#lilia's trial is the air trial | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

warpdrive-witch · 2 months ago

Note

hey, how are you and I was wondering if you could write me a story about Agatha and the reader being in a relationship and the reader is an angel and Agatha and reader and the rest of the coven is on the witches road and it is the readers trial. The rest like details are up to you and any other thing you want to and is up to you. Also you are one of my top 3 favorite writers

Hey Anon! You have no idea how much I loved writing this. When you wrote angel, I used it as being kind, but it also went into the plot. I hope you love it. Enjoy 💜

16.3k Words. Smut. Magic D. Mommi Kink. Religious Trauma. Edging. Praise Kink. Breeding Kink. The Witches Road.

Minors Do Not Interact.

Red Clay and Ruined Altars

The Witches’ Road was never supposed to be merciful.

It didn’t shimmer. It didn’t whisper. It watched.

A strip of ancient black stone coiled through a world that bent sideways the moment you stepped onto it, like reality exhaled and didn’t bother inhaling again. It wound through nothingness—no sky above, no horizon to anchor you—just a vast, velvet dark pierced by stray stars and a sickle moon that hung low, too close, too interested.

Each of your bare steps was silent, but the Road echoed anyway—mimicking not sound, but sensation. Memory. Every footfall called up things long buried beneath ribs and bone.

The magic of it made your skin buzz. Not warm. Not cold. Aware.

You weren’t alone. Jen moved at your left flank, her long coat whispering around her ankles, lips moving in rhythm with a language older than scripture—older than her own tongue had any right to know. She didn’t look at you. She didn’t need to. Her prayer was a shield, and she cast it like a net around the five of you with every breath.

Alice, beside her, was sharp in the silence. She scanned the dark edges of the Road like a blade looking for something to cut. Her hands never stopped moving—counting runes with her fingers, tapping patterns into her palms. If fear touched her, it hadn’t found a way to settle. Billy kept just ahead of you. Not leading. Not following. He walked like he knew the terrain, like the stones themselves whispered to him. His fingers brushed the air occasionally as if trying to remember something. Or maybe warning something not to come closer. Lilia’s hand found yours only once—fleeting, grounding. A soft press of knuckles. Her magic crackled faintly where your skin touched, familiar and warm, like a hearth fire trying to reach you in the cold.

But it was Agatha who stayed behind you. Not distant. Not silent. Watching. Every step you took, she matched with one of her own. You could feel her presence like gravity—like the hush before thunder. She hadn’t spoken since the threshold, but you could sense her magic stretching forward toward you, threads of violet and smoke weaving through the dark. Not pulling. Not guiding.

Catching. She’d catch you if you fell.

You paused when the Road bent—a turn sharp and sudden as a snapped neck—and for the first time, she broke the silence.

“This is your trial,” Agatha murmured, low and steady, the syllables curling with something sacred. “Not a punishment. Not a curse. A reckoning.” You turned slightly, just enough to glance at her over your shoulder.

Her expression was unreadable. But her eyes—those eyes—held centuries. They held you. And then the Road shifted beneath your feet. No warning. No whisper. One moment you stood on the Witches’ Road.

The next, you stood at the bottom of a hill that should not have existed. The air changed. Heavy. Wet. Oppressive with the stink of memory. The dirt here was red clay, soft and sucking at your feet. The trees that lined the path were dying, if not already dead—branches brittle as bone, bark sloughing off in long curls like burnt parchment. Spanish moss drooped in limp sheets, draping everything like funeral shrouds.

No wind. No birds. Just silence, thick and sharp. And then—smell. It hit first like a slap: old tobacco, clinging and acrid. The smoke had long gone out, but it still clung to the world like a rebuke. Beneath that—mold. Wet wood. Damp stone. The stench of abandonment. But deeper still came something harder to name. Blood and rot and the kind of hate that got baked into floorboards. The copper sting of something old and holy and ruined. You swallowed, but the air tasted like ash. Then your eyes followed the curve of the hill—and there it was.

The church.

It didn’t rise. It lurched.

Warped wooden beams jutted at uneasy angles, like bones broken and never reset. The white paint peeled in great curls, revealing the raw gray beneath. Vines coiled up the sides but refused to bloom. Every window had been smashed. The bell tower leaned slightly east, as if exhausted. And the sign out front—barely standing—still bore the word carved by your father’s own hand: REPENT. The letters were deep. Splintered. Unforgiving.

Billy let out a low whistle behind you. “Well,” he muttered, “shit.”

No one laughed. You hadn’t seen this place in years. But it hadn’t left you. Not really. It had lived inside you. Festering. Haunting.

Waiting for this moment. The others hesitated, hanging back. But Agatha stepped up beside you now, her hand brushing your back once—no pressure, no command. Just touch. She didn’t ask if you were ready.

She didn’t need to. The church door creaked open without touch. Just the nearness of your body was enough. Like it remembered you. Like it had been waiting. The hinges groaned, long and wet, and the air that hit your face was thick and rancid. A mix of old heat, mildew, and something sour that clung to your throat like regret. The inside smelled like rot and ritual. Like someone had buried something holy and let it spoil. Your bare feet crossed the threshold.

The memories didn’t wait to be invited. They surged. Off-key hymns swelled against your skull, sharp and jagged, never in harmony. You could still hear the way the congregation would scream hallelujah like it would scrub them clean, like it was violence disguised as praise.

The pews were collapsed now, but you saw them as they once were—neat rows of splinters, every one a trap for your back, your breath, your spine. You remembered where the cracks were, which nails stuck out, which planks creaked loud enough to draw your father’s glare from the pulpit. No one else noticed that sound. But you did.

And you remembered the kneeling. Not prayer. Submission. Your knees always found the knots in the floor—swollen, warped places in the wood that bit into your skin, leaving you with bruises that lasted longer than the sermons. You knew every dent by touch. Could still feel how your Sunday dress stuck to your thighs in the summer heat while the preacher screamed about hellfire and obedience. You moved slowly down the aisle, every footstep stirring the dust. Light slanted in through the broken windows, revealing motes thick as gnats—spinning and twitching like dying stars.

Behind you, the coven followed. But just before the altar, you stopped. Turned. Your voice came out quiet. Flat.

“Don’t touch anything.”

Alice opened her mouth, probably to joke, but stopped when she saw your face. Jen gave a single nod, solemn and understanding. Lilia took a sharp breath. Billy just looked around and said nothing at all. The floor groaned as you turned forward again. The altar still stood. Barely.

Its once-polished wood was now a mess of gouges and stains, the velvet cloth across it eaten through in patches like moths had feasted on the faith. Two of the candlesticks had fallen and stayed fallen. One remained upright—wax spilled in dried, ugly rivers down its base.

And then—you saw him. Behind the pulpit. Exactly where you knew he’d be. Your father. Or… something wearing his shape.

He was still. Too still. The light didn’t touch him. He looked like he’d been carved from the rot itself—skin pale and waxy, clothes dark with phantom sweat, hair clinging to his forehead like he’d never left the last revival tent he screamed in.

But it was his eyes that stopped you. They were familiar. Sick. Hungry. And they saw you. A grin spread slow across his face. Not welcoming. Not warm. It was the kind of smile a wolf shows a rabbit that stopped running.

“You came back,” he said, voice rough as gravel and soaked in venom. “Knew you would. Knew you couldn’t stay gone forever.”

Your fingers curled at your sides. You felt the Road thrumming through your bones.

He tilted his head, just slightly, like a crow watching something squirm. “Did you think you were free?”

Agatha’s magic stirred behind you, slow and silent. You didn’t need to turn to know her hand was half-raised, her eyes narrowed like a blade’s edge. But she didn’t move yet. She was waiting for you. This was your trial. And your father—whatever this shadowed thing was—looked ready to preach. Or to kill.

You didn’t answer him.

Not yet. Because the moment your eyes locked with his, the past surged up through the cracked floorboards like heat through a stove, filling your lungs, your eyes, your throat. And suddenly, you weren’t on the Witches’ Road anymore.

You were eight, barefoot on red clay, your best dress dust-stained and two sizes too small. The sanctuary was full—shoulder to shoulder, sweat-slick arms, voices raised in a chorus that never quite matched the key. It was a revival. They always were. Too loud. Too long. Too full of fear dressed as salvation.

And you—you glowed. You hadn’t meant to. You’d only been humming. Singing beneath your breath, voice soft and tremulous like the creek just outside the building. But the moment your hands clutched the edge of the pew and your eyes closed, the world had answered you. A shimmer had rippled out from your skin—soft, golden, trembling. Dust caught the light and danced. A sprig of green had pushed through the floorboards beneath your feet, stretching for the hem of your dress like it knew you. Like it loved you.

The preacher’s voice had cracked. Your father’s hands had clenched. And all around you, the flock had gone still. That was the first time you realized the magic inside you wasn’t just real. It was visible. The next Sunday, they made you kneel longer. Sharper. The floor bit into your skin like teeth. You were ten the first time someone struck you for it. Not in anger. Not in haste. No, your mother had pulled you gently by the hand into the back room and said, “Close your eyes. Pray real hard. I’ll know when it’s working.” And then—crack. Once. Twice. A third time. Not enough to kill. Just enough to teach. Just enough to make you doubt what bloomed inside you. But still, the earth beneath you softened when you cried.

You were thirteen when you first saw her. The deacon’s daughter. She was sweet-voiced and starched to perfection. Braided hair, white ribbons, always looking straight ahead. Except once. Once, she looked back. And you smiled.

It was small. Barely there. Just a flicker of light behind your teeth. But it lit something inside you. And they saw. Your father saw. Your mother did. The boy who used to pass you notes in Sunday school. You don’t remember what the sermon was that day. Just the look your father gave you when the choir sang about purity and fire. The way he gripped the pulpit like he was trying not to break it. The way the light through the stained glass hit your face and didn’t burn you.

They decided that day. They’d either kill you—or make you repent until the parts they didn’t like were burned out of you. They tried it all. Cold water dunked three times. “To flush the sin.” A week in silence. “To listen for God instead of yourself.”

Stripped food. Stripped sleep. One night locked in the church itself—doors barred, lights out, Psalms on a loop. They left you there like a lamb in a cage. But the thing they never understood-You were never the lamb.

That night, when the hunger clawed your stomach and fear tried to slither into your chest, you put your palm to the floor and whispered no. And the church shuddered. The pews groaned. The air thickened. The doors didn’t open. They burst. Your chains didn’t slip. They shattered.

You ran. No shoes. No coat. Just your name and a soul stitched with roots and stars. The trees reached down to guide you. The wind lifted your hair. And behind you, the church roared with something between fury and disbelief. You left your blood in that place. But not your power. You never gave that to them. You don’t remember how long you ran. Only that your legs didn’t stop until the road vanished and the woods swallowed you whole.

The night was thick—southern and heavy, the kind of dark that wraps around your lungs and makes every breath taste like earth. Branches clawed your arms. Briars bit your ankles. But you didn’t stop. Couldn’t. If you did, you knew the world would close back around you like a fist. You bled. You wept. You burned. And the world—noticed.

Roots shifted to let you pass. Owls watched without blinking. The wind moved ahead of you, parting the undergrowth in quiet reverence, like even the forest recognized what had just been born.

You were eighteen. Unkept. Unwashed. Unnamed by anything except your own magic. And still, you held yourself like something sacred.

You found the clearing by accident. Or maybe it found you. The trees opened like arms, moonlight crashing down in silver waves, and there—finally—your body gave out. You collapsed onto the grass, every breath a sob of defiance, face pressed to soil that didn’t judge, didn’t ask, didn’t punish.

The moss curled beneath your cheek like a cradle. And for the first time, you were free. You didn’t notice the woman until she spoke. Not loud. Not sudden. Just a voice—low, honey-dark, laced with caution and wonder.

“You did that, didn’t you?”

Your eyes snapped open. You rolled onto your back, chest rising and falling in frantic waves. And there—half-shadowed by trees, hair a mess of curls and wind, hands loose at her sides—stood her.

Agatha. You didn’t know her name then. Not yet. But you felt her power immediately. It pressed around you like velvet and smoke—not suffocating, just… surrounding. Matching you. Like two flames flickering toward each other across a distance that no longer mattered.

You bared your teeth. Growled, almost. Animal reflex. But she didn’t flinch. She stepped forward, slow and deliberate, until she could see you fully—your torn dress, the blood on your legs, the wild tangle of your hair. You expected disgust. Pity. Even fear. Instead, she looked at you like you were a meteor.

A miracle. A warning. A spark of something ancient and holy.

“You broke it open,” she said, almost to herself. “The whole church. The lock. The chains.”

You stared at her, throat raw, unable to lie.

“They were going to kill me.”

Agatha nodded, once. Solemn. Knowing.

“They would’ve tried.”

She didn’t offer you a hand. Not yet. She offered you her presence. She knelt in the dirt beside you, not minding the blood or the mud, and murmured, “You didn’t just survive. You made the world shift for you. That’s not an accident.”

You blinked hard. Your jaw trembled.

“I don’t know where to go.”

Her eyes met yours.

“You already left the only place you were never meant to stay.”

Then, softer, steadier: “Come with me.”

She reached out—not to drag. Not to tame.

To witness.

To honor.

And you took her hand.

That was the night she brought you to her home. The night you stopped being a fugitive, and started being yourself. The day the world called you sinner— —and magic answered back.

The memory cracked. The past peeled away.

And you were back. In the ruined church. But not small. Not kneeling. Not afraid. The scent of rot still clung to the rafters, thick as ever—mildewed velvet, stale tobacco, sunbaked blood—but it no longer coated your lungs. You inhaled it now, unflinching, your breath deep and even. The dust in the air didn't choke you. It swirled around your skin like mist curling off a cauldron, rising to meet you.

Your father’s shadow—sick and sinewed and stitched together by hate and old scripture—still leered behind the pulpit. But you didn’t flinch. Because you weren’t a girl now, soft-voiced and scared. You were a witch. You were Agatha’s. And you were not alone.

Behind you, the coven stood silent but solid—watchful, waiting, believing. Jen’s hands hummed at her sides with quiet protective spells, Alice’s stare bored into every corner like she dared something to move, Lilia’s breath came slow and even, and Billy…

Billy was grinning like he’d been waiting his whole life to see what would happen next. But it was Agatha who held the moment still.

Agatha, standing just behind your shoulder, her presence wrapped around you like dusk and embers. Her arms didn’t reach for you—she didn’t need to. Her magic threaded through the space between you, a living tether, invisible to the eye but felt in every part of your being.

She was your center of gravity. And you were the storm she had chosen. He spoke again—it did, this twisted version of your father, voice thick and boiling like oil on fire.

“You think you can stand against the Lord?”

You didn’t hesitate. Your voice, when it came, rang clean and sharp through the bones of the church:

“No.” You took one step forward. The floorboards groaned beneath your weight, not in protest—in recognition. Dust lifted. The light shifted. And then— life.

Tiny green vines—barely more than threads—spiraled up from the cracks in the floor beneath your feet. They reached like they had all those years ago, curling toward your ankles, remembering your skin. Remembering your truth. The magic that once made them bloom had only deepened, darkened, rooted. And they thrived on your return. Your next step was slower. Deliberate.

“I stand,” you said, “against you.” The pulpit cracked. Not from your voice, but from the weight of it. He snarled. The walls quivered. Shadows lengthened in the corners of the room like they wanted to devour the vines, the dust, the light. But none of them touched you.

Because Agatha raised her hand—just slightly—and her magic surged outward like a violet wave of smoke and fire, meeting the darkness before it reached your skin. A wordless defense. A promise. She didn’t speak. But the message was clear:

You don’t touch what’s hers. The thing in your father’s skin laughed—a low, broken, rattling thing. “You think love will save you?” And then, softly, from behind you, Agatha’s voice:

“No.” You felt her move forward—close, but never in front of you. Her fingers brushed your shoulder, a point of warmth that lit up the entire length of your spine.

“She doesn’t need saving.” Your eyes burned—not with tears, but with fire. With memory. With magic. Your fingers flexed, and the vines at your feet pulsed—thicker now. Blooming with tiny buds. The scent of fresh earth rose in the air, sweet and sharp.

You raised your hand. “I was the miracle,” you said, and your voice cracked the silence wide open. “You just couldn’t stand that it didn’t look like what you wanted.”

The altar split down the middle with a sound like thunder. The ghost of your father roared. Not words. Just rage. The windows shattered outward—every last one. Light poured in. But not sunlight.

Moonlight.

The Road’s light. It shone down through the open rafters and found only you. Your body soaked it in like soil drinks rain.

Magic rippled through you—not borrowed, not stolen, not taught. Yours. And the church—this tomb of hate and punishment—felt it. The floor cracked. The pews groaned again, and this time, it wasn’t memory. It was shift. It was change.

The vines at your feet bloomed into roses—thorns first. They grew fast. Fierce. Alive. And still, Agatha stood beside you, unblinking. Her magic wove with yours now, not as protection, but as harmony. Violet and green, shadow and flame. Her palm found your back, flat and strong. “Show him,” she whispered, her voice full of love and vengeance. “Show him what they couldn’t burn out of you. The vines at your feet curled tighter. The buds bloomed. And then—music.

It started low. Barely there. A whisper of a hymn, warped and crackling like it played from some distant, broken radio.

Then louder.

“Just as I am, without one plea…”

Your breath caught. The church hadn’t forgotten your blood. It hadn’t forgotten the shape of your knees in its floors, or the way you used to tremble during altar call, praying they wouldn’t see what you were.

But now it sang. The old choir. The harmonies that never matched. The thud of feet stomping in time with judgment. The echo of clapping hands that had once held you down. The hymn wrapped around your throat like smoke, trying to choke the power from your lungs. And behind the pulpit, your father’s ghost reeled with rage.

“This is what you’ve become?” he shouted, voice sharp enough to draw blood. “A weed in God’s garden. A whore of witchcraft, consorting with devils and laying down with darkness.” You said nothing. “You are evil,” he spat. “A mistake. An embarrassment. You were never worth saving.”

The walls groaned again—this time not with growth, but with rage. Splinters fell from the ceiling. The shadows trembled. And all around you, the hymn grew louder.

“O Lamb of God, I come, I come…”

But before you could fall into that old fear, Agatha was there. Her magic didn’t rise like yours. It unfurled—thick and warm and steady. She pressed her body against your back, lips near your ear, her breath firm and grounding.

“He couldn’t burn it out of you,” she whispered. “Not the wonder. Not the light. Not the girl who kissed the deacon’s daughter and made the church afraid of spring.”

Your eyes fluttered closed—but only for a moment. The hymn tried to bury you again. You opened your eyes, and the roses around your feet snapped their buds wide open. Agatha’s hand slid into yours.

“He tried to strip you down to bone,” she said, louder now. “But you still sang. You still bloomed.” Your father’s shade shrieked, half-human, half-shadow. The pulpit burst into splinters behind him. Flames licked up the walls—but not from you. From him. From his fear. He screamed again, voice raw. “You think that woman can save you? You think your filth is love? It’s corruption. It’s blasphemy!”

And then— “It’s mine,” Agatha said, stepping to your side, hand still clasped in yours. Her voice didn’t shout. It rang. “She’s mine. And she’s holy in ways you’ll never understand.”

The hymn stopped. Silence cracked through the church like lightning. You stepped forward. One more breath. And then— everything broke.

The ghost of your father lunged. The shadows rushed in, hands clawing from the walls, from the pews, from the pulpit itself. The stained glass exploded inward. The altar erupted into splinters.

But your magic met them midair.

Your hand burst into bloom—green and gold and deep russet red. Vines unfurled like whips, roses snapping wide with teeth of thorns. Your other hand raised, palm glowing. Symbols written in the dirt by your own blood lit up like stars. Agatha spun beside you, one hand raised in defense, the other still touching you. Her magic flared violet—sharp-edged, ancient, furious.

The coven moved as one behind you. Jen whispered a binding. Alice twisted the hymn’s melody into something chaotic and shattered its hold. Lilia extended her palm, a wall of wind crashing through the shadows. Billy, grinning, moving the air around him through the cracked rafters like a dragon in human skin.

And in the center of it all— you. You threw your arm outward and spoke—a wordless command that pulsed like thunder through your chest. Your father’s shade staggered back.

“I am not yours,” you said, every word a blade. “You never got to name me. You never got to decide what was holy.” Agatha’s hand found your shoulder again. Steady. Devoted.

“End it, love.”

And you did. The storm of shadow rushed you. You stood in its center. And you did not move. The church howled—its bones moaning, its stained glass shrieking like the ghosts of every sermon ever weaponized against you. The floor cracked. The altar shattered. The rafters trembled, but you stood rooted, barefoot and burning, hand clasped in Agatha’s as your other reached toward the pulpit. Toward him. Your father’s shade surged forward, mouth unhinged, fire in his eyes that had once promised salvation and delivered only scars. But now—he hit the edge of something invisible. Your magic rose like a barrier—woven through with the color of moss, blood, and memory. It shimmered gold at the edges, pulsing with every heartbeat you gave it.

He struck it. And stumbled. Snarled. Spat. “You think that’s power? You think that’s righteous? This is nothing but vanity—witchcraft—lies.” The shadows lashed. Agatha threw up her hand, a spiral of violet light colliding with the dark. Her power arced outward, splitting the air like thunder, and met yours in the space between your hearts.

It lit the church like sunrise. “You call it evil,” you said, stepping forward, “because it didn’t come from you.”

The vines beneath your feet thickened. Wrapped around your ankles, not to restrain—but to lift. You rose from the floor like a judgment in bloom, eyes glowing, breath steady. And the church—felt it.

The air bent. The hymn began again, desperately now, as if the building itself wanted to drown you in ritual. But Alice shattered the melody with a flick of her hand—strings of the song warping, collapsing into silence. Your father lunged again. But your magic met him midair—and didn’t yield. You threw both arms wide. And the world listened.

Symbols unfurled around you—sigils scrawled in air, in ash, in blood. They glowed in three colors: your gold, Agatha’s violet, and the raw, aching green of something ancient and unkillable. Your voice deepened. Not louder—truer. “This is my trial. Not yours. And I choose to rise.” The entire church shuddered.

Floorboards cracked. Vines burst from every crevice, spiraling up columns, crawling over windows, cracking stained glass into kaleidoscopic showers of color. Roots split the aisle down its center. Roses bloomed from the pulpit itself, curling around your father’s legs, binding him—not with hate, but truth.

“I am not your mistake.”

“I am not your shame.”

“I am not the burden you left in the back pew to rot.”

You stepped forward one final time. Your voice dropped.

“I am the daughter you couldn’t kill. The witch you couldn’t burn. The love you could never take from me.”

Your father screamed. But it wasn’t words. It was emptiness. And as he lunged, vines surged up and consumed him—not in violence, but in return. To the earth. To the past. To nothing.

Light erupted from the pulpit as his shadow cracked into a thousand cinders and was gone. Silence fell. Real silence. And then— The church exhaled.

The vines didn’t wither. They settled.

The air stilled.

And the building… changed.

The pews stood straighter. The altar rebuilt itself from fallen pieces, now coiled in ivy and moss. Sunlight poured through shattered windows, soft and unfiltered. Dust hung gentle, not heavy. It wasn’t a place of worship anymore.It was a place of witness.

