, her hands, her necklace, I couldn't stop, I won't stop.

I now started to draw her sleeping figure, how her body was curled in as she lays on her side facing me, her hands next to her chest in a protective way. She was in a deep sleep as her now relaxed body only moved with her soft breathing. I lost myself in the lines drawing efficiently every detail of her, capturing her essence as she sleeps... But the pencil started to weigh too much and so did my eyelids, I didn't even realise when I fell asleep, sliding into a deep slumber myself.

The shaking of my body and a soft voice is what makes me aware of my sleeping state and so I jump awake "Whoa, calm down, darling, it's just me." Lilia whispers as the rest of the coven is still sleeping, I frown "What's wrong?" I ask confused, she smiles softly "Nothing, dear, I only wanted to put you in a more comfortable position as you were not looking rather comfortable in that one." she says chuckling lightly, she then looks next to me where my sketchbook fell and she reaches for it "Oh, No-" I say trying to stop her but she's quicker than me "I always wondered what you spend so much time drawing about." she says teasingly and opens the book "Oh-" she says as she flips through the pages.

My face turns red, red as a tomato, as a strawberry, as her lipstick "Lilia-" I breathe out, but she looks at me tenderly "These are amazing, darling. But why me?" she asks innocently and I am left with no words, mouth agape as staring embarrassed at her "Have you seen yourself?" I ask, my voice lower than a whisper. She chuckles and shakes her head "No need to be shy now, dear." and my only reaction is to hide my face behind my hands with embarrassment.

Lilia's soft hands grab mine and put them down, her face really close to mine "I really appreciate it." she says and I almost choke with the air on my throat as she leans in and gives me a tender kiss on my cheek. Well if I wasn't red before, now certainly I was, my heart was ready to jump out of my chest as my head was ready to explode "Now, try to rest, dear, I'll take the next watch." she says laughing softly as she backs up to her previous spot.

How am I gonna sleep after this?!

[witchingwithscissors]

Based on a prompt suggested by @jeridandridge 🪴

Agathario AU | Butch Agatha’s terrible at plants but excellent at falling for the hot garden girl.

Westview Hardware smelled like dirt and lumber and the permanent ghost of gasoline from old lawnmowers someone kept trying to fix.

Rio wiped her forehead with the inside of her wrist, smudging more garden soil across her skin, and stacked another flat of seedlings under the slow creak of the ceiling fans.

The bell over the door jingled.

She didn’t have to look up to know.

Boots scuffed from honest work. Jeans faded pale at the knees. A loose gray shirt stretched over a strong back.

Agatha Harkness.

Carrying, today, a pothos plant that looked more like an obituary than a living thing.

Rio set the seedlings down and leaned into the counter, letting herself smile slow and dangerous.

“Here to kill another one, cowboy?”

Agatha startled—visibly.

Her head snapped up, and her eyes—an impossible gray-blue like storm clouds—widened.

A slow flush crept up her neck, staining her collarbone pink where her shirt hung loose.

Rio savored it.

“It’s not dead,” Agatha said defensively, depositing the sad plant on the counter like a peace offering. “It’s just… having a rough… week.”

“You said that about the succulent too,” Rio teased, inspecting the limp vines. “And the fern. And that poor rosemary that deserved better.”

Agatha shrugged, hands shoved deep in her back pockets, shoulders curling inward slightly.

It was a strange kind of vulnerability, seeing someone so capable look a little lost in a sea of plants.

“I’m better with wiring electrical,” Agatha muttered. “Plants expect you to know what they need without them telling you.”

Rio snorted. “That sounds suspiciously like a personal problem.”

Agatha’s mouth tugged into a reluctant smile—small, crooked, private.

Rio felt it, sharp and sweet, somewhere under her ribs.

She plucked a basil starter from the seedling rack and held it out like a challenge. “Try this instead.”

Agatha eyed it warily. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” Rio said, stepping closer. The earthy, sharp scent of the basil mixed with the musk of sun-warmed denim and the faint tang of sweat from Agatha’s skin. “It’s forgiving. Even you might not kill it.”

Agatha reached out. Their fingers brushed warm, rough, calloused—and Rio’s pulse jumped.

“Keep it alive through August,” Rio said, voice dipping low, “and maybe I’ll use it to cook you dinner.”

Agatha stared at her, the basil cradled awkwardly between them, like she didn’t quite know how to hold this—the plant or the offer.

“You always hustle your customers like this?” Agatha asked, voice rough.

“Only the dangerously handsome ones who forget how phones work,” Rio said with a wink, spinning away before she could catch the damage she’d done.

Later that night, Rio sat cross-legged on her bed, the cracked window open to the heavy, cicada-loud summer night.

Her phone buzzed.

Agatha: so if it dies a little does that mean coffee instead of dinner? asking for a friend.

Rio grinned. Agatha had had her number for a few weeks, but after today’s basil offering, she had finally decided to text her. Rio’s thumb flew across the screen.

Rio: Nope. Basil crimes are taken very seriously in New Jersey.

A minute later.

Agatha: what about preemptive bail?

Rio: Depends. Can you spell “photosynthesis”?

Agatha: bold of you to assume i can spell at all.

Rio laughed out loud, startling the black cat curled at the foot of her bed—her grandmother’s cat.

Outside, the crickets sawed at the night, and somewhere far off, someone’s sprinkler squeaked into life.

The next day.

Agatha: still green. slightly judging me but green.

A photo followed: the basil pot perched precariously between a pair of socks and a paper coffee cup.

Rio: It’s judging you for the company you keep.

Agatha: fair.

Another photo: Agatha giving the basil an awkward thumbs up, her hair messily falling into her face, a faint smudge of dirt along her jawline.

Rio saved it and immediately assigned it to Agatha’s contact in her phone.

Two weeks later, Rio was hauling bags of mulch under the punishing July sun when Agatha ambled up, pretending to browse seed packets.

“Cowboy. You stalking me?” Rio called without looking.

“I plead the fifth,” Agatha said, voice low and pleased.

They ended up working side by side anyway—Rio loading pallets, Agatha catching them into her truck. Easy. Unspoken. Like they’d done it a hundred times.

At some point, Rio peeled off her work gloves, flexing her fingers, and tossed another heavy bag toward Agatha.

Their hands brushed mid-catch. Calluses skimming calluses. Skin on skin, hot and dry and so electric Rio almost dropped the damn bag.

She looked up—

And found Agatha already looking at her.

The air between them stuttered.

Hot, humming, fragile.

Rio felt it first—the tilt forward, the magnetic pull.

Agatha didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

It would be so easy.

One step closer.

One tilt of her head.

But Rio, breathing shallow, heart racing—only smiled.

A slow, wicked thing to hide the fact she was terrified.

“Careful,” she drawled, voice catching. “You might start thinking you like me.”

Agatha’s smile—small, dangerous—ghosted across her mouth.

“Maybe I do,” she murmured.

Rio’s heart slammed sideways.

But Agatha stepped back, palms flat against her jeans, and turned away to load another bag like nothing had happened. Rio stood there for a long moment, mulch dust settling in the spaces between them.

That night, Rio lay in bed, sleepless.

The oscillating fan buzzed, moving humid air around her tiny garage apartment.

The basil plant sat on the windowsill, leaves stretching toward the stars.

Rio traced patterns across her bare stomach with one hand, thinking: Don’t be stupid. You have two months left, max. You leave at the end of summer. Always have, always will.

But still—

She remembered the way Agatha had looked at her.

That same night, Agatha sat on her porch, bottle of beer forgotten at her side. The basil—somehow still alive—glowed faintly under the porch light.

Agatha scrubbed her hands over her face.

She’d kissed women before. Slept with them, too. No big deal. But no one had ever hit her like this—like the whole damn world tipped sideways around one girl’s rough hands and easy, reckless smile.

Agatha closed her eyes, leaned back against the railing, and listened to the summer night breathe around her.

The next afternoon, Agatha got a text.

Rio: Movie night? My pick. No takebacks.

Agatha pulled up an hour later, six-pack and licorice in one hand, smirk already threatening to break loose.

Rio opened the door barefoot, wearing cutoff denim shorts and an tight shirt with a band Agatha didn’t recognize. Her hair was damp from a shower, curling loose around her shoulders, and she smelled faintly of cheap shampoo.

Agatha nearly forgot how to breathe.

They settled into Rio’s battered secondhand couch, beers sweating between their palms. The movie was some chaotic indie thing Rio narrated halfway through with delighted sarcasm, and Agatha found herself laughing more at Rio’s commentary than at the film itself.

At some point, Rio stretched—long and lazy—and her knee brushed against Agatha’s splayed-out thigh.

Neither of them moved.

The next time Rio laughed, she leaned her head briefly against Agatha’s shoulder.

Agatha pretended her heart wasn’t racing.

Agatha, who could rewire a lamp blindfolded, who could change a water heater one-handed, sat there paralyzed by the press of a girl’s warm weight against her side.

The movie ended. Credits rolled. Neither moved.

Rio tilted her head, chin resting against Agatha’s arm. Her voice came soft.

“So… you gonna kiss me, cowboy… or do I have to do everything around here?”

Agatha didn’t think. She turned and kissed her.

It was a little clumsy at first—teeth bumping, noses in the way. Rio laughed into her mouth, hands sliding into Agatha’s hair, and then it turned molten—hot, slow, anchoring. Agatha kissed the way she worked—with careful, practiced steadiness—but Rio kissed like she had nowhere else to be, like kissing was an act of ownership. And God help her, Agatha wanted to be owned.

The cold shower didn’t help.

The whiskey didn’t either.

Agatha, still damp and grinning like a woman freshly fucked, snapped a selfie—towel low, eyes dark—and texted Rio.

Agatha: you’re in charge of aftercare next time baby girl

A minute later.

Rio: Come over. Now.

And she did.

Agatha woke to sunlight slanting in through her open windows, the faint hum of summer already buzzing outside. She blinked groggily, stretching, and realized two things simultaneously: First, Rio was not in her bed. And B) there was rummaging in the kitchen.

Agatha kicked the sheets away and found Rio standing at the fridge, looking at it like it had let her down.

“You only have five kinds of canned beans,” Rio said, voice flat, “and an expired strawberry yogurt...”

Agatha scrubbed a hand over her face. “I have oatmeal.”

“Instant oatmeal with candy dinosaur eggs doesn’t count as a food group. That’s kindergarten survival skills.”

Rio closed the fridge and turned, hands on her hips, an expression of determination on her face.

“Put on your shoes,” she ordered. “We’re going grocery shopping.”

“It’s—” Agatha glanced at the clock, “eight in the morning.”

“Grocery shopping,” Rio repeated firmly, tossing her a pair of beat-up sneakers.

Agatha grumbled but obeyed, pulling on sweatpants over her boxers and grabbing a clean-ish shirt from the floor.

Rio, infuriatingly beautiful, threw on rain boots over bare legs and one of Agatha’s flannel shirts she must’ve stolen at some point during the night. It hit her mid-thigh.

Agatha nearly walked into the doorframe staring.

At the store, they looked like a Pinterest board gone wrong. Agatha bleary-eyed, hair in a messy low ponytail, Rio bouncing ahead of the cart with a shopping list in her head and nothing on paper.

“Essentials first,” Rio said, tossing coffee grounds and bread into the cart.

Agatha trailed after her, pushing the cart like a dazed cattle dog.

She bought vitamins for Agatha without asking, tucked quietly next to carton of eggs.

She sniffed melons and weighed tomatoes in her palms.

And Agatha—strong, stubborn Agatha—wanted to kiss Rio’s mouth right there in the middle of the meat section. But fought the urge.

Back home, Agatha flopped onto a kitchen chair, blinking stupidly while Rio moved through the kitchen like she’d been there forever. Fresh spinach cracked in a pan. Eggs whipped into golden froth. Cheese grated, basil pinched from the tiny windowsill pot.

“This morning, I was gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed,” Rio said, laughing, “but I realized you need saving first.”

Agatha grunted in response. She couldn’t form words with Rio like that—barefoot, hair tied up messily, making her house smell like heaven and Sunday mornings and salvation.

Rio slid the plate across the counter: fluffy quiche, fresh berries, coffee so rich it made the air smell like a promise. Agatha just stared, her heart kicking once, hard.

Later that week, Agatha kicked off her boots and shoved her work jeans down with a low groan, the knee torn clean through. Rio knelt in front of her without a word, fingertips brushing the worn denim, then reached for her sewing kit like it was second nature.

“You’re a danger to yourself,” she muttered, guiding needle through denim with careful hands.

Agatha watched from the couch, quiet. Something knotted under her ribs—something sweet and terrifying.

No one had ever mended things for her before.

Not her boots, not her shirts, not her heart.

Rio tied off the thread with a flourish and tossed the jeans back at her. “Good for another few years of reckless living.”

Agatha held them like they were spun from gold.

Rio came home one night to find her old garden shears—the ones with the cracked handle and the dull blades—sitting neatly on the porch, cleaned and repaired.

No note. No text.

Just the kind of love Agatha knew how to give: Silently. Steadily. Surely.

Rio sat on the porch steps, turning the shears over in her hands, and smiled so wide her face hurt.

Agatha had been in Rio’s garage apartment before. But one humid evening, for the first time, Rio led her into the bedroom.

It was cramped, full of plants and books and little touches of home mended curtains, handmade pillowcases, a poster of a punk band taped crooked on the wall.

Agatha took it all in slowly, carefully.

The sewing machine in the corner. The stack of plant biology textbooks dog-eared and worn. The sweater draped on her bed, sleeves patched with loving clumsiness.

This wasn’t a room.

It was a nest.

Temporary. Half-packed.

Built on borrowed time.

Agatha sat carefully on the edge of Rio’s bed, heart pounding.

She wanted to unpack.

She wanted to build her a house that didn’t have a deadline.

Rio caught her looking, and smiled—small, secret.

“Don’t get used to it, cowboy,” she said softly. “I’m not staying forever.”

Agatha nodded, but something deep inside her whispered: I wish you would.

At the summer fair, Rio wore a sundress—pale green, strappy, dangerous. Agatha tried not to stare, but failed.

She found Rio behind the food tents, slipping out from under the blinding afternoon sun.

Without thinking—without stopping—she grabbed her by the waist, pressed her against the side of the tent, and kissed her.

Hard. Hungry.

Rio laughed against her mouth, kissed her back twice as hard.

Somewhere in the background, kids screamed on the Ferris wheel and the scent of fried dough thickened the air.

Agatha didn’t care.

She was just thinking about how good Rio tasted. Like salt and sunshine and something that felt a lot like hope.

The heat broke the week Rio started fully packing.

Storms rolled over Westview in heavy gray waves, and the sidewalks steamed in the aftermath.

Rio folded shirts into boxes, books into old grocery bags, the scent of rain mixing with the sharp, green tang of basil from the windowsill.

Agatha leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, saying nothing.

Neither kissed the other goodbye. It would’ve been too much. Or maybe not enough.

Two weeks later, Rio stood in the tiny galley kitchen of her Washington apartment, staring down at a mug of coffee she couldn’t bring herself to drink.

It tasted wrong.

Too bitter, too stale, too much like alone.

She sat down on the old tile floor, coffee burning a path down her throat, and curled her knees to her chest.

She missed Agatha with a violence that scared her.

Not just the sex, not just the easy laughter, but the way Agatha filled up the quiet spaces, the way she knew what Rio needed before she even asked, the way her hands knew how to hold things without breaking them.

Rio pressed her forehead against her arms, breathing shallowly.

The basil plant Agatha had given her—Herb, still barely alive—sat drooping on the counter.

“Sorry, buddy,” she whispered, voice wrecked.

Some things just didn’t survive transplanting. Right?

A week later, Rio stitched together a leather tool pouch by hand.

It took her six tries and two stabbed fingers.

The stitches weren’t perfect. Neither was the leather. But it was solid. It was meant to be carried, used, trusted.

She wrapped it carefully and tucked a note inside: “Carry what matters.”

No signature. No explanation. Just everything she didn’t know how to say—packed small enough to survive the miles between them.

Agatha found the package three days later, wedged crookedly in her mailbox.

She carried it to her truck and sat there with the door cracked open, summer air hot and heavy against her skin.

The pouch smelled like new leather.

She ran her fingers over the careful, imperfect stitches, over the rough seams where Rio’s hands had worked.

When she unfolded the note, the words knocked the air clean out of her lungs.

“Carry what matters.”

Agatha pressed the note flat against her heart, hands shaking. Breathed through her teeth. And finally, finally, whispered to the empty truck cab, “I miss you, baby girl. I miss you so much.”

The basil plant on her porch was still alive.

Barely.

Agatha cradled the tool pouch in her lap and stared out at the flat gold light spilling over Westview, thinking: You don’t let things like her slip through your fingers. Not if you’re smart. Not if you still have half a heart left to lose. Life apart didn’t feel like life.