And you—barefoot, sweat-soaked, blood-streaked—were still standing in the center.Agatha approached slowly, magic fading to a low hum beneath her skin. She stopped in front of you. Lifted one hand. And with infinite gentleness, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

Her other hand found your heart, resting above it, steady as breath.

“He’s gone,” she said. “And you’re still here.”

You collapsed into her arms—not in weakness, but in release. The coven came closer, quiet in their reverence, not for what they’d done, but for what you had. You didn’t need saving. You needed to be seen. The church doors didn’t open.

They unlatched. Soft. Gentle. Like the building itself had finally released its hold on you. The back gate was overgrown, half-hidden behind thick ivy, a path long forgotten by worshippers but known by the Road. You could feel it in your chest—a pull. Not demanding. Just present. An invitation to leave this place behind.

The coven didn’t speak. Not yet. You led them through the threshold, your bare feet brushing moss and stone, the vines parting for your passage like they’d waited years to do so. Agatha’s hand lingered at your back, not pushing, just… there. Reminding you that your trial was done. That the world had changed.

The moment you crossed into the Witches’ Road again, the air shifted.

Cool. Open. Breathing. The silence after a storm. You kept walking. You didn’t look back.

Not until the church was swallowed in mist and memory, its twisted beams and stained glass softened by distance, reclaimed by root and shadow. The Road curled ahead, pale as ash and slick with soft moonlight. You said nothing to the others.

You just whispered, “I need a minute,” and kept walking.

No one followed. Not at first. Not even Agatha. The Road veered slightly to the left and you followed it until the sounds behind you—shuffling footsteps, murmured voices, the quiet crackle of settling magic—faded away. That’s when you saw it.

A stream ran just off the path, thin and clear, threading like silver through a break in the woods. A flat rock sat at its edge, smoothed by time. You moved toward it without thinking, lowering yourself slowly, breath still uneven in your chest. You slid your feet into the water.

Cool. Shockingly so. The stream curled around your ankles like silk, carrying away sweat, blood, ash—everything the trial had demanded. You didn’t cry. You just breathed. Until you felt her. She didn’t call your name. Didn’t announce herself. Just the soft crunch of footsteps behind you. Then silence.

Then weight, gentle and familiar, settling beside you. She didn’t speak at first. She simply sat on the rock’s edge, knees drawn up, her legs brushing yours. Her magic stayed close—not touching, not anchoring. Just present. The stream moved between you, soft and rhythmic. And then, after what felt like hours but was likely only minutes, she turned her head.

“I love you.” Your throat caught. Not because you didn’t know it. But because she said it like a truth older than trials. A vow that had survived fire.

Her hand found yours—cool, calloused, trembling slightly with everything she hadn’t said. “I love you,” she repeated, voice quieter now. “And I’m proud of the woman you are now…” Her fingers curled between yours, squeezing just once. “…and the girl I found beneath a bleeding moon a century ago. Wild. Unkept. Brilliant. You looked at me like I was either going to save you or ruin you.”

You turned toward her. Your voice, when it came, cracked: “And which one did you do?” She smiled. Not smug. Not sad. Soft. “I don’t think I ever had the power to do either. You saved yourself. You always did.”

She leaned in. Just a brush—her lips catching yours like a breath she’d been holding since the trial began. Like she needed to taste you, even if just for a second, to remind herself that you were real and whole and hers. You leaned into her harder. Not just meeting her kiss, but deepening it—your hand sliding to her waist, fingers curling tight in the fabric like you couldn’t stand the idea of her slipping away. Her other hand slid up your neck, cupping your jaw with reverence, her thumb brushing beneath your ear like a question.

And you answered. Not with words. But with motion.

You shifted, just enough to press your body more fully into hers, guiding her back as you took control of the kiss—slow at first, then hungrily, like you were trying to breathe her in. She gasped softly into your mouth as you kissed her like a promise. Like a prayer. Like you could imprint this moment between her ribs. Your magic hummed. Met hers. Tangled like vines in floodlight. The silence around you stretched—heavy and golden. Full of everything that didn’t need to be said. Agatha’s head rested soft against your shoulder, her hand still laced with yours, curls damp from sweat and mist. The stream gurgled nearby. The forest held its breath. You turned toward her hair. Inhaled. Ash. River water. Magic.

Her. And the ache inside you twisted, low and deep and impossible to ignore. You needed more. Not comfort. Not quiet. Her. Your fingers squeezed hers in warning. And when she looked up—eyes wide, open, waiting—you didn’t hesitate. You shifted, slow and sure, guiding her body into your lap. She didn’t resist. She let you take her. Let you move her exactly where you needed her—knees straddling your thighs, her weight settling into yours like she belonged there.

Because she did. Gods, she did.

Your hands gripped her hips, grounding yourself in the shape of her, the heat of her core so close it made your stomach clench. You could feel her breath catch. Her fingers dug lightly into your shoulders, steadying herself as you held her, eyes locked, lips parted—

And then you rocked up. Just once. But it lit everything. The friction—clothed, but electric—ripped a gasp from her throat, her hips instinctively responding, grinding back down against the seam of your jeans. You pressed your forehead to her chest. “I need—” You didn’t finish. You didn’t have to. You moved again. This time, intentional. A full, slow roll of your hips that pressed your core into hers with unmistakable rhythm. Her breath stuttered. Her hands flexed on your shoulders. And then she moaned.

Soft. Shaky. Your name whispered like a secret as her body melted into yours. You kept moving—rocking her against you, coaxing moans from her lips, your hands guiding her with quiet strength, pulling her down just a little harder, a little deeper. She gasped. Bit her lip.

“You’re not playing fair,” she whispered, breathless. You smiled against her skin.

“I’m not playing at all.”

You rutted up again, harder this time, and she whined—her thighs shaking, her body beginning to tremble against yours. One of her hands slid into your hair. The other clutched your jaw. But you were in control.

You set the pace. And she followed.

Riding you. Rocking down onto your thigh as you pressed up to meet her, your rhythm building until you were both panting, lost in heat, friction, want. The moans she let out were for you—and every one of them pulled you deeper into her orbit, her weight, her magic.

Until—

“Fuck—” she gasped, her forehead dropping to yours. “I can’t—baby, I—” You moved again. Rougher. And she shuddered. You thought she might break. But instead— She flipped you.

It was fast. Fluid. You gasped, your back hitting the soft, mossy ground, the stream still murmuring beside you like it had always known this moment was coming. The stars spun above you, fragments of silver caught in velvet. And then Agatha was over you.

Not looming—blanketing.

Her body curved above yours like a spell cast for shelter, for protection, for claiming. Her curls fell loose around your face, her hands braced to either side of your head, her eyes locked on yours with something ancient and unspeakably tender burning behind them. Her thigh slipped between your legs. Pressed firm to your still-sensitive center. You jerked beneath her, a soft, strangled cry escaping your lips before you could catch it. Her eyes never left yours.

“There she is,” she murmured, voice thick and molten, as if speaking through the heat in her throat. Her hands came to frame your face, thumbs brushing reverently over your cheeks—grounding you. “I need you to feel yourself again. You hear me?”

You nodded. Barely. But it was enough. And she moved. Her thigh rolled up against you—just once. Purposeful. Slow. The drag of fabric against the soaked seam of your jeans was maddening—too much and not enough, the pressure direct and devastating. You whimpered. She swallowed it with a kiss.

Deep. Slow. Possessive. A kiss that said mine. Then she pulled back, lips brushing your jaw as she whispered, “I want you to know exactly what you’ve done tonight.” Another slow grind of her thigh. You arched with a gasp, but she caught your hips, held them down, her hands strong and sure. “You didn’t survive him.” Another roll. Another helpless noise caught in your throat. “You ended him.”

Her mouth trailed lower—your jaw, your neck, the hollow where your pulse fluttered fast and raw. “You didn’t just make it out of that church…” Her voice, low and steady, rumbled through your chest. “…You remade it. You turned it into a place that answers to you now.” She moved again—slower, deeper pressure this time, and her thigh was slick with your heat. You whimpered, your body trembling with the effort of holding back. “And every time you breathe,” she whispered, “every time your body responds like this—” Another slow, grinding press of her thigh. “—you’re proving them all wrong.”

You let out a cry. Trying to hold on, even as you were unraveling under the gentle, relentless pressure of her body and her words. And Agatha kissed you again. First the corner of your mouth. Then your throat. Then the center of your chest—right over the place where your magic pulsed warm and alive beneath your skin. She didn’t move for a moment. Just held you.

Her thigh pressed snug between yours, her body flush to yours, her breath ghosting over your lips like a vow. You could feel her heartbeat through the layers between you—steady, strong, yours. Around you, the moss curled tighter—thick, lush, living. It cradled your back like a cradle, a nest, rising just high enough to shelter the two of you in green shadow.

Tiny flowers bloomed at the edges of your vision. Deep violet. Sun-bleached gold. Soft white. The stream slowed beside you, its voice growing smooth and steady as a lullaby. Overhead, the trees leaned in—guarding. Bearing witness.

The Witches’ Road watched. And then—for the first time since your trial began— It turned away. You felt the shift in your chest. A breath. A stillness. Sanctuary. Agatha lifted her head like she’d heard the spell woven in that silence.

She pressed her lips to your cheek, your temple, her breath warm as it passed across your skin. Her fingers traced your jaw, slow and sure, anchoring you in the here, the now, the you who had remade herself. Then she pulled back—just far enough to see all of you. Her eyes roamed your face like they’d never get another chance. Reverent. Wrecked. In love.

“Can I…?” she asked softly, her voice rougher now. Like it had traveled a long road to reach you. Like she’d waited too long to ask.

You nodded. No hesitation. Just trust. And her hands moved. Not with hunger. But with ritual. Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your pants again, thumbs grazing your skin, and then—slowly—she unfastened the button. She dragged the fabric down, over your hips, past your thighs, and the night air kissed your skin with cool reverence. You didn’t look away. You watched her. Every motion deliberate. Every touch a devotion.

When she reached for your shirt, she paused again—her palms resting against your ribs, feeling the shape of your breath, the place where your heartbeat thundered. Then she lifted the fabric away, baring inch after inch of you until nothing was left between your body and the world but the soft gold shimmer of your magic and the green cradle of the moss beneath you.

You lay back. Soft. Open. Trembling. And Agatha knelt beside you. Shedding her own clothes with no flourish, no seduction. Only need. Her blouse slipped from her shoulders. Her bra was unclasped and dropped away. Then came the soft tug of her skirt, the slide of leggings. Her fingers moved quickly, almost impatiently—but never careless. And when she was bare, she came to you. Not with urgency. But with gravity. She pressed her body over yours like a second skin—warm, real, and here. Agatha didn’t move for a moment. Didn’t need to.

Your skin sang where hers touched it. Her thigh bracketed yours. Her fingers glistened—slick with the heat she’d coaxed from you before.

But then she moved again, slow and grounding. Her hand slid down your thigh, over the curve of your hip, anchoring you to the earth, to this, to her. Her gaze never left yours. Even as her body shifted above you—hovering, barely touching. Her curls fell forward, brushing your bare shoulder. Her breath caught at the edges.

“I want to feel you,” she whispered, voice thick, trembling. “Not just around me. Against me.” Your breath stuttered. That ache in your chest cracked wide open again. You nodded—barely more than a breath.

“Please,” you said. “I need you there.” She kissed you again. Once on your cheek. Then your jaw. Then your mouth—slow and deep and tender enough to hurt. And then she shifted her hips—just enough to reach between her legs.

You watched her—dazed, already shaking—as she aligned herself with you, guiding her slick core forward until your centers met. Heat to heat. Bare to bare. It stole your breath. Your thighs jerked with the contact. Twin gasps broke into the air—hers and yours—twining together like smoke.

She was soaked. And you were already throbbing. When she finally pressed down—slow, steady, searing—her slick folds dragged over yours, clit catching against clit, the friction sending a shockwave through both your bodies. You nearly came again on the spot.

Agatha groaned, hips stuttering, her hand flattening beside your head for balance as she dropped her forehead to yours.

“Fuck—” You whimpered, mouth open, voice cracked. Your legs parted wider, hips lifting instinctively to meet her. To keep her. And then she moved. The grind was slow. Wet. Torturous.

Her slick folds slipped over yours, the contact so intimate, so bare, you felt like you’d been peeled open to the stars. Each pass dragged her clit against yours in a way that was almost too much—almost—just on the edge of pain, on the edge of breaking. There was nothing between you now. No fabric. No lies. Just heat. Wetness. Need. Her. You.

Together.

Agatha’s hips rolled into yours—slow, unhurried, as though she wanted to make sure you felt every single inch of her center sliding against yours. Every sticky, perfect drag. Every twitch of muscle. Every shiver when your clits caught. And gods, it was good. So good it hurt.

Your thighs trembled beneath her. Your stomach coiled tight. Your breath came shallow, your hands gripping her back—shoulder blades, then waist, then lower—just trying to anchor yourself to the reality of her. She picked up the pace. Not fast. But intentional. Every grind drove your hips deeper into the moss, your body lifting to meet hers like it was instinct. Like you’d always known how to move with her like this.

Each drag of her clit against yours sent another spike of heat zipping up your spine. The slick sounds between your bodies were filthy, echoing into the dark. And you didn’t care. You needed it. You whimpered. Moaned. Your head fell back into the moss with a soft cry—and Agatha caught it, her mouth slanting over yours, kissing you through it. “That’s it, baby,” she whispered against your lips, her voice so low, so reverent you could feel it between your legs. “Grind on me. Just like that.” You did. You gave in.

Your hips met hers with every roll. Your clit swelled beneath hers, heat spreading fast, dizzying, unbearable. You moved together in a rhythm older than magic. In a song only your bodies remembered. The moss beneath you thickened, plush and damp and alive. The heat between you burned hotter. Your breath caught with each movement. Her skin burned against yours.

“So wet,” she panted, curls stuck to her forehead, “fuck, you’re so wet—I can feel it every time you move—your clit’s fucking pulsing—gods, I feel everything—”

You arched. Cried out. Your hips moved faster now—less rhythm, more desperation. Your thighs were trembling, your stomach tensing with every thrust. You were so close, and every drag of her body over yours pushed you closer.

“I want you to cum like this,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I want you to fall apart on me. With me.” Your lips were parted. Your breath, wrecked. Your legs began to shake.

You gasped: “I want you in me.” Eyes dark, pupils blown, her slick body hovering just above yours.

“Say that again.”

“I want you in me,” you gasped. “I need—Gods, I need you inside me, Agatha—”

Agatha froze. Just for a moment. Her breath caught like a vow between her lips. Then her eyes met yours—wide, stunned, searching—and in that heartbeat of stillness, something ancient shivered through the air around you.

The Road shimmered. A pulse beneath the moss. A soft cracking in the air—not violent. Not thunderous. Just a shift. Like the universe giving way. Not power. Permission. You both felt it. The earth stilled. The stream quieted. The moss beneath you hummed and hushed, its flowers blooming wider, lifting their petals toward the dark sky. And between your bodies— Something changed. Agatha inhaled sharply, the sound soft and sharp like the first gasp of spring. Her hips stuttered where they hovered, slick and trembling against you.

“Wait—” she whispered, as if afraid to name it. “Did you feel—” You did. The heat between your legs hadn’t shifted—but it gathered. Pulled tight like a spell on the verge of form. Something thickened in the air, pressing low and dense and alive where her folds had been grinding against yours. Not flesh. Not spell. Possibility. A weight that wasn’t there moments ago now nudged at your slick center. Not just pressure. Presence. The ghost of a shape—real, but not bound by flesh. Agatha looked down. Her breath caught. You felt her hips roll once—slow, experimental—and something slid forward. Pressed. Not fully formed. Not fully solid. But perfect. A soft moan broke from your lips—high, sharp, almost frightened by the rightness of it.

“Is that—?”

Agatha’s voice was wrecked. “The Road,” she breathed. “It’s listening. It’s letting me—”

Another roll of her hips. And you felt it. A hot, impossible drag of something shaped by her, for you, gliding over your soaked folds—wet, aching, divine. Not a part of her body. Not separate either. A conjuring of everything she wanted to give. A manifestation of need, devotion, claiming. Your back arched. Your hands flew to her arms—fingers curling in tight. Your whole body trembled.

Agatha looked wrecked above you. Her eyes glassy. Her lips parted in disbelief. Her magic shimmered faintly across her skin, glowing low where your chests pressed together. “You wanted me inside.” Her hand came to your jaw, thumb stroking once beneath your cheekbone.

“Let me in.” And then— She thrust—but not fully. Just enough to part you. Just enough to begin. The pressure was unbearable in its gentleness. The way her magic—now flesh, now offering—pressed against your slick folds was slow, careful, aching. Your body responded instantly—thighs trembling, breath punched out of your lungs, hips tipping up to meet her with the desperation of someone who’s waited for this their entire life. “Easy,” Agatha whispered, her voice low and wrecked as she leaned down, pressing her mouth to your cheek. “I’ve got you.” She rolled her hips again—barely a shift—but the head of that not-quite-flesh, not-quite-spell form slid deeper. You gasped—eyes wide, heart hammering, legs tightening around her waist.

It was hot. Thick. A perfect stretch that made your breath catch and your muscles clamp down like your body knew her.

“You’re so tight,” she breathed, trembling above you, her palm braced beside your ribs. “You're holding me like you don't want to let go—”

“I don’t,” you whispered. “I want to feel every inch. I want you slow. I want to know it’s you.”

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she moaned—a sound low in her throat, nearly broken by how much she felt that. Her hips rocked forward again—just another inch. And gods. It burned. Not from pain. But from everything you had ever held back—every wall, every fear, every time you’d been told your body didn’t belong to you. It all cracked open in that stretch.

You arched beneath her, tears welling in your eyes. Your fingers found her shoulders—digging in—not to stop her, but to anchor her. To beg her not to leave your body, not for a single second. “That’s it, baby,” she whispered, kissing your cheek. “Let me in. All the way.”

And she pushed deeper. Slow. Steady. Every pulse of her magic made you wetter. Softer. Wider. More. You felt her slide deeper, inch by inch, until your whole body was trembling with it.

“You’re taking me so well,” she said softly, her voice cracking as her hips finally came flush to yours. Her body pressed down fully. Her thighs bracketed your own. “Fuck—you’re perfect. You were made to hold me like this.”

You sobbed—a sound of relief, of wonder, of reverence. Your walls fluttered around her. And still—she didn’t move. She stayed. Inside you. Letting you feel it. The fullness. The stretch. The heat. Her.

“Agatha—” you breathed, your voice wrecked, your hands sliding to cup her face. And she kissed you—slow and deep and ruined.

“I’m right here,” she whispered into your mouth. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She stayed there. Fully sheathed. Pressed deep—so deep—her body flush against yours, her hips trembling with the effort it took not to move. You were so full, your walls stretched wide, throbbing around her with every heartbeat. The weight of her inside you—real, shaped of magic and need—made your breath stutter. Your thighs quivered where they clung to her sides. Your fingers dug into the backs of her arms, desperate to keep her there. Your body was adjusting. Softening. Welcoming.

And Agatha— Agatha was barely breathing. You could feel the tension in her frame, every muscle locked, every shallow exhale brushing your lips. “Holy fuck,” she whispered, voice frayed and reverent. “Fuck, baby” You moaned—soft and broken, head tipped back as your hips shifted, just a little, testing. Her eyes rolled. She gasped. “Don’t—” Her hips twitched. “I can’t—I’m trying to let you adjust, but gods, you feel like you’re sucking me in—”

You whimpered, clenching around her again.

“You are,” she moaned, forehead dropping to yours. “You’re not letting me go. You want me to stay buried inside you like this—don’t you?” You nodded—barely able to speak. Your voice came out as a whisper: “I want you to move.” Her lips parted like a prayer.

“Yeah?” You wrapped your legs around her waist, locking her in place. “Fuck me, Agatha-slow.”

She growled—low, wrecked, trembling with restraint. “You’re gonna get all of me,” she whispered, her voice rough with worship. “I’m gonna move so slow you feel every fucking inch—you want that, baby? You want to feel how deep I can go? How long I can stay inside you?”

You moaned—needy, desperate—your hips arching as you felt her finally shift.

And then she pulled back— Just an inch. The drag of her cock—thick, real, perfect—made your walls clench and flutter and ache for more.Then she thrust forward.

Slow. Heavy. Deep.You cried out, hands clawing at her back, breath caught between a sob and a scream. “Yes,” she groaned. “Just like that—let me in, baby. Let me fuck you slow. Let me show you what it means to be mine.” And she moved again.

Deliberate. Dragging her cock out until you could feel the stretch, the emptiness— Then pushing back in until your whole body arched, your mouth dropped open, and you were gasping her name like it was the only thing that kept you tethered. “Fuck—you feel so good—” she rasped. “So warm—so tight—so fucking perfect—”

You sobbed. Your body melted beneath her—legs wide, hips tilted, cunt aching and soaked, stretched to hold the full, slow roll of her pelvis. The shape of her—thick, pulsing, impossibly right—dragged over your walls with a friction so exact it felt forged for you.

Because it was. You cried out when she thrust again. No urgency. Just a deep, slow claim—like she was planting herself in you, pressing magic into your bones with every pass. “Tell me what it feels like,” she panted against your throat, her breath sticky and hot. “Tell me what I feel like inside you.” You whimpered—speechless. Body clenching, pulsing, breath catching with each movement of her hips. She didn’t thrust so much as sink, as if every inch of her cock was a message she needed you to remember.

“Like I was made for you,” you finally whispered, the words catching in your chest like a sob. “Like you belong there—fuck, Agatha, I can’t—I can’t hold it—”

She kissed your jaw. Your lips. Your cheek.

“Yes you can,” she moaned, voice trembling with the weight of your need. “You’re taking me so fucking well, baby—look at you—”

Another thrust. Deeper. And you swore the magic sparked behind your ribs—pushing up through your diaphragm, stealing your air, blurring the edges of your vision. But she didn’t speed up. She just kept going. Steady. Controlled. Her hips rolled into you with an aching rhythm. The kind that made your toes curl and your thighs twitch, made you feel every nerve down to the soles of your feet. Over. And over. And over. Each stroke was a wave crashing through you—soft, wrecked, sacred. You were already gasping, already shaking, your hands scrabbling at her back, her waist, her ass, desperate to keep her in you.

“I love you,” she gasped into your skin, voice ragged. “I love being inside you. I love the way you sound when I stretch you open. You’re mine.”

Agatha’s hips kept moving. Not hard. Not fast. Just perfect. Each thrust filled you completely, her cock dragging along your walls with just enough pressure to leave you breathless—then pulling out slowly, like she needed you to ache for it again. The tip of her magic bumped just beneath your cervix with every pass, and your whole body shuddered.

Your cunt fluttered—wet, tight, hot. Your thighs clung around her waist, twitching. Your mouth hung open on every exhale, your head tipping back as the tension coiled harder inside you.

And Agatha—gods, Agatha—was watching you fall apart.

“Look at you,” she whispered, voice like fire wrapped in velvet. “So open. So wrecked already. And I’ve barely even—”

She thrust deeper. You cried out, hips jerking up to meet her, your cunt clamping down around her so hard you both gasped. Agatha dropped her forehead to yours. Her breath came out in a shattered moan.

“You’re milking me, baby,” she groaned. “Gods—look at how hungry your body is for me.”

“Please,” you gasped, voice trembling. “Please, Agatha, let me—”

She cut you off with a kiss. Not soft. Not slow. Possessive. Then her hand slid between your bodies, her thumb pressing lightly—so lightly—to your clit. Just enough to tease. Just enough to ruin. You choked on a sob. Her lips brushing your cheek, her hips still grinding slow and deep. “You want to fall apart on my cock like a good little witch? Hm? Want me to watch you shake while I fuck you full of magic?”

You nodded. Frantic. Desperate. But she just moaned against your jaw—and slowed down even more. Each stroke was fire now. Dragging against every raw inch of you. Your cunt clenched around her. Your thighs were soaked. Your magic pulsed in bursts under your skin.

Another slow thrust. You keened. “That’s it,” she hissed, her teeth grazing your throat. “That’s my girl. All fucked open on my spell, twitching like you’ll die if I don’t let you cum.”

Her thumb circled your clit— Once. And stopped. “Please—Agatha—” you sobbed, your hips chasing hers, trying to get friction, trying to get anything. Your mouth found her shoulder. Her collarbone. Her lips. You kissed every inch you could reach, trembling beneath her. She pressed her body fully to yours—chest to chest, heat to heat—and rocked deeper.

“You’re close,” she breathed, voice breaking. “I can feel it. You’re so fucking close, and you’re going to stay there. Right here—” her thumb circled again, slow, maddening— “until I say.” You screamed.

And Agatha laughed—wrecked, wild, worshipful. Her hips picked up pace.

Not fast. Not brutal. Just enough to drive you insane. Every thrust now pressed deep and slow, her cock slick with you, your wetness leaking down your thighs, the moss below soaked and singing. Your cunt fluttered with every motion, clamping down like it didn’t know how to let her go.

“Fuck,” Agatha gasped, panting. “You’re squeezing me—how are you still this tight?”

You moaned. You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. Her thumb brushed your clit again—barely there—and your whole body bucked beneath her. She didn’t stop. She spurred you on. Her thrusts sharper now, more urgent. Still slow—but deliberate. Intense. Designed to keep you teetering on the edge until you couldn’t hold on.

“You’re wrecked already,” she panted. “Soaked. Fucking dripping. I haven’t even let you cum.”

She drove into you again—deeper. You sobbed. Your hands slid between your bodies—desperate to feel where you were joined, slick and full and pulsing. You looked up at her. Ruined. Open. Shaking.

“I want you to wreck me,” you sobbed.

Her rhythm faltered—just a beat.

Your hands grabbed her shoulders. “I want you to ruin me, Agatha. Please. I want to feel it for days—”

She growled. Her mouth crashed into yours. Her body slammed forward.

“I want you to finish in me,” you whispered against her lips.

Her entire body shuddered. The magic inside her surged—her cock pulsing deep in your core, like it had heard you like it had been made to live there. Her hips snapped once. Then again. Not fast. Not wild. Just precise—sharp, measured, filthy. Each thrust drove deeper, the slide of her cock dragging so perfectly along your fluttering walls you thought you might scream from the tension alone.

“Say it again,” she begged, mouth at your ear, voice wrecked and reverent. Her hand gripped your thigh so tight it bordered on pain. “Say it, baby—tell me what you want.”

“I want you to finish inside me,” you cried, voice high, cracked, desperate. “I want to feel you—fill me—don’t stop, Agatha, please—”

She snapped. Her hips started pounding into you—still steady, still controlled, but no longer gentle. Each thrust was deliberate and cruel in its slowness, your cunt taking every inch with no escape. She held you open—one hand gripping your thigh, forcing you wider, the other tangled in your hair, keeping your head tilted, your throat exposed. Her cock—still formed of her magic, of her love, of her goddamn devotion—pressed into every trembling inch of you. Again. And again. And again.

You were soaked. The moss beneath you wept with it. The flowers blooming under your back were bent low, heavy with dew and magic, their petals quivering with every slap of her hips into yours. And you—gods, you were ruined. But Agatha didn’t stop. She couldn’t. She fucked you through the rhythm with a focus that bordered on unholy. Each thrust rolled heat through your belly. Each withdrawal made your body beg for more. She didn’t give you release. She gave you ownership.

“You want me to cum inside you?” she growled into your throat, voice dark and wrecked. “You want me to keep you open, aching for me for days?” You whimpered—barely conscious, half-mad with tension.

“You do,” she hissed. “I can feel it. You’re clenching around me like you’re already coming—but I’m not going to let you. Not yet. Not until I’ve earned it.”

You opened your mouth—but nothing came out. No words. Just gasps. Just magic. Just the searing heat of her cock dragging against every nerve in you. Your magic pulsed now—gold and wild and molten, flowing from your skin like honey. Agatha’s shimmered through it—violet, stormy, burning. The two of you lit the moss like stars. And still she moved. Hard. Deep. Measured. The slap of her hips echoed with wet sound, each thrust pressing impossibly deep. Your cunt spasmed around her—slick, swollen, starving—but she wouldn’t give it to you. Not yet.

“You’re holding it,” she panted, her eyes locked on your face. “You’re trying so hard, my sweet girl. So good for me. So fucking good.”

You sobbed. And she groaned, mouth crashing into yours—sloppy, raw, desperate. When she pulled back, her breath dragged hot over your lips.

“You’re going to remember this,” she whispered. “Every time you sit. Every time you dream. I’m going to haunt you, baby.”

She thrust deep. You screamed. But still—no permission. No release. Just her body, her cock, her magic owning you. She was still in control. Barely. Each thrust kept hitting that perfect place inside you, your cunt squeezing tighter around her, slick gushing with every stroke—but she didn’t let up. You didn’t want release. You wanted her. Ruined. Your fingers tangled in her hair. You dragged her mouth to your ear and moaned—low, deliberate, filthy.

“Agatha.”

Her hips faltered. Just a beat. You smiled. “I want to feel you dripping out of me for days. I want your cock inside me in my dreams. I want to smell like you. Taste like you. Fucking ache for you.”

Agatha let out a shattered breath. Her rhythm broke. You didn’t stop. Your nails slid down her spine, sharp enough to sting. Your legs locked around her hips, holding her in. “I want you to lose control.” Your voice cracked on it. “I want you to fuck me like you mean it. Like you can’t stop.” Her hips snapped. Hard. She bit your throat—just enough to leave a mark.

“I can’t—” she gasped. “Fuck, baby—” And still—you whispered: “Cum inside me. Please, Agatha. Fill me up. I want to feel it—I want you to make a mess of me.”

“You want me like this?” she snarled, voice breaking open around each word—wild, low, possessive. “You want me to fuck you like I’ve lost every ounce of control—like I can’t think, can’t fucking breathe unless I’m buried in you?”

“Yes—” you gasped, your legs locking tighter around her waist, already trembling. “Yes, fuck, yes—Agatha, don’t stop—please—”

She didn’t. She couldn’t. Her thighs slapped against yours, punishing and perfect, her rhythm brutal, steady, unrelenting. Every thrust was a promise she kept and then broke—harder, deeper, again. Her sweat dripped from her chest onto yours, hot and salty where it kissed your skin. Her mouth dragged over your jaw, panting—ravaging. Her teeth grazed your neck, your collarbone, the curve of your shoulder like she wanted to mark you, taste you, claim you with every breath.

“You feel so fucking good,” she groaned, thrusting harder. “You’re so fucking tight—gods—gripping me like this pussy was made for my cock—like your body knew mine—”

You cried out, loud, wrecked, nails raking down her back, and she moaned for it—loved it. Her hips slammed forward again, and the sound was obscene—wet, frantic, filthy. Her cock dragged along your soaked walls, slick with your arousal, your magic, your need. You felt every inch—every stretch, every stutter, every aching pulse. The weight of her over you. The heat of her around you. The rhythm of her inside you.

“You’re mine,” she growled.

“I’m yours,” you sobbed, hands locked in her hair, your whole body trembling.

“Fucking say it again—”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, choking on the words as she pounded into you. “Please—please, Agatha—I need it—need you—”

Her voice cracked, feral and commanding. “What do you need, baby?” Her hips snapped, harder. The moss beneath you trembled. “Tell me what this cock’s doing to you.”

“Filling me—fucking me so deep I can’t think—I can’t—” You sobbed. “I want it. I want you to stay inside me—forever—gods—Agatha—please—”

Her next thrust was brutal. Measured. She groaned, a sound like surrender and worship all at once. Her cock twitched inside you—just once—but she caught it. Buried it. Controlled it. You could feel the heat building in her—the way her arms trembled, how her thrusts got even harder, more devastating. And still, she didn’t let go.

“You don’t get it yet,” she snarled, her voice ragged, her mouth grazing your ear. “This isn’t fucking.”

She thrust again. Deep. So deep you saw stars.

“This is a fucking offering.”

You gasped—no, screamed, wrecked and helpless as she slammed into you again, and again, and again. Her magic flared around you—sharp, radiant, uncontrollable. And she laughed. Not cruel. Not amused. Overcome.

“Fuck, baby—I haven’t even started to ruin you yet.” she growled.

And then you said it. Soft. Right into her ear.

“Mommy—” She snapped. Her whole body jerked. Her hips slammed forward like you’d cast a spell through her core. Her breath caught in her throat—a sound between a sob and a snarl—and her thrust stuttered, just for a second, before she slammed in again harder.

“Don’t call me that—” she choked. But you smiled. You knew better. You rolled your hips into hers, tightening your legs around her, and whispered it again:

“Why Mommy? Don’t you want to fuck your girl?”

A gasp burst from her mouth. Her head dropped to your neck, lips open, teeth grazing your skin. Her next thrust was brutal—deep enough you thought you might pass out from how good it felt. “You little fucking brat,” she hissed, but her voice was falling apart, her control shattering. “You want to push me over the edge? You want me to lose it that badly?”

You nodded—voice breaking. “Please. I want you to fuck me like you mean it. I want it all. I want to feel it—Mommy.”

Her hips snapped again, loud, soaked, her cock slamming into you so deep your toes curled. And then— You whispered the words that destroyed her:

“I want you to get me pregnant.”

Agatha froze. Her breath stuttered. Her thighs shook. You felt her cock twitch hard inside you.

“Fuck,” she gasped. “You—baby, you can’t—don’t say that unless you want me to fucking—”

“I do,” you moaned, nails dragging down her back. “I want it. I want you to fill me up, Mommy. I want to carry it. I want to wake up leaking and aching and still fucking wet from how deep you were in me.”

She snarled—the sound ripped from her throat like it hurt—and started fucking you harder, hips pounding, no pretense left, just pure animal rhythm. “You want me to breed you?” she growled, her voice wrecked, hips pounding into yours like her body had stopped listening to her. “You want me to own you like that?”

“Yes,” you gasped. “Yes, Mommy—please—put it in me. Fill me up. Fuck it into me until it stays.” She twitched inside you—thick and pulsing, magic flaring.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” she rasped, her voice breaking even as her hips kept snapping forward, unrelenting. “You say that again, I will cum inside you. I’ll make a mess so deep you’ll be dripping every time you take a step.” You cried out—high, sharp, wrecked.

“Do it,” you moaned. Her control shattered in a groan—long, low, feral. Her hand gripped your thigh, held you open, kept you pinned as she fucked into you harder than before, her rhythm relentless, breath crashing against your cheek.

“You’re mine,” she snarled, her voice hoarse, hips slamming forward. “Say it again. Louder.”

“I’m yours.”

“Louder.”

“I’m yours, Mommy. I’m yours.” Her eyes locked on yours—wild, glassy, worshipful.

“I’ll make it stick,” she gasped. “You’re gonna feel me for fucking weeks—I’ll fuck you so full they’ll hear your moans echo through the damn coven—” She thrust hard—once, twice—every slam soaking the moss, your thighs sticky with your own arousal and her magic, your body trembling with how badly it wanted her to lose control.

“You want to be filled with me?” she hissed. “You want to be ruined, wrecked, claimed from the inside out?” You nodded—frantic, eyes wide, mouth open in a moan that wouldn’t stop.

“Then fucking beg,” she growled, her hand slamming beside your head, magic cracking through her fingertips into the moss. “Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

“You—Mommy—you—”

“Say it.”

“It’s yours. My pussy’s yours. My body’s yours. Fucking fill me—I need it—please—please—”

Her body jerked, her breath shattered, and still—she held it. Held you. Her thrusts were getting messier now—less control, more desperation—her voice collapsing in your ear:

“You’re gonna take it, baby—all of it gonna let me cum inside this perfect pussy until you’re leaking for days—fuck—say you want it—”

“I want it—Mommy, please—I want you to cum so deep in me I can feel it when I sleep—”

Her rhythm snapped again—hard, fast, unforgiving. Her whole body was burning above you, trembling, magic clawing at the moss like even the Road couldn’t hold the two of you anymore. She didn’t slow. Didn’t soften. Her hips kept slamming into yours, wet and punishing, your bodies crashing together like waves and flame and want.

“Mommy—” you moaned, the name breaking across your tongue like a spell, “please”

She snarled. Then her angle shifted. Deliberate. Predatory. Agatha sat back just enough to shift her weight, her knees bracketing your hips. Her hands grabbed behind your thighs—wrenched them wider—then she drove forward hard enough to make you cry out.

“That what you want, baby?” she hissed, voice splintering as her cock speared deeper, rougher, grinding against the place inside you that made your legs spasm. “Want me to hold you open like this? Want to be fucking pinned while I make this pussy forget anything but me?”

“Yes—yes—Mommy—please don’t stop—”

She didn’t. She let her full body weight fall over yours now—skin to skin, sweat-slick, chest to chest—her forearms sliding under your knees, locking your thighs up and back. The new angle wrecked you—every thrust dragging her cock over that spot again and again until your hips bucked on their own, until your mouth fell open in a silent scream. You were trapped under her. Caged. Pinned and fucked. And gods—there was nothing more perfect.

Her mouth was everywhere—your jaw, your neck, your shoulder—biting, panting, moaning. She snapped her hips forward—brutal—and your whole body jerked beneath her. She was riding the edge, her pace brutal and unwavering, body shaking over yours, teeth gritted like she was holding back an earthquake.

Her body crashed into yours—again, and again, and again—and you screamed for it, your nails clawing down her back, your walls fluttering in helpless, soaked spasms around her magic. She pinned you tighter. Every inch of her weight on top of you now. Her hips grinding deeper, slower for a breath—just enough to press her cock where it made your vision blur—then fucking slamming again like she could brand her shape into your body. You couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. You were held—claimed—and still, she wouldn’t let you cum. Still, she hadn’t let herself fall.

“You want to break me?” she growled, mouth at your ear, cock still pounding into you. “Then say it again. Say my fucking name while I fuck you open.” You tried to say it. You tried. Her body slammed into yours again, cock dragging deep, your thighs trembling from the force of it. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your mouth open against her neck, lips barely able to shape the words through the wreckage of your moans.

“Aga—”

She growled. “No.” Another thrust. Harder. Deeper. “try again.”

You gasped, tears welling in your eyes—too much, too good, not enough. “Aga—please—” Her hand wrapped around your jaw, turning your face to hers. Her eyes burned. Her voice was low and savage: “who.” Her hips snapped forward—once, twice—relentless. Your walls clamped down around her, your body trembling, sweat and slick and magic soaked into the moss beneath you. You whimpered.

“Say it, baby,” she whispered, her forehead pressed to yours, her breath catching. “You know what I want to hear. You know who’s fucking you like this.”

You opened your mouth. Tried again. “Mo”

“Louder.” She slammed into you again, your cunt so wet and full and aching that you almost came just from the sound. You sobbed— And then you gave it to her. “Mommy.”

She snapped. Her whole body shuddered above you—magic flaring like lightning through her limbs—and she moaned so loud it echoed through the trees. “Fuck—yes—there’s my good girl,” she groaned. “That’s it. That’s what I fucking needed. Gods, baby—you don’t even know what that name does to me—” Her rhythm broke open—still in control, but barely—her body moving harder, heavier, her voice rough and wild in your ear:

“You feel what you’re doing to me? Feel how close I am? You’re making me fucking lose it, baby—calling me that, looking at me like that—”

You nodded, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. “I want to be yours,” you whispered.

“You are,” she hissed, breath shaking. “You’re mine. My girl. My fucking everything—” You nodded, wrecked beneath her—but it wasn’t enough. Not for her.Because she was still holding it.Still trembling.Still waiting for you to ask for more.Her cock twitched deep inside your cunt, soaked and clenching, and she moaned like it broke something loose in her chest.But she didn’t let go. Not until—

“Please, Mommy.”

Her breath caught. Her grip locked tighter. And then—then—she moaned, low and ruined, the sound full of heat and promise and surrender.

You could feel it in every trembling inch of her—the way her hips began to stutter, her thrusts losing rhythm as her cock twitched deep inside your soaked, aching cunt. Every vein of her magic pulsed along your skin in frantic bursts of violet fire, crackling like the storm she was trying to hold back.

She was shaking. Her thighs trembled around your hips, her grip on your wrists tightening until you could feel your pulse beating against her knuckles. Her forehead pressed to yours, her breath sharp and ragged, as if even speaking might push her over the edge. And still—still—Agatha held on.

You whimpered beneath her, back arching, body begging. She was pulsing inside you—hot, thick, throbbing—and you swore your cunt could feel the shape of her, every ridge, every twitch, so swollen and soaked it was unbearable.

“Mommy—” you sobbed, helpless, your voice cracking under the pressure.

Her breath caught. And then— Her voice dropped, reverent and ragged against your lips.

“Cum for me,” she whispered. “Cum on my cock—you’ve been so good, so fucking perfect, taking all of Mommy like you were made for it. I want to feel you lose it. I want to feel this pussy clench around me so hard I can’t fucking breathe—”

She thrust deep—grinding, her cock pressed so far inside you it felt like your whole body wrapped around it. “Now, baby. I need to feel you fall apart. I want you to cum so hard you scream for it—scream for me.”

And gods, you did. Your orgasm tore through you like a spell unraveling in real time—sacred, electric, your whole body seizing tight around her. Your cunt clenched, fluttering in desperate, pulsing waves, and you felt her cock throb inside you, twitching like she was seconds away from breaking too. She felt it.

“Fuck—fuck, baby—” she gasped, the sound crushed and frantic. “You’re—shit, you’re so tight—you’re squeezing me—”

She faltered. Just for a breath. She drew back a fraction of an inch—her hips twitching like she was going to pull out, like some instinctive part of her still tried to protect you from what was coming. If that was even possible. But you didn’t let her. You crossed your ankles behind her back—locked them—and pulled her in deeper.

All the way. She choked on a moan. And then she growled, low and feral, grabbing your thighs and forcing them wide, pressing her hips flush to yours, cock buried to the root as your slick spilled around her and your walls clenched again.

“Don’t you fucking stop,” you gasped. “Don’t pull out—don’t you dare. I want to feel your cock in me. I want to feel you everywhere.” She was shaking now—arms trembling, hips jerking, trying and failing to keep the rhythm steady.

“Fuck—I’m close—don’t say that, don’t—”

But she was already pounding into you harder, sloppier—her control gone, her breath broken against your mouth, her moans raw and wild as your bodies slammed together. The sound of your slick was obscene, the heat of her cock unbearable, every thrust forcing your orgasm deeper into your bones as she chased the edge you’d already fallen over.

“You want it?” she gasped. “You want my cum—want me to fill you until you’re leaking down your thighs?”

“Yes—”

“You want me to breed you, baby? Fuck you so full it sticks?” Her voice cracked, teeth gritting as her hips slammed into you like thunder. “Say it again.” You wrapped your arms around her. Held her to you. Looked her dead in the eyes as your voice broke wide open with need:

“Get me pregnant.” She snapped—and drove into you harder. One crashing, brutal thrust after another—her thighs slapping wetly against yours, her cock so deep your body arched around it, clinging to every inch. You were drenched, the moss beneath you soaked with your slick, your sweat, and the magic now rolling off both of you in wave after breathless wave.

“You want me to put it in you that deep?” she panted, her voice breaking at the edges. “You want to feel it pour out of me, right into you—so much you’ll taste it in your fucking dreams?”

You sobbed—wrecked. “Yes—yes—Mommy, please—” Another thrust. Deeper. Her hands slid up your thighs, spreading you wider, holding you open like a sacred vessel as her hips snapped forward again. Your body bowed, and she groaned into your throat.

She growled, reverent, breathless.

“Do it,” you begged. “Give it to me, Mommy—give me everything—I want it—I want you—”

“Fuck—” she groaned, desperate now. “Fuck, I’m gonna—I’m gonna fill you up, baby—take it—take every fucking drop—”

Her cock twitched—violently. Her body went taut.

And you felt it. Her hips faltered—each thrust breaking rhythm, snapping into you in short, panicked bursts like her body was fighting her mind for release. Her cock throbbed inside your cunt—thick, hot, pulsing with magic that sparked across your skin in frantic bursts of violet fire. You swore you could feel every ridge, every twitch, your body trembling around her in slick, gasping surrender. You screamed her name—loud, open, wrecked—your legs trembling, your vision gone white at the edges.

Her forehead dropped to yours, sweat slipping down her temple, lips brushing your mouth in ragged gasps. Her eyes met yours. Wide. Wild.

Terrified. And completely devoted. “I’m gonna—fuck—Mommy’s gonna cum in your—” Her voice broke. But she didn’t. She held on. Tighter.

Her hips didn’t slow—they slammed forward, again and again, pistoning into you with the force of something ancient, something starved. Her rhythm was feral now, wet and brutal like she needed to fuck her orgasm into you just to survive it. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. But you did. You whispered, wrecked and reverent:

“Are you gonna cum in me, Mommy?”

She moaned—a sound torn from her chest, low and guttural, pressed into your throat like it was the last safe place she had left. She didn’t answer. She just fucked you harder. Her cock slammed into your soaked cunt, every thrust deep, soaked, perfect. Your body arched, walls fluttering, already on the edge again.

“I hear you,” she gasped, voice fractured, “your little moans—fuck—the way you sound when I’m this deep” You sobbed—your thighs trembling, your mouth open, eyes glazed as she chased the fall. And then— She broke.

Her hands locked over yours, fingers clenched as her hips drove forward one last time—hard, deep, final—burying her cock to the root inside you as your body stretched around her, trembling, open, ready.

You felt her everywhere. In your cunt. In your belly. In your heart. And then—

Heat. Blinding. Immediate. Unrelenting. Her hips drove forward—one last brutal thrust—and then she broke. Her entire body arched, back pulled tight, chest crashing into yours. Her mouth fell open in a desperate, choked moan—raw and unfiltered, like the sound had been building inside her for hours and couldn’t be held anymore. Her cock convulsed deep in your cunt, and you felt it—gods, you felt it: Once. Twice. Three times.

Hot, molten spurts of cum slammed into you—thick, fast, and so deep it felt like she was pouring her soul into your body. You gasped, eyes fluttering shut as the pressure surged through your core and up your spine, blooming in your chest like fire.