Rio threw herself into research, into papers and labs and long nights spent cross-referencing drought-tolerant hybrid strains. But her hands still reached automatically for a second coffee cup when she brewed in the mornings. Her eyes still flicked toward the door when it opened, stupidly expecting Agatha’s heavy boots and sheepish grin.

Agatha kept working—wiring houses, fixing busted water heaters, patching fences for neighbors too old to do it themselves.

But she stopped eating real breakfasts.

She stopped laughing at dumb jokes on the radio.

The weight of absence settled into their bones.

Ordinary. Constant. Crushing.

Some nights, Rio fell asleep clutching her phone.

Some nights, Agatha sat on her porch with the tool pouch on her knee, nursing a beer and the ache in her chest.

Neither said it out loud.

But the basil—stubborn, battered, half-wild—kept growing.

The knocking woke Rio from a restless half-sleep.

She blinked at the clock—2:17 a.m.—and stumbled to the door, dragging the hem of her too-big shirt with one hand.

When she swung the door open, Agatha was standing there, backlit by the flickering porch light, looking like hell. Sweat-streaked hair. Dirt-smudged jeans. A worn duffel bag hanging from one shoulder like it weighed a thousand pounds. Her eyes—those damn storm-gray eyes—locked onto Rio’s and didn’t look away.

“Hey,” Agatha rasped, voice low and broken in places. “I, uh—”

Rio didn’t let her finish.

She hauled Agatha inside by the front of her shirt, slammed the door with a heel, and kissed her.

It wasn’t graceful.

Teeth bumping, gasps caught halfway in their throats, hands fumbling with too many emotions and too little coordination.

Agatha kissed back like she was drowning and Rio was the only air left in the world.

Rio cupped Agatha’s jaw with both hands, grounding them both. “You’re here,” she whispered against her mouth, disbelieving.

“I’m here,” Agatha whispered back, voice wrecked. “If you still want me.”

The trip to the bedroom was a mess of half-torn clothes and muttered curses.

Rio shoved Agatha down onto the bed and crawled over her, pinning her wrists lightly to the sheets. Agatha’s pupils blew wide.

“You drove across the fucking country for me,” Rio said, somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“You’re worth it,” Agatha said simply.

Rio leaned down, forehead pressed to Agatha’s. “You absolute stupid gorgeous fucking cowboy.”

They kissed again, deeper now. Slower.

Agatha’s hands—steady, rough, reverent—mapped the curve of Rio’s back, the strong line of her thighs, the places she’d memorized and missed in the same breath.

Rio kissed her like she was reclaiming territory she had never wanted to give up in the first place.

When Rio pulled back long enough to tear her own shirt over her head, Agatha’s hands trembled on her hips.

“Still want me?” Rio asked, soft, dangerous.

Agatha exhaled like it broke something inside her.

“Always,” she said.

They moved together without finesse—too desperate, too hungry—until Rio straddled Agatha’s hips, pinning her hands again with a wicked grin.

The sweat-slick slide of their bodies sparked along every raw, open nerve.

Agatha arched up helplessly into Rio’s weight.

“Fuck,” Agatha muttered, breathless.

Rio leaned down, mouth brushing the shell of Agatha’s ear, voice gone hoarse with emotion.

“Still my handsome cowboy,” she whispered.

Agatha froze under her. Choked out a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh, wasn’t quite a moan. Pulled Rio down and kissed her like salvation.

It wasn’t sex the way Agatha had known it—a transaction, a way to pass the time.

It was messy and reverent and stupid with want.

It was Rio laughing into her mouth, whispering “mine, mine, mine” until Agatha shuddered apart in her arms.

And when Rio came too, gasping into Agatha’s shoulder, Agatha closed her eyes and let herself believe—for the first time in a long time—that maybe, just maybe, she was allowed to keep something good.

The backyard smelled like dirt and spilled tequila.

It was summer again when Agatha drove the last post into the earth with a grunt, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. The sun was merciless, high and white against the endless New Jersey sky, but she didn’t care.

Rio was sitting cross-legged in the grass, sorting seed packets into neat piles—tomatoes, peppers, herbs. Her hair was tucked into a messy bun, wisps clinging to the damp edges of her neck.

Agatha took a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Sometimes she still forgot she was allowed to look.

“You’re not gonna make me build another raised bed, are you?” Agatha asked, leaning on the mallet.

Rio squinted up at her, smirking. “Only if you’re good.”

Agatha barked a laugh. “Define good.”

“Still up for debate,” Rio said airily, tossing her a packet of basil seeds.

Agatha caught it one-handed, heart tugging in her chest.

Basil.

It always came back to basil.

Later, after the dirt was packed and the hose coiled and the sun had started to slide toward the horizon, Rio brought out Agatha’s old work jacket.

The left sleeve had torn weeks ago, caught on a fence post Agatha was fixing.

Rio sat on the porch steps, denim stretched over her knees, a sewing kit balanced carefully beside her.

Agatha watched from the grass, heart cracking open along familiar lines.

“You don’t have to fix everything, you know,” she said, voice soft.

Rio threaded the needle carefully, not looking up. “Maybe I want to.”

Agatha crossed the yard, sat down heavy beside her.

Rio’s fingers worked quick and sure, weaving the thread through fabric, mending the worn places with patient, stubborn care.

Agatha didn’t say anything. She just sat there, breathing in the scent of sun-warmed cotton and cheap shampoo, letting Rio stitch her life back together one small act at a time.

When Rio tied off the final knot, she leaned into Agatha’s side without hesitation.

“There,” she said, satisfied. “Good as new.”

Agatha slid her arm around her, pulling her close. “Better,” she said gruffly.

That evening, under the bruised purple sky, they planted a few herbs together.

Rio kneeled in the dirt, hands steady and sure. Agatha hovered awkwardly at first, unsure where to dig, until Rio shoved a trowel into her hand with a grin.

“Don’t be scared, cowboy. It’s just dirt.”

Agatha snorted. “I’m more worried about disappointing you.”

“Impossible,” Rio said easily, and meant it.

They worked in companionable silence, the cicadas screaming their summer songs, the earth warm under their knees.

Agatha brushed a smudge of dirt from Rio’s cheek with her thumb, and Rio caught her hand without looking up, threading their fingers together.

“Good things take time,” Rio said absently, pressing a basil seedling into the soil.

Agatha swallowed hard against the lump rising in her throat.

She could still remember that day—Rio laughing at her dying pothos, teasing her about killing herbs, holding out a basil plant like a dare and a prayer all in one.

She could still remember what it felt like to hope and be so damn afraid of it.

And yet—here they were.

Not perfect. Not easy. Just… real.

Agatha tilted Rio’s chin up with two fingers, kissed her slow and sure under the fading sky.

“And some things,” Agatha said against her mouth, “you just grow into.”

Rio flashed that soft, wicked smile and murmured, “I grew all over you. You didn’t even fight it.”

[ennn]

An incredibly thoughtful and intelligent interview with Kathryn Hahn! Here's a bunch of my highlights under the cut - this interview was definitely done after episode 6.

Shout-out to @isagrimorie and @the-ominous-owl for finding this first

Happy to see someone complimenting Hahn on how well she's embodying the character right down to her fingertips. The interviewer asked the thing I've been dying to know: how it was like working with her movement coach Jennifer White.

Turns out she didn't work with her much for AAA, since Agatha doesn't have her powers, but she worked closely with her for WV where White would propose specific movements for the different spells she had to do, giving her options.

Hahn lets it slip at around 6:11 that Agatha gets her powers back at the very end. Which yeah if you've been watching trailers seems kinda obvious but there you go.

I love how Hahn naturally slips in and out of character in her answers to these questions – she's clearly spent so much time and easily gets into that headspace. It also shows how good these questions are in exploring the character.

Yes, Agatha's whole trauma with her mom did of course make it difficult for her to trust other witches or anybody. "Centuries of survival mechanisms, she just makes a joke."

Interesting: Not only does Rio understand and see parts of Agatha she doesn't want others to see, Agatha "sees things in [Rio] that she's trying to conceal."

Hahn describes their very long and complicated history as one that is "filled with love and respect and hate", with Hahn saying that Rio has really been the only one whose energy has felt equal to Agatha, "someone to spar with and be shocked by".

Agatha's default mask / shell is to be mean. That's always an available option.

Agatha surprises herself with the empathy she's finding for this coven the more time she spends with them, because it is a coven of outcasts. It's new and weird and unexpected for her.

Hahn aligning with Schaeffer's interpretation that Agatha has limited control over her siphoning power: "It's like something takes over and she just absorbs people's power... When she find herself doing it, it's like she can't help it. She just takes."

Hilarious based on Hahn's reaction that she never unpacked the episode 5 aftermath scenes consciously until now. "Oh Agatha." Yep she is a real mess when you actually look at her lol.

Happy that Hahn's perspective is aligning with my meta of how complicated Agatha's relationship with Billy is: It's "an echo of something", Agatha's happy and proud that he's dropped the ruse and is embracing his witch identity, and that he's capable of murder. And she remembers the little kid she babysat.

You can tell how much Hahn cares for and is protective of the character when she talks about how vulnerable Agatha was under the spell and how she was brought low.

Hahn did say "foreplay" when responding to the question about the Episode 1 physical fight, and Rio and Agatha going at each other despite not being able to kill each other.

"I think it's a testament to how strong their bond is that it could reach through a spell and find each other there. And she was really responsible – and Teen – for getting me out of the spell."

"So it felt familiar, like we've done this again, a million times over the years. And it always kinda ends like that. 'Not this time!' but you know what I mean? We keep it going."

[rizzlesregal13]

Maybe Using Magic Isn’t That Bad… Not When It’s Just The Two Of Us

***NSFW - MDNI***

Agatha x Reader 💜

With the Saturday night dance party over, and Nicki & Ella finally tucked up in bed, what started as playful teasing quickly turns into something more...especially when your magic gets involved.

A/N: I had no intention for this to decend into smut central… it was supposed to be cute and fluffy… clearly my mind had other ideas. Oopsie 🙈😏

Saturday evenings in our house were always “something”.

Not the “witchcraft and chaos” kind of “something” Agatha revelled in... well, not just that... but the good kind. The kind where our living room became a dance floor, the music was too loud, on this occasion Pink Pony Club, a small disco ball spun, and any sense of decorum flew right out the window.

And tonight...was no exception.

Ella was perched on my hip, giggling uncontrollably as I spun and tipped her in time with the beat. Her little hands clung to my shoulders, her brunette curls bouncing with every move. She wasn’t even trying to dance anymore, she was just enjoying the ride, possibly thinking I was her very own “pink pony”.

Nicki, on the other hand, was locked in an ambitious battle with Agatha, attempting a step-cross-leg manoeuvre that neither of them were doing particularly well at. Agatha towered over him, her longer legs working against Nicki’s as he stubbornly tried to keep up and not trip over her feet.

The result? Absolute, silliness.

“Kid, if I stretch you just a teensy bit, I think we might nail this,” Agatha teased, her blue eyes flashing with mirth.

“Hey! No magic!” I shot her a look, though my amusement was hard to hide. “This is a magic-free dance floor.”

Agatha huffed dramatically, clutching her chest as if I had just shot her.

“You wound me, hon. Truly.”

“You’ll live.” I smirked, twirling Ella one last time before setting her down so she could run to Nicki and Agatha.

Nicki, determined to master the step, dragged Ella into the mix, her tiny feet mimicking his with unwavering enthusiasm. This was what it was all about. Not the spells, not magic, not the thrill of bending reality to our will.

Just this… the four of us.

I watched as Agatha’s expression softened, her ever-present smirk shifting into something… gentler, something unguarded. There were no sharp smirks, no teasing, no wicked little grins that she wore like armour. Just her, just Agatha, playing with our kids. Being soft in a way she rarely let herself be… that very few people got to see.

And god, it kills me how much I love her in moments like this.

Because I know her past. I know she isn’t perfect. I know she’s done terrible things, that she’s hurt people, taken what she’s wanted without caring about the consequences. And yet, here she is, with her arm around our son and daughter making up crazy dances, as laughter ripples out of all three of them, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

She caught me watching her, and in true Agatha fashion, cocked a knowing brow.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

She left Nicki & Ella, and prowled toward me, slipping an arm around my waist before I could protest.

“You were having a moment.”

I rolled my eyes. “I was not.”

“Oh, you so were.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What was it this time? Overwhelmed by my stunning dance skills? Enchanted by my presence?”

“More like overwhelmed by your complete lack of rhythm.”

Agatha gasped. “How dare you.”

I laughed, wrapping my arms around her neck. “Face it, you’re powerful, brilliant, ridiculously sexy… but… you dance like a drunk cat.”

She grinned. “But you love me anyway.”

I sighed dramatically. “Against my better judgment.”

The music swelled around us, but for a moment, it was just the two of us. No magic, no responsibilities—just Agatha, in my arms, her hands resting at my hips like they belonged there.

“I love you,” she murmured, so low I barely caught it.

My heart did that stupid, crazy thing where it forgot how to function properly, missing a beat. Of course I knew she loved me, but those three little words were never something she threw about easily.

“I love you too.”

Nicki’s voice broke through before she could kiss me.

“Ew! Mom and Mama are being gross again!”

Ella giggled, clapping her hands over her eyes.

“We have to do something about their timing.” Agatha groaned, burying her face in my shoulder.

I just laughed, tugging her back into the dance party and the chaos of our two kids, before she could plot something truly wicked.

***

It had gotten late. We’d managed to get the kids in bed fairly hassle free. Nicki had crashed mid-sentence, mumbling something about being the best dancer in the family, and Ella had insisted on one last bedtime story before her eyes, that were so like Agatha's, betrayed her and fluttered shut.

Now, the house was still. Not silent… never truly silent with the lingering energy of two overactive kids, but still enough that I could finally relax. Agatha stood in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of wine before handing me one, the deep red liquid catching the dim kitchen light as I took a slow sip.

I leaned back against the counter, eyes drifting through the open archway into the living room; a battlefield of discarded blankets, scattered toys, the disco ball still spinning, and upturned cushions.

Agatha followed my gaze, her smirk lazy, knowing.

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

She was right. It could wait. But something about ending the night with the house in disarray made my fingers twitch… my magic spark. So, with a subtle flick, the room righted itself. Cushions fluffed and stacked back on to the sofa, the coffee table straightened, the disco ball stopped and materialised inside the cupboard. The craziness of earlier now looked like nothing more than a memory.

I barely turned my head before I felt it—Agatha’s eyes on me, her smirk widening as she took a slow sip of her wine.

“Using magic, are we?”

I shrugged, pretending I didn’t feel the way her gaze sent warmth curling through me.

“I like waking up to a clean house.”

Agatha set her glass down with an amused chuckle, stepping into my space, her hands resting lightly on the counter on either side of me.

“Mm. Sure. That’s the reason.”

I arched a brow. “And what other reason would there be?”

Her smirk deepened. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you just enjoy it.”

She leaned in, her voice dropping just enough to make my breath catch.

“Maybe it’s not so bad, using what you were born with.”

I rolled my eyes, tilting my head back slightly.

“Don’t start.”

“Start what?” she teased, her lips just brushing against my jaw before pulling back. “I’m just saying, for someone who claims they don’t like usung their magic freely, who would rather do things the “normal” way, you sure didn’t hesitate.”

I huffed, lifting my glass to my lips again. “It’s practical.”

“It’s magic.”

“Magic can be practical.”

Agatha tilted her head, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the countertop beside me.

“And yet, when I use it to summon a bottle of wine instead of walking to the kitchen, you give me that look.”

I bit back a smile. “That’s different.”

She scoffed, feigning offence. “How?”

I swirled the wine in my glass, meeting her blue gaze with a knowing smirk of my own. “Because when you use magic, you always take it a step too far.”

Agatha clutched her chest, staggering back a step.

“How dare you?”

“Example, you magicked Mrs Hart’s garden gnome into an actual gnome, Agatha.”

“In my defence, he was boring, and Nicki and Ella loved it.”

I shook my head, laughing softly as she stepped back into my space. She nudged my glass aside just enough to steal a quick sip before pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth.

“Mm,” she hummed, savouring the wine. “Practical or not, I like it when you use magic.”

I let out a small sigh, resting my forehead against hers for just a moment. “You would.”

She grinned. “Of course, I would.”

I watched as Agatha picked up her wine glass, her fingers curling around the delicate stem. She took a slow sip, eyes locked onto mine over the rim, that ever-present smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

Then, without a word, she turned to walk away.

What happened next… I don’t think I could have controlled it even if I’d wanted to. Let’s just say that deep rooted instinct “that I was born with” kicked in.

Agatha barely had time to process before she was spinning back toward me, my magic curling around her like an invisible ribbon. She stopped just inches away, her blue eyes flickering with something between amusement and intrigue.