Her voice cracked. A sharp, guttural “Fuck—” against your neck, followed by a whimper so soft you almost didn’t hear it: “It’s too much—I can’t—I’m still coming—baby, I’m still—fuck—”

And it didn’t stop. Her cock twitched again, harder this time, and you screamed—not from pain, but from the stretch and the heat and the way she moaned with you now, helpless and breathless. Your orgasm slammed through you like a wave crashing open from your chest. Your thighs locked around her hips. Your arms clung tight. Your cunt fluttered like it was trying to hold her there forever.

Agatha whimpered into your skin.

“That’s it—good girl, fuck—Mommy can’t stop—”

Her hips stuttered—still moving, still grinding, sloppy now, soaked with slick and sweat and cum, fucking you through every wave of her release. Her voice fell apart.

You sobbed. “Yes—yes—please—don’t stop—Mommy, I want all of it—I want all of you—” Another pulse of cum spilled into you, and her moan this time was high and cracked, like she couldn’t take it either. Her thighs trembled against yours. Her arms began to shake. Her forehead pressed to yours, lips open, breath shallow, her whole body coming undone above you.

“I’m still—fuck—I’m still coming,” she whimpered. “I don’t know how you’re still taking it—you’re so full—I can feel you holding me, baby, like you want to keep every drop—”

You kissed her. Desperate. Reverent. Crying into her mouth as your cunt clenched again, tighter now, your body wrecked and begging, overstimulated and overflowing.

She slammed into you again—one last time—as her cock pulsed violently and her breath caught mid-cry. And then she moaned—full-bodied, broken, the kind of moan that ripped straight from the center of her chest and out through her throat:

“You’re mine,” she gasped. “You’re everything—everything—fuck, I’m yours too, baby—take me—”

Her cock twitched again. Again. Her cum spilled from your cunt in slow, heavy waves—too much to hold—but she didn’t pull out. She didn’t let go. She just moaned into your shoulder, her hips still grinding, slow now, clumsy and sacred. She was shaking. You were shaking. And still—still—you held on to each other. The world was a blur of heat and heartbeat and sound.

Agatha’s breath broke in your ear—shallow, shattered, caught halfway between a gasp and a sob. Her body was still moving, just barely, little rocking thrusts she couldn’t stop, couldn’t not give you. Her hips trembled with every motion, her legs bracketing you down, her weight full and grounding over your chest. And her voice— Gods, her voice was wrecked.

“Still inside,” she whispered, lips dragging over your cheek, your temple. “I can feel you still pulling—like you don’t want to let me go.” You didn’t. You couldn’t. She let out a high, involuntary whimper—tiny, cracked, like she wasn’t even aware of it. Her forehead dropped to your shoulder, her breath ragged against your skin, and her thighs shook with the effort to stay upright.

“Fuck,” she breathed. “You—baby, you ruined me—”

Her words dissolved into another moan, softer this time, hushed and desperate, as her hips ground forward again. You felt her cock, still thick and pulsing inside you, slide deeper with the motion, and a small gush of warmth spilled from you in response—so much, you gasped.

“I can’t,” she whispered again. “I can’t move. Not yet. I need—need to feel this.”

Your arms came up around her. Not tightly. Just enough to keep her close. Enough to let her break gently against you.

“I’ve got you,” you murmured, brushing your lips over her damp forehead. “You gave me everything.”

Her hands found yours—slow, reverent, like they were afraid to let go. She threaded your fingers together, pressing your joined palms against the moss above your head.

And the Road responded.

The moss curled around you both—warm, velvet-soft, thick with golden bloom. The flowers that had erupted beneath your bodies remained open, turned toward you as though worshipping. The trees above were utterly still. The stream had quieted to a hush. You felt the pulse of magic still humming beneath your skin—orange and violet and honey-thick, braided between you like the tether it had always been.

Agatha let out another soft whimper, almost a whine, and you felt her curl into you—like she didn’t know how to exist outside your body now.

“You’re still shaking,” you whispered, kissing her temple.

“I know,” she whispered back. Her voice was barely there. “I—I didn’t know I could feel this much. I didn’t know it would be like this.” You squeezed her hand. “You stayed with me. Even when you broke.” She nodded, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. Then again. Then lower, over your heart.

“I felt you open for me,” she said. “I felt you keep me. I—I heard you say my name and I just—” Her breath caught. “I gave you everything I had.”

You kissed the edge of her jaw. “You still are.” There was a silence then. Not empty. Not hollow. A full, aching kind of silence. The kind that only comes when two bodies are still joined, still shaking, still trying to memorize the exact shape of this kind of closeness.

And then— “Good girl,” she whispered, breath warm against your throat. “You were so fucking perfect for me.”

You shivered. Agatha finally moved—just enough to shift her weight so she could look at you. Her eyes were glossy, still shining with magic, still wet with the tears she hadn’t even noticed she’d cried. She didn’t pull out. She didn’t even think about it. She just kissed your lips, slow and soft and holy.

------

The silence lingered as your bodies slowly remembered themselves.

Agatha was still inside you, her breath soft against your cheek, her hands resting where your hips met. Neither of you moved for a long time. The moss cradled you like a bed made for this moment. Your skin still tingled with the last echoes of magic—hers and yours, braided together like roots through loam.

But eventually, your muscles began to ache. Not painfully. Just in the way that reminded you that time existed, and so did everything outside this pocket of sacred stillness. Agatha shifted first. A soft, careful pull back, her hand on your thigh as she finally, slowly, eased out of you. You gasped—body shuddering with the loss—and she moaned quietly, her forehead pressing to your shoulder as if the separation hurt her, too.

“Still here,” she murmured, her voice scratchy and low. “Still yours.”

You nodded, eyes closed, breath shallow. Warmth leaked from your body—thick, slow, undeniable—and you felt your cheeks flush with something like awe. You were sore. You were soaked. You were loved. Agatha sat back onto her heels and looked at you—truly looked. Her eyes were wide and red-rimmed. She looked wrecked. Gorgeous. Bare in a way that had nothing to do with clothing.

“We should get cleaned up,” she said softly. “Even if I never want to leave this moss again.”

You dressed each other in silence. No rush. No shame. Just warmth—slow and human and holy—as fingers brushed fabric and lips found skin in quiet thanks. The moss beneath you had grown thick and golden-edged. Your scent was everywhere. The Road had given you this moment, and neither of you seemed willing to let it go. When you were fully clothed again, Agatha held your hand in both of hers. Not to lead. Just to feel.

Her thumb traced your knuckles. Her eyes never left your face. “Are you alright?” she asked, voice low. Reverent. You nodded, breath catching.

“I am now.” She smiled—and gods, she looked so wrecked. Not from the trial. Not from the pleasure. From loving you so hard it had hollowed her out and rebuilt her.

“You were brilliant,” she said. “You didn’t just survive. You changed the Road. I felt it.” You leaned into her touch. “Because you stayed. Because you caught me when I fell.” Her lips brushed your forehead. Her voice was a whisper against your hair.

“I always will.” You stood together then, still laced at the fingers, and took one final breath before facing the Road. And just as your foot stepped forward— The air shimmered. Not violently. Gently. Like a veil lifted. And for a single breath, the Road gave you a gift.

—

A clearing. Sunlit. Open. Time had passed—you felt it in the warmth of the grass, in the way the trees stood taller now. In the way joy had taken root.

A child ran barefoot through a bloom-drenched field, laughter echoing like windchimes. Flowers spilled behind every footstep—wild and soft and sacred. Purple and gold and green. And there—kneeling in the grass— Agatha. Smiling. Her sleeves rolled up, hands dirty from the garden, her magic curling lazily around her fingers as she reached to steady the child’s wobbly hand. She was older. Softer in the eyes. Just as powerful. Just as beautiful. She looked up.

And for a heartbeat, she saw you. Her smile widened. That was it. That was the vision. No threat. No shadow. Just a future. Yours. And then it was gone. The Road returned. The stream beside you rushed again. The trees exhaled. You blinked—tears threatening but not falling. Agatha turned to you instantly, her fingers tightening.

“What is it?” she asked, voice full of that quiet fear that only comes from loving someone too deeply. You didn’t speak at first. You just smiled.

“There were wildflowers,” you whispered. “And you were laughing. And there was… someone small. Someone we loved.”

Agatha’s breath hitched. Then she pulled you into her arms and held you there—not tight, not desperate. Just long enough for you to feel how her heartbeat answered yours. She kissed you once—soft and still shaking. And then the Road opened.

—

The coven looked up the moment you stepped through the tree line. Billy was the first to move—his brows lifting with both concern and awe. Jen exhaled like she’d been holding her breath. Alice gave you a look like she already knew. And Lilia—Lilia was watching quietly, hand over her heart. “You’re back,” she whispered.

Agatha blinked, stunned. Her hand tightened in yours. “How long were we gone?”

Jen glanced at the others, then looked back. “Five minutes,” she said softly. “Maybe six.”

You froze. Agatha’s mouth parted. Because to you, it had been hours. A breaking. A rebuilding. A reckoning. And somehow… only minutes had passed. The Road had hidden you. Had made space for you. Time bent not for pain or trial—but for love. You looked at Agatha again.

Her curls were still damp with sweat. Her lips swollen from your kiss. Her hand still trembling faintly in yours. And in her eyes— That same vision. That same future. Already blooming.

Anon: I hope you liked it

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rezwrites · 8 months ago

Note

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.”

#rio vidal #rio vidal x reader #rio vidal x female reader #rio vidal x you #rio vidal x y/n #rezwrites

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agatharkn3ss · 8 months ago

Text

Agatha's info/rumours

I thought I'd pull together all the info we've been shown in ep.6 and add my interpretation to it. I still can't believe that Billy read these short bits and claimed he knew an "egregious" amount about Agatha.

As usual, biased towards Agathario, because I think they are heavily implying Agatha's connection to Death (I mean yes, the writers could just be trying to explain why the internet would be so invested in her identity, but still)

First of all - "333 partial results for Agatha Harkness Ancient Witch". I love yet another allusion to how Agatha is linked with number 3, making her the actual harbinger of doom (I explain this here).

It's interesting that the related questions are all about the immortality of the witches:

Are witches immortal?

Do real witches ever die?

How do you kill a witch?

How old is the oldest witch?

If we didn't have other super-old witches in the show, it would make me wonder if Agatha didn't make some sort of pact with Death (Rio), where she provides "bodies" to her in exchange for her long life. But as it is, we have Lilia as 450+ years old and Jen is also older than a century, but you don't see them trying to kill people (I think).

The very first search result is quite fun:

"The Macabre Wiki – a comprehensive encyclopaedia of all things that only come out after dark. Created by two blood witched from Salem"

No matter what, I will forever believe this is Agatha and Rio's page. (for reasons explained here)

The rest of the search results are not as exciting:

Witchy Resource – Ancient witches and ancient warlocks are not well documented traditionally and usually for good reason…

Witches and Aging – Apparently, witches are able to chose how they age and present themselves to humans. Some withes choose to stop again at a certain point staying roughly 30 years old visually for literally hundreds of years.

Dreadit – Salem Witch Trials – Recently I’ve been researching a ton on the SWT and not many people know this but there are reports of witches that actually survived burning and drowning

The Art of the Ancients – Learn about the secret art of witchcraft and the witches that have [...]

So this suggests Agatha specifically chose her look and age. Neat. Quite empowering really.

Also, another suggestion that some witches can be immortal and survive burning and drowning. I wonder if we will see this in the show - Agatha and Rio having absolute blast at mocking people who were trying to torture/kill Agatha, only to realise she wasn't feeling any pain, she would just raise and shout "Surprise witches!".

Then we go onto the Salem Witch Trials page. This pretty much confirms what we already know about them. I immediately clocked how all the handles only have green or purple colours... Coincidence? I've not tried to decipher the names, but if anyone has any suggestions, let me know!

witchygirlblack: Did any witches survive the Salem witch trials? Are they still alive? Where are they? Witches can live for hundreds of years, so the ones that survived the trials might still be out there [] witchkraft dreadit, you must know of some?

4thlevelwarlock: The Salemites, Evanora Harkness’s coven, were prominent in the area. I’ve heard rumours [...]the young children from the coven escaped

SamSamwitch: @4thlevelwarlock look familiar? [Agatha image link]

BoftheEast: be careful posting about her just saying

Then Billy takes the photo through reverse image search. I know these are tiny, inconsequential details but I still love them:

"Looky" sounds like a little nod to Lilia's "kooky"

The letters “o” have moons inside of them.

Each letter has different colour that seems to align with the witches – light blue (Jan - water trial?), purple (Agatha - spirit), yellow (Lilia - air), dark blue (Billy?), orange (Alice – fire)

This search then leads to a number of events that Agatha has been spotted at. Rather than pull out the quotes, I'm going to put the events in a chronological order and add relevant background info:

Salem Witch Trials (1692-1693) - this was a series of hearings and prosecutions of people accused of witchcraft in colonial Massachusetts. More than 200 people were accused. It was the deadliest witch hunt in the history of colonial North America. This is the time where Agatha's mother and her coven try to "punish" her for using "the darkest of magic". Her fingers weren't black, so she's unlikely to have had Darkhold back then. (btw the script for this suggests Agatha was 18 at the time, so she was born ~1675, making her ~351 years old in 2026)

The Eastern Seaboard - Although we don't know the exact dates, there are "unconfirmed reports of Agatha traveling the Eastern Seaboard". This could relate to various areas but this is likely just referring to the US East Coast. The Thirteen Colonies, which formed the United States in 1776 were located on this coast, playing an important role in the development of the United States.

The sinking of the Titanic (1912) - the British ocean liner sank as a result of striking an iceberg on her maiden voyage from Southampton, England, to New York City, US. Of the estimated 2,224 passengers and crew aboard, approximately 1,500 died. Agatha is listed as one of the survivors

The Hindenburg disaster (1937) - a German commercial passenger airship caught fire and was destroyed during its attempt to dock at Lakehurst, New Jersey, on its journey from Frankfurt, Germany. The accident caused 35 fatalities among the 97 people on board, and an additional fatality on the ground. The publicity shattered public confidence in the giant, passenger-carrying rigid airship and marked the abrupt end of the airship era. Again, Agatha is spotted as a woman who "survived the explosion then disappeared"

"Jolene" (1972-1973) - The headline states "Does this 1972 Surveillance photo of Dolly Parton show the real Jolene?" and Jac Schaeffer confirmed that yes, Agatha = Jolene. So I had some fun with this, because why not?! I wondered what Agatha's play would've been here. Is she truly after Dolly's "man" - if so, in what way? Or is she after Dolly herself? Note that although the article says 1972, later on we also see statement that Agatha was last seen in Nashville Tennessee, 1973. Now - that year in Nashville, Dolly not only recorded "Jolene" in May, but a month later she also recorded "I will always love you" - a song that is widely understood to be a goodbye song to her business partner because she decided to pursue solo career. In my head this is all a result of Agatha's influence, who showed Dolly her real power.

On that note, I don't think we would be far off assuming that as Agatha kept Dolly (or her man) her company, she would've actually come across Lorna Wu herself? We know it was similar time, because "The Ballad of the Witches Road" record was made in 1978. Alice mentions how she got her tattoo in Colorado as her mum was playing at the Red Rocks amphitheatre. Dolly Parton also performed at the Red Rocks in 1972 (the same year as the camera footage), so Agatha could've been there...

Finally, we get to the "brujapedia" - the encyclopaedia of witches. It's fun to speculate who could be running this page - the whole theme is black and white, with red highlights. There is also an image of a raven - as I discussed it before, it is a symbol of bridging the world of life and death. So it would be fun if it was Death herself maintaining it, as she would be the only one who would truly know who the real witches were. Also it would be a cool census of who is still remaining for her to "collect" their dues.

Another good spot from @chaotic-homoromantic is that "bruja" is a Spanish word for "witch", giving us another hint to Rio.

I couldn't really find any info on any other names other than the top one. Abigail Adams was a founder of the US, wife of John Adams, the second US president and mother of John Quincy Adams, the 6th US president. I'd like to think witches had some input back then.

Also interesting is how Agatha's surname is misspelled - it has two Ks. I wonder why that is - no way it's a mistake, seeing how much detail they've put into this. Maybe it's a subtle suggestion that this information came straight from Agatha herself or as a joke from someone who knows her, since she's known for using wrong words. (or it could just be a suggestion that all of the other names on this list are also misspelled, explaining why we can't find any info on them)

Then we get to some info about her - most of which I already collated into the timeline above. There is also a vague mention of Nicky: "Agatha Harkness. Son. Name unkown, rumours [...]"

But there are also some other bits - hilariously referred to as "FUN" facts:

Fun Facts:

Murdered her entire coven

Possesses succubus powers

Nick name is “witch killer!”

Only known survivor of The Witches Road

Folklore references: It is said certain children’s book make reference to Agatha [...]

Funny how the nickname absolutely includes the exclamation mark. I feel like maybe Jen was the one who submitted this info.

As for the children's book - I feel like it wouldn't be just a single story but more like the Grimm's Fairy Tales. Following Lilia's comment, Agatha probably was the template they used for "evil witches" - poisoning apples and stealing kids and eating children. It's not something she would deny anyway.

Now, the Succubus comment is interesting. In lore they are generally depicted as a sexual being - "a female demon or supernatural entity in folklores who appears in dreams to seduce men, usually through sexual activity."

But I think in Agatha's case, things are different. Yes, she has the charisma and can probably seduce people quite easily (I mean, she probably seduced Death, didn't she?). But I don't think that's like a magical power. In fact, if it was, it think it would be really unfair to Agatha, erasing the fact that her character had to build and evolve around her experiences and the fact that she had to survive - "in a way that few do". So I think this "fun fact" could be partially coming from someone's snarky comment (Dolly Parton's?), who just wanted to take away Agatha's agency. Or fell for Agatha and then blamed it on her "powers" rather than admitting their own gullibility. Just like women over the centuries were accused of witchcraft and casting curses if things simply didn't go the way someone wanted.

Plus the way she goes about getting her magic from people is absolutely not seductive. She simply finds a way to annoy the heck out of the target!

But of course, that's not all there is to it, because on the other hand Agatha has her syphoning ability - now that could also be described as the "succubus powers" referred to above. In DnD succubus attacks using a "Deadly kiss", basically draining the essence of life and I feel like this is quite a good description:

"The kiss of a succubus is an echo of the emptiness that is the fiend’s longing for a corrupted soul. Likewise, the recipient of the fiend’s kiss gains no satisfaction from it, experiencing only pain and the profound emptiness that the fiend imparts. The kiss is nothing short of an attack, usually delivered as a final farewell before the fiend escapes."

In that magic/soul sucking way, she would have more parallels to Death, explaining their connection. More so, if Agatha can't control her powers - because Death does not really have much control either, she just has to do her job when the time comes.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #kathryn hahn #aubrey plaza #rio vidal #agatha all along spoilers #agathario #agatha x rio

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rootspiral · 6 months ago

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Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 7 part 1

(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])

ah yes, episode 7, a notoriously low stakes one that people are not emotionally invested in whatsoever. a mere 9.1 on IMDB, nothing to write home about.

we start with lilia dying, because life and death are a never ending cycle. and also because the people who made this show are evil

she's like a teardrop. good fucking shot.

meanwhile billy is marching on, puffing his chest, all stone faced. agatha is pretending to be a nice little guy, to make friends.

she's really TRYING, okay?

rio's busy reaping alice's soul, but we don't reveal that until later. and LMAO agatha being all like, I'm gonna be OPEN and HONEST and a good ment- except for that I donwannatalkabouthat

agatha after she babysits a little boy once, scares him shitless and tries to kill his mom: we CLEARLY had a connection there

that poor little dash in the subtitles. fighting for its life to convey the chasm of time she leaves between ex and best friend

LET'S HEAR IT FOR REBECCA WHO RAISED THIS BOY FOR FAR LONGER THAN WANDA OR AGATHA EVER DID

but the unfortunate fact is, wanda still is his mother. or rather, she's the witch who thoughtlessly created him and left a big scar in her wake. he has to deal with all that.

marvel's powers that be: wanda maximoff is definitely dead-dead

jac schaeffer and co. every chance they get: she sure is!!! *big fat kathryn hahn wink at the camera*

if they ever do a 'marvel most iconic line' poll we as a fandom are voting for this one. just to be clear.

I saw some reactors going ooooh it's ho***rts. HOW DARE YOU SIR. that's the wicked witch castle. billy maximoff would never.

I've been asking myself WHY agatha simply doesn't tell billy about the nature of the Road, not even now that everything else is out in the open. the only answer I can come up with is that the Road is real and it's here and deadly, it's not in any way an illusion. and since the Road is linked to billy's emotional state, we dont' want him to go ballistic one he realizes he's been killing witches. agatha has decided she can only soldier through at this point and get herself and billy's home, they can talk about the implications later. yes, she's really scared of what billy can do.

I've also been trying to figure out the moon phases:

Full moon - water phase, blue, Jen.

Waning moon - fire phase, red, Alice.

Blood moon or lunar eclipse (still a full moon): spirit phase, purple, Agatha

Waxing moon: air phase, yellow, Lilia

New moon: earth phase, green, Rio

so we get full moon, waning, full moon again, waxing, new moon. they're completely out of order??

this whole trial is the equivalent of billy calling lilia a slur. no fr it's billy repeatedly beating lilia over the head with a stick and going, reCLAIM IT RECLAIM THE DAMN SLUR YOU WITCH

i find kathryn hahn as the wicked witch of the west alarmingly hot and i don't know what that says about me

billy is like, i effin KNEW I'd look this good. oh god, the Road was just an excuse to cosplay as maleficent all along

i love how these two find themselves alone for five minutes and immediately proceed to BUTCHER a trial. i'm overusing tumblr lingo these days and all, but I still gotta say it: there is one single braincell in this whole coven and lilia has it. it's like leaving two children in charge

a cursory google search tells me the two sphinxes represent light and darkness, you need to learn how to control both for the chariot to move forward

she always is!! sort of. kind of. mostly.

agatha, who's about as spiritual as a q-tip: how hard caN THIS BE

I can totally see her as a con artist counting cards in vegas

somehow I cannot picture evanora homeschooling her. or sending her to school at all, for that matter. you know this bitch is self-taught.

someone with more time than me should totally check if there's any rhyme or reason to the cards these two buffoons drew

I'm gonna end this entry with lilia's eyes again so it's another nice circle. a fun little ouroboros!

damn patti has such big doe eyes

go to episode 7 part 2

#agatha all along #agatha deep dive #agatha harkness #billy maximoff #lilia calderu #character study

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fanficsformyfaves · 6 months ago

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Agatha Harkness x Fem Witch!Reader

WARNING: ANGST, SMUT 18+, Mentions Abandonment, Mentions of Violence, Mentions Of Death, Panic Attack, Hickeys, Fingering (R Receiving), Oral (R Receiving)

PREFACE: Reader and Agatha met during the 1920's in New Orleans, when Agatha had to move once again as to not arouse suspicion for not aging. They were together for years, but one night, everything changed and Agatha leaves. A century later, she finds Reader again and convinces her to walk down the Witch's Road alongside her and her new coven

A/N: Flashbacks In Italics!

Letter In Purple And Italics!

ONE THING I'MMA DO...IS NOT CRASH THE FUCK OUT AFTER WRITING THIS (I'm reminding myself)

After narrowly escaping Alice's trial and making sure Teen was okay, gathered and started a campfire to brace the cold winter night, before resuming our journey down the road.

"(Y/N)", called out, as I turned to face her.

"Why don't you show us your battle scars?"

I take a quick glance around the group and shrug, thinking 'why not?'.

I pull up my shirt and show them the scar on my stomach, taking notice of the way Agatha's eyes lingered on my exposed skin.

"Bar fight with some random chick who thought I was looking at her boyfriend", I scoff.

"Damn", Alice muttered.

"Yeah, she took a bottle and broke it off on the table and...well. I'm pretty sure you guys can guess how that ended", I say, rearranging my blouse.

"Like I swung that way", I added, watching the ladies turn to each other chuckling.

Just then, Agatha pipes up.

"I have a scar"

"Yeah, the one on your arm", Lilia pointed out.

"Not just that one", she interjected, shaking her head.

I narrow my gaze, looking down at her. More than a hundred years later and I still remembered every inch of her body from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. If my memories served me right, that was the only scar she had.

"A long time ago...I loved someone", she began.

My heart sunk slightly, realizing who she was talking about.

"And I had to something I did not want to do...even if I had no other choice"

That was bullshit and she knew it. She did have a choice and she chose to be a coward.

"And it hurt them", she added.

Back in nineteen-twenty, the start of the Roaring Twenties era, Agatha and I met, when she walked into the speakeasy I was performing at. I was singing my final song of the evening and I spot her sizing me up from the front row. Of course, I grew bashful at the attention, but remained committed to finishing my set.

Once I was done, I take a bow, expressing my gratitude for the crowd's enthusiasm.

"You've been lovely this evening, I'm (Y/F/N), goodnight!", I bid farewell, as the room erupted with applause.

I get back to my dressing room and change into a more comfortable dress, before making my way to the bar.

"You did great, kid", the barkeep praised, handing me my usual.

"Thanks, Rusty", I say, taking the martini.

"Dirty", I hear a voice say behind me, causing me to look over my shoulder.

It was the woman from earlier.

"Pardon?", I say, narrowing my eyes.

"The drink?", she said, smirking.

I look back at my drink and that's when I realized what she was referring to.

"Oh!"

She chuckles, taking the seat beside me.

"You've got quite the voice", she complimented, bringing a pinkish hue to my cheeks.

"Thank you", I replied, avoiding her piercing gaze.

I could sense a certain air about her that intrigued me. I just couldn't put my finger on it.

"The name's Agatha Harkness", she introduced, extending a hand.

Harkness....why did that name sound so familiar?

"(Y/N)", I said, offering mine, lazily bent at the wrist.

She takes it and runs her thumb over my knuckles, causing my breath to hitch over so slightly. I couldn't help but bend to my curiosity's will.

"You said your last name was...Harkness?"

"Yeah, sound familiar?", she asked.

I had to be careful. I couldn't risk exposing the fact that I was a witch to the wrong person.

"I believe so. It might sound silly, but a long time ago, I had family that migrated out of Salem"

Her brows raise and she looks me up and down again, releasing my hand.

"Or at least that's what my mother told me. Any who, she had this book of our family's history and I think I might've seen that last name somewhere"

"Is that so?", she questioned.

Her voice sultry and soft.

"I told you it was silly"

"Not at all", she disagreed.

She takes a quick glance around the room, before subtly nodding at a waiter serving drinks.

"Watch him right there"

I do as she says and in that moment, the waiter's eyes glow a brilliant shade of purple, before he drops the tray.

My hand goes over my mouth in shock, as she let out a snort of laughter.

"You're a witch", I whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

"Yes and I know you are one too", she says, looking over at me.

I couldn't help but grin in excitement. Not only had it been years since I'd even seen another witch, but I was actually speaking to one.

"Wanna blow this joint?", she questioned, offering her hand once more.

And since that night, we'd become inseparable, spending every waking moment together. If we weren't out and up to mischief, we were on each other like fever on skin. Not a day would go by before she replaced one fading love-bite with a fresh one.

"Just so people know you're happily spoken for", she exhaled against my neck.

I was sure I'd finally met the person I was meant to be with. The twin flame that reignited the parts of me that I thought were gone for good...which only made it hurt all the more, when that fateful night came.

We were walking home through the quiet empty streets, after one of my gigs.

"Hey", she leaned in to whisper.

"Keep the corset on tonight", she said, making me chuckle to myself.

"You are insatiable"

"Can you blame me?", she sarcastically quipped.

Just then, women in cloaks began to emerge from the shadows. Sensing potential danger, Agatha immediately shields me behind her.

"Can we help you?", Agatha questioned.

"Traitor", they hissed, before the head of the group stepped forward.

"Agatha Harkness", she called out.

"You are found guilty of the murder of your coven"

My stomach drops, hearing the accusation.

"Agatha, what is she talking about?"

"Don't worry about it, sweetness", she reassured, not taking her eyes off of the seven women before us.

"Seize her!", the head ordered.

I use my powers in an attempt to knock them back, only for her to ricochet my spell and heating me right in the stomach, causing me to double over in pain.

"No!", Agatha exclaimed, before facing them once more.

They all began reciting an incantation and a beam of blue struck Agatha, causing her to groan out.

"Agatha!", I say, trying to get back up to help.

"Don't!", she yelled, holding out a hand to keep me where I was.

Just then, the stream of blue magic turned purple and within seconds, the woman began to age rapidly and grow weak. My brows knit in confusion, as I tried to process what was happening.

Eventually, they all dropped to the ground one by one, leaving Agatha in a stand off with the head of the group.

"You...were born...evil!", she struggled, before following the other women's fates with a harsh thud.

Agatha dusts herself off, rushing back to me.

"Are you okay?", she whispered, cupping my face.

"Yeah", I exhaled.

Whether or not I was honest about how I was feeling, I didn't want to burden her more than I knew she already was.

The walk home was silent, but not the kind of silence that brought comfort or peace. It was tense and daunting. I had so many questions, but knew it wasn't the right time. Even as we got to my apartment and slipped into bed, my mind raced. Who were those women? Why did accuse Agatha of such a horrible thing? Most importantly....were they telling the truth?

"I'm so sorry", Agatha muttered, holding me closer against her.

Her voice giving away that she was on the brink of tears.

"Why?", I say, turning to face her.

"That you got caught up in all of this"

I sigh through my nose, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"You would've done it for me"

Her face crinkles in agony.

"Let's just get some sleep. You can explain everything in the morning", I reassured, pressing a deep kiss to her lips.

She nods, pulling my head into her chest.

But when that morning came, my eyes fluttered open to a cold empty side. Panicked, I got up and immediately went looking for her, afraid more of those women came back in the dead of night. But when I reach the living room and find a note on the table, my heart met the floor with a smack.

My dearest (Y/N),

Meeting you was single-handedly the best part of the life I was given. You've shown me kindness, patience and a love I could never forget. I didn't think I was capable or even worthy of that kind of love, but you came in like a whirlwind and turned my whole word upside down.

And as much pain as it brings me to say this, that is also the reason why I had to leave. To ensure that I'd never bring harm to you ever again. Where I go, trouble follows and you deserve better than to live your life in fear simply because of me. I love you far too much to allow you to do that to yourself.

Sincerely,

A.Harkness

I collapse to the floor in tears, sobbing and struggling to breathe.

She was gone. Just like that. It felt like a part of me, the part that was only ever hers, was ripped away from my grasp. Years pass, people grow old and die and there I was, haunted by the one that got away.

"She is my scar"

Her eyes meet mine and the moment they did, I could feel my eyes begin to tear up and my throat start to tighten. Not wanting the group to see me upset, I got up.

"I'm gonna take a walk", I announced, trying hard to hide the tears threatening to spill.

I walk a good distance away, whilst breathing in to keep the tears from escaping. Agatha takes a deep breath, going to follow me, when Lilia grabs her by the wrist.

"She needs time", she reminded.

Agatha scoffs and rips her arm away. She eventually finds me at the top of the hill, overlooking the rest of the road. Her hand gently meets the small of my waist and that was all it took for my tears to escape.

"Don't", I say, shrugging away from her touch and turning to face her.

"Don't", I repeated, shaking my head.

"(Y/N)-"

"I don't wanna hear it. I'm only here cause Teen asked for my help", I struggled through my fading unbothered-facade.

She sighs, bowing her head.

"You're hurt", she muttered.

"Like you care"

"Don't say that. I do care"

I scoff, wiping my tears.

"That's rich coming from you. The same person who dragged Sharon into this, knowing she wouldn't survive"

"I did what I had to-"

"Stop saying that!", I cried out, causing Agatha to be taken aback.

My face scrunches up in agony, as I clutched my chest. Each breath was getting harder and harder to find.

"You...You", I broke out into sobs and Agatha rushes to sit me down.

"Is it a panic attack?", she questioned, hastily.

I try to get her away from her, but to no avail. No words would come out and all I could do was pathetically wail in her arms. All the feelings I managed to bury were all hitting me at once and there was now way of stopping them.

She takes my back against her chest, rubbing up and down my arms in an attempt to ground me.

"Count the trees. Count the stars", she ordered.

I look around and in my haze, I could make out the six surrounding trees and about a dozen solemn stars spread out across the sky.

"How many?"

"Mmm", I shake my head, fighting to find the words.

"How many, (Y/N)?", she repeated, firmer.

"Six...thirteen", I take in a shaky breath between the numbers.

"Good....good. Follow my breathing", she whispered, brushing my hair back away from my face.

We take a deep inhale, hold it for a few seconds and let it out. She repeated this till I was calm again to sit up on my own.

"That's it", she muttered softly.

She still remembered how to ease my anxiety, something I was sure she'd forgotten how to do. We sat in the tense silence for a minute, before I finally found the courage to speak again.

"Why did you come back for me? And don't say it's because of the road"

She looks down at her lap, hesitantly.

"I wanted to see you again"

It was now my turn to avert my gaze.

"What? Do you think I'm lying?"

"Well, that's kind of what you're known for-"

"Not to you", she cuts off, taking my hand and causing me to turn back to her.

"I knew you could handle it and survive, yes...but I had to know you were okay"

I stilled, contemplating whether I should take my hand away, but seemingly unable to do so.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you. How you were, what you were doing, who you were with, if you were still alive. The not-knowing drove me crazy, but it didn't matter...cause I knew keeping you safe was more important. I was a walking target and I couldn't risk getting you caught in the cross-fire", her words faltering, as her eyes began to brim with tears.

"It scared me too much", she admitted, hanging her head in shame, as tear after tear hit the ground.

"So I left...because it was easier to lose you by choice"

Her words shattered the parts of me I had just finally put back together.

"I still loved you...even after what happened", my voice reduced to nothing but whispered sobs.

"Even after you left...even now"

She turns to face me with a look of surprise.

"And I hate it", I whisper to myself, as my eyes fell shut.

She carefully cradles my face with shaky hands and my eyes reunite with hers once again.

"You have every right to", her voice stern, yet gentle.

"You needed me and I bailed. That was on me...but I need you to understand where I was coming from. If you were in my place, what would you have done? Would you have dragged me along, even if it meant putting me in danger?", she questioned.

I had no answer. I thought long and hard, but eventually came up short.

"What I did hurt you, I'm not denying that, but it was for the best. I would've never forgiven myself if...", her voice trembled.

I was stumped. Thinking about if I was in her place opened my eyes. Maybe she was right.

"If I let anything happen to you", she whimpered, sniffling.

Her eyes of ocean blue bore into mine with a sense of desperation.

"Please...I am so so sorry", she choked, sliding onto her knees and burying her face into my lap.

I take in a shuddering breath, gripping her shoulders to pull her back. I cup the sides of her face, as her eyes pleaded me not to let go.

"I love you", she muttered.

I could no longer fight it. The years of grief and solitude had finally caught up to me and before I knew it, my lips met hers in a heated exchange.

She pulls me atop of her by my waist to straddle her thighs and my fingers tangle into the roots of her hair. She then turns us over to gently lay me down against the fallen flower petals. Her lips stray from mine to my cheek and down my neck to leave a fresh bruise on my skin. I hiss, feeling her teeth graze against it, as her hands tightened like vice around my waist.

Finally, she pulls away only slightly to bunch up my skirt to reveal my lower half. Looking at me once more to ask for permission to proceed, I nod breathlessly. She spreads my legs apart, pulling my underwear to the side and wasting no time to lick up my slickness. I moan out, grasping at the roots of her hair.

"God, I missed you", she mumbled, dragging the tips of her fingers up and down my entrance.

"I missed you", I emphasized through my pants.

She hummed against my sensitive bundle of nerves, sending vibrations through it. I had almost forgotten just how good she used to make me feel. With a gentle motion, she slips two fingers into me, as I cried out her name.

"Agatha!"

"I know, baby", she reassured, stroking my outer thigh with her free hand, as she continued to devour me.

With each stroke of her fingers, she coaxed me closer and closer to my climax.

"Oh god!", I whined, bringing a smirk to her lips.

"That's it, my love", she encouraged, as she quickened her pace.

She knew just what to do to drive me up the wall and she relished in that fact, for no one else could make me feel the way she did.

"You taste so good", she praised.

I felt myself beginning to pulse around her, bringing a red hue to my cheeks from how embarrassingly fast she managed to get me to my peak.

"I feel you, baby. Do it...give it to me", she demanded, ramming directly into my g-spot.

I was then thrusted over the edge , as my vision faded to black from the overwhelming pleasure. After she was finished licking up the mess I made and helping me ride out my high, she crawled back up to share the taste of me with a desperate kiss.

"Do you taste yourself?" I nod, continuing to move my lips against hers.

Once I stilled, she rolls over and pulls me atop her chest, basking in the sweet afterglow.

"I'd say that was successful reunion", she teased, earning a scoff from me.

#agatha harkness #agatha all along #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness oneshot #agatha harkness fanfic #agatha harkness fluff #agatha harkness angst #agatha harkness smut #kathryn hahn

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timeforaneclipse · 8 months ago

Text

Falling Apart (Lilia Calderu x reader)

Chapter Two

Available on AO3

Warnings? - Angst hehe

"Right, Mins, Time... to do your thing!" Agatha urged as she waved you on. A sigh left your lips as the coven looked at your with expectance. Feeling like an idiot you stared back. An awkwardness in the air. Your thing? Right... your thing. Forcing your shoulder's to relax, you turned away from the coven and faced the road ahead. Closing your eyes, you stood for a moment before reopening them to discover a trail of.... bright green smoke? Agatha smirked like the devil when she noticed your eyes change from it's normal hue to a gentle golden. "You see it don't you?" She leaned in close and whispered. Then, without another word, you began to walk. Agatha and the boy by her side, Teen, wasted no time in following. The others lingered slightly behind but followed all the same.

As you walked, you jumped as the woman at the back spoke out. Breaking your focus. "You know what this is?" You raised an eyebrow at her raised voice as you turned back to look at her. "This is a kidnapping, And I think it is about high time we involve the local authorities." She announced as she rummaged through her bag. A frown left your lips, confusion laced in your eyes. A kidnapping? Then it hit you. Your mouth became thin as you glanced to Agatha. She looked at you as if to say 'what?' before shrugging off your silent conversation. Not that it surprised you. It was Agatha after all. Yet, you felt a little bit of pity for the poor woman Agatha had tricked into coming.

Jennifer, seeming having enough of holding her tongue, looked around in slight annoyance. "Are we gonna ignore the fact that something chased us down here?" You couldn't find it in yourself to disagree with her. She had a point. The Salem Seven weren't something to just be.. ignored. Sharing a subtle glance with Agatha, you hid your concern. You still remembered the time that your sister, brightest transformation witch that had ever dared to be, was once approached by them. She had barely escaped with her life. Alice turned her body weight to Agatha, gesturing to her as she corrected that they had chased Agatha. Mrs hart, who was messing with her phone, frowned and slightly panicked when she discovered there was no cell service.

"Well, Whatever chased Agatha down here, it's our problem now." Lilia's tone was sombre with a slight hint of annoyance as she sent a side glance towards Agatha. You held your tongue as you continued to take the lead in the walk. Debating whether or not you should say something about the Salem Seven and who- No, what they really were. You decided to keep walking. Following the path lay out before you. Zoning out, you didn't bother to listen to the present conversation. As you walked, you kept your eyes on the trees around you while the group continued to bicker amongst each other. Jennifer caught your ear as she was complaining about not knowing what the group was up against. You paused. She had a point. No one, besides maybe Agatha, had an idea on what you all intended on facing. Lilia, deep in thought, looked down for a moment. "Tame your fears." she said, her eyes dawning with realisation. You looked back to her. "That's what we're up against." she frowned. "Our worst nightmares."

You felt yourself grow nervous. Our worst nightmares? Swallowing, you tried to hide your feelings and remain unnerved. Agatha seemed to catch on, however. blue eyes scanned your frame. Yet the older witch seemed to share your... feelings. Alice then asked Agatha what the trials were like. "The... road will test us." She began. "And our knowledge of the craft." Everyone seemed to share a look. A silent conversation. "One trial for each skill." Agatha finalised, studying the group. Jennifer looked absolutely appalled as she questioned how they were to pass with no magic. You frowned and gave a side ways glance to Agatha.

Teen, who seemed to be ever full surprises, stepped forward. There was a wide grin on his face as he spoke. "Well, there's always analog magic. You know, labour-intensive, manual acts of magic." He said like it was obvious. "Witchcraft!" he practically sang once her realised he had lost the group. "Emphases on the 'craft'." He forced a smile. Jennifer then asked the question that had been scratching your head since you met the boy. Who was he? "I'm-" Silence. You noticed the Sigil run across the boys mouth after he spoke.

Your eyes narrowed. How... Unusual. "Well, Ill be." Lilia smirked. "Someone's put a sigil on that boy." Then everyone, yourself included, looked to Agatha. You knew her well. It wasn't unlike her to do something like this. But the looks from the group only made her scoff.

"Don't look at me. I didn't put that clumsy glamour on him." She shrugged. "Sigils are beneath me."

As Teen looked confused, he asked what a sigil was. You were done observing the group and decided to let your own mouth loose. "A sigil is a type of spell, yes." You forced a smile to the boy. "In your case, the sigil appears to be a redaction spell." You began, adjusting your glasses. "Which means to... remove words or information." Your explanation was rather simple. "So... for better or for worse, you are hidden from witch folk. it's rather interesting." You summarised. "the only question is... why?" You hummed, your clawed nails drumming against your arm.

Jennifer watched you as you finished. "Looks like Agatha brought a sparkly little mystery with her." She sassed, ignoring Agatha's slight glare of annoyance.

"She was probably trying to keep him all to herself." Lilia hummed, with slight false amusement in her tone.

Agatha pulled Teen behind her as he asked why someone would want to hide him. But the question went unanswered. "Look," Agatha began, looking toward the group. "I have no idea what's under that sigil. He could be something special or he could be a pest that some cranky witch stashed under a rock. We can crack him open later." you smirked slightly, only slightly, at her words. "The real value lies at the end of the road." She smiled. she then gestured to Jennifer. "So, if you want to unbind," you noticed the potions witch take in a breath. "And you want to reverse your fortune" Agatha went on to Lilia as the older woman looked slightly uncomfortable. "And you," She continued to Alice. "Want to find out what happened to mummy. And you...." Agatha paused. Mrs hart was gone? Agatha scoffed, unamused. "I mean, you take your eyes off of her for two seconds..." She rolled her eyes.

You looked around. Scanning the area for the woman. "Can't you just sniff her out." Jennifer asked as she turned to you. Looking down at you like you were dirt beneath her feet. "That's the whole reason you're here, right?" she spat out as if blaming you for the situation.

Staring gob-smacked, you glared. The gold in your eyes becoming more prominent "Do I look like a blood hound to you, potions witch?" you hissed. "I'm your guide. I am not some glorified baby sitter." Just then, there was a scream. You looked up towards the sound then to the path. At least she went the right way. "This way." You urged the group. Alice was hot on your tail as you followed the path. Speeding ahead of you, Alice got to Mrs Hart just in the nick of time. The poor woman was nearly earth food. Sinking deep into the mud. Teen went to help as Alice pulled her out of the sinking mud. You stared for a moment. Well, that.. could have gone worse.

Mrs Hart attempted to wipe the mud off but it was mostly unsuccessful. Not that you were surprised. "You can't just walk off the road like that." Alice scolded lightly at the older woman. The older woman in her shock complained about it being a horrible party and you felt your lips form a tight line. Glaring at Agatha out of the corner of your eye.

Agatha sighed and tried to keep a level head. "Well, I thought this was pretty obvious." She hummed. "But for the uninitiated, rule number one - Do not step off the road." Agatha announced clearly. "So if we just follow the instructions of the balled, We'll be as safe as kittens." She smiled widely and winked at you. You rolled your eyes. "Okay?" she smiled but Mrs Hart, and understandably so, was slightly upset with the whole affair. You noticed Jennifer walk off slightly and kept your eyes on her. She called everyone to look. There was something different about her voice. Something light.... hopeful. Following her gaze, you noticed a large beach house. Where-? You found yourself taken back. How did such a thing... just appear?

Taking Agatha's lead, you followed the older witch onwards. The change of ground made you shiver slightly. sand had never been your favourite thing to walk in. especially when it got in between your toes. Staring in wonder, the group approached the door. Lilia traced the markings on the door and you caught yourself accidently staring at her hands. You cleared your throat and looked away, ignoring your slightly flustered face. "The phases of the moon." Lilia's words hung through the air.

Teen looked in interest. "Its full... the water phase." he smiled brightly. Lilia looked at him, her brown eyes bore how impressed she was with his comment. It only made him smile wider. "So... what do we do?" He asked curiously. Mrs hart went ahead and rung the doorbell, claiming that we didn't want to surprise anyone. But that was short lived as Agatha just opened the door anyways.

Once inside, you were caught off guard. You looked down to your clothing. Your red tartan coat was gone and was replaced with something... plainer. A grey blazer hugged your form. The black trousers you were wearing were tight and the t-shirt match with silver markings. The heels were grey and matched the blazer. You hair was loose and you ran your clawed fingers through it. It was new... You noticed Lilia looked noticeably different. Her tight curls were gone and she was dressed in mostly white. She was wearing a silk scarf though. Having a look around, everyone took in the new surroundings. It was a fancy place. You looked to a few of the paintings and tilted your head. Just then, Mrs Hart exclaimed her love for the kitchen. Scaring everyone in the process. You took in some deep breaths. Trying to relax yourself. This was fine. It was calm.

Teen then called from the dining area of the house. It didn't take long for the group to gather into the room like a bunch of rushing hens. "What is this?" Agatha asked as she snatched the card from his hands. "A wedding? Please God, not a baby shower." She groaned before Jennifer snatched it from her. Frustrated, Agatha threw her hands up. Wondering where she got the audacity.

"The witches' road cordially invites you to the first trail." The potions witch read clearly before flipping the card over. Her eyes lighting in wonder. "It's a riddle." She spoke softly before beginning to read the riddle. "My age has value. I'm no fun alone. I mess with your mind, my tricks are well known." She then looked to the group. You were no luck in riddles, unfortunately. Your sister used to be so good at them. She could've made the mighty sphinx run for her money. Jennifer then passed the card on to Mrs Hart. You smiled softly when the woman examined the card.

"What does it mean?" Teen asked, curious.