“Oh?” she murmured, head tilting as that wicked smirk continued to play on her lips. “Now who’s taking things a step too far?”

I stepped closer, slow, deliberate, my own smirk mirroring hers.

“Did you think you were going somewhere?”

Her eyes dipped to my mouth for just a fraction of a second before locking back onto mine, her breath steady but charged.

“Maybe. But you seem to have other plans.”

I lifted my hand, magic humming in my fingertips as I plucked her wine glass from her grip without touching it, letting it float over to rest beside mine on the countertop. She watched it land, then turned back to me with an arched brow.

“Oh, look at you,” she murmured, voice dripping with something almost sultry. “Using magic without a care.”

I laughed, stepping in until there was barely any space between us. “Seems you’re a terrible influence.”

“I certainly try,” she whispered, eyes glinting in the low kitchen light.

She didn’t pull away. Neither did I.

Instead, I reached up, fingers ghosting along the sleeve of her deep green sweater, tracing the wool before slipping lower, to the warmth of her wrist. Agatha let out a breath, not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh, as I slowly walked her back toward the counter.

Her hands found my hips first, then my waist, her touch familiar, teasing, taunting.

“So,” she drawled, eyes never leaving mine, “what exactly are your plans?”

I grinned, tilting my head slightly as I let my magic flare again—not enough to startle her, but enough to send a playful spark up her spine.

“I thought you liked it when I used magic.”

Agatha let out a low hum of approval.

“Oh, I do.”

“Then stop talking.”

And for once, she actually listened.

I ran my fingers back up her sleeve, slow and deliberate, letting my magic tingle against her skin like the faintest brush of static. Agatha inhaled sharply, her breath catching for just a moment—not because she was surprised, but because she liked it.

I smirked, letting my fingers trail higher, up the curve of her neck, where I felt the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath my touch. Then her jaw, where she tilted her head slightly into it, anticipation curling between us. And finally, across her lips.

Her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, her breath warm against my fingertips.

“You’re playing with fire, Y/N,” she murmured, lips parting just enough for her voice to slip through, low and dangerous.

I hummed in response, trailing my fingers back down to her collarbone, then pressing my palm flat against her chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breath beneath it.

“Funny,” I mused, tilting my head. “I thought you were the dangerous one.”

Agatha’s eyes blinked open, dark and smouldering, her smirk creeping back. “Oh, I am,” she purred. “But you… you’re finally starting to realise that you are too.”

I leaned in, close enough that my lips barely brushed hers, our noses ghosting, but not quite closing the distance. The air between us crackled, magic humming, but neither of us were in a hurry to break it.

Then, because I couldn’t resist, I let my magic flare again, just a whisper of power tracing along her skin, making her shiver.

Agatha let out a quiet, breathy laugh.

“Oh, I really like this side of you.”

I grinned. “Thought you might.”

She made a sound—half approval, half impatience, before she finally closed the space between us, her lips pressing against mine in a kiss that was slow but intent, teasing but undeniable with what she wanted.

My fingers curled into the wool covering her body, pulling her in, and Agatha let me—for now. But I knew her. Knew that any second now, she’d turn the tables, take control, push back just to see how far I’d let her go.

That was the game she played, we played.

The one we both loved.

I fingered the hem of her sweater, my touch slow, teasing, before I finally tugged it upward. She didn’t stop me—didn’t hesitate—just lifted her arms to let me pull it over her head and toss it aside.

The moment it was gone, she was on me again, her hands slipping around my waist as she pulled me into another kiss. This one was deeper, more intent, her lips parting against mine as if she had no interest in keeping space between us.

When she finally broke away, her breath warm against my skin, I felt it... A shift, a pulling in the fabric of my shirt that I wasn’t responsible for.

I glanced down just in time to see my buttons undoing themselves, one by one, the fabric falling open to expose my skin.

My breath hitched, heat pooling low in my stomach, and when I lifted my gaze, Agatha was watching me with a smirk—one that matched my own.

“I see we’re not bothering with patience tonight,” I murmured, my voice lower than I intended.

Agatha hummed, reaching out to trace a finger along the navy lace of my bra, her touch featherlight.

“I’d argue I’ve been very patient,” she countered, her voice dripping with amusement. “You’re the one who started playing with magic.”

I bit my lip, watching the way her fingers teased at the lace, her gaze dark, considering.

“So what happens next?” I asked, my own hands slipping to her waist, feeling the warmth of her bare skin beneath my palms.

Agatha leaned in, her lips barely ghosting over mine, her breath sending a delicious shiver down my spine.

“Oh, hon,” she purred, her fingers slipping lower, dragging over my stomach with just enough pressure to make me ache.

“What doesn’t happen next?”

I couldn’t stop the involuntary moan that slipped from my lips at Agatha’s words. That wicked, knowing smirk of hers deepened, as if she had expected that reaction, as if she had been waiting for it.

But two could play that game.

My fingers twitched, and with a quiet pop, the button of her jeans came undone. A second later, the zipper slid down in a slow, deliberate motion, the sound filling the space between us.

Agatha’s breath hitched, just barely, but I caught it.

I didn’t stop there.

Stepping back, I let my magic press against her jeans, coaxing them to slip down from her hips, past the curve of her thighs, pooling at her feet.

She didn’t move to stop me. Didn’t move at all, except to lift her feet free. She stood there, her lip caught between her teeth as she watched me with blown, approving eyes.

Oh, she really liked me using magic—especially like this.

“Interesting,” she murmured, her voice like silk, like sin. “You do have a wicked streak, after all.”

I took a slow step forward, closing the distance I had put between us. My fingers found her waist, my touch light but firm.

“You bring it out in me,” I admitted, tilting my head slightly, watching her expression shift... anticipation, desire, something close to pride.

Agatha’s hands found my bare skin, her touch sending a fresh wave of heat through me.

“I love bringing things out in you,” she purred, fingers trailing along the back band of my bra, her magic sparking faintly against my skin, making me shiver.

I swallowed, my own smirk returning.

“Then you’re going to love what happens next.”

Her eyes flickered with amusement, challenge… hunger.

“Oh, darling,” she whispered, lips brushing against mine just enough to tease. “Show me.”

Happily.

I trailed my fingers over her chest, skimming over the soft skin above the fabric of her black bra, feeling the way her breath caught beneath my touch. My magic followed, leaving behind a faint, tingling sensation as it traced between her cleavage, along her ribs, down her stomach, dipping over her hip before gliding up the inside of her thigh.

Agatha let out a breath, her body shivering, reacting slightly under the sensation, but she didn’t stop me.

Not yet.

I smirked, watching her closely, revelling in the way she responded, the way her lips parted just so, the way her pupils continued to grow as she watched me.

When I reached the edge of her panties, I let my magic surge, just a bit stronger, the warmth of it teasing against her, slipping beneath the material.

That’s when I felt it... her fingers curling firmly around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

My gaze snapped up to hers, meeting those sharp, knowing eyes.

Agatha’s grip was firm but not forceful, her smirk just as wicked as before, but now there was something else behind it—a need for her to be in control.

“Ah, ah, not yet” she murmured, tilting her head, her voice thick with something that sent heat pooling low between my thighs. I swallowed, my heart pounding, my breath uneven.

“Stopping me already?”

Her fingers tightened, her smirk deepening. “I never said stop,” she purred, leaning in just enough that I could feel her breath against my lips. “I said not yet.”

A shiver ran through me, her words like a spark catching fire.

Agatha slowly, deliberately, lifted my wrist, guiding my hand away from where I had been heading, dragging it instead up her body, pressing my palm against the centre of her chest, just above her heart.

“Patience,” she whispered, pressing a teasing kiss to my jaw.

I let out a slow breath, my fingers twitching against her skin.

She was going to make me work for this.

I smirked, pressing my body closer, my hips tilting forward against hers, my lips grazing her ear.

“I hope you know,” I murmured, my own voice dangerously low, my magic skirting lightly against her exposed skin, “I never lose.”

Agatha’s laughter was dark, promising.

“Then you’re going to love losing to me.”

I let out a slow breath, trailing my free hand back over her body, fingers brushing over her skin, my magic following like a whisper of heat. Agatha shivered beneath my touch, her lips parting slightly, her grip on my wrist loosening. I could feel it now…the crackling energy between us, the push and pull, magic flaring like a slow-burning fire. It felt reckless, deliciously so.

Because the kids were just upstairs… and they could come down at any moment.

And yet, neither of us stopped.

Agatha’s magic sparked, brushing against me like an invisible caress, and before I could process the shift, I felt it—the clasp of my bra releasing, the straps slipping slightly from my shoulders.

I inhaled sharply, looking up to find her smirking, blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“That was very smooth,” I murmured, feigning nonchalance as I let my own magic tease along the edge of her panties in return.

Agatha hummed, her fingers toying with the loosened strap of my bra, dragging it down just enough to expose more of me.

“I do try.”

I swallowed, my body heating under her gaze.

“And if the kids...”

Her lips brushed my ear, then to the spot where my ear met my neck, her magic pressing against my skin, firm and knowing.

“They’re asleep,” she murmured. “You worry too much.”

I let out a breathy laugh, even as a shiver ran through me. “One of us has to be responsible.”

Agatha leaned back slightly, her smirk widening as she took me in. She traced her fingers down the valley of my now exposed breasts, then lower, down over my stomach, just above my waistband.

“You could stop me?”

I exhaled sharply, meeting her gaze, the challenge clear between us.

I could… was I going to… absolutely not.

Because right now?

I wasn’t feeling very responsible.

I barely had time to process the flick of her fingers before I felt the cool air against my legs—my jeans weren’t undone, they were gone. Just… disappeared, like they’d never existed.

I gasped, my body tensing for half a second before I caught the wicked glint in Agatha’s blue eyes.

“Really?” I breathed, half-laughing, half-reeling from the abrupt removal. She smirked, eyes trailing over me now that I was left in nothing but my panties.

“You were taking too long.”

Before I could throw some snarky reply back at her, she was on me again, her lips trailing hot, deliberate kisses down my chest.

I sucked in a breath as she pressed in closer, her bare skin warm against mine, her hands roaming—one resting against my lower back, the other teasing over my hip, her fingers just brushing the lace of my underwear.

The living room, the kitchen, everything else faded to the background.

It was just her. Just us.

And I wasn’t thinking about the kids, or responsibility, or even the reckless way we were tangled up here, barely clothed, not caring about anything else but this.

Agatha’s mouth found the curve of my breast, then my nipple, her teeth scraping lightly before she soothed the spot with her tongue, pulling a gasp from me.

I dug my fingers into her back, tilting my head as she kissed lower, teasing, deliberate.

“I knew you’d like that,” she murmured against my skin.

I let out something between a laugh and a shaky breath.

“I hate how smug you are.”

She grinned, pressing a kiss just above my navel.

“No, you don’t.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers threading into her dark waves as her lips trailed even lower.

No.

No, I really didn’t.

I thought she was going to drop to her knees... god, I was ready for her to.

But then I felt it—my feet lifting from the floor, my body moving, guided by something unseen but all too familiar. Before I could even gasp, I was placed onto the cool surface of the kitchen counter, thighs spread wide, my balance steady only because she wanted it to be.

Agatha stepped between my legs, hands running up my thighs, and I knew she had done this on purpose—to see me, to make sure I knew exactly what I looked like right now, open and wanting, the evidence of it soaking through the thin lace of my underwear.

Her eyes glanced low as she took in the sight, and god, the way she looked at me... like she had just won a game we weren’t even playing... made the heat between my legs burn even hotter.

I swallowed hard, my breath uneven.

“You could’ve just asked,” I murmured, my voice rougher, more ragged than I intended.

Agatha hummed, dragging her nails lightly along the inside of my thighs, making me shiver.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Her hands inched higher, her fingers pressing just enough to make me squirm, but not enough to satisfy. She was toying with me, drawing this out, enjoying the way my body responded to her.

I let out a shaky breath, reaching for her, gripping the back of her neck to pull her closer.

“Agatha—”

Her smirk deepened, and I barely had time to react before her lips were on mine, hot, claiming, stealing the words right out of my mouth.

And just as I started to sink into it, our tongues fighting for dominance, just as I was about to beg her to do something, I felt it.. another pulse of magic.

A beat later, my panties were gone.

I moaned, the sudden coolness making me shiver, making me ache. My body was so hot, so wound tight I thought I might snap from nothing more than the way she was looking at me.

I spread my legs wider for her, an offering, a surrender. God, I was hers and she knew it. I would let her do anything.

And she was enjoying it—relishing the way I melted for her, the way I was already undone before she had even really touched me.

Her fingers trailed higher, slow, deliberate, teasing the inside of my thigh, her touch light enough to make me want, to make me need her. And then—finally—she stroked me. Just the barest drag of her fingers through my wet folds, and my hips jerked instinctively, desperate for more.

But she didn’t give it me.

She was toying with me, dragging this out, revelling in the way I responded to just the teasing touches of her left hand, the way my breath hitched, the way my thighs trembled under her.

I let out a whimper, gripping the edge of the counter like I could ground myself, like I could will her to give in.

Then I felt it.

Not just her fingers… but her magic.

It pulsed through me, against me, inside me, invisible but undeniable, like a current sparking through every nerve in my body.

I gasped, my back arching, my head rolling back as a husky moan tore from my lips.

It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before—so intimate, so deep, touching something in me that was beyond the physical.

Agatha hummed, pleased, her fingers still stroking, circling, her magic still pressing, teasing, building.

“Oh,” she murmured, voice dripping with amusement and something darker, something possessive. “You really like that, don’t you?”

I couldn’t answer her.

I could barely breathe.

“Agatha,” I moaned, my hips moving instinctively, chasing more—more friction, more of her, more of whatever spell she was weaving around me… inside of me. God, what was she doing to me?

The pleasure was overwhelming, sharp and sweet all at once, twisting inside me until I forgot everything else—where we were, how loud I was being, how reckless this was.

I knew I should be quieter, knew I should at least try to keep it together. But all I could feel was her—her fingers sliding through my slickness, teasing me open, her magic pulsing in a way that sent hot sparks licking up over my clit. She was dragging this out, savouring every reaction, every damn sound I made. She stepped back slightly, just enough to watch, her blue eyes locked onto where her fingers were playing with me, spreading me, owning me.

I whimpered, my body twitching with need, and she smirked—knowing, utterly devastating.

“I think…” I managed to breathe, my voice uneven, shaking, “it’s not just me that likes this…”

Agatha let out a low, approving hum, her fingers pressing just a bit deeper, just a bit firmer, making me gasp, but not giving me enough.

“Mmm,” she murmured, tilting her head, her eyes still fixed on me, watching every little movement, every little reaction. “You have no idea.”

“Please, baby,” I moaned, my voice desperate, needy. Any restraint I might have had was long gone, tossed out the window along with my inhibitions.

I needed her. Inside me. Not teasing, not playing, not making me fall apart inch by inch—I needed her to take me.

Agatha smirked, her fingers still tormenting me, tracing the edges of my entrance but never quite pushing inside. Her magic rippled through me again, that slow, electric pulse that made my body tremble, made my breath hitch.

I whimpered, hips arching, trying to move against her, trying to take her deeper myself.

But she just tsked, keeping her touch just out of reach.

“What do you want, Y/N,” she murmured, voice silky, but dangerously in control.

I moaned, my body aching with need. God, she knew exactly what I wanted, knew exactly how desperate I was.

And she was thriving in it.

I bucked my hips again, trying to push her fingers inside me, but she stayed firm, just barely pressing, just enough to keep me on edge.

“Use your words,” she purred.

I whimpered again, my fingers gripping the edge of the counter so tight my knuckles turned white.

“Agatha, please,” I gasped, my voice breaking. “I need you inside me. Now… Just… fuck me.”

Her smirk deepened, satisfaction flickering across her face.

“There you go,” she murmured, leaning in close, her lips brushing the side of my face. And then—finally—she gave me what I wanted.

I had no idea how I didn’t wake the kids. Jesus, the noise that left me—the desperate, broken moan that ripped from my throat as she finally gave me what I needed.

Her fingers.

Her magic.

Inside of me, stretching, filling… fucking me.

Agatha’s left hand was buried deep, her ring and middle fingers deep, sinking in all the way to her engagement and wedding band, the cool metal pressing against my entrance, a constant reminder of who I belonged to.

Fuck.

It was consuming. Unlike anything I had ever felt before, like every nerve in my body was attuned to her, to the way she moved inside me, thrusting, twisting, curling her fingers just right, hitting that spot that made me see stars.

I barely registered the way I clung to her, my nails dragging down her back, my thighs trembling against her sides. All I could focus on was her, the way she was watching me, blue eyes gleaming, drinking in the way I was falling apart beneath her, around her. She fucking loved this…Loved the way I writhed, the way I gasped her name, the way I had lost any semblance of control.

“Agatha,” I choked out, my breath ragged, my body burning.

I could feel it, building inside me, higher and higher, like I was standing at the edge of something I might never come back from.

She curled her fingers again—fuck, right there—her magic pressing at the same time, flooding through me, deep, touching something I couldn’t even name.

"Oh, baby—right there,” I gasped, my voice breaking. “Don’t—”I didn’t even know what I was begging for.

More? Mercy?

I couldn’t control myself. The way I was acting, the way I was moving, chasing her, chasing this, my body desperate, needy, starving for more of her.

The need for her to fuck me like she never had before.

And god, she knew it.

But fuck... she was doing it on our kitchen counter.

The thought should’ve made me laugh—should’ve made me pause, should’ve reminded me that the Nicki and Ella were just upstairs—but I didn’t care. I couldn’t care.

Not with her inside me.

Not with her fingers pushing, curling, twisting in ways that made my body tremble, made me forget everything but the pleasure she was pulling from me.

The sound—the obscene, wet sound of her fingers moving inside me filled the room, mixing with my gasps, my moans, the quiet murmurs of encouragement from her lips.

“That’s it, baby,” she purred, her voice as dark as her magic, her free hand gripping my thigh, keeping me spread wide for her. For her to see. For her to take. “Let me hear you.”

I let out a strangled moan, my hands scrambling against the counter, my body arching. I couldn’t control it anymore, couldn’t stop the way I moved against her, how I chased it, chased her.

“Fuck… baby…” I gasped, barely able to breathe. “I—”

I didn’t even know what I was trying to say.

That I was close? That I was hers? That I was about to come apart so completely, I wasn’t sure I’d ever put myself back together again?

It didn’t matter.

Because she knew, and nothing was going to make her stop.

“Feel me inside you,” she whispered against my mouth, her breath hot, her voice thick with dark amusement, with possession.

Her fingers pumped deeper, curling just right, her magic rippling inside me in a way that made my body shudder, my breath come out in desperate, choked gasps.

“Squeeze me, baby.” Her lips brushed mine, her smirk infuriatingly smug as she felt me clench around her. “That’s a good girl”.

I was so far gone.

I couldn’t think, couldn’t form a single coherent thought beyond her—her fingers fucking me open, her magic thrumming through my veins, her body owning mine in a way that I never wanted to end.

The pleasure was blinding, all-consuming, twisting tighter and tighter, coiling in my stomach, in my thighs, in the very marrow of my bones.

“Oh, fuck,” I gasped, my hands gripping at her—her shoulders, her arms, anything to anchor me as my body tensed, trembling.

I was going to come.

God, I was going to come so fucking hard for her—from her, because of her, because of her fingers, her magic, her voice in my ear telling me to let go.

And when it finally snapped—when the pleasure crashed over me—I moaned her name, as if it was fresh out of a porn movie.

That was one of the most intense orgasms I’d ever had.

Holy fuck.

I was still trembling, my body shuddering with aftershocks as Agatha’s fingers worked the last of the pleasure from me, coaxing me through it. My hips still jerked, my body still reacted to her, even as I collapsed forward, my head resting against her shoulder.

I let out a breathless, satisfied laugh—maybe from the sheer bliss of it, maybe from the slight embarrassment of how completely I had let go.

And then, realisation hit me like a brick to the face.

I had been so loud.

“Shit,” I gasped, lifting my head to look at her, panic flickering through the lingering haze of pleasure.

“I wasn’t—”

“—quiet?” Agatha finished, her smirk wicked, amused. “No, darling. You really weren’t.”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands, but before I could wallow in my mortification, I felt the slow, deliberate slide of her fingers pulling out of me. My body ached at the loss, already missing her touch.

Then, without breaking eye contact, she lifted her fingers to her lips and sucked them clean.

I swore my soul left my body.

She hummed, deliberate, slow, as she licked every trace of me off her fingers. My breath hitched, my stomach flipping, my already sensitive body twitching at the sheer filthiness of it.

Then she grabbed my jaw and pulled me into a kiss, her tongue sliding into my mouth, teasing, letting me taste myself on her.

And—fuck.

It was different. Not just me—but her, her magic, something dark and electric and entirely Agatha lingering on my tongue.

When we finally broke apart, I was dazed, spent, and still shaking from what she’d just done to me.

“Don’t worry,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face, her smirk deepening. “The kids wouldn’t have heard a thing.”

I raised an eyebrow, suspicious.

She lifted a hand and subtly flicked her fingers.

I narrowed my eyes. “You didn’t—”

“Oh, it was just a little sleeping spell,” she purred, grinning like the devil.

I gaped at her.

“Agatha!”

She shrugged. “You were being loud, darling.”

I groaned, dropping my forehead back against her shoulder, already knowing this had set a precedent for it becoming more than a one-time thing.

“It would be a shame to waste it,” Agatha murmured, leaning into me, her bare skin pressing against mine, warm and tempting.

“Would it now?” I teased, though my voice lacked conviction.

I was still not entirely thrilled about the magic she had used to keep Nicki and Ella asleep, but… god, was I torn.

Because the way she was looking at me?

The way my body still hummed from her touch?

I wanted her.

Again.

And again.

And again.

She slid me down off the counter, my legs unsteady, still trembling from my release. I gripped her tight, my body weak but aching for her all the same.

Agatha hummed, amused. “A little wobbly there, hon?”

I huffed, gripping her tighter. “You know damn well why.”

She smirked, proud of herself, too proud, and before she could get another word out, I flicked my wrist.

Magic surged between us, wrapping around our bodies, and in an instant, we were no longer in the kitchen.

We were in our king-size bed—Agatha beneath me, sprawled out, panties now completely gone.

She let out a low, pleased hum, her smirk widening as she stretched out, utterly unbothered by the sudden shift.

“Oh,” she purred, blue eyes glinting, “look at you. Using magic like it’s going out of fashion.”

I merely arched a brow, pressing my body flush against hers, trapping her beneath me.

I leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep, slow-burning kiss, my hands trailing down her stomach, teasing but intentional.

As I broke the kiss, I let my fingers drift lower, my magic sparking against her skin as I smirked down at her.

“So,” I murmured, my voice low, my touch dangerously close to where she wanted it. “Where were we?”

I trailed my fingers lower, slow, teasing, the anticipation thrumming between us like a live wire.

Then I felt her.

And—Jesus. She was soaking.

A sharp inhale left my lips as my fingers dipped between her thighs, sliding against her wetness, between her folds, feeling just how wrecked she already was.

I lifted my gaze, meeting her eyes, my breath catching at the pure, unfiltered desire burning in them.

“Oh,” I murmured, my fingers teasing through her slickness, not quite giving her what she needed yet.

“Look at you.”

Agatha let out a breathy laugh, her smirk still in place, but her body twitched at the contact, her hips subtly shifting, needing more.

“Surprised?” she mused, though her voice was a little rougher, a little less composed than usual.

I grinned, pressing my fingers against her just a little more firmly, noting the way her breath hitched, as I brushed her clit.

“Pleased.”

I slid my fingers through her again, slow, deliberate, watching her expression shift, watching her lips part, her chest rise and fall just a bit quicker.

“God, baby,” I murmured, my voice dark with satisfaction, “you’re already so fucking wet for me.”

Agatha hummed, but this time, there was an edge to it.

“You did put on quite the show,” she murmured, her tone taunting, but I could feel the tension in her body, feel the way she was holding herself back.

I smirked, leaning down, brushing my lips against her ear as my fingers pressed deeper, teasing at her entrance but not pushing inside…just yet.

“Do you want me to return the favour?” I whispered, my breath warm against her skin.

Agatha swallowed, her hands tightening where they rested against my hips, her nails digging in just slightly.

But she was still playing the game, still trying to hold her ground.

So I waited.

I kept teasing, barely giving her what she wanted—until, finally, she let out a soft, frustrated moan, her hips arching, her magic flowing against mine in a way that sent a shiver down my spine.

Her voice was rough, low, almost a growl when she finally said it.

“Fuck me.”

I grinned against her skin.

“Oh, baby, I intend to.”

And then I slid my fingers inside her, and Agatha gasped.

God, she was so tight around me.

Nothing—nothing—felt better than this.

Than her.

Her heat.

I started moving, slow at first, deliberate, knowing full well it wasn’t enough, knowing it would drive her crazy.

Agatha let out a low, frustrated noise, her hips twitching, trying to take more, trying to set the pace herself.

But I wasn’t going to let her.

Not yet.

I wanted to feel her break, wanted to hear her beg, wanted to pull her apart the way she had done to me.

I pressed my lips against her jaw, nipping her with my teeth, teasing, dragging my fingers slowly out before pushing back in, keeping the rhythm achingly slow.

“Patience, baby,” I murmured against her skin, mocking the words she had said to me earlier.

Agatha let out a breathy laugh, sharp and knowing, but I could hear the edge of need beneath it.

“Oh, you’re playing dangerously, hon,” she whispered, her nails digging into my back, her magic thrumming against mine.

I grinned, pressing my thumb against her clit, just lightly, just enough to make her body twitch beneath me.

“I thought you liked that,” I murmured, thrusting deeper, still keeping her waiting, still teasing her with every slow movement.

Agatha let out a shaky breath, her walls tightening around me, her hips shifting restlessly.

Then she turned her head, her lips brushing against my ear, her voice lower, rougher, more raw than I’d ever heard it.

“Stop fucking teasing me,” she growled.

I shivered, the pure desperation in her tone setting my blood on fire.

Mmm—fuck.

I couldn’t deny her anymore.

Not when she sounded like that.

Not when she felt like this.

So I broke, curling my fingers deep inside her, pressing hard against that spot that made her body jerk, that made her gasp so loud I knew she didn’t care if the sleeping spell held or not.

I fucked her.

Hard.

And god, she love it.

I thrust hard, my fingers driving deep inside her, my thumb pressing against her clit at the same time… a warm burn starting to spread through my wrist.

The moment I did, I felt it—my magic crackling between us, wrapping around her, inside her, like an invisible pulse of heat.

Agatha’s moan was wrecked, raw, her body arching up into me, her head tilting back, exposing the long, perfect curve of her throat.God.

That sound.

That deep, desperate, uncontrollable moan that came from her lips as I fucked her with my fingers, as my magic pulsed through her body.

I felt a rush of heat between my own thighs, felt my own wetness drip down, my body aching from just hearing her.

From watching her come apart.

From knowing I was the one doing this to her.

She was so close, I could feel it in the way she clenched around me, in the way her hips jerked without rhythm, her body chasing more, more, more.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” I gasped, my breath coming out in ragged pants, my own pleasure building just from watching her fall apart.

Agatha’s hands clawed at me, pulling me closer, as if she needed to anchor herself, as if she needed to feel all of me as she unraveled.

Her voice was shaky, breathless, so fucking close to breaking as she gasped:

“Don’t stop—!”

And god help me, I wasn’t going to.

The wet, slick sound of my fingers moving inside her filled the room, mixing with her breathless, broken moans. Fuck, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard.

I never lost my rhythm, I kept thrusting, kept pushing as deep as I could, my fingers scissoring inside her, stretching her, curling to hit that perfect spot that made her body jolt against mine.

She was so damn close—I could feel it in the way she tightened around me, in the way her thighs trembled, her nails digging into my skin, her head thrown back in complete surrender.

“That’s it, baby,” I murmured, my thumb pressing harder against her clit, rubbing fast, tight circles, my lips, my tongue brushing against her throat as I encouraged her.

“Come for me. Let go, Agatha.”

She tried to speak—tried to say something, but all that left her was a strangled, wrecked moan as her body seized, her muscles tensing, her magic crashing against mine in wild, uncontrollable waves.

I felt the exact moment her release came —the moment she shattered around me, her walls pulsing tight, squeezing my fingers so hard it nearly stole my breath.

Her cry of pleasure was raw, undone, her hips jerking, her body writhing as she rode out her orgasm, my fingers still deep inside her, drawing out every last aftershock.

She was so gone, so completely wrecked beneath me, and god, I had never felt so powerful, so fucking addicted to the way she fell apart for me.

Her breath was ragged, her body still trembling, and I couldn’t stop myself—I leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep, slow kiss, tasting her moan, owning it.

When I finally pulled back, she was dazed, her beautiful blue eyes hazy, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

I smirked, satisfied, dragging my fingers slowly out of her, loving the way her body twitched from the loss.

She swallowed, blinking up at me, her expression unreadable for just a second—then her smirk returned, lazy, dangerous, so fucking Agatha.

She let out a breathy chuckle, still wrecked, and rasped “…God Y/N, I knew you had it in you.”

I smirked down at her, utterly pleased with myself, my fingers still glistening from her.

“Oh? And what exactly did you think I had in me?”

Agatha let out a breathless, satisfied laugh, her hands still lazily resting on my hips as she blinked up at me, her eyes still looking hungry.

“Oh, you know,” she drawled, tilting her head, her smirk lazy and self-satisfied, but I could still see the aftershocks running through her body. “A bit of wickedness. A little bite.”

She exhaled, still catching her breath, her fingers brushing idly against my bare skin.

“But this? I wasn’t expecting you to be so…” She trailed off, eyes flickering down to my very smug expression, before licking her lips.

“So?” I prompted, dragging my slick fingers up her thigh, teasing, making her twitch.

Agatha hummed, fake considering, before her smirk turned sharp, wicked.

“Merciless.”

I grinned, leaning down, brushing my lips over hers, just barely giving her what she wanted.

“Oh, baby,” I murmured, dragging my fingers up her stomach, watching her shiver under my touch. “I learned from the best.”

Agatha let out a slow, dark laugh, her fingers tightening on my waist.

“I really should’ve corrupted you sooner.”

I bit my lip, mocking thoughtfulness, my fingers trailing back down, dangerously close to where she was still warm and wet for me.

“Oh? So you admit I’m better than you thought?”

Agatha narrowed her eyes, her smirk growing wider.

“I never said better.”

I flicked my fingers, letting my magic spark just enough to tease her, to make her gasp, her hips twitching again.

“Oh, I think I just proved otherwise.

”Mm,” she murmured, voice hoarse, amused, completely smug. “You really are full of surprises.”

I huffed a soft laugh, pulling her closer, my arms wrapping around her, our bodies naturally melding together, skin still warm, still buzzing from everything we’d just done.

She let out a content sigh, tucking her head against my shoulder, comfortable, relaxed, so effortlessly Agatha.

I let my fingers trace absent patterns up her side, across her ribs, pressing a lazy kiss to her temple.

“You can take the sleeping spell off the kids now,” I murmured, my voice teasing but pointed.

Agatha hummed again, this time slower, considering.

“Mmm,” she sighed, stretching just slightly, her bare legs tangling with mine. “Maybe I’ll leave it on a little longer.”

I snorted, turning my head to look at her, eyebrow raised.

“Oh? Is that so?”

She grinned, her fingers trailing lightly down my own side, casual, innocent, but I knew better.

“Well,” she mused, thoughtfully mocking me, her breath hot against my skin, “you did just discover how much fun magic can be.”

I smirked, shifting just slightly so our bodies pressed even closer, heat curling between us again, despite the exhaustion settling in.

“Maybe,” I murmured, my lips brushing hers, “using my magic more often isn’t such a bad thing…”

Agatha let out a low, pleased hum, her smirk widening as she nipped at my lip.

“Not when it’s just the two of us.”

Also on AO3 - Writtenwhiledreaming 💜 (Third chapter of No! You Can’t Hex A Four-Year-Old).

[rezwrites]

Hiya! Can you please write fem reader x Rio where Y/N gets possessed during the trial by her dead evil mother (similar to Agatha) and others want to punish her too, and Rio is the only one who protects her? Later she calms her down too, when reader is back to normal

Here you go!

Warnings: thoughts of stabbing

Everyone was gathered around the ouija board fingers on the planchette. The air grew heavy with an otherworldly energy. A round of questions go by with no answer until Teen asks, “what do you want?”

Everybody looks puzzled when the planchette spells out punish. Everyone’s voices rise up questioning if someone was moving the planchette, overlapping each other.

“Stop it, enough,” you take a deep breath, speaking up, “who do you want to punish?”

The planchette started moving across the board erratically spelling your name repeatedly. Your heart sinks as feel everybody looking at you, Rio keeping her eyes on you gauging your reaction.

Yanking your hands away as if the planchette burned you. You walked to the middle of the room trying to prevent yourself from hyperventilating. Everyone agreed on what had to be done to pass the trial, moving towards you with various ideas to punish you.

“Don’t touch her!” Rio puts herself between you and the rest of the coven, knife in her hand. Overcome by the malevolent presence of a spirit, you feel an eerie chill crawl up your spine as you fall to your knees.

The lights go out as supernatural screams fill the room, objects flying everywhere. Realizing you’ve disappeared everyone grabs a light, Rio frantically looking for you, “where is she?”