"That it's really expensive." Mrs hart hummed out. There was something in the way she said it that made you laugh. Agatha's eyes were immediately drawn to your face when the laugh left your lips. It had been years... beyond years since she had heard that sound come from you. It made her a little relieved that after all this time you still had that same humour about you. Even if was buried deep deep within you.

Alice, who now held the card, repeated it's contents. "It sounds like a witch." Agatha said as she rolled her fingers. Jennifer made a snarky comment about it sounding like Agatha and Agatha paid in due by mimicking the potions witch.

Mrs hart, who had turned around, sang the word wine and Alice's eyes lit up. "That's it, ten points for Mrs Hart." She smiled. Turning around too, you saw the wine on the dining table. Accompanied by six glasses. Immediately, you didn't trust the liquid and it would seem you weren't alone on that train of thought. "Wait, we don't know what will happen if we drink it." Alice said, worried, as Mrs Hart grabbed the wine bottle. It made the blonde woman hesitate and she went to set down the bottle.

Agatha looked to Alice. "Oh, sure we do. Something terrible." She said with a straight face. "But if we don't follow these obvious breadcrumbs, we cant move forward and we wont get to the big prize." Everyone shared a nervous and unsure look. "So, does anybody have a cork screw?" She asked and grabbed the wine bottle herself. Teen offered to go get one from the built in bar and Jennifer accompanied him. When they returned, you noticed a slight change in the boy. You adjusted your glasses wondering what had gone on between the two. Once the bottle was opened, Agatha poured everyone a glass. You stared at the glass. Unsure whether you really wanted to drink it or not. "If you're waiting for a charcuterie, I don't think its coming." she smiled widely. With that, Mrs hart wasted no time getting the red liquid down her. You stared at her as she chugged it down before telling everyone not to judge her.

Just then, the timer beeped. Thirty minutes. You swallowed as Agatha raised her glass. You copied and the group followed suit. Toasting. After clinking your glasses together, teen approached and asked if he could have some. An echo of 'No's filled the room. "Should we take the girl talk to the sofa?" Mrs Hart asked. You all followed suit. There was tension in the air. Swishing the liquid in your glass, you frowned. It didn't smell right. But then again, what type of alcohol ever did smell lovely? Ignoring your instincts, you took a sip. Agatha sat down beside you as Mrs Hart began to talk. You noticed her wine glass was not in sight but decided not to question it. "Okay. So, a witch is really just another name for a bad girl? Is that right?" She asked and for a moment, you smiled gently.

"That is extremely reductive." Lilia began, her legs crossed on the arm chair. she sat like a queen. "We are not a Monolith." She hummed. "And, you know, I blame Halloween. Do you see any pointy hats in here? any green skin? any brooms? No, sir." She ranted before taking a sip. You smiled. A genuine smile. You took the second to admire her. Agatha eyed you, a look in her eyes told you that wheels in her head were turning. You decided not to look in her direction. Agatha didn't back down, giving you a knowing look.

Mrs hart stood and walked off slightly. "Well I am not saying that I wanna join the club or anything, but I would drink the blood of a virgin if it would smooth out some of these wrinkles." Mrs Hart said as she wondered. When she turned back to face the group, a sharp gasp left your lips. Staring like you had been slapped, you looked over the blonde's face. It was swollen. A mummer of 'oh my god's uttered through the room. "Oh, you are so sweet." Mrs Hart gushed. "I don't really think I need it either." She laughed, seemingly oblivious to what had happened. Alice tried to gently approach Mrs Hart, or rather Sharon as she called herself, about the swelling. "Is it bad?" She asked lowly. Bad!? It was horrendous!

A light glare graced your face when you looked at Agatha as she said that Mrs hart looked fantastic. Jennifer stood up suddenly and looked beyond terrified. "We've been poisoned." she said in a panic. You felt yourself crumble. Everyone ran to a mirror. You traced over your skin. No no no... no way. You looked like a grape. You hated how swollen you looked. Like too much Botox gone wrong. "Mrs Hart, you are so pretty." Jennifer forced out to Mrs Hart. "But since you were the first one to drink, you're our canary in the coal mine." Jennifer explained. However, Mrs Hart took another sip of the wine in her panic.

"Oh for crying out loud, she's lost her wits." you groaned as teen snatched the glass off of her. Reminding her it was poisoned.

Agatha, who was on the other side of the room, shouted across. "Why don't we just let her drink it all!" The group looked at Agatha with slight disgust. "uh.." You tilted your head as she began to fiddle with her hair. "It just... serves our best interest is all." she said trying to keep her hair out of her face.

Jennifer went back to questioning Mrs hart about the symptoms. You watched nervously but your attention was soon drawn to Lilia. She looked dazed out. "I love you guys." Your eyes widened slightly. What? Your lips became thin as you watched the older witch. Unsure where that had just come from. But then you noticed how her eyes began to adjust once more. As if they were coming back to the present reality. "What?" She asked when she noticed everyone was staring at her like she had three heads. Did she not remember what she said? Just then, Mrs hart said that she felt better. Immediately, you went to check your face. It was seemingly back to normal. You sighed, relieved.

However, Jennifer was quick to burst your bubble. "Not yay... very much not yay..." She said into herself, thinking. "The fact that the face swelling decreased so quickly mean it can only be one time of poison." You felt your palms grow sweaty. this was bad. this was very bad. "Alewife's revenge." She spoke, the concern clear in her voice. "Face Swelling is just the beginning. Next is dizziness, delirium, loss of motor function." You shared a nervous glance with Agatha. A silent conversation of panic. "Also hallucinations and eventually..." She hesitated. "Death."

The blue eyed witch wasn't having it. You noticed a change in Agatha's eyes. A change you had seen too many times. "Agatha." You scowled, slightly nervous as the older woman raced over to the window. "Agatha, wait!" You panicked. Agatha picked up an onement and began to bash it against the window. You rapidly approached the older witch as the group yelled at Agatha. "Stop it!" You hissed and tried to claw the object out of her hands but her desperate grip was tight. During your tug of war, Alice grabbed Agatha from behind and pulled her away.

With Alice's aid, you yanked the object off the older witch's hands. Ignoring her yell.... roar? of frustration. You held the object close to your chest. Keeping it far from Agatha. Jennifer told Agatha that she couldn't run from the poison. Then, Teen held a full wine glass. You stared at it then to Agatha. "She didn't drink the poison... " The boy said as he approached slowly. "You can't cheat, Agatha." He frowned.

"Why?! who says!?" Agatha demanded. You scoffed. Nothing had changed. You were a fool for thinking other wise. God, you were an utter idiot for doing this.

"The road." Lilia said, her voice strong, clearly frustrated with Agatha.

Agatha rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Oh that's ridiculous!" She hissed at Lilia. You scoffed. No, her behaviour was ridiculous. "We don't all have to suffer!" You felt yourself lose a few braincells. How, after all this time, was she still acting like a child throwing a tantrum. "Teen didn't drink!" Agatha argued. You rolled your eyes.

Jennifer was quick to argue back. "He's not in the coven and he's underage." She gestured to teen. It was clear everyone in the room was seething with anger.

"I'm gonna shove it down your gullet, so help me-" Lilia snapped.

Agatha snatched the glass out of Teen's hand. "Oh, you know what!" She grunted and threw the glass to the floor with a force. Smashing it. The red liquid stained the white sofa and carpet. Well, well done Agatha. Jennifer yelled as it it the ground. Alice told Agatha that she had to drink but the older witch was having none of it. "Well, I would but there's no more wine." She smirked at them. "So?" She shrugged. The noticed your disapproving look. Alice picked up her own wine glass and and stared at it. Just then the empty glass began to fill out of of nothing. Red liquid filling half way. As Alice held the glass out for Agatha, the brunette twitched. Clearly uncomfortable. "So cute." She muttered. Teen stepped forward. He held eye-contact with Agatha his eyes stern as he told her to drink. He scoffed then threated to drink it himself. "No!" Agatha yelled then grabbed him back. You watched interested by the desperate changed in Agatha.

Agatha scoffed as she took the drink, she forced it to her lips and drank. Twitching as she did. Once she finished, she held back a cough. Agatha muttered something about it being so cheap. Just then, You turned to face Mrs Hart as she began to mutter pleas to herself and someone called Wanda. You stared, Utterly confused. "Oh, god." You gasp when she fell. Alice caught the woman and sit her on the sofa.

"Hey, Potions witch." Agatha called, her face now as bloated as yours was a few moments ago. "it's time to brew an antidote." Agatha hummed. You kept your eyes on the older witch. This was going to be interesting.

--I_I<-)0(->I_I--

"All right," Jennifer began as she set the timer on the counter. The kitchen lights were dimmed. "Let's see what we're working with here." she said, deep in thought. "I need frankincense and the gut of a eusocial insect." She hummed as she thought about the ingredients. Alice and teen took off quickly to find the frankincense and honey. She then looked between Agatha, you and Lilia. You stared at her, waiting for her next few ingredients. "I need a corpse that's been decaying for at least 30 million years." Your eyes widened. A what? Where would one even require that!?

Agatha seemed to share your train of thought as she threw her hands in the air. "Oh, is that just something that's available cause I don't know what you're talking about!" She exclaimed as she looked Jennifer up and down.

You looked between the two. The tension was insufferable. "Why do I have to translate?" She asked, frustrated. "It's zooplankton. It's in petroleum products." she explained and looked to Lilia for support.

Lilia nodded, taking the potion witch's words into account. Agatha took your arm as she looked to the Divination witch. "Lilia, come on." Agatha urged the older woman who was already walking at a fast pace. "After you. Let's go. Andale!" Agatha rushed out as she kept you by her side. Chasing after Lilia. As you walked by Agatha's side, you paused.

"Minerva." A voice hissed through the air. Ghosting across your skin. Making the hairs the back of your neck stand up. You knew that voice better then anyone else. "Minerva." The voice called out again. You stilled, staring wide-eyed. Agatha shook your arm, causing you to look at her. She was... speaking? yelling? yet you could not hear. Her face was smothered in concern. "Minerva." Your head snapped in the direction of soft voice. When you turned to look back for Agatha, she wasn't there. You swallowed thickly and adjusted your glasses. Nerves running through you. The voice called your name again. You licked your unusually dry lips and with a deep breath, you took a step toward the voice. Michelle's voice.

With each step you took, the walls seemed to... grow smaller. Placing your hand against the wall in attempt to steady yourself, you noticed how it changed from lavished wallpaper to dark hard wood. At the end of the corridor stood a door. You tilted your head. It looked familiar. Reaching for the handle, you hesitated. Closing your eyes, you opened the door. A gasp left you as fresh air entered your lungs. "Your late, lass." Your sister glared gently. Her accent was as thick as you remembered. You stared wide eyed, shrinking slightly under her green gaze. Tearing up, You looked upon your sister slim form. You suddenly felt much smaller. "Come now, it won't be long till Agatha comes back." She scowled. "If only Ma could see you now." She shook her head and turned her back on you while she continued to clean.

Deciding to approach with caution, you called for her but she didn't seem to hear you. "I didn't ask for any of this, you know." She scowled. "Don't you think I wanted a normal childhood? Instead.... of taken care of you. I never wanted to leave home. To leave home for this... clatty country! But Da found out. And what was I to do, Minerva? Ma had already been put to death by the local church." She hissed under her breath, the weight and build up of all her hidden thought coming to surface. You took a step back. You felt like a silly little girl all over again. You hadn't even felt the tears run down your cheeks until you touched your cheek. "I gave you everything and what did I get? I worked.... And I worked. I suffered!" She cried out.

You could take it anymore, you reached for your sister. "Michelle... stop it..." You whispered and tried to touch your sister. "Please, I'd never... I'm sorry, Michelle." She turned to face you, causing you to stumble back slightly. She... her skin... gods. You couldn't look. It was rotting. Your sister's once perfect and pristine face was crumbling, cracking and collapsing.

"I should have let father killed you then... Had I known.... " She sobbed, screaming. Your heart was racing. Michelle's skin was decaying. Worm eaten. "Look at me! Look at what you caused!" She screamed, spitting at you in the process. She grabbed both your arms and shook you. "I should've let Da throw you in the loch!" You sobbed. Her words hitting a cord within you.

Michelle continued to shake you. You closed your eyes. Why wouldn't it just stop! "Minerva!" Agatha's voice rang through your head. You eyes snapped open. Where Michelle had once been, Agatha was now in her place. "Snap out of it!" She hissed as she continued to shake you. You sobbed and launched yourself into her arms.

Agatha froze as you sobbed into her neck. "Aggie..." You cried. "Michelle... she..." You didn't dare to continue. Agatha was frozen for a moment before she stroked your hair and sighed. Nodding to herself. You calmed down quickly, suddenly feeling very embarrassed and vulnerable. You noticed Lilia's eyes were stuck on your form. Concern laced into those soft eyes. You cleared your throat and pulled away from Agatha. Your cheek's darkened as an awkward tension was left in the air. "Let's just continue, shall we?" You whispered and hugged yourself in an effort to keep yourself steady. Lilia nodded to herself and led the way. Agatha stared at you for a moment but you shook her off. Not wanting any questions.

Making your way to the garage, Agatha turned on the light. You panicked. There was no car. Lilia's lips became thin as her brows furrowed. "No car. No Gas." She frowned in worry.

You looked between the two. "What else had petroleum in it?" You asked, confused.

Agatha thought for a moment before running off with the word 'Jelly' leaving her lips. Finding yourself with no other choice, You shared a quick look with Lillia before following Agatha. Agatha led you both to a bathroom area. On the shelves was full of Jennifer's skin care. You raised an eyebrow. Really? "Ugh." Agatha groaned. "Of course, Jen's skin care made it to the road." She complained as she looked over the products.

Lilia looked confused as she held one of the tubs. "But it's all... organic. There's no petroleum in there?" she said as she eyed the product. Agatha shrugged and said about calling her bluff. You nodded to yourself and began to pick up some of the products. "Try to save Agatha." You were taken back at Lilia's sudden words. What did she mean? It was quite similar to how she reacted earlier on. The same dazed out eyes.

You blinked a few times. It felt like a staring test between the three of you. No one knowing what exactly to say. "um... Yes, I love this plan but.. I just think we should find the ingredients first." Agatha forced an awkward smile. You eyed them as Lilia slowly turned her back and picked up a few products. Once you had gathered some, You all went back through the halls. Trying to reach the kitchen.

As you walked, you noticed that Lilia was no longer behind the two of you. "Agatha..." You paused and she looked behind her to look at you. She looked at you expectantly. "Lilia's gone. We can't just leave her." You said like it was obvious as you eyed the corridor for the older witch.

"Can't we?" Agatha snarked with a smirk. However, when she saw your glare she frowned and shrugged. "You're no longer any fun, Mins."

You ignored her and retraced your steps. As you did, you felt a body clash with yours. Lilia yelped in surprise. You steadied her for a moment, Your eyes wide with worry. But she only pulled away from you and landed with her back against the wall. Trying to get away. Her chest was rising up and down. Whatever she had seen had clearly scared her. She looked like an injured animal and you didn't dare approach. When she spoke, it wasn't in English. It was foreign something you hadn't heard before. She closed her eyes. You shared a glance with Agatha. Even she looked concerned for the older witch, surprise in her eyes. When you looked back at Lilia you saw the utter pain in her eyes. She was still not looking the two of you. Perhaps expecting to be mocked.

For a while there was only silence. You let her calm down a little on her own. As you did, Her eyes slowly turned to look at you and Agatha. Both of you stood unmoving. Faces soft with gentle silent comfort. "Lilia..." You whispered softly. "It's okay..." You hummed and took a little step forward towards her. Her breathing was still uneven but you didn't dare push the woman. She swallowed and closed her eyes for another moment. When she was calm again, she looked to you and nodded. Agatha wasted no time in the leading the two of you back. You lingered behind a bit to keep an eye on Lilia.

Returning to the living room, you suddenly felt very loose. Agatha wasted no time in announcing that You three had successfully gotten the ingredients. "What's next!" Agatha barked. But as she did glass cracked. You tensed as looked towards the large windows. Agatha stepped forwards, her eyes narrowed as she tried to make out the cause. "What.. is that?" She asked and very slowly approached. Following her lead, your eyes widened as you got closer. Lilia wasted no time in staying by your side. Her expression mirroring your own. Your head was reeling as you came to terms with what you saw. The house appeared to be deep under water.

The water was leaking into the room through the crack. The crack Agatha had made earlier. Jennifer confirmed it was salt water. Alice glanced at the group momentarily. "How long is that going to hold." she asked with a slight twinge of fear to her voice.

You tensed. "I'd rather not find out." You hummed and glanced to the protection witch.

"No, thank you." Agatha rushed. The group, bar Lilia, ran to lift Mrs Hart. You held the woman's upper body, careful with her head. As you carried her into the kitchen, Agatha looked to Lilia. "Move those pears out of the way." She said like an order as you approached the table. Lilia nodded and acted quickly, rushing to move the decorative pears out of the way. Setting the woman on the table, Alice glanced your way. Seemingly thankful for your aid.

As you gathered around the sink, Jennifer took lead. "The elements need to be added in a certain order in a specific time." She clarified, You felt hot. Really hot. Like the sun had blasted you with it's flames. Your breathing became heavier. You noticed that Lilia, who stood beside you, seemed to be in a similar state. "Starting with gut and eye." Jennifer said as she dumped the ingredients in. Alice tried to aid Jennifer but the other woman waved her off. "No, no, no, no, get out of here." She quickly said. She then looked to Agatha. "Where's the zooplankton?" She asked.

Lilia wobbled slightly, loosing her balance before she fully leaned on the table. Agatha, in her poisoned state, smirked. "All natural or not, Jen?" You glanced to Agatha as she teased her while waving the skin care products. Jennifer looked conflicted for a short moment before telling Agatha to throw it in. "Knew it." Agatha said smugly as she and Lilia dumped the skin care into the sink. Lilia, who seemed to be completely... out of it, leaned against you when she looked her balance once more. You tensed but did not remove her. Alice struggled with the frankincense, so much so that she could not open the small tub. Just as Jen was Complaining about it, Teen offered his help. Then, after a few seconds, the water began to turn a shade of pink. "Its... working? it working, right?" Agatha asked desperately.

"What? What's wrong?" Lilia questioned, her brows furrowed. Her eyes full of uncertainty and fear.

"Any bright ideas on how to set this thing to boil?" Jen frowned nervously.

Agatha freaked. "You didn't think of this before!?" She snapped at the potions witch.

You stared wide eyed. Was Jennifer serious? "While I was in the middle of a traumatic hallucination?" Jen glared Agatha down. "No, Agatha, I did not." Hissed the tall woman.

For a moment, you found yourself twitching. Your jaw clenched and you stood to your full height. "We all had traumatic hallucinations." You gritted. Lilia glanced to you. Most of this time you had been quiet. She couldn't help but wonder what went on in your mind. So closed off, yet there were hints.. moments of vulnerably... frustration.

Teen, in an attempt to stop the tension, put himself forward. "Uh, is there a sous vide?" He asked as he began to rummage in the cupboards. Agatha cringed as she asked Lilia what it was. But Lilia looked just as lost. "It's a super fancy cooking tool. it heats water to a specific temperature so that you can cook your meat evenly." He explained as he found the object. Plugging it in the sink. "My dad loves his." He smiled briefly.

Jennifer called his name as she struggled. Now losing control of her body Like Lilia had. Teen grabbed the wooden spoon before returning to the sink. Waiting for Jennifer's instruction. "I need you to stir with your right dominant hand, counter clock wise." She said, out of breath while she came to his side. Hovering near the sink to keep an eye on him. Teen looked clueless and Jennifer raised an eyebrow. "To the left." She elaborated and he took in her words while stirring. "Everyone, pull a strand of hair out of your head now." She hummed. "A single hair only!" She hummed.

You winced as you yanked a strand out of your head. You were waiting for the next instruction from Jennifer when you noticed Agatha's change in demeanour. You called her name but she didn't seem to hear. Frowning you called again as she began to walk away. Jennifer shared a look with Alice. Suddenly, Agatha was kneeling her back turned to you. With a gasp, she sobbed and fell back on herself. Her hand covering her mouth. It looked as if she were trying to get away from something. You stared at the older witch. Worried beyond measure. "Agatha!" Jennifer snapped, drawing Agatha out of her vision. Agatha scrambled to stand up. She looked around her. Terrified. "Agatha, we need your hair." Agatha approached and yanked a strand out of her head. "Now." Jennifer told the group. You dropped your hair into the sink, watching as the others did the same. "Stop stirring." Teen stilled. "We need to clasp hands and clear your minds." You took Lilia's hand in one and Teen's in the other. Lilia was shaking. "Once our intentions our aligned, it will glow a bright cerulean." She said.

You closed your eyes and tried to focus. Shouldn't be too hard... right? "Wait, what our intentions again?" Agatha asked cringing hard, still taken back by her vision.

"To not die." Jennifer forced out.

Keeping your eyes close for a few moments. You tried to think of how nice it would be not to drop dead in a few minutes. You opened your eyes when you heard Alice speak. "I get cerulean and chartreuse confused..." She admitted sheepishly. "Is cerulean the green one?" Teen shook his head with a frown. Correcting her by telling her it was blue. "Then it's not working." Your body tensed. Great. this was how you died?! Absolutely fabulous. Teen panicked slightly and tried to explain it was like... a teal. You felt your heart jump in your chest. This was a disaster.

Lilia's hold on your hand tightened. You weren't too sure she realised she was still holding it. "It's green, teen!" she exclaimed.

"We only have a minute left! What have you forgotten?" You demanded, staring daggers at Jennifer. Your eyes held the fear lingering all over your body.

Her eyes mirrored your own. "I Don't know!" She cried. "I've never made this potion before!" You felt the heat rising. You took off your blazer and through it to the side. "I make retinol serums for Christ's sake!" She hissed. "There was once a time where I would be able to solve this a wave of my hand, but now? I'm bound!" She shouted, the panic and built up energy finally getting to her. "He stole my magic! We're all gonna die here! I do not want to die here!" Jennifer hissed and took a step back. "This is not where I die!" she yelled, as her breathing became even more uneven.

Agatha grabbed her by the shoulders in attempt to get through to her in some way. "I have always hated you." She admitted, keeping her grip tight on Jennifer's arms. "But I left you alone because what you were doing was important." She continued, the honesty dripping from her tongue. "Not this kale care crap. the real work. you can be that witch again. they can take your power, Jen, but they cant take your knowledge." Agatha finished. You stared at the interaction. Jennifer remained unresponsive for a moment. As if she wasn't fully processing Agatha's words or the meaning behind them. "Jen?" Agatha urged.

"Blood."

Smirking, Agatha's eyes filled with glee when Jennifer gave her an answer. "Who's and how much?" she questioned. When Jennifer mentioned the blood of the unpoisoned the weight of the room shifted. Agatha side glanced towards teen and you didn't know what to think. The boy swallowed nervously as Agatha went towards the knives. Grabbing one she stormed over to Teen and grabbed his hand. "Thanks for being underage." She said as she sliced his hand open, ignoring the short protests from Lilia.

Then, with the blood in the sink, the potion colour began to change. Bubbling like wild as it did. You grinned like the Cheshire cat as it settled into a bright blue colour. Perfect. With Jennifer's okay, You wasted no time in getting yourself some of the antidote. Chugging it down, You winced as it attacked your throat. The taste leaving a surprisingly bitter after affect as it scratched down your throat. However, once it hit your depths, you relaxed. Sharing a look with the group. You laughed in relief as you felt yourself return to normal. The victory was short lived. Jennifer noticed the timer was still ticking. "Mrs Hart!" Alice realised. In a flash, a small bit of Anti-dote was passed down the line to Alice as she carefully forced the liquid down Mrs Hart.

"DUMP IT IN HER MOUTH!" Agatha yelled desperately, hints of frustration in her tone. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. Your head snapped in the direction of the timer beeping. "Did it work?" Agatha asked. Suddenly the oven door slammed open. Jumping, you stared at the open door. Clearly that was your way out of this hell hole of a trial. Slowly approaching, you stayed a little behind Lilia as she lowered herself to look in.

Lilia's face became a scowl. "I am NOT climbing in an oven." she grumped slightly. You raised an eyebrow at her out right denial. "That happened to a friend of mine once," She stood straight to look at the group. "She had a lovely house too, and she ended up-" Lilia was interrupted by the crashing of waves. The glass from the windows had smashed right through. You stared at the water, completely gobsmacked. No. You hated water! Lilia and the others screamed. Jennifer was not taking any chances as the water slowly began to fill the kitchen. She was quick to harshly push Lilia out of the way, sending her stumbling backwards, toward you. Luckily enough, you caught her without fault. You glared daggers towards Jennifer as she slid down the oven and disappeared. You guided Lilia towards the oven, despite her resistance. She out right refused. "Nope! NO!" She cried out.

You bit the inside of your cheeks and your lips became thin. "If we stay, we'll be worse off!" You yelled over the overwhelming noise from the water. "I promise it'll be okay but we need to go now!" You urged her forwards. She stared at you, horror woven into her gaze. She looked back at the sea water filling the room then bit her lip. Braving it, she knelt and climbed into the oven. Once she was in, You turned to look for Agatha. You wouldn't leave her. Lilia stared at you, waiting for you to join her. Walking through the water, carrying Mrs Hart, was Alice, Agatha and teen. You moved out of their way so they could put her in the oven.

"Just shove her in there! just shove her! Shove her in there!" Agatha yapped. Lilia helped take Mrs Hart before hesitantly sliding down with a terrified scream. Alice told teen to go and he did. Agatha rolled her eyes and shoved you forward after Teen had slid down. Forcing you to go after the teenager. You didn't dare protest and followed suit. As you slid down, a scream echoed through the tunnel. Agatha cringed when she saw more and more water flooding the kitchen. she pushed herself in front of Alice. "ME NEXT!" she yelled and slid down after you.

At the end of the... tunnel slide? You yelped as you bumped into Teen. Having domino effect on the ones in front. You groaned and coughed out. "Bloody gods above..." You muttered. However, Your peaceful moment it didn't last long as Agatha came sliding down at full speed, tumbling as she did, hitting you in the back. You hissed out in pain but the older witch didn't seem to care. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed that Lilia seemed... alight. Agatha stood and pushed past you, you rolled your eyes as you watched her struggle to get through the tangled bodies. In her effort to get out of the mess, She pushed teen and Lilia to the side. You sighed. Typical. When Agatha passed Jennifer she kicked her rather hard. But what else were you really expecting?

Taking in a deep breath, you stood fully and gave yourself a once over. You were drenched like a wet dog. Lilia leaned against the wall as she tried to come to terms with what just happened. The near death experience hitting her deep. You took off your red tartan coat. The bloody thing was dripping with water. Agatha flicked some hair out of her face. "A little rusty there, Jen?" She snarked as she eyed the potions witch.

Jennifer glared at the blue eyed witch. "A little traitorous there, Agatha?" Jennifer sassed back.

You held back a bitter smirk and lowered your head. Before the two could continue to bicker Lilia hushed them. "Stop." She looked them up and down. "We're alive..." Her tone dropped... she was relieved... shocked... "We made it through the first test." Lilia turned to scan the group. Her eyes scanning for your face. "Everyone is safe." She nodded to herself when she saw you staring at her.

Teen voice interrupted the still moment. "Not everyone." He corrected, sorrow in his tone. "Sharon's dead." He closed the blonde woman's eyes. You stepped a little closer, your breath caught in your throat.

Agatha glanced around the group. "Who's Sharon?" She asked, confused. You felt yourself shrink at the older witch's words. Your hand came to your face. Oh god.

--I_I<-)0(->I_I--

Pacing in your other form, the wheels in your head were turning. Alice had suggested taking a break for a while... to adjust to recent advents. You had found a round patch for the group to rest for now. The leaves felt soft... almost pleasant under your small paws. As you paced, Your pointed ears flicked in the direction of the group. You couldn't believe that a woman was dead already. How? She drank the antidote, didn't she? Walking away from the group, you decided you needed some time alone. Properly alone. However, You didn't dare stray too far from them. To your surprise, it would seem your thought of privacy was shared. There, a short distance away, on a fallen log sat Lilia. She seemed deep in thought. You debated whether to approach or not. But with one first step, your mind was made up.

Approaching slowly, you waited for her to noticed you. With luck, she did. If she was surprised she didn't show it. The older witch simply stared at you, blinking occasionally. With a few more steps, You slowly transformed back into your original state. You frown and adjust your glasses. "May I sit?" You asked and gestured to the spot next to her. The older witch thought for a moment then nodded with a small weak smile. It was thin and you would have missed it if you hadn't been looking at her properly. She looked... Beyond stressed. Her curly hair was slightly dishevelled. As you sat down, you sighed. The weight of the day laying heavy over the two of you. "You shouldn't stray to far from the group..." You whisper gently hoping she wouldn't take it the wrong way.

Lilia scoffed faintly but it only made you smirk. "I needed some time away." She admitted. You tilted your head when she said that. Your eyes softened. Of course, it was understandable why. The day had been... too much. You thought to your sister and frowned. "So... A tabby cat?" Lilia forced a smile trying to change the subject to something lighter. She didn't want to bring her problems onto you. You fondly shake your head as she spoke. "I had a friend once that was like you... a transformation witch, I mean. She could transform into a large grey wolf." Lilia's eyes became distant. Almost as if she were watching the memories right there and then. "She was a sweet woman despite it. She... was murdered during the trails. Saving my life actually. She lost control of it and... well, I'm sure you can guess the rest." She frowned, her fond memories turning sombre. You wondered what it must have been like. To live as long as Lilia had. To experience so much pain and loss. It would kill you.

"It must have been hard." you whispered and moved a little closer to her in silent comfort. "I'm sorry for it."

The older witch waved you off, not wanting your apologies. She'd rather hide that pain. "What I was trying to say was.. It must be nice to shed your skin and forget about.." Lilia hummed with a soft smile. "Well, I'm sure you know what I mean." She whispered. "I always did like cats. It must be exciting to have an ability like yours." She continued, still deep in thought.

You laughed and her attention fully snapped to you as if she were confused on what exactly was so funny. "Yeah." You chuckled. "It's all fun and games until your throwing up hairballs early in the morning." A wide grin appeared on the older witch's face. She laughed of to the side slightly. As if embarrassed that she was laughing in the first placed. You joined her and for a moment. The air felt lighter. You relaxed slightly and noticed how her posture mirrored your own. Despite being on such a risk filled journey you felt safe. If only for a moment. Brown eyes met your green. You swallowed. The two of you continued to stare for a moment until Lilia seemed to remember herself and looked away, turning her gaze to the sky.

Lilia, nervous, Fiddled with her rings. "You trust Agatha." She brought up after the moment had gone. The fact hung in the air. You glance at her before looked at your clawed hands. Yeah, you trusted Agatha. Many would call you a fool for doing such a thing but... After everything that had happened. "Why is that?" The grey haired witch asked curiously. Her eyes running over you with a little suspicion.

Taking a moment, you were quiet. Debating on what to say, you sighed. "Do you know the tales? Of my sister and I coming to America? The Smith sisters." You questioned. Lilia hesitated for a moment before nodding. She knew little of the tale and she doubted what she heard was accurate. "When Michelle and I fled from Scotland in 1710, I was only four. Our Ma had been killed a month before that. Michelle watched it happen. She saw our Ma strangled before they threw her into the flames." You clarified and continued to look a head, not wanting to face the older witch. "My sister was only sixteen. The only reason she had not married at thirteen was because she was rebellious and Da didn't want to give away an improper woman. She was scheduled to marry the priest's brother's Lad." you frowned. Lilia eyed you, Her eyed held an interest. In all honesty, this information wasn't entirely relevant but perhaps it gave some context. However, you were mainly telling it to talk about your sister. Her struggles deserved to be known. "But That never happened. After we fled, We spent four years traveling. Looking for a safe place to live. But with Michelle being a young woman with no money and an eight year old... Well, I'm sure you can imagine how hard things where." Your eyes became dark as you thought about it. You could still remember your sister being an utter mess as she would steal food and let herself starve so that she could feed you.

"Over time, Michelle became desperate for some kind of salvation. She stole money off some... lord of England." you continued with your tone lowered. "She'd never tell me how she managed to pull off such a feat but I still remember the ugly red bruises on her neck. With that money she bought us ticket to America. To start fresh. Took us two and a half months over sea but we made it. So many lower class had died on that ship. When we got there, we had stolen from the wrong pocket. Agatha's. She recognised the magic in us immediately. Well, more the magic in Michelle." Surprised laced in Lilia's deep brown eyes. The more she heard, The more she disliked. You held your coat closer. "I don't know how it all happened.. There was a connection between them, I guess. Michelle took to Agatha like a moth to the flame and before I knew it, our group of two became three." You smiled with hints of fondness. "Agatha would teach Michelle and help her with care of me and in return, Michelle would help with any tasks Agatha would need down. I'm positive there was more to their deal but I don't know what." You shrugged. Lilia looked conflicted as she heard about this.. side of Agatha. "I suppose, I trust Agatha because she was the one that aided us. Because she helped Michelle raise me. We probably would have died without her." You whispered, turning your gaze to Lilia. She looked... unsure. Her brows were furrowed and her eyes held a concern. Her lips were thin. You sighed. "I'm not saying you should trust her. But there's more to her then what meets the eye. If there wasn't. I wouldn't be here." You sighed.

Lilia shuffled a little closer. It was a small movement. One you would have missed if you weren't paying attention. "And where's Michelle now?" She questioned curiously.

A bitterness played in your eyes as you turned to look at the sky. "Dead." The word left a thickness between you. "She went on a... mission some years ago with Agatha and... " You frowned when you remembered Rio. You cleared your throat. "Well, she never came home. Agatha won't talk about. At least not properly. Whatever happened on that day still haunts her." You finalised deep in thought as the older witch nodded along.

The curly haired woman eyed you with slight you worry. "Do you think that Agatha might have..." She paused. Eyeing your body language before deciding to go through with her words. "Drained her?" The words hit a nerve in you.

It was a fair question. One you thought about everyday. It was the reason you stopped talking to Agatha and cut her off in the first place. Yet, you thought back to Agatha and Michelle's... friendship. Agatha would never mean to hurt Michelle. But what if they were in a situation where only one could make it out alive? You bit the inside of your cheeks. "Until it is proven that she did. I will remain by her side." You explained lightly. You sigh and stand. Taking in a deep breath. You turned back to look at the seated woman. "Come on, we shou-"

"Stop it!" you jumped slightly at Lilia's sudden change in demeanour. Your eyes went wide as you stared at the woman who was now looking very dazed. Tilting your head, you inched a little bit towards the older witch. She looked as if she couldn't even see you. Her eyes were so out of focus.

Debating on how progress, you very gently called her name. "Lilia?" She didn't respond still in her.. lucid state. Cautious, you kneeled in front of her. You didn't want to scare how when she was in this state of mind. Being slow, you very carefully took her hand. "Lilia? Can you hear me? What do you see, Lilia?" The woman blinked rapidly when she heard your voice and felt your touch. Her brows furrowed and she looked to the spot beside her, where you had once been. The older woman looked confused on why you had suddenly 'teleported' spots. She looked down to your hand in hers. Her mind catching up with what happened. You gave a supportive smile and pull away. Leaving her hand slightly reaching for yours. "Come on, it's about high time we return to the others. Lilia nodded to herself and stood, brushing down as she did.

The walk back was quiet, but not uncomfortable. As you returned to the group, Agatha watched you like a hawk. Her gaze questioning. You ignored it but that was short lived as the blue eyed witch approached you. "What was that about?" She hummed with her arms crossed. You said nothing and watched as Lilia said down on a rock near Jennifer and Alice.

"Nothing... Nothing at all."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

This one is such a long chapter I was soo worried about it being too long and boring, so hopefully you've found it enjoyable. Thank you so much for reading this chapter!

I really hope you guys like it so far and I really cannot wait to get into the next chapter and to show you all what is to come. This is currently my favourite project. Also did anyone else panic for nothing over this weeks episode cause I was shitting myself thinking it was going to be Lilia's trial. 😭 I'm terrified for next weeks

I would like to point out that I'm dyslexic so I'm sorry for any mistakes and I'm assuming there will be a good few in this chapter because of the length. Please let me know what you think! I'm always reading the comments and looking for your thoughts and taking them into account and they help a lot with motivation.

Lot's of love and I hope to see you in the next chapter! 💜

(Remember to continue to thank and praise Patti Lupone in our prayers)

#agatha all along #lilia calderu x reader #lilia calderu #patti lupone #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #agatha harkness #ao3 writer #witches #archive of our own #alice wu gulliver #jennifer kale #teen agatha all along #mrs hart #w/w

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wandaslittlelove · 4 months ago

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Hii, can you please do where Agatha is left behind on one of the trials, but only Y/N notices and goes back to search for her? Maybe Agatha gets trapped in a room full of fire and something falls on her so she can't get out and Y/N runs through the fire to save her? During getting Agatha out of fire, Y/N gets burned badly (like the arms) and Agatha is limping, so once they are out of it, they both heal each other

Running Into Fire

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader Warnings: Fire, Burns, Blood

Everyone let out a sigh of relief as you exited the trial. You all had just barely avoided the fire that was consuming the trial most coming out with no harm. Billy had a scratch on his stomach but would be fine and Jen had a burn on her shoulders but it was only first degree. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked over the group. Jen, Lilia, Alice, Billy, Rio, where was Agatha? You frantically looked around the area but saw no sign of her.

“Agatha” You called. At this point everyone had picked up that something was wrong. Billy stood for his place on the ground as he also looked around. Your eyes glanced over to the area you had all come out of. Billy looked at you and his eyes widened. Within an instant you were running back into the trail.

Fire surrounded the room as smoke filled the air. Your eyes frantically searched the room of the trail and then you spotted her. Agatha was sitting against a wall with a shelf laying on top of her leg.

“Agatha!” You called again as you stepped closer. Just as you took a step the fire roared higher pieces of the ceiling falling and crashing to the ground. Agatha’s eyes shot over to you wide and fearful as the fire grew closer to her. Looking for a way around the fire was useless as it was everywhere. The only way to her was through it.

“Don’t.” Agatha’s voice called. It was weak and strained. Most likely from inhaling so much smoke. “Don’t do it. Turn around and go. Leave me” You ignored her words instead you took a deep breath and ran. The flames licked at your skin, burning as you ran towards her. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins causing the pain to not be as intense but you knew you would feel it later.

Kneeling beside her you went to push the shelf off of her but stopped once she let out a hiss of pain. She glared at you. Her gaze was harsh and intense. You didn’t take it personally though. You had been with her for years. You knew it was fear. You looked at her as the flames grew closer. With a deep breath she nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. You lifted the shelf again. Your arms protesting as blisters began to form on your skin as well as deep burns. Once the shelf was lifted enough Agatha crawled out from underneath it. Dropping the shelf you helped Agatha up but winced when she let out a cry as she stood on her leg. You would take a look at it later. Right now you needed to get out. The only way back out was through the fire though.

Just as you were about to run back through, Billy appeared. He was carrying a small bottle of some type of liquid. You watched as he poured it on a patch of fire and then it disappeared and a blue color pushed the flames away. Agatha leaned against you for support as you helped her limp out of the trail. Once out you helped her sit and lean back against a tree. Both of you were coughing due to all the smoke in your lungs but that didn’t matter at the moment. Your hands went to her leg feelling around.

“It’s not broken,” you told her, relieved. Your magic could heal this. You could heal her. Just as you went to use your magic her hand landed on your shoulder.

“Heal yourself” She demanded, glancing at your arms. Looking down you finally noticed the damage that was done. Your arms were covered in various burns and blisters. Blood poured from some that had burnt a couple layers of flesh. Skin was peeling in places. You winced at the sight. You could feel the throb of them as the adrenaline began to wear off.

“Im healing you first” Your words were finally and she knew that. She gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes. There weren't many people that Agatha would listen to or let talk to her like that but you were the exception. As your magic began flowing from your fingertips to surround her leg she pulled you into a soft kiss. Her lips are soft against yours. You melted into the kiss quickly as your body relaxed slightly. She was here and you could feel her. As the kiss continued you began to feel a bit drained. When she pulled away she looked at you with a smirk. Her hands hovered over your arms as she let the magic she drained from you surrounded the burns healing them. It was rare Agatha took your magic. Always scared she would mess up and drain you. She never allowed herself to take too much.

Once both of you were healed she pulled you into her arms clinging onto you tightly. You knew what she needed at that moment. She needed to feel you breathe. To feel the warmth of your body against hers. And you needed it to.

“Your and Idiot” She speaks after a while her hands rubbing circles on your book. You let out a small laugh at her words. “You should not run into fire for me” Her hands move to cup your jaw turning you to look at her. Her eyes softened as she looked at you. Your face had some smeared ashes on it and she used her thumb to brush it away.

“I would do it again” Her thumb pauses before she resumes.

“I know”

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness imagine #agatha x reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x fem reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x y/n #marvel #mcu #marvel agatha #mcu agath

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harknessxo · 8 months ago

Text

THE GREATEST || PART 2

Paring: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: She chose you.

Warnings; angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Word Count: 1.2k

Part 1

A/n: Here’s part 2! I hope yall like it!

You went back to the others and Billy had found a clue which was a ouija board. Soon you realized that this was Agatha’s trial. Billy read the instructions before everyone sat in a circle and began the session. Agatha reluctantly joined the circle, her eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before she looked away. The tension between you was palpable, and the others could sense it. Billy began the ouija board session, and the room fell silent as the planchette moved across the board.

The first question that was asked was who was in the room and the answer was ‘death’. Then Rio asked what it wanted, to which the answer was ‘punish’. Finally Jen asked who was to be punished and the ouija board started to spell out Agatha’s name over and over again. Agatha started to scream for it to stop and accidentally left the planchette. All of the sudden the light started to flicker and the planchette started moving but itself.

Everyone was shocked as the planchette started moving on its own. The lights continued to flicker and the temperature in the room dropped dramatically as the very loud sound of screaming was heard. Agatha was visibly shaken, her eyes wide with fear.

“What’s happening?!” she shouted.

“Make it stop!” Billy yelled. The screaming continued, growing louder and more intense. The air was filled with a dark energy that made everyone feel uneasy.

“How do we stop it?” Alice asked.

“We know what we have to do,” Jen said, “Punish Agatha!” Suddenly everything stopped. The lights stopped flickering and there was no screaming. Everyone in the room suddenly turned against Agatha except you and Teen.

“There has to be another way!” You exclaimed.

“There is no other way!” Jen said firmly. “The ouija board chose Agatha as the one to be punished, and we have to do what it says.” Alice and Lilia nodded in agreement, their eyes fixed on Agatha with a mix of anger and determination.

Suddenly the lights flickered off again and Agatha was gone. Everyone scattered to look for her, turning on flashlights. No one could find her until she jumped from the ceiling and ran after Billy. You could tell she was possessed. The group quickly tried to pull her off Billy.

“What the hell is happening to her?” Alice exclaimed.

“She’s possessed,” Lilia replied, her voice laced with concern.

When Jen tried to help, Agatha’s interest in Billy subsided and she started choking Jennifer. Everyone tried to get her off but her grip was very strong. Then Lilia was able to get the lights on and Agatha disappeared once again. Jen gasped for air as Agatha disappeared once again. The room was silent for a moment before Alice spoke up.

“What the hell was that?!” As she said that the ghost of someone you knew too well appeared. As she said that the ghost of someone you knew too well appeared. Alice was the first to ask who she was.

“I am Evanora Harkness.” The ghost responded.

“What do you want?” You asked. Evanora’s eyes locked onto you.

“You must finish the road…without Agatha. You will leave her with me.”

“Absolutely not!” Rio said.

“What? You were ready to slit her throat five seconds ago?” Jen said.

“Yeah, well her mother can’t have her.”

“Mom?” Agatha suddenly said, bringing everyone’s attention to her, “Why do you hate me still?” she said, tears slowly welling up in her eyes.

“You were born evil. I ought to have killed you the moment you left my body.” Agatha just stared at the ghost of her mother. Your heart broke for her. She had told you about what her mother had done but you didn’t think she was this heartless.

“We have to go,” Jen interrupted.

“We can’t-” Billy tried to oppose.

“No, no. There’s no flood here. There’s no fire. The only danger to us in this trial is Agatha Harkness.”

“No, please! Take me with you! Don’t leave me with her. I can be good. Please-” Agatha started begging when Evanora possessed her body once again. Alice suddenly intervened, blasting Agatha with her protective magic. Evanora’s ghost left Agatha’s body and disappeared but Agatha, unable to control her powers, started absorbing it.

“No!” You screamed before pushing Alice out of the way, Agatha now absorbing your power. It was painful, and you slowly started to get weak when Billy yelled out Agatha’s son’s name. She came back to reality and realized what she had done.

“Oh my god-“ Her eyes widened in horror as she realized what she had done to you. She rushed to your side, putting your body on her lap, hugging you tightly.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I couldn’t control it-”

“Shh, it’s okay,” you gently cupped her cheek, “It’s not your fault.” She shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

“I-I could have killed you! I could have taken everything from you!”

“I know but you didn’t.”

Everyone stared at the two of you, trying to process what had just happened and also seeing Agatha being vulnerable for once. Agatha clung to you tightly, as if afraid to let go. She was shaking and her breathing was rapid and uneven. It was a sight that none of them had ever seen before, especially Rio. She watched silently, a look of shock and confusion on her face. She held you close as everyone walked out into the road once again. She never left your side as if you would drop dead if she did.

As the group continued walking, Agatha was practically glued to you. She was holding your hand tightly, intertwining her fingers with yours. Every now and then, she would look at you with a mixture of guilt and concern. At some point everyone decided to stop and rest and you decided to pull Agatha aside.

“Agatha? Can I talk to you?” She looked at you with a hint of apprehension, knowing what you wanted to talk about. She nodded silently and followed you away from the others.

“Look at me.” You demanded and she slowly lifted her head, her eyes meeting yours. She still looked guilty and a little nervous, unsure of what you were going to say to her.

“Am I injured?” She nodded.

“I can sense your pain and feel the energy being drained from you-” You pulled her into a kiss to keep her quiet.