You came out of no where snarling, acting erratically. Everybody panics not knowing what do when you start attacking all of them.

Lilia finds the breaker switching the lights on, all the noise and objects stopped. Snapping out of your trance you back yourself against the wall by the television, as an apparition manifests on the wooden stairs.

The ghost of your mother appears. Rio’s face twists in clear disgust, putting her knife away knowing there’s nothing she could do against a ghost even if she wants to stab your mother a thousand times.

“Leave her with me. She needs to learn what it means to be a true witch.” You mother tries convincing then to leave you behind.

“No! no way. Just because she isn’t selfish or power-hungry like you doesn’t mean she isn’t a true witch. If anything her punishment was having a mother like you trying to corrupt her every step of her life, in order to use her as a weapon.” Rio rants to your mother, cursing her name. The second it leaves her mouth, every regressed memory and feeling came bubbling to the surface.

The path to the road opens up, Rio signals to the others to go on ahead, that you two will catch up. She runs to you, kneeling beside you. You kept her at arms distance, ���I’m fine, really.”

Rio shook her head in disbelief, “I know you aren’t. Don’t brush this off like it’s nothing.”

“I was terrified, okay?! And so angry,” you take a breath attempting to steady yourself, “I thought I was okay after all this time but after seeing her, all the trauma she put me through I just wanted to-” choking up on your words your magic flickered around your fingertips, diminishing when you curled your hands into fists.

Rio slid her arms around you, pulling you into her embrace wanting nothing more to never let you go. She tucked your head under her chin as you break down in her arms, clinging tightly to her torso. She rubs your back as you sob, “You’re doing the best you can, that’s all anyone can ask of you. Take your time, I’m right here.”

[lowkeyerror]

I Had To Come Back

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Notes: 1st person, Agnes, a bit of angst, happy ending, part 2 to I Can't Do This Anymore

Summary: After you left Agatha in the middle of her fight with Wanda, you thought you'd be able to move on with your life. However, it was a foolish thought considering how deeply you felt for Agatha. So eventually you find yourself back in Westview looking for her.

An: Been a long time since I've written in 1st person, but wanted to keep it cohesive with part 1. I had to follow up after getting a comment from @dandelions4us only 3 years later but hope you enjoy part 2.

Part 1 | Masterlist

I didn’t think moving on would be simple, but I hoped it would be possible. However, without Agatha by my side life had become incredibly dull. It wasn’t a lack of excitement, but a lack of someone to share it with. After all those centuries together, I didn’t want to share it with anyone except her.

When I left her that day, I knew it had to be done. I did everything for her, but I would never be enough. I never wanted to leave, but a person can only come in second place for so long. Second fiddle to a hunger that would never be satiated.

I thought eventually I’d miss her less. That I would be able to move on from what we had, but that was entirely foolish. A woman as enigmatic as Agatha would always leave a mark on my soul.

I fought the feeling for years, unwilling to give in without trying, but fuck, I missed her. I saw her in everything I did. I could hear her calling to me, reaching for me. It was like she put a spell on me, which she very well could’ve.

I knew the truth, the feeling was all mine, no magic necessary. I still loved her, I needed to find her. I don’t know if she’d take me back, if she could forgive me for leaving, but I just needed to see her.

It was surprise to find her still in Westview. The town looked the same from the outside, but I could sense a difference from the people within. I could feel their eyes on me as I walked through the town.

I hated the way I felt their eyes linger on me. An outsider, or maybe they recognized me, either way it made me uncomfortable.

Going up to the house I used to live in was more challenging than I thought it would be. As I walked towards the house, I felt my heart rate picking up.

Maybe if I kept walking the block she'd eventually make an appearance. I didn't have to knock, I wouldn't have to face her. I just needed to know that she was ok, that would satisfy whatever I was feeling. At least that's what I started telling myself.

“Are you here for her?”

I whipped around at the sound of a voice. It was Herb. It was strange seeing him outside of the illusion Wanda casted, it was safe to assume his name wasn’t even Herb.

“I’m just visiting it won’t be long. Not trying to cause any trouble,” I leveled with him.

“Good luck, she’s been a bit off of her rocker since the whole Wanda thing,” he mentions.

That set off some alarms in my mind, “How so?”

“Sharon said Agnes is really into rom-coms this week. It changes pretty often, but I think rom-coms will be better than last week’s war movie theme.”

I tilt my head to the side, “What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say she created an… immersive experience for herself.”

I still don’t quite get what he means, but the only way to find out is if I check for myself. With a few small words of self-encouragement and a few deep breaths, I head over to the house.

I wait on the porch after ringing the doorbell. It doesn’t take long before the door opens. Agatha opens the door, eyes wide as they land on me.

“It’s you,” she whispers to herself.

“It is,” I say shuffling in my spot.

“Why are you here? You think after all this time I’d let you just waltz back into my life? You left me,” she doesn’t make eye contact with me.

My stare hits the ground, “Please, can we just talk. I know I left, but can you really blame me. I didn’t know if you’d ever care about me like I cared about you.”

She ushers me into the house. Her hands on my wrist cold like they usually were. I let her pull me into the kitchen.

“I can’t believe you’re back here after all these years. What brings you to town?”

My eyebrows crease, “I’m only here for you Ags.”

She shakes her head and laughs about, “You’re silly, be honest why come home now?”

I’m even more confused, “Home?”

She pushes your shoulder lightly, “Yes, goofball, home. Westview, the town we grew up in together.”

Worry begins to fill my body, as pieces begin to form together in my mind, “Ag- Agnes?”

“Yes, hun?”

I can’t help, but reach out and grab her face in my hands.

“Y/n what are you-”

I sush her as I look into her eyes. I search for Agatha behind her eyes, and begin to panic when I can’t see her. I can’t help as tears begin to fall.

“What did she do?”

I can tell Agnes is confused, but she uses one of her hands to hold mine in place.

“What’s wrong doll?”

Instantly I lose my last bit of composure, “I’m sorry I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Forgive me, my love… if I would’ve- I shouldn’t have left, I’m sorry.”

Agnes wraps her arms around me. It’s familiar, but different. She holds me up, and swipes at my tears.

“I have you,” she rubs soothing circles on my back but it only makes me cry harder.

My mind is racing. How was I going to fix this? Magic done by the Scarlet Witch herself. If anything I’d need Agatha to guide me more now than ever. Yet the woman was out of my reach. I hoped she was somewhere buried underneath Agnes, but I had no way of knowing.

I pull away to look at her, “I love you.”

A part of her melts away, “You’re a mess, you don’t mean that.”

“I do Ag-Agnes, I mean it more than you can fathom. I love you more than anything and leaving you… it was my greatest mistake. I’ll never forgive myself for it. I won’t ask you to forgive me, but allow me to make it up to you.”

Agnes rests her forehead against mine. My breath hitches as she looks into my eyes. Her breathing slows and she searches my features. It feels like an eternity passes, but eventually she puts her lips against mine.

I freeze and she almost breaks the kiss, but my arms encircle her. I keep her close allowing myself to indulge in this moment, I don’t deserve.

“I’m just happy you came back,” she speaks.

It almost sounds like Agatha, but you know better. It breaks your heart, but you’re devout. You’re going to fix this, you’re going to bring her back.

Agnes didn't have any push back when I asked to stay with her. She let me in and I got a glimpse into what the neighbors were saying about her… intense interests. I found a way to mitigate them, keeping her somewhere in the nosy neighbor medium.

I didn’t sleep much, spending most of my time in Agatha’s hidden space in the house. There were traces of her everywhere, I could practically feel her. The Darkhold was nowhere to be found, but I did come across Agatha’s old notebooks. They were filled with knowledge themselves.

I was hoping to find anything about breaking the spell she was under. She had books filled with her messy handwriting, nearly impossible for anyone else to decipher. It was different for me, I had been with her when she filled them, I could recall sitting watching her write, sometimes for hours at a time. She was always so dedicated to the craft.

It took a little over 7 months, before I found something useful; an incantation. It seemed too easy, like there should’ve been a catch to it. Yet it was my only source of chance.

“Agnes, I want to try something with you. It’s a little unconventional, but I need you to trust me,” I say, hoping she would agree.

She places a kiss on my cheek, “We’re past all the dramatics hun, you know I trust you.”

I nod, “Ok, you’re going to sit here, and I’m going to say some Latin. That's it.”

“Sound easy enough, sweetheart."

I begin to say the incantation while looking into Agnes’s eyes. I can see her shifting in her seat slightly uncomfortable. I can’t tell if the walls of the house are shaking or if it just feels that way.

“Stop,” she mumbled under her breath, but I don’t.

I keep going, and eventually she stands. She starts peeling off her clothes and I almost advert my eyes, until I see her changing. The different versions of her begin to peel back like layers.

When it’s over she’s naked in the living room. I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. I take a knee, unable to fully stand. It feels like all my power has been removed from my body.

“Agatha,” I call out to her, breathlessly. Though it takes all my effort, I lift my head.

“So, you came crawling back.”

It was her, the real her. I could tell by the harsh tone of her voice.

“Welcome back sweetheart,” I can’t help the laugh that escapes me.

“How long has it been?”

I attempt to stand, but end up falling over, “Fuck.”

Agatha walks over, picking me up and easily placing me on the couch, “Now answer my question.”

“I came about 7 months ago. It’s been nearly 3 years since I left,” I look at her.

It’s surreal, seeing Agatha and not Agnes.

“3 years, I’ve been trapped for 3 years,” she says to herself in disbelief.

“Why'd you come back?”

She meets my eyes and refuse to look away, “For you, Agatha. When I found you, or should I say when I found Agnes, I freaked out. The Darkhold is gone, I did my best. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t apologize. You did the right thing, I mean what good would it me if we were both trapped.”

“What if I didn’t come back?”

Agatha sighs, “Then I would’ve gotten what I deserved.”

I grab her hand, “No one deserves anything like that.”

She snatches her hand out of mine, “Oh please, I bet you enjoyed the time with Agnes.”

I shake my head at her jealousy. It’s a testing move, but I hook my finger under her chin, forcing her to look at me, “Agnes was sweet, but she is not the woman I love.”

“The woman you left,” Agatha’s vulnerability shines through.

“The woman I keep coming back to, no matter how much it might hurt me,” I remind her tentatively.

“You deserve more,” she sighs closing her eyes.

I lean in, “I just want you.”

I’m the one who presses my lips to her’s. She doesn’t deny me, caving into her desires. I’m putting everything that I have to give into this kiss. The passion is driving me and Agatha is meeting me every step of the way.

It’s not until my hand grazes against her bare stomach that we both pause, realizing she’s still naked.

“I want you too, more than all of this,” Agatha stares deeply into my eyes.

“You don’t have to choose, it was foolish of me to ask.”

Now it’s Agatha grabbing your hands, “It wasn't, it was reasonable. I had my priorities out of order, you are the most important thing in my life and I'm not willing to lose you again. I love you.”

I kiss the back of her hand, “I love you too.”

The moment we shared was sweet, but it soon was filled with defeat as I noticed my body still felt weak. I could tell something was wrong, I tried to use my magic, but nothing happened.

Agatha uses her powers to dress and they work just fine, yet I could see a remorseful look take over her features.

“Y/n, I think…”

I don’t care to hear the rest, “It’s alright, they always suited you better than me anyway.”

Agatha shakes her, “We can find a way, I can give them back-”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Aggie. I’m fine, it’ll take a little getting used to, but it’s not going to kill me,” I stand with much effort.

I could tell by the look in her eye, that she didn’t believe me, “I stole your powers.”

I roll my eyes, “I gave them to you, and I’d do it again, as long as you’re here with me, I couldn’t care less.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod, “Yes, I’m sure. Now let’s get out of this town, it’s beyond dreadful.”

She takes my hand in hers a mischievous smile on her face, “Anywhere with you, my dear.”

[stayevildarling]

Agatha Harkness x Cordelia Goode x Reader-Undone by desire

A/N: I can‘t stop thinking about these two so here we are🤷🏻‍♀️

tags/tw: soft dom!cordelia, mean dom!agatha, sub!reader, corruption, praise kink, mommy kink, jealous cordelia, virgin reader, cordelia recieving (strap), reader recieving (oral, strap), agatha recieving (oral, strap) enchanted strap, choking

word count: 4.5k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahelvar , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples

The coven‘s halls had undeniably been more alive since Agatha Harkness arrived. Cordelia, ever the welcoming and open supreme allowed the covenless witch to join, offering her a place at Miss Robichaux‘s as after everything, the brunette just wanted to belong. Agatha accepted with grace but there was something mysterious about her, the way she carried herself and the atmosphere changed whenever she stepped into a room. Despite it being some weeks now, you noticed immediately, Agatha was the kind of woman who didn‘t need to raise her voice to make herself understood, her voice laced with something darker, there always seeming to be a deeper intention behind her words. And you couldn‘t deny that you felt drawn to her.

At first, your interactions had been harmless, a sly comment here, a lingering glance at the dinner table there. You brushed it off for her nature, usually the more quiet one around the academy, only really opening up yourself once you know someone a bit better. It had taken you years to warm up to Cordelia, to allow yourself to laugh around her and allow yourself to slowly fall for her, not able to hide the way she made you blush. But Cordelia had warned you about Agatha, telling you to be careful. „She‘s powerful“ she said one afternoon. „And power often comes with… complication“.

But days turned into weeks and Agatha‘s interest in you deepened, becoming harder and harder to ignore. She was suddenly always near, offering to help you with your magic, whispering low and suggestive things that made your cheeks burn. At first you enjoyed the game, unsure how to play it exactly but letting the witch pull you right under her spell, unaware of her ulterior motives. But as Agatha‘s influence grew, Cordelia noticed the shift in you as you began questioning things about the coven, your powers and mostly about Cordelia. The woman who you had been head over heels for for years, the woman who would make you blush, who was so gentle with her touch and the woman who made the others mumble about her attraction to you but Delia never voiced those, not in the way Agatha so bluntly would.

The supreme wasn‘t blind to what Agatha was doing, how she was slowly drawing you in, seeing how you slowly became alive under attention and it sparked something within the blonde. An overprotectiveness that came as a force, laced by her raging jealousy. You noticed it a while back when the three of you worked in the greenhouse, Agatha leaning closer and lowly murming in your ear „You‘ve got so much potential“ she praised, watching you work effortlessly on your magic. „If only someone helped you truly unlock it“ she whispered, voice dripping with something more than encouragement. And that was enough for Cordelia to snap. „That‘s enough Agatha“ she said sharply, her voice firm but the other witch simply smiled, leaning back as if nothing happend, getting exactly what she wanted out of this exchange.

The following days seemed to change everything, the tension in the academy heavy. Cordelia‘s overprotectiveness reached its peak point as she made sure to keep you safe. Her eyes lingered on you as she made sure not to leave you and Agatha alone, worried what would happen if she did. Meanwhile Agatha continued, knowing exactly what she is doing, she enjoyed winding the supreme up, being able to tell her little plan was working just fine, not only slowly corrupting you to be her perfect little pet but also get the side of Cordelia to show that she has seen since joining, something hidden deep.

„You‘ve been awfully quiet“ Agatha purred the other day, as you passed her in the hallway. Her hand brushed against your arm, halting your movements. „What‘s on that pretty little mind of yours?“ she asked, causing your cheeks to burn. Before you could answer though, Cordelia appeared out of nowhere, stepping between you two. Her expression was calm but her voice filled with something you had never seen in your supreme before. „Agatha don’t you have somewhere else to be?“ she questioned calmly.

Agatha smirked, unbothered by Cordelia‘s interruption. „Funny, I could ask you the same thing Ms Supreme“ her eyes flickered to you for a moment before she carried on „Or do you always hover so closely over your students?“. Cordelia stiffened, her compusure beginning to crack „I don‘t hover, I protect what‘s mine“ she snapped. „Yours?“ Agatha laughs, she leans closer to Cordelia, their faces inches apart and for a second you thought they may kiss under the tension of it all. „Funny, I didn‘t think posession extended to matters of the heart“ Agatha whispered. The tension between them felt suffocating snd despite their words seeming like they may want to kill each other, their body languages betrayed them both, the mutual attraction undeniable.

Her words lingered on your mind „I protect what‘s mine“ she said and you couldn‘t sleep that night, couldn‘t focus for the next few days, not understanding where this had came from. Cordelia had always been kind to you, maybe even putting you above other students but she had never made a step, not in all those years, despite the obvious signs of your mutual feelings for each other, despite the whispers of the other students, despite the deep conversations in the greenhouse at 3am, despite the times she looked at you like she wanted you but stopped herself just in time.

A day later you opted to retreat to the library, the tension in the academy almost suffocating you as you seek refuge. But not even the pages of the book you are reading can distract you from what has been going on. You couldn‘t stop thinking about Agatha‘s touch on your skin, the way it made you feel on fire, letting thoughts cross your mind that hadn‘t crossed your mind before. But then there was Cordelia, her words, her protectivenesse and the undeniable feelings you have had for her from the beginning.

You are startled when the sound of the library door pulls your attention from the book, Cordelia steps inside, her gaze locking onto you. She seems much less composed than usual, almost if she is holding something back. „I thought I might find you here“ she says softly, crossing the room to where you are sitting. „Delia“ you almost whisper as you set your book down. She pauses, looking into your eyes „Sweetie I need to talk to you“ she begins but before she can carry on, Agatha steps inside, wearing a purple suit that draws your eyes onto her, the rings, the way she carries herself captivated you. „Well isn‘t this cozy“ she says, her voice dripping with amusement as she steps closer. „I was hoping to find you alone dear but seems Ms Supreme beat me to it“ she chuckes, so unfazed at the way she just waltzed in and interrupted you both.

Cordelia turns „Agatha“ she says almost sharply „This isn‘t the time“ she warns, her voice filled with authority, which causes your eyes to land on her. But Agatha doesn‘t care, her attention entirely on you „You know, I‘m beginning to wonder whether Cordelia is as concerned about your wellbeing as she claims.. or if this is something“ she pauses, stepping closer „Deeper“. Her movements are slow and deliberate „Tell me darling, do you feel protected hm? or do you feel trapped?“ she asks, causing your heart to race.

„That‘s enough“ Cordelia snaps, stepping in between you both. Her calm composure is unraveling again and you are surprised, no one ever having pushed her buttons just like Agatha had. „I won‘t let you manipulate her“ the supreme warns. „‚Manipulate?“ Agatha repeats, amusement evident in her voice. „Darling, I don‘t need to manipulate, she is already curious, aren‘t you sweetheart?“ she purrs, looking right at you. „You have felt it haven‘t you? that pull? you‘re drawn to me just as much as she is to you“ the brunette claims which causes your heart to stop as your hands begin shaking.

„Leave her alone“ Cordelia demands, her voice shaking now with rage, she moves closer to Agatha, their faces inches apart. The tension between them was undeniable, air thick but there was something else as Agatha tilts her head, her smirk disappearing as she steps closer. And there it was again, their faces inches apart, their words not matching the ways their bodies spoke. „You‘re so quick to defend her“ she murmurs „But tell me Cordelia- are you really protecting her from me? or are you afraid she might choose me if you let her decide?“ the brunette questions. Cordelia glances at you and you see her faltering for a brief moment, her jaw tight.

This wasn‘t jealousy anymore, you could see the way Agatha almost leaned in as to test the supreme‘s boundaries and the supreme almost faltering. „She‘s not a game Agatha“ Cordelia warns, voice barely above a whisper. „Neither are you“ Agatha speaks softly, her smirk replaced by a sincerity that takes your breath away. It seems like the tension between them fleeds but Cordelia stiffens again before speaking. „Go to your room Y/N“ she demands, eyes darting to you. „Now“ she instructs her voice firm.

„Delia“ you tried but she cut you off with that look. And so you listened, leaving them, glancing at them one more time, hearing Agatha chuckling „So obedient“ before you leave, knees weak and breath trembling as you make it to your room, feeling like you are caught in a game that you didn‘t fully understand. The way they stood so close drove you crazy, a part of you yearned for the thought of them kissing but another part of you felt confused, Agatha‘s intensions almost clear but Cordelia‘s so confusing.

Something changed that night. You felt it when you stepped into the kitchen the next morning, hoping to find some coffee as you had been awake the entire night, unable to stop thinking about either of the older women. Agatha stepped inside, something softer about her demeanor as she greeted you „Hi darling“ she said before Cordelia joined, the supreme‘s demeanor seeming less protective, more composed and calm even with Agatha beaide you. „Good norning“ she greeted you, helping you to some coffee as your eyes darted between them. „How are you feeling darling?“ Cordelia asked gently, which caused you to shrug and mumble a quick „I‘m fine“ before you wrapped your hands around the coffee mug. „You seem distracted sweetheart, something on your mind?“ Agatha asked.

You glanced at Cordelia who remained silent, waiting for your answer but you stayed quiet. „She seems a little overwhelmed don‘t you think?“ Agatha asked which caused Cordelia to nod. „We‘re here for you sweetie“ she encouraged. „You don‘t have to be afraid“ she whispered as her hands brushed over your shoulder gently. „We aren‘t going anywhere“ she reassured before Agatha joined in again „We just want you to know you are wanted“ she exclaimed, the statement almost taking your breath away. And then you realized that whatever happened between them that night changed everything, they weren‘t fighting over you anymore, they were working together.

The following days went by in a haze, you barely managed to function under their gazes, Cordelia‘s lingering protetective presence, Agatha‘s hands on you and the way she was teasing you. It took everything within you not to give in to them, trying to think of a way to balance this but the more the days passed, it left you lonely in the nights, aching for their touch and presence. And tonight something within you snapped, the way they hovered around you by the dinner table, the way their eyes spoke lengths, their voices dripping with desire.

By the time the night came around you found yourself restless, abandoning the idea of sleep before wandering the hallways. And somehow you found yourself by Cordelia‘s office, the door slightly ajar, almost inviting you inside. Your hands trembled as you finally bring yourself to knock and the door opens immediately, exposing both Agatha and Cordelia, sitting opposite each other, murming words that you couldn‘t make out. You could see Delia leaning forward, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder‘s, Agatha‘s dark eyes glistening.

The brunette‘s gaze catches yours and her smirk widens „Well well“ she murmurs „Look who couldn‘t stay away“ she grins, leaning back into her chair. Cordelia turns, her soft eyes finding yours „What are you doing up sweetheart?“ she asks gently, though there was something knowing in her tone. „It‘s late“ she says which causes you to falter. „I..“ you stammer, feeling your cheeks burning under both of their gazes. The words get caught in your throat, the intensity of even being in the same room with them impossible.

Agatha stands slowly, her movements calculated as she approaches you. Your eyes immediately travel to her dark purple blazer, her white button upped shirt and her jewrely. „She looks like she has something on her mind“ she murmurs as she glances back at the supreme. She stops just a step away from you, her presence causing you to shiver „What is it darling? you can tell us“ she encourages and then Cordelia rises too, her approach much gentler than Agatha but no less commanding. Her hand brushes your arm, softly grounding you but her touch makes your breathing hitch nevertheless.

„You don‘t have to keep it in sweetie“ she says softly, her eyes searching yours. „We know“ she breathes, causing your heart to pound in your chest. They both stand so close now, Delia equally in an outfit that has been driving you crazy for years. They both seem to pull you in like a magnet, Agatha‘s dark knowing smirk and Cordelia‘s gentle gaze exactly what you have been yearning for.

And then you couldn‘t hide it anymore „I“ you begin, voice breaking as you hide your trembling hands „I want you. Both of you“ you whisper, barely audible but enough for both witches to hear. Agatha‘s smirk only deepends, her eyes glistening while Cordelia simply parts her lips in a soft gasp, cheeks flushing at your confession. „Well“ Agatha murmurs „Finally“ voice filled with satisfaction. The supreme‘s hand on you tightens a little, her eyes flickering to Agatha before returning to you. „Are you sure darling?“ she asks, her voice barwly above a whisper. You could tell she was in control, just the way Agatha was but there was something deeper behind her eyes, almost sparkling with love, wanting to make sure this was truly what you wanted.

All you can do is nod, unable to form words, your entire body trembling. Agatha takes the initative, her head tilting as she moves impossibly closer „You have no idea how long we have been waiting for this“ she says softly „For you to finally admit it“. And then she leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that ignites a fire within you, one that has been fueled by their actions for weeks, one that takes your breath away as you cling to the woman, holding onto her for dear life as her mouth explores yours, thinking if you stopped holding on, you might pass out under the intensity of it all.

Agatha pulls away, moving to the side to give Cordelia the room, the supreme steps closer, her hand resting on your cheek as she speaks. „We‘ll take care of you“ she promises, her voice trembling with sincerity. „If you let us“ you nod weakly, causing the supreme to smile softly before stepping forward, hovering for a moment before she leans in. And her kiss is much softer, no less demanding or assuring who’s in control here but it was filled with something almost sweet, the desire to please you, to make sure you are okay and make you feel good and the kiss settles in your heart as this had been on your mind for years.

The brunette creeps up behind you as you both pull away after a while, your eyes locking with the supreme‘s for a moment. „Follow me dear“ she instructs and you do, letting the older woman lead you out of the room and into her bedroom, the supreme following as they lead you into the woman‘s sanctuary. You hadn‘t seen Agatha‘s room yet, much darker than the usual light academy, the place filled with candles, the atmosphere mysterious as she leads you to bed. She makes you sit there before she turns to the supreme, capturing her lips in a kiss that takes your breath away. You watch their mouth, the way they both fight for entrance, the way Agatha stands tall and the way Cordelia doesn‘t falter. The scene causes your breathing to hitch as you press your thighs together, the arousal already staining your underwear at this point.

They both turn to you with knowing glances, seeing your chest heave and hearing your breathing hitching. „Would you like to do the honours of undressing her Ms Supreme?“ Agatha teases which causes Cordelia to nod softly as she makes her way over. „Is that what you want sweet girl?“ she asks as she bites her lip and all you can do is nod, words having left you long ago by now. Her movements are gentle, painfully slow as she begins kissing down your neck, leaving gentle bruises that would become reminders of this night soon. She begins by taking your shirt off, deliberately slow as she exposes your red lingerie, causing her to smirk ever so slightly. When you watch her go on her knees, you think you might explode, watching as she begins taking off your socks, your trousers and leaving you in nothing but the red set you had chosen for tonight, a part of you knowing where this would lead.

„Lay down there darling“ she instructs, her voice filled with authority and desire as she makes you lay in the middle of the bed, Agatha‘s eyes darkening as she watches the scene unfold. Cordelia begins hovering above you, crawling on top of you as she begins kissing you, her tongue immediately entering your mouth as she begins exploring you in a way she had been meaning to forever. Agatha is quick to abandon her own clothing, leaving her in nothing but a purple bralette which causes your eyes to drift. The brunette goes on her knees as she hovers behind Cordelia, making sure to undress the supreme too. You notice her struggling with Cordelia‘s shirt and so you glance at the supreme, silently asking for permission as your fingers ghost over the buttons of her shirt. She nods and you help Agatha with ease to undress her. „Such a good attentive darling“ the brunette purrs which causes you to moan into Cordelia‘s mouth.

„What do you think we should do with her first?“ Agatha purrs as her hand travels over Cordelia‘s torso, reaching her neck as she grabs her and reaches for another hungry kiss. „Should we make her watch? fall apart while we make her wait?“ the brunette smirks. The supreme‘s eyes fall upon you, considering their options. „But she‘s been so patient already“ the blonde counters which causes Agatha to fake pout. „Have you little one? do you not wanna wait any longer?“ she mocks which causes you to shake your head desperately. „Well then I‘ll let you do the honors Ms Supreme“ she smiles which causes your heart to race. The blonde begins gently caressing your skin, her mouth exploring you as Agatha‘s hands cup your breasts. The supreme‘s breath hitches, seeing parts of you that she never had before, the tattoo covering your collarbone.

Her touch is featherlight until she reaches your center, chest heaving by now. She glances at you with so much care in the world, despite the hunger evident in her eyes. „May I?“ she asks as her fingers begin playing with the wasitband of your red panties and you nod eagerly before Agatha interupts „Words darling“ she corrects you and you force yourself to speak „Yes please“ you pant which causes her to grin. „Good girl“ the supreme praises which sends a shiver through you as her tongue begins exploring you. At first, she begins kissing the inside of your thighs, her eyes leaving yours as Agatha begins pleasuring the supreme from behind. By the time her tongue licks through your folds, collecting your sweet juices a gutteral moan escapes you. „Delia“ you whine, wiggling as you need to feel more.

It takes you a good minute to realize that Agatha is wearing a strap by now, holding onto Cordelia as she pounds into her from behind, all while the blonde dips her tongue inside you. A gutteral moan escapes you again as she brings you so close but she stops herself, letting Agatha devour her, sending pleasure through her body as she grips onto the sheets beside you. You watch in awe, body trembling as Agatha makes the supreme feel good, moans and curse words falling from the blonde‘s lips all at once. At some point, you feel like you can‘t take it anymore, letting your hand travel down to your clit to get at least some friction, watching the supreme orgasm on Agatha‘s strap.

„Nuh uh“ Agatha stops you, placing your hand away from your clit as you whine. „Do you want mommy to make you feel good too?“ she asks, her voice filled with sweetness as she hovers above you. „Yes please mo-mommy“ you moan, watching as Cordelia comes down from her high. Agatha wastes no time in alligning herself but the blonde stops her „Have you ever done this sweetie?“ the supreme asks as she locks eyes with you and you shake your head. She glances at Agatha who gives her a knowing look „Don‘t worry Ms Supreme, I‘ll be gentle with your precious girl“ she teases which causes the supreme to roll her eyes. „If it‘s too much or you want me to stop, you tell me okay? But I have a feeling you‘ll enjoy this sweet girl“ Agatha coos and you nod, not caring about any of this as the desperation gets the better of you.

The brunette remains on her knees, purple strap tugged against her hips as she slowly begins teasing you with the tip, pushing it in slowly to let you adjust. Your eyes force close at the strange sensation, whincing ever so slightly before something bursts and your eyes fly open. „More please“ you whisper, causing Agatha to smirk, having known there was this side of you as Cordelia‘s eyebrows raise in surprise. She sinks in completely, making you take her entire length as she begins filling you up, her hips thrusting into you slowly first but then fast, keeping up a steady pace of edging you, wanting nothing more than to make you a screaming, begging mess for them. You had never felt this way before, the attention of two beautiful and attractive women on you like that, their hands roaming your body, Agatha fucking into you so perfectly sending you into a bliss, barely able to function anymore, let alone breathe.

„Fuck“ you curse and even Cordelia barely manages to keep herself together, watching your tits bounce, back arching and mouth hanging open. Her hand finds yours and your grip on her tightens, feeling the pleasure rush through you. „You are such a perfect little slut, taking us so well“ Agatha purrs her hand finding your neck, neither of you aware that she had enchanted the strap and could feel every single thing herself. Your eyes find Cordelia‘s again, so overwhelmed by the intsity of this and feeling the coil in your stomach about to burst. „You‘re doing so well sweetie“ she praises, causing your cheeks to burn red again at her words. Agatha can feel how close you are, deliberately pulling out of you which causes you to whine „Taste yourself on mommys cock sweet girl“ she orders and you don‘t waste any time as she brings it to your mouth, wanting nothing more than to be good for her.

You take her into your mouth, trying not to gag but the size mixed with the fact you hadn‘t done this before cause tears to form in your eyes. Agatha‘s own pleasure takes over as she begins fucking your mouth, Cordelia watching in awe as she never once took you to be nearly this filfthy. After another while Agatha pulls out, wasting no time before she slams her cock into you again, leaving you breathless. „Please mommy“ you whine „I‘ve been good, I wanna be good. I - fuck please I wanna cum“ you almost scream, causing Agatha‘s smirk to widen as she takes your left leg, putting it against her shoulder as she begins fucking into you at another angle. Cordelia watches in awe seeing you fall apart like this, her fingers finding your mouth as you begin sucking. „Cum for me pretty pet“ Agatha whispers which makes you fall apart.

Your back arches as you clench around her cock, feeling your own cum mix with her own, making sure you ride out your high as your eyes are forced shut, chest heaving as stars form in your vision, causing you to close your eyes. Screams, moans and names fall from your lips all at once before Agatha eventually pulls out with a satisfied smirk. Cordelia lays beside you, gently stroking your cheeks before whispering „Breathe sweetie“ and her voice guides you away from the bliss and into reality as she guides you to find your breathing again. By the time your eyes open, you find both women look at you with both a proud and hungry expression, you having been so perfect for them. „You did so good baby“ Cordelia coos as she gently wipes your tears before Agatha pulls you in for another kiss „The perfect obedient little angel“.

There was something in the air after you finished, both women still eager and so were you but they could tell you needed a break, especially after your first time with them. Cordelia was gentle in how she touched you, cleaned you up and encouraged you to drink. Agatha‘s eyes never left yours as she lays beside you, admiring the view and the pretty marks she left on you. „Did you enjoy that?“ she asks after a while of the three of you laying in silence. You nod, feeling their eyes on you as a little smile creeps onto your features. Cordelia‘s eyebrows furrow, seeing something clearly on your mind. „When can we do it again?“ you whisper causing Agatha to chuckle lowly and Cordelia to gasp at your boldness. „Well I definitely underestimated you“ she jokes before pressing a kiss to your lips and if one thing was for sure, this night would be very long after all.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 2

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

I'm glad nicky came up with a cool new tune because according to period movies and shows greensleeves is the only song anyone ever knew

look at that meek little smile, ughhhh. nicky is like two days old and this asshole has already figured out he's the perfect prop for her murder sprees. and these poor women are calling her sister and are willing to help too.

the spell is te accipimus in circulum, we accept you in the circle, and yes that makes me cry a little. we accept you in our community. and the spell is yellow air magic, which sounds like the most empathic kind if Lilia is any indication.

that's interesting, you can't really tell that well from screencaps but go rewatch the scene, this witch is making mushrooms grow with yellow magic instead of green?? is it just a spell (she is holding a book) or have I been getting it all wrong and color has nothing to do with the type of magic one has?

or maybe??? the color depends on the coven you're in?? the salemites all had blue magic for example. and now that I think about it the stone circle is a protection spell but it's not red/orange.

the meaning of this scene is so glaring dear lord. agatha was never going to give these women a chance to prove that yes, there are people out there who could love and help and accept her. she has shut herself up to that possibility a long time ago.

and she stole the soup too. awful.

I've seen all the different theories about nicky needing to feed on witches too, or nicky needing soul sacrifices to survive because he's the son of death etc. we don't have enough evidence to prove anything yet, but personally I headcanon nicky as a totally normal kid, that makes this story even more tragic.

and aww that baby suckling on the little pudgy fist

nicky doesn't look that happy about what he's been asked to do, does he?

we establish that nicky was sickly (maybe he was born with some internal defect that rio temporarily patched up?) we also see him steal the bell agatha will use for her Road scam in the future.

and we meet yet another witch being kind and wanting to help.

agatha: I love this six year old so much I'm gonna make him accessory to murder

dO yOU ShaME YouR MOtHER

and the big fake gasp too. as usual this bitch has conned a whole community

like, she's convinced herself that other witches are bad and are after her WHILE relying on witches's good hearts to con and kill them. what sort of mental gymnastics???

color goes from yellow to purple. nicky waits outside while his mom commits murder, it's not a good look on agatha. completely fucked up, actually.

(I'm terrified that the goat will end up being an agent of mephisto or something idiotic like that, lemme tell you. I hope they're just keeping it for milk and company.)

and here's the million dollar question. nicky has seen his mom kill literally since he was born, and now he's old enough to start realizing what that means.

oooh I know that look, that's agatha when she's put on the spot. she avoids his gaze, she can't be sincere with him.

and of course she's teaching herself spells from a book. nerrrrrrd

nicky, bless his soul, appears to give it a good thought and then offers a practical suggestion. I guess he wouldn't mind to have a roof on his head and some friends too.

GREAT acting from kathryn here. the quick OH SHIT face followed by the super final NO, with her jaw so rigid. in typical agatha fashion, when she's upset she becomes avoidant.

this is evanora's legacy. despite agatha's immense love for nicky, she is passing all that pain down and inflicting it on him.

remember when she called billy a survivor? this is the greatest asset in her opinion, the one she wants to teach her son. the truth is, she is angry at witches because she is scared of them, she's scared of being targeted again. but look at that kid's dark circles, I can't believe she's making him sleep in the woods, sick as he is!

really really fantastic subtlety. agatha wants to sound wise and strong, but she looks scared, uncertain, guilty.

see how nicky looks at agatha while he sings? he's checking to see if she's noticing, because his mom likes music and likes his voice. he's afraid he has upset her and wants to make her smile. he tried to reason with her, and now he tries to soothe her. this is what happens when you have an immature parent, a child will want to help, they will try to fix things. they'll end up parenting their parent, and it should always be the other way round.

agatha takes the bait. she's relieved that the conversation has moved to a safer subject. but oh, this script is so good. this is a mostly innocent, mostly sweet remark, but with a possessive undertone. don't forget that you are mine, she says.

and still, the love is real. even in a fucked up situation like this, these moment of happiness are precious and genuine and will linger on. look at how adoringly nicky looks at his mom, she's literally the sun and center of his small world, and that's how agatha likes it: she created nicky because she needed someone who could be hers without any baggage or consequences. but it turns out that raising a child is not a cheat code for love, it's one of the most difficult, most significant and impactful decisions a human can make.

go to episode 9 part 3

[gallifreyan85]

Knock my knees (as I kneel down)

pairing: Agatha x reader

summary: after a witch you and agatha met betrays her and tries to frame her betrayal on you, you're left with the messy consequences that come with being agatha's only student

A/n: can be read as standalone, this is part 3 of (𝐼 𝒲𝒶𝓃𝓉) 𝒩𝑜 𝑀𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈. the previous parts can be found here.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

Everything hurt.

You knew that siding with Agatha would be no easy feat, of course it wouldn’t, but here, now, with your palms scraped and knees bruised, picking yourself up off the ground with a heavy thudding heart, you slowly realized that it would be a bit harder than you’d originally imagined. You were outside. In front of Agatha’s house actually, somewhere between her front yard and the neigboring house across the street. You had a mostly normal morning. Your day went well, as well as it could when Agatha was your so called mentor and sort of housemate and something you didn’t know what to call just yet.

You ate breakfast. You had lessons. You practiced magic. Agatha was even being somewhat decent-- she’d gotten up in an okay mood-- until she said she had to go meet someone and you pleaded to go with her. Surprisingly, she let you, and so you went to meet with the witch that was currently trying to blast the rest of Agatha’s already disheveled suburban yard away with her magic. It started slow, everyone was civil, until apparently the witch turned on Agatha, and the next thing you knew the two of them were throwing spells at one another, each in their own witchy outfit, leaving you feeling uncertain and vulnerable in your jeans and sweater.

You’d just about managed to pick yourself up off the ground when another spell-- from whom you didn’t know, missed you by mere inches, making you instinctively cover your head and duck back down to the ground. The cement dragged against your already scraped skin making you wince, and you willed yourself to ignore it for the time being. You had to help Agatha.

You got up, more careful this time, but also more determined. Spells were zooming past you, and your eyes followed a flash of bright purple somewhere to your left, where you saw Agatha. She didn’t seem to be in much need of help. Standing tall a few feet of the ground, she was cackling in that perfect witch’s laugh, an amused smirk curling her lips, pale eyes almost glowing with a darkened look. You made your way to her, trying to keep your guard up, one hand raised and ready to blast, when the other witch’s shrill voice reached your ears.

“Alright, stop this—” she huffed, sounding angry, but there was a slight waver to her voice that you sorted as fear. She let herself float down with a foreign grace you hadn’t yet mastered, and raised her hands in a sort of mock surrender.

Agatha paused.

She stayed in the air, smirk never faltering, and lowered only one hand, curls of black and dark violet swirling around her palm, twisting in that mesmerizing way you wouldn’t admit that you loved.

“What’s the matter now, hmm?” she drawled, “Are you finally realizing you’re no match for me? Or are you getting tired? My so called apprentice could last more than you, and that’s saying something.”

You didn’t know whether to chuckle or feel hurt.

The witch didn’t laugh. Her brows flattened, an angry look in her eyes. She threw her magic towards Agatha with a shout, hitting her square in the chest and making her fall to the ground, but of course that didn’t do much. You watched with quiet admiration as your mentor got up, blowing dark hair away from her face, her hands now swirling with even more purple.

“That was not a good idea.” she murmured lightly, moving forward.

The other witch-- seemingly finally realizing who she was messing with, stepped back. She stumbled, nearly tripping over her robes, and shot Agatha a desperate look.

“I didn’t do this—” she pleaded, backing away still, “Everyone betrays you-- I only did it because I knew you would do the same to me if I didn’t—”

Agatha kept walking, a dark calm in her steps, shoulders down and back straight in casual determination.

“I really didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, save the excuses.” she smiled darkly, “You’re about to find out what happens to those who try to betray me and have the nerve to stick around.”

She was seconds away from blasting the witch when--

“It was her idea!”

Agatha paused, one hand still in the air, dark magic crackling at her fingertips.

The witch, taking the opportunity, quickly started talking.

“She was the one who suggested it-- I wasn’t sure but she said it would work—”

And it took you a moment to realize she was pointing at you.

At you.

You had no idea why she would say such a thing-- it was like Agatha said, a pathetic excuse for her to stall for more time, and- of course Agatha wouldn’t believe her.

Right?

You glanced between them, the witch half frantic, babbling on about you and your apparent plan to go behind Agatha’s back.

“-said that you’re so strict and controlling and she wanted to learn from someone nicer-- someone who would see her for what she is—”

You shook your head.

No. No, that wasn’t true, that wasn’t true at all--

Agatha slowly turned to look at you. Her steely blue eyes fixed on your face- your own wide eyes staring back.

“She’s lying.” you said, trying to keep your voice firm and even.

You were right, she was lying, but you couldn’t help the way your voice shook the slightest bit, because what if Agatha believed her?

What if she actually listened to her- you had asked her to be nicer, you had told her she was too cold and distant and wanted her to talk to you more, but--

Agatha didn’t say anything. She was just standing there, watching your expression. You tried to keep yourself from becoming more nervous. The witch, now almost gleeful at the sudden delay to her demise, actually smiled.

“See? You can hear it in her voice, the poor thing is too scared of you to even admit it! But it was her idea. She asked me-- she wanted someone who cares—”

You shook your head, involuntarily feeling yourself step back.

“Agatha, don’t listen to her, I didn’t-- I wouldn’t- you know I wouldn’t—”

And Agatha smirked.

Both you and the witch fell silent.

“Is that so?” Agatha murmured quietly, seemingly more to herself, taking a few casual steps towards the other witch. “My own apprentice, going behind my back…”

A shot of cold fear ran though you. This wasn’t happening. She wasn’t seriously going to take some random witch’s word against yours--

“Agatha—” you tried, but she shushed you so fast you barely had time to inhale when the words died in your throat. You swallowed, uneasy.

“Now,” Agatha said slowly, still looking at the witch, “since this was her idea… you think I should punish her, and just leave you be? Does that sound fair, hm?”

You took another step back. This wasn’t happening. The witch shifted, slightly hesitant, and you could almost see the gears turning in her head, quick to find a way to get herself out of this.

“I won’t ever bother you again-” she said, voice a little shaky, “You won’t ever see me again, I’ll stay out of your way, I promise.”

Agatha chuckled.

“How unoriginal.” She scoffed, turning away for a moment, glancing at you.

Her eyes didn’t tell you much, and you tried your very best to make her see this was all a mistake, that you would never, ever betray her, but her expression revealed nothing. She was good at that, masking her true intentions. It was something you always liked, one of the many things you admired about her, but right now you felt you’d possibly burst into tears if she didn’t reveal what she was thinking soon. And she was thinking.

You knew that face, the way she held herself when she was turned away, making up her mind or forming a plan. Finally, she looked up.

You didn’t dare speak. Held your breath. But she didn’t turn to you.

She stepped closer to the witch, and you couldn’t help but notice that even though she was a little shorter than her, Agatha was staring her down in a way that would make anyone back down fast.

“Let this be a lesson for you.” she said, and the witch’s face relaxed.

You felt hot panic replacing the fear, surging through you in a way that made your knees feel a little weak. She wasn’t seriously going to listen to her and punish you instead-

You briefly wondered if you should run, but of course she would notice.

“Thank you—” the witch breathed, relief etched all over her face. “Thank you, I knew you would-”

“Cut the nonsense.” Agatha cut in sharply. “And take notes because I’ll only say this once. I don’t take kindly to being betrayed. I’ve been around long enough to know when someone is trying to talk their way out of it like a coward. She could’ve at least owned up to it. Maybe I’d have let her walk away then. You know I can be generous sometimes.” Isn't that right, hun?" she turned to you.

You flinched at her tone.

Her gaze said nothing but you knew there were tears it your eyes.

The words stung.

Mostly because of the fear of what she was about to do to you, but also because it genuinely hurt, hearing her talk to you like that after everything you did for her. Everything you'd do.

The witch looked at you almost smugly, nodding along to her words like they were gospel.

Agatha went on. "I don’t have the time, or the patience, for some pathetic excuse of a person calling themselves a witch thinking they can outsmart me like you just tried to.” And then she turned to her, enunciating every last word.

The witch’s smile faltered.

You felt a flicker of hope.

Was she really--

But of course she was. Agatha Harkness was never anything short of dramatic with a side of her usual unnerving flair.

The witch’s smile fell away completely.

Agatha smiled sharply.

“Now, pet,” she said lightly, turning back to you, “Why don’t you go back inside and make us some tea? I sure as hell could use some after what I’m about to deal with.”

You blinked. A tear fell onto your cheek, and you felt it sliding down, hot against your mouth, salty on your lips. Your vision was still blurry. Was all of that really just bluffing? Had she believed you? You tried to find your voice. It came out cracked and slightly wobbly.

“You- you’re not-”

Agatha laughed.

Actually laughed. She was smiling now.

“Oh, please. You think I couldn’t see right through that pathetic attempt at deflection? You betray me? Please, darling, you're not stupid but you don’t have it in you.”

And for once you took it, with whatever hurt that came along with her words, because she was right. You didn’t have it in you. You wouldn’t betray her. Not like that. Not ever.

Agatha smirked again. “That was really good,” she said casually the witch, almost congratulative. Her tone was the epitome of pure, cruel, teasing joy.

The witch, now looking reasonably petrified-- you couldn’t blame her even if she did just try to frame you-- turned around and started to run.

You raised your hand after her, still a little hazy from the recent events but ready to use your own magic to stop her, but Agatha waved you off, shaking her head.

“Don’t bother, pet. She won’t get far.”

A wave of her hand sent the witch falling over, halfway down the main road, bound with some barely visible purple magic. She struggled, but to no avail.

“Run along dear,” Agatha told you, turning her back to you and dawdling down the street, not sparing you another glance. “That tea better be steaming hot when I get back.”

With that, she left you alone in the wreckage of her yard.

You stayed still for a moment, breathing in shakily and trying to exhale, calm yourself down, but nothing seemed to be working. You stumbled your way over to the door, stepping inside and holding onto the couch as you sank down into the soft cushions, the familiar smell of Agatha’s house lingering in the air and making you feel a little calmer. For a moment there you thought she’d turned on you. You were close-- so close to being alone again, to being helpless and alone and all by yourself-- again--

You pressed your knuckles into your eyes, wiping your tears best as you could but they just kept coming. You didn’t even know why. You rarely seemed to know why recently, but you couldn’t get rid of the feeling, the stutter in your breathing, the slight tremble in your hands that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard you tried. You took a deep breath.

It didn’t work.

You tried again.

More tears. trembling in your hands that you couldn’t shake off. You stifled a sob. Got up. Paced a small circle around the living room and only felt more desperate. What was even wrong with you? Agatha wasn’t mad- she wasn’t abandoning you or getting rid of you-- she told you to make tea for hell’s sake. You didn’t think you had it in you to do that without making a mess. You were always so close to messing up, too close, what if you went over that line and did something stupid? Or worse, what if you disappointed her?

You curled up on the floor with your back to the couch, sniffling and trying to leave the stupid spiral you’d thought yourself into when the front door closed, and Agatha stepped inside. She looked around for a moment, almost expectantly glancing to the kitchen and then around the house, before she noticed you, looking down and sighing deeply as if your distress had personally offended her.

“Oh, for—” she sighed, deep. “What now?”

You sniffled. Stayed on the floor. Half of you was expecting her to just step around you and leave you to wallow in your pity and tears. But she didn’t. Instead, with a very dramatic groan, she stepped around the coffee table and stopped in front of you.

“Why are you bawling on the floor?”

You sobbed in response. Babbled something incoherent.

“I can’t understand you when you’re all-- ” she gestured vaguely, exasperated, “like that.”

You sniffled.

“I thought you’d-- when she said—”

Agatha crossed her arms, still standing in front of you like a mother scolding their child. You tried to push that thought away.

“Her? Are you seriously letting that excuse of a witch get to you? As if I’d believe her.”

“I’d never b-betray you.” you sniffled.

“I know.”

“I wouldn’t-”

“Yes, I understand, kid, but you better explaining yourself or I’m gonna resort to using magic to make you talk.”

You pushed yourself back a little, wiping your eyes. “I just—”

“Yes?”

“I worry-- about-- disappointing you.”

Agatha stared. Then she laughed. Chuckled, faintly, and fixed her hair, the long iridescent robes of her cloak glittering faintly in the setting sun.

“That’s sweet darling, but it’s also not a reason to bawl your eyes out on my very expensive oriental rug.”

You sniffled. “What did you do to her?”

Agatha smirked. “Nothing much.”

“Is she dead?”

“No.” Agatha sighed, almost bored.

She walked past you and into the kitchen, huffing. “I thought I told you to make tea.”

You didn’t look up. She saw your expression and rolled her eyes, opening a kitchen cabinet. “Right, I forgot you’re too busy wailing over my approval.”

She picked up a mug. You hiccuped, trying to calm your breathing. You could hear water boiling on the stove and got yourself up off the floor, settling on the couch once more and pulling your knees up to your chest.

Your face hurt.

Your knees hurt.

Everything really hurt.

“Are you done with the crying?”

You nodded, though your eyes were still wet. You still felt like a mess, but you didn’t think you had it in you to cry anymore. Agatha’s sharp voice startled you out of your inner turmoil.

“Drink this.”

You looked up.

There was a steaming purple mug on the coffee table in front of you.

“What is it?” you mumbled.

Agatha huffed, offended. “Tea. What you think I’d poison you now? Really?”

You picked it up and took a sip. The warmth against your palms made you feel a little better. For a moment you wondered if she’d ever hold your hand like that, offer comfort to you in a way that was just--

Agatha sat on the other side of the couch, watching you fumble with your scraped hands. You avoided her eyes. Usually you’d look at her, meet her gaze, maybe even plead, but what was the point? She’d never really see you as anything like family, anything more than just some kid she was begrudgingly mentoring—

She crossed her legs. Then uncrossed them. You realized she was wearing normal clothes again, some purple sweater that looked cozy. Her hair was down, dark and loose over her shoulders. She huffed sharply.

“I can’t do this-- watching you mope is so depressing—” she said finally, shifting in her seat once more. She looked uncomfortable.

“Look pet,” she said, voice teetering on the edge of something foreign, “I don’t do sentimental or whatever you wanna call it, but- this nonsense about- about disappointing me-- it’s just that. Nonsense.” she looked up as if saying something very obvious,

“Got it?”

You looked up. Sniffled. Gripped the mug like it might save you. It didn't. It just made your hands hurt a little more.

You didn’t feel convinced, and it must’ve shown on your face because Agatha groaned slightly, almost frustrated.

“Do you think I'd put up with you every day if I didn’t think you had some potential? You might be a baby witch but you've got spunk. And that’s more than I can say for some.”

You wiped your eyes on the back of your sleeve.

Was this supposed to be a pep talk? A comforting attempt? She wasn’t very good at it--her expression was one word away from gagging on the foe sweetness of her words-- but she was trying. That was something.

“Thanks.” you said quietly.

She shook her head, rolling her shoulders as if trying to shrug off the emotions.

“Ugh. Don’t thank me. Next time you start bawling I'm hexing you, understand?”

A moment of silence.

“But you’re welcome.”

You smiled. It was faint, teary and tired, but real.

Agatha stared at you, hands twitching slightly as if prepared to fend off something-- probably a hug-- and got up so quickly you could barely react.

“That’s enough of the sweet talk. “ she said, glancing over you once, eyes hovering just a second too long on your scraped hands.

“You can have the evening off, clean up a little, pull yourself together.” she paused halfway over to the basement, “And finish your tea.”

You turned around, looking up at her before she could leave you alone. “Agatha?”

She paused, hesitant. “Yes?”

You wanted to say something, anything, but nothing came to you. Which was why you were surprised when she stepped back over to you and set one steady hand on your shoulder. You felt yourself relax a little.

“You’re a good student.” she said, voice quiet and unusually gentle, “You’re also my only student, so I guess that doesn’t count for much, but you’re loyal. No matter what I throw at you you’re still here, following me around like some stray cat. I don’t do that, you know, take in strays. But you’re already here and… I suppose you’re not… too annoying to be around. And your willingness to hang onto my every word is amusing.”

She let got up and left without another word, leaving you alone with your hope. It wouldn’t go away no matter how much you willed it to, as most things didn't, but still.

You took a deep breath, pushed off the lingering sensation of her hand on your shoulder, the way her words still rang out in your head. You should’ve sat up, and went to tend to your hands. Maybe wash your hair. But that could wait.

For now, you simply picked up your mug, the tea now pleasantly warm, and took another sip.

A/n: Helloooo, thanks for reading :-) Agatha is very thankful and so am I. Title is from Dear Arkansas Daughter by Lady Lamb. This is all because of some AgathaRio playlist I keep listening to on YouTube. Anywayyy. I have the next part planned out....ish. But the next fic posted will be the usual kind of mentor!Agatha outside of this series (meaning fluffff) It is now 1am and I had to stay and finish this (been trying for 3 days lol) goodnight. Love y'all and have a great day.

Taglist 💜@milflovers4, @senhorita-girassol, @dandelions4us, @kaymariesworld @ahintofchaos

If anyone wants on or off the taglist let me know <3

[florencebirdsong]

you can run but you can’t hide

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal

summary: you sleep with one witch without killing her and suddenly your girlfriend has the time to hunt you down. Go figure.

Or, Agatha wants Rio’s attention and now she has it. Quick and dirty style.

tags: top!Rio, brief power!bottom Agatha, they are switches after all, fingering (both receiving), knife play, no blood description, biting, thorny vine restraints, possessive Rio, little shit Agatha

Words: 1,576

masterlist | ao3

authors note: this is early-ish in their relationship. Before Nicky but when Agatha is already well into her serial killer phase.

“Oh, Agatha~” Rio sings. 

Her voice comes from all directions. Running from the original green witch in a centuries old forest isn’t the best idea but Agatha is quite literally out of options.

A branch rustles but there’s a suspicious shadow in its opposite direction. Agatha aims slightly for the left of the branch and finds herself sliding into a ditch. Her muffling spell deadens the sound of snapping twigs and sliding leaves. She resists the urge to cast an illusion over her little dip in the ground. Not only would it not work on Death but it would be a dead give away to her. There’s leaves sticking to her face, roots poking her ribs and something sharp grazing her ankle but she doesn’t risk moving.

Leaves crunching in a steady pattern give away footsteps. 

“Agatha~” Rio sings out again, a dark edge to her voice Agatha hasn’t heard in a long time. A warning that she’s toeing the line, and not one of the fun ones they like to draw for each other.

Two steps closer and Agatha can see the edge of Rio’s silhouette. Her hand twitches but she doesn’t take the bait. They’ve been playing this game long enough for her to know better. 

Her restraint doesn’t matter. Rio already knows where she is. Shrubs grab at her and propel her into Death’s waiting arms.

“Got you,” Rio says with a cheeky grin before slamming her against a tree. Agatha tries to grapple with her but her breath has been forced out of her. Rio has her pinned within a second. “Someone’s been naughty,” she says.

“Can a girl not spend a night curing her loneliness?” 

“You know the rules. That is not how you get my attention.” Rio’s pulls her knife out and pokes into the soft flesh under Agatha’s chin.

“You’re here now, aren’t you?” Agatha says.

“Don’t tell me you’re being the jealous one, Agatha. You can summon me whenever you like,” Rio says as she trails the knife down Agatha’s throat.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the area’s a little bare of witches at the moment.”

“And yet you still managed to find one to bed,” Rio’s smile edges more towards a snarl.

“A green one too,” Agatha smiles as Rio’s snarl stretches further. “I knew that would get under your skin.”

“Oh, Agatha,” Rio knife digs in, “We both know the only thing under my skin is you.”

“Prove it,” Agatha snarls back. She goes for the knife but Rio digs it in deeper.

“Careful, sweetheart, you know what happens when my claws come out,” she slides her knife lightly along Agatha’s neck. Just enough to make a thin, red cut.

“They’re not out already?” Agatha asks. “Was me fucking another woman not enough?” 

Rio growls and throws Agatha to the ground face first. Agatha doesn’t get a chance to push herself back up. Rio jumps on top of her and she narrowly avoids slamming her chin into the ground. She expects at least a few more verbal jabs but Rio’s been pushed past her limit. She forces herself between Agatha’s legs, keeping her down with a hand pressing her head into the dirt, and tears off Agatha’s pants. Half a second later and she’s forcing three fingers into Agatha’s soaked cunt. They moan together.

It only takes three harsh thrusts for Agatha to stop being disappointed that the game is over so quickly. She pushes back onto Rio’s fingers and Rio’s grip tightens in her hair.

“If you’re so desperate then come,” she demands with a snarl. 

They’ve only just started yet Rio curls her fingers and Agatha finds herself right on the edge. Rio leans down and sinks her sharp teeth into the vulnerable skin on her neck and Agatha comes with a muffled scream.

Rio removes her teeth and laughs against Agatha’s skin.

“She must’ve been bad if that’s all it took,” she says.

“Who?” Agatha murmurs through her post-orgasm haze. Rio laughs again. She ignores Agatha’s whine as she gently pulls out and turns her over. She settles on Agatha’s hips.

“Who owns you, Agatha?” she murmurs as she runs her wet fingers down Agatha’s throat, enjoying the way Agatha basks in the attention. One corner of Agatha’s mouth twitches up.

“That witch,” she says. Rio’s fingers close around her throat. She doesn’t break eye contact.

“You don’t even remember her name.”

“I never even knew it,” Agatha says with that same teasing smile. 

What should cancel out her previous statement makes it burn hotter by the way she says it. Thorny vines shoot out to wrap around her wrists and ankles.

“I could just leave you here,” Rio threatens.

“You won’t,” Agatha says with such certainty it infuriates Rio. 

Another vine caresses Agatha’s throat before wrapping around it. She’s right. Rio has gone too long without her to leave her so soon. That doesn’t mean she has to satisfy her.

Rio begins grinding down and Agatha watches her with that same lazy smirk.

“Don’t get too cocky, Agatha. I’m going use you to come and then leave you here wanting.”

“Just like that other green witch did?”

Rio gnashes her teeth together. She resists the urge to sink them into Agatha again. Her anger will create too much force and she’ll break something. 

Instead, Rio leans down, never faltering in her rhythm, to breathe the same air as her love. She watches as Agatha drinks in every inch of her expression as she gets closer and closer. That cocky look turns into desire which then turns into pure want as Rio nears the edge. Rio’s eyes flutter close and she leans that little bit closer so her lips brush Agatha’s. Agatha tries to close the gap but the thorns cutting into her skin keep her still. Rio moans into her mouth.

A needy sound leaving her has Agatha squirming but it’s too late. Rio shudders on top of her and comes before Agatha gets a chance to fully enjoy it.

The desperate eyes that greet Rio are almost as sweet as her orgasm. She gently runs her fingers over Agatha’s cheek before gripping her face tightly.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she growls, her eyes creeping towards their other-worldly purple glow. 

Or what? Agatha wants to say but Rio’s grip is too tight. The challenge is still clear on her face and Rio’s nails lengthen to dig into her skin.

“You are mine, Agatha Harkness,” Rio hisses. “I can make you wish you were dead as much as I can make you feel alive.”

There’s a much darker note under Rio’s voice than Agatha is used to. Her challenging look turns wary. She doubts this game will ever stop being fun but that doesn’t mean nastier moments can’t sneak through. She doesn’t want Rio to doubt her devotion. That would be more dangerous than anything she’s attempted before.

“I claim you, Rio Vidal, Death, The First Green Witch,” Agatha declares. Rio’s eyes widen a fraction. “You are mine as I am yours, until the end of time.”

The words carry a hint of magic and Rio’s snarl slides off her face. 

“I am yours as you are mine,” Rio breathes with the same amount of devotion. A hint of desperation hidden by Rio sealing the vow with a kiss. Soft at first but quickly devolving into their usual hunger. 

Rio removes the vine keeping Agatha’s neck pinned, so she doesn’t have to break the kiss as she rises slightly on her knees and slips her fingers back inside of Agatha. Agatha moans into her mouth and Rio swallows it eagerly. She wants to devour her, merge their bodies and bind their souls as one. For now she settles for chasing Agatha across the continent and pulling every lick of pleasure she can from her.

Agatha’s magic snaps the rest of vines holding her down, thorns slicing her as she reaches for Rio. Her hands find the back of Rio’s neck and the bodice of her dress. Rio’s less punishing thrusts allow her room to guide the kiss. Her hand moves from Rio’s bodice to the skirts of her dress and tugs them up until she can get it under. She gives Rio the same treatment she’s receiving and slips three fingers into her heat, quickly matching her rhythm. Fingers curl, thumbs find clits, teeth scrape over skin and tongues dips into mouths. They become one moaning, writhing mess as they both reach their peaks before collapsing into each other.

Panting slightly, Agatha gently moves hair out of Rio’s face. She’s wearing that look that means she wants to consume Agatha but her eyes are flashing violet in the way that means too many bodies are calling. The strain of ignoring it is apparent on her face.

“Go do your job, Death,” Agatha releases her. “But don’t be so long this time, hmm?” 

“You won’t leave the next one alive,” Rio says firmly.

“There are other ways to torture you, my love,” Agatha says softly, like it’s a sweet promise. Rio’s eyes flash a deeper purple, no death magic lightening them. 

“I shall return soon,” she promises. 

Soon to death can be very different to life but Agatha accepts the promise with a kiss.

“Te veo,” Rio whispers against her lips before getting up and fading back into the dark. 

Agatha lies there for a along while, getting her breath back.

[cassiebones]

I don't think Agatha willingly gave up her son and here's why:

Her reaction to the Darkhold in the cradle was visceral, okay? I just reblogged the post that even says that's not the reaction of a woman who willingly gives up her child. So I don't think she did.

What I think is that Nicholas got sick. Like really, really sick. So sick that there was no way he was going to get better. Maybe Rio was warning her about it. Maybe Rio was trying to set the expectation that hey, Nicholas isn't going to get better, you should prepare yourself for that, but Agatha ignored it. Agatha figured that she's in a relationship with Death, herself, so there's no way that her son is going to die and be taken away from her. But Rio keeps reminding her "I don't want to do this, but it's my job. I can't chose not to."

And Agatha gets desperate. As she's watching her baby boy get sicker and weaker. I'm not totally sure how old he was when he died. I'm imagining him as a baby or toddler. A size that Agatha can still hold in her arms. Maybe he won't eat anymore and it worries her. And she knows that the only way to make him better, the only chance at keeping her son, is by getting her hands on the Darkhold. Dark magic is the only thing that can keep him with her, alive.

Rio, obviously, advises against this. Dark magic is trouble and Agatha will not be the same if she does this. Agatha ignores her. She makes a coven and forces Rio down The Road with her, begging her to help save her son. Rio, loving Agatha so deeply, agrees, and they set off down the Witches' Road.

The other three witches obviously don't make it, as we know. The other witch who survives (of course bc she cannot die) is Rio. Agatha acquires the Darkhold and rushes back to her son's side.

But she's too late. Nicholas is gone. He died while she was on the road. He was alone in his last moments, probably in his bassinet. Agatha missed it in her ambition to get her hands on the Darkhold. She probably will never forgive herself for it.

Rio felt the second he died, but probably didn't tell Agatha because there was nothing they could have done at that point.

Agatha is resolute, though. She starts looking for a resurrection spell for Nicholas, which Rio panics about because that is not what Agatha wants, she tells her. Nicholas won't come back right. He will never truly be alive. He will be a corpse, reanimated. His soul is already departing.

"Not if you don't let it," Agatha says, because Rio is in charge of reaping the souls, of ferrying them to the afterlife. She's Death, after all.

"It doesn't work like that," Rio says, softly and apologetically, reaching out to stroke Agatha's cheek. Agatha slaps her hand away and continues to frantically search through the book, but Rio can't let this happen. Nicholas would never be right. He wouldn't be the boy Agatha--that both of them love. Never again.

So she reaps his soul, takes it away before Agatha can start her spell. Agatha begs her to stop, to let her have her son, to not do this please.

"If you love me, you won't take him away from me," she says, desperate and angry and so, so hurt.

Rio doesn't look back. She's holding Nicholas's soul in her arms, cradling him because he's 100% her son, too. Her baby. She holds him more tightly.

"I'm doing this because I love you," she says, without looking back. She keeps walking while Agatha wails behind her, Rio fighting back tears as she listens to her wife's heart break.

Rio tries to return after reaping her son's soul, wants to apologize and beg at Agatha's feet for forgiveness...but she's not there.

Before, Rio could have found Agatha anywhere. She always knew where she was, like a homing beacon on her heart. But now Agatha is just...gone. The home they once shared together is completely empty, not a soul or piece of furniture in side. Except for Nicholas's bassinet, empty. She can't feel Agatha anymore. She doesn't know if she's alive or dead, but she's pretty sure she knows why.

The Darkhold. Agatha used a spell in the Darkhold to shroud herself from Death, to keep Rio from finding her again. Grief echoes in Rio's heart at the loss of the two most important people in her life. Then anger begins to burn low in her stomach.

Anger at her job. Anger at the Darkhold. Anger at Agatha. Murderous rage takes root in her chest, where her heart used to beat for Agatha Harkness and their son. Both are gone now.

But she will find Agatha. One day. And she is going to kill her...or make her wish she were dead. Either will suffice at this point.