“For someone who is seen as merciless, you do care a lot,” you cupped her face, “I’m okay, Agatha. I am right here alive and well. You don’t have to stay with me at all times, not that I mind of course.” Her body relaxed under your touch, like a soft blanket was put over her. When you pulled away, she let out a shaky sigh.

“I know you’re okay, but I just…I can’t lose you. Not after everything that’s happened…”

“So you do choose me?” Agatha looked at you, her eyes softening.

“Yes…I choose you, Y/N.”

Taglist; @polaris-likethestar @wandasreallover @oh-no-bummer @phixiesworld @eliscannotdance @venomhimbo @aka-patsy @scoliobean @chlondykebar @marvelwomenarehot0

#fanfic #angst #agatha harkness #fluff #agatha all along #agatha harkness x reader #x reader #agatha x reader #request #hurt/comfort

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aggieharkness · 5 months ago

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And in her arms, she cradled your heart Chp. 1

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x reader

Summary: It was a perfectly normal day at the shop, a tarot reading here, a book there, but after picking up a couple of things at Walmart you asked Lilia to do a pregnancy roulette with you, a fun harmless joke you had seen on Tik Tok, though when you looked at the tests that perfectly normal day changed completely.

Warnings: pregnancy, age gap, magical conception. I don't think there's anything else that needs to go here, for now.

Authors note: alright, I have finally come up with a lovely way to start this story, though I must say that @renafisher27 helped immensely so I must give her credit as well. I haven't written pregnancies in a while, so please be gentle but tell me how it looks, if you like it and all that. I accept constructive criticism, and if there's anything you might want to see in this story, don't hesitate to ask, I'll add it to the best extent I can. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Lilia Calderu, and Jac for writing her so beautifully.

Chp. 2 Chp. 3

Word count: 8827 (I've managed to write something short! It might not be the case for future chapters, you've been warned.)

I'm not leaving you, for anything in the world

The garden was quiet and beautiful this time of year, the lilies you had planted not that long ago blossoming under the warm light that came from the blue skies above, a gentle breeze crossing from the open glass doors of the shop all the way to the hanging chair you were resting on in a corner, watching as the leaves and flowers swayed to its gentle dance, bees jumping carefully in between the white and yellow frangipanis that climbed up the walls and fences, the only flower that Lilia had specifically requested, the rest of the garden for your hands to do as they pleased with. The aromas that filled the air with its wonderful floral tones mixed wonderfully with Lilia’s incense and rosemary candles, only eclipsed whenever she came out of the bath spreading a citrusy perfume all over the house, though you would never tell her to stop using that shampoo and gel, it was wonderful to go anywhere and pick up a whiff of oranges or lemons, your mind travelling straight to her. Your eyes were closed as you soaked up the sun, head lulled back against a pillow, the book you had in your hands forgotten as your ears picked up on the buzzing of the bees and the chirping of the birds, the grass a perfect shade of emerald green.

Lilia was watching through the kitchen window, letting her cup of tea rest on the counter as her eyes raked over your relaxed figure taking every inch of you in, from the way stray locks of your hair swayed in the breeze to how one of your feet dangled from the chair, brushing the cool grass with your toes. You had been a wonderful change in her boring life and every second she had spent without you in the Witches Road had been torture, but she had refused to let you go with her, she had told you that she would not be able to finish it if she had to worry about you and as much as you had tried to convinced her not to go you knew she had to. Parting had been a bittersweet affair, but she had promised you she would return, and everything would be alright afterwards, and you had believed her every word because Lilia had never ever lied to you or let you down. After her trial had ended and she had stayed behind she had thought of you, a single tear running down her cheek, but she had been at peace with her actions. If her sacrifice would save her coven and in extent you, she would die happy even if she knew it would break your heart, her mind wandering to you sitting by the door, waiting for her to come back when in truth she would never cross that threshold again, but then the impalement had never come. The road had expelled her and covered in mud she had crawled through the Earth until the evening sun had shone on her face, her palms pressed firmly over the ground as she breathed the fresh air that swayed over the yellow fields, tears of relief and pain clouding her vision.

She had walked home from the middle of nowhere trusting her magic to find her way back to you, embracing the rush that she had fought against for so long. The world had never seemed so beautiful before, the sky painted in oranges and blues, hot tears running down her cheeks as her bare feet walked through the warm grass, her dirty peppery ringlets stuck to the nape of her neck and forehead, but she did not care, not when she was thinking of you and how you would not have to mourn her forever, lost in a road that’s you would never be able to enter alone. By the time she had reached her shop the evening had moved onto night, gentle hues of purple and pink transitioning into a deep navy as the universe above appeared sprinkled with stars. She had pushed the door, surprised to see that you had left it open, the tiny bell that hung from the ceiling ringing melodiously to announce her return, and in slow motion you had pushed the beady curtain open to see who had come in so late at night only to find her. You had never doubted her, not for a minute, her robe flowing around your form as you rushed to her to take her in your arms, the odour of mud and sweat filling your lungs, but underneath all that her citrusy perfume remained. That night you had not let go of each other, not for a second, as well as the next day, though you had taken breaks from making love to talk about all those things she had never found the courage to speak of, tears and laughter filling up the room along with the hushed words that were spoken against each other’s lips.

Seeing you now through the window Lilia could not help but feel like the road had given her not only her confidence in her powers back, but the life she had never thought she deserved to live. Taking one sip of her nearly forgotten tea, she scrunched her nose at the taste, the usual cinnamon flavour leaving a soapy aftertaste on her tongue that she disliked tremendously. Forcing her eyes to tear from your form she dumped the entire thing down the sink, checking the pot to see if maybe she had forgot to rinse it, but there was no foam, simply the dark colour of the hot liquid. It was rather odd, tea usually lasted for really long periods of time, so she picked up the kettle and plugged it in to prepare a pot of vanilla and black tea, another favourite of you both, busing herself among the cupboards and such. It had also happened earlier that week that she had taken a bite of a cinnamon roll you had bought for her at Wendy’s and had had to spit the bite she had taken onto a napkin because of how horrible it had tasted to her; to you it was just as good as always. This was beginning to be a pattern, a sudden hate for cinnamon that she couldn’t quite understand, but it was not the end of the world, she thought, it would have been much worse had she suddenly developed an intolerance for chicken or cheesy fries. Just as she was thinking about a delicious bag of cheesy Doritos the kettle began to whistle, but even as she poured the hot water inside a clean pot that already had the leaves inside, she just couldn’t get the image of the Doritos out of her mind.

The idea of having a whole bag just seemed to be seeping into her bones, making her ache as it had quickly shifted from something she might want to have to a need; she needed Doritos, and it was insane just how much. Lilia left the pot so the tea could brew, poking her head through the kitchen window. You looked so peaceful, so calm and relaxed on your free day from work, but she could not leave the shop, she was open for business today so you would have to go down to the store and get her a couple of bags, just to be safe.

-Darling, can you listen to me for a minute?

-I’m not asleep, I’m just laying here soaking in the sun like a lizard. What’s up?

-Can you do me a favour?

-It depends. If it involves clothes being taken off, I’m in, if it involves soap and dishes, sorry I’ll have to pass.

-Don’t get cheeky with me, as if you wouldn’t do the dishes if I promised to bed you two minutes later, but that’s not the favour. Can you go down to the store and get some bags of cheesy Doritos?

-Doritos? – you opened one eye to see her head poking through the window, the tender breeze that was twirling around in the garden caressing her face, making the lose curls sway around her cheeks and neck. She was looking at you with those big doe eyes that she knew you could not resist, her lower lip in between her teeth in an almost pleading manner. -You are not one to eat that sort of thing often.

-I know, but I’m really craving some, like I really need them. Could you do that? You can take the car down to Walmart if you want, get yourself something.

It wasn’t such a bad plan, you loved going down to Walmart or Target, and you had heard of this new flavour of Buldak ramen, maybe you could get yourself that. Nodding towards Lilia you stretched on the chair, feeling it sway as you moved but it quickly stopped when you placed your bare feet over the grass, letting its cool touch seep through your toes before picking up your book and heading inside. Lilia was quick to give you a peck as a thank you, a childish like grin on her lips as she poured herself a cup from the vanilla tea, the sip tasting perfectly fine. You noticed the other pot, sniffing the liquid and noticing the cinnamon aroma it held, your eyes drifting to Lilia’s back as she pushed the beady curtains away and stepped back into the shop. So, she still had a thing against cinnamon, okay, you thought as you put a pair of old vans on, leaving the book on the kitchen table; maybe she had just switched tastes, it had happened to you with strawberry ice cream, you used to hate it and now you just couldn’t get enough. Picking up the car keys, your wallet and your phone you stepped out into the shop just as an older woman was entering it, her eyes looking around for a minute before Lilia stood gently from her chair and greeted her, her voice sweet and tender as she guided her towards the table. You waved silently at her, Lilia smiling back at you, before stepping out into the street, opening her old Toyota from 2010 that was screaming to be retired, but neither of you had the money to get a new one.

It was a bit run down but clean, and you serviced it as often as you could, so it was not a threat to either of you or other drivers, but the pedals were beginning to get softer under the weight of your feet and the gear shift would probably need to be changed in a couple of years, maximum, which, to be fair, was shit but there just was no way you could magically fix it, you had tried without Lilia knowing. The journey wasn’t too long, the big Walmart that Eastview had was only like a five minute drive, and the parking lot was big enough that there were always empty spots, so after taking the next exit and swerving the car you braked and put it in neutral near the front doors before stopping it completely and stepping out, checking your phone to see a message from Lilia asking you if you could get a box of Cheez-it as well. You had to smile at that. She had been acting a bit weird in the last couple of weeks, though you weren’t sure if she had noticed, and the sudden development of craving for anything with a shit ton of cheese on it was one of the best things that was coming out from whatever she had going, the hate for cinnamon thought, that was peculiar because she really loved to use it for her candles and protection spells. Anyhow you were on a mission to find the cheesiest Doritos in existence, so you made your way to the automatic doors, shivering under the cold air of the AC. Divine Mother, it wasn’t that hot outside, you were going to freeze your tits off before you had reached the first aisle. Walking through dairy, meats and fish and the sauce aisle you finally reached the snacks one, eyes surveying every product you could see until you found the box of Cheez-it, which when you read the sign underneath it said that there was an offer of three boxes for only 23$, that was a good deal.

You threw them into your trolley and continued the search for the Doritos. You had barely taken three steps to the right when they came face to face with you, an assortment of over seven different flavour plus dips, your index finger tracing the shelves until you found a family size bag of cheese flavoured ones, which you picked two bags of and dumped them onto the trolley forgoing the dips all together as Lilia wasn’t a big fan of premade sauces and such, after all you had an entire cupboard filled with homemade tomato sauce that you two spent an entire day preparing every few weeks. They had moved things around, so finding which aisle had the ramen took you about four tries, including crossing the medicine aisle. In your house homemade remedies were the go-to, but Advil and Tylenol were the only two pills Lilia allowed to have in the bathroom cupboard, you had tried to get cough syrups, but it had been a lost battle. Your eyes moved over the colourful packages, still amazed at the number of medications that one could easily buy without a prescription until you came across all the pregnancy tests. Now wouldn’t that be funny, to come home and do a pregnancy roulette with Lilia. She would say no at first, of that you were sure, but hey, maybe you could actually get her to do it and you could have a laugh about two lesbians considering the possibility of being with child. Maybe it was only funny to you, but since you were the one paying you took two traditional ones and a Clearblue one, throwing them over the Doritos and continued your search for the Buldka, but when you arrived they had all flown, so you had to settle on the cheese hot chicken one because Lilia would most definitely steal from your plate and she only liked that one and the rose one.

You looked around for a few more minutes but didn’t see anything that you fancied at that moment, so you went to the checkout, the cashier looking at the tests and up to you a couple of times, a cheeky smile on her lips, but you didn’t say anything, simply paid for the items, wished her a good evening and went to get to your car. Throwing the items in the back seat you sat behind the wheel a sudden feeling of anxiety and anticipation blooming in your chest, though you did not understand why. The roads were empty and the spot you had left only twenty minutes before was still there, the nervousness that was spreading through every cell and limb nearly making you fuck up as you parked the car, but after a couple of minutes extra manoeuvring you finally turned the motor off and stepped out. There was an extra bag that you always carried in the trunk, and after you picked it up and placed the items inside you made your way to the store, noticing that it was empty once more; the woman must have left not that long ago as Lilia was tidying up her deck and blowing the candles she had lit. The sound of your footsteps made her lift her head, that beautiful ringlet that was always framing her face bouncing gently at the movement, her eye shinning up at you, her smile the most beautiful thing in the universe. You could remember the day you had stepped inside this shop, tired, done with the world kicking you in the butt, and to be honest you hadn’t expected to hear anything good or true, but the instant Lilia had appeared the universe stopped moving, time still as her plump lips smiled gently at you.

How were supposed to simply sit there when the most gorgeous woman you had ever laid eyes on was sitting across the table asking you to cut the deck. She had read you from front to cover, every single thing you had ever lived, every moment of happiness and pain, and the session you had expected to be no longer than fifteen minutes turned into an hour, and then a cup of tea to calm your nerves and then the secret that you were a green witch spilled out and you cried some more, but she was there to hold you and reassure you, whispering that she was a divination witch in your ear. You had entered her shop over two years ago and had never left, though you would never ever do if you had a say in it. She had healed you, protected you and taught you all the things that no one had ever bothered with, and in return you had given her all the love of your heart not spearing costs. Seeing her smiling up to you now was even better than that day, because this wasn’t a simple polite grin, it was her love speaking to you in every single way she could think of. Putting your hand inside the bag you took one of the Dorito bags out, her smile spreading wider, her hands clasping in front of her chest, rushing to you and giving you a delicious peck, the taste of vanilla tea lingering on her lips.

-Oh, thank you Y/N!

-You really are craving them.

-You don’t know. – she didn’t even wait until she was in the back, she ripped it open and pulled one perfectly shaped triangle, popping it in her mouth. The sigh of relief that she made as she chewed made you chuckle, following her into the kitchen so you could take the rest of the items out of the white plastic bag. Lilia was busy with her Doritos, but when she turned to ask you if you wanted some her eyes saw the boxes of pregnancy tests, her hand stopping mid-way to her mouth. – Why did you get these?

-You are going to think I’m stupid, but I thought we could take one each and do like a pregnancy roulette.

-That is the dumbest thing I’ve heard in a while, and I talk with Agatha and Rio on a daily basis.

-Okay, no need to be so harsh Calderu. – you carried on putting the Buldak and Cheez-it boxes away in the cupboard next to the stove where the cereal and a lonely bottle of Pringles were. - It’s just something fun and stupid we could do. You have been craving cheese like crazy and can’t stand cinnamon, can you imagine if yours came out positive?

-I really can’t leave you alone for one minute.

-No, you can’t. Come on Lils, I want to do it; you are not going to leave me hanging are you?

Your puppy eyes always managed to melt her and agree to anything, and this time it wasn’t going to be any different. It really was dumb, in her opinion, and a waste of money, but you wanted to do it, so why the hell not, you had got her the Doritos, and they had been family size, she owed you one. With a sigh she put the bag on the kitchen table but not before warning you not to touch them, wiping her hands on a tea towel and picking one of the boxes up to read the instructions as she made her way to the bathroom. One for you, you thought, picking up the other box to see what the hell you were supposed to do. You knew you were supposed to pee, but did it have to be on a cup or could just do it on the stick, you supposed it didn’t matter much as long it touched pee. A minute later Lilia came out with hers, and you quickly picked the extra one that came in the box and headed for the bathroom yourself after placing Lilia’s inside the now empty package. It really was easy but a bit messy, and you spend a whole minute washing your hands afterwards but when you stepped out you put in the box along with her, gently shaking it with a smirk on your lips, Lilia having picked up her bag of Doritos once again.

-And now we wait for three minutes or so.

-How much did the tests cost you?

-Why do you want to know?

-So, I can think of how much money you just wasted for “fun”.

-Oh, don’t be like that. – you poured yourself a cup of tea, the cinnamon pot already in the sink, sitting yourself next to Lilia as she carried on with her snack as if her life depended on it. - I’ve seen people doing it on Tik Tok, why not us?

-We are lesbians dear, unless you have forgotten how anatomy works, you can’t quite get pregnant the usual way.

-But there’s still the magical way, and I am a green witch, and I always get very excited when I’m with you.

-You are cheeky today.

Her kisses tasted like powdered cheese which wasn’t quite alright with you as you took another sip of the vanilla tea, but it could have definitely been worse. You could still remember a hot day in the summer of about one year ago when instead of using salt for her Bolognese pasta she had used sugar, a bit of a miscommunication issue after getting new jars, making lunch uneatable and forcing you to order uber eats. McDonalds was always a welcome meal after a hard day’s work even if that work had been lunch. Lilia took a Dorito out and handed it to you, but you declined, and she didn’t even give you the chance to change your mind before it was already in her mouth, the timer on your phone going off, breaking the comfortable silence that had filled the room as you both ate. Your heart was beating fast against your ribs, although you didn’t know why, both of you already knew the answers you were going to get, but it still raced as you picked up the box and shook it as if that could mix the two tests even further, a drumroll from your fingers against the kitchen table echoing around you both before you pulled one test out and placed it with the symbols against the wood, repeating the same action with the other one.

-At the count of three you pick one and I’ll pick the other and we show it to each other, okay?

-Fine, the sooner we are done with this the sooner you can go back to the garden, and I can relax without you in here.

-You hurt my feelings, Lilia. – in a faux feeling of pain, you turned your head away from her, a hand on your chest to make it even more dramatic, but it only lasted a second before you put your hand over one of the tests, curious. -Ready? One, two, three.

Lilia was a bit faster than you, and when she picked up her test and showed it to you, you saw only one line, relief washing through your veins. Children had never been a topic you two had discussed much and for some reason the idea of becoming a mum, be it by you expecting or not was something you had not considered until this very minute, but it was okay, it was negative. And then you looked up at Lilia, your hands showing the other test in her direction, and you saw how her face had turned white as milk, eyes wide, the weight of the world crushing her under its heaviness. Obviously in a hurry you turned the test to see a cross, and it wasn’t one strong line and a really faint one, no, it was a very clear cross. The world stood still right there and then, your blood running cold inside your veins for a second before you stared back at Lilia, but she had reacted opposite to you and she pushed herself off her chair to pick up the box of digital pregnancy tests, ripping it open with hurried breaths. She was clearly in distress and didn’t even bother to say a word as she took one and rushed to the bathroom, the box sliding across the table so you could take one as well, but your arms were suddenly frozen on the spot.

There was no way in hell it could be true, it had to be a false positive, you were both lesbians and neither of you had cheated, of that you were more than sure. At work there was no chance of you meeting decent people that could spark any interest whatsoever and even if they did, you would never ever hurt Lilia like that, and you knew that after all the pain and heartache she had gone through in four centuries she would never risk destroying something as precious as what you two had, something that had healed her and shown her what love was supposed to feel like. So how on Earth could one of you be expecting? It was a preposterous idea and yet there was something in your bones telling you that it was so, that it was very true, and that you and your magic were to be faulted. Lost in thought you hadn’t heard Lilia coming out of the bathroom, but you did hear her pacing behind your back for a few moments before everything turned quiet. Suddenly the world was rushing around you and you turned on your chair to see Lilia staring at the test she had in her hand, unmoving, her face unreadable. You knew you had to see, but part of you was terrified of what you might find out and yet you stood and on shaky legs you began to walk her way until you stood face to face, and your hands gently grabbed her wrists, moving them downward so you could see.

-Oh. Oh, Lilia. – it said pregnant plus a +3 weeks, meaning that in the time that had passed since she had returned from the Witches Road, since the night you had shared without a single care in the world, only loving each other, thanking the universe that the day you had said goodbye to Lilia wouldn’t be your last farewell, she had been creating a brand new life, nestled safely in her womb. This was your fault, you thought.

-Guess it wasn’t such a stupid thing to do after all.

-I’m so sorry, I know this wasn’t what we wanted, what we had planned. Oh Lilia, this is all my fault. What are we going to do?

-I’m the one who’s supposed to be panicking you know. – it was unnerving how calm she looked, how collected as she made her way to the closest chair, the bag of Doritos forgotten on the side of the table, her beautiful brown eyes unable to break their gaze from the test that she held tightly in her hands. You were quick to follow, kneeling in front of her with your hands on her knees, over her red and blue gown.

-I’m sorry.

-Don’t be. This is as much your fault as it is mine, neither of us thought your abilities could create life like this, not yet anyway.

-And what are we going to do? I mean, I’m glad to know why you’ve been acting kind of weird, but this … this is a baby, it’s not some thing you are going through and that will pass in a few days.

-I know. What do you think we should do?

-I don’t know that’s why I’m asking you, after all you are the one who’s expecting.

-Yeah. I’m the pregnant one. – it seemed to be dawning on her slowly, the shock making way for both a profound sense of terror and an unmeasurable feeling of happiness, both tainted with doubts. Tears began to build in her eyes, and you were quick to hold onto her free hand to steady her. -Oh, Y/N, I’m pregnant. We are going to have a baby! How did this happen!?

-I guess I didn’t control my magic. I had missed you too much and there was this fear that I might lose you and… I don’t know. I didn’t think that we could do this, I just wanted to have you close, to love you and never let you go. I don’t even know how I did it, how we did it.

-Well, this is big Y/N, our lives will change forever. I have no clue how we are going to navigate this whole thing. One thing is to visit Sharon’s grandnieces and nephews, and another completely different thing is to have a baby of our own. Are we ready? Do you even want this Y/N?

-How could I not when it’s a piece of you and me that you are carrying Lilia. It will be hard but I’m not leaving you for anything in the world. I will stay by your side through thick and thin, and I will love this baby until the day I die, no matter what. I believe we can do this; we’ve waited more than a hundred years to find each other and build something strong. We can do it.

-We can do it. We are going to have a baby.

The tears she had tried to keep at bay were now flowing freely down her cheeks, a timid smile spreading on her rosy lips before it turned into a bright grin as you gathered her in your arms, that terror that you were both feeling eclipsed by the happiness and joy of this news. Holy shit, you were going to have a baby! Lilia was pregnant, wow, this is certainly not how you had seen the day going at all, and you weren’t sure if your brain was actually comprehending the situation, but it didn’t matter too much, Lilia was your priority right now. She cried on your shoulder, her left hand still holding onto the test, her body suddenly feeling completely different. When she had been younger she had dreamt of having a family, but the gaps and the death of her coven had turned her life dark and bitter, and as she tried to find a place for herself only to run away when people discovered she was a witch, it just began to slip into the back of her mind until it only popped up when she was at her lowest, when she began to wonder if maybe living for so long wasn’t as wise as she had thought. The feeling that her chance had passed was a thorn that she could not pull out of her heart, the pain would have been too great, but after centuries of living like this her heart had grown around it, learning to cope with the missed dreams she would never have. Sitting in her small kitchen, nestle in between your arms she realised that said thorn was gone, vanished into the ether, every single reaction her body was making, every twitch and spasm bringing the fact that she was growing a whole person, after four hundred and fifty years, to the front of her mind as the news sank in.

She was supposed to have kept her walls up, her magic under control so yours wouldn’t be able to mingle with hers, but the road had left her vulnerable and the sight of you wearing her own robe, the perfume that still lingered in it comforting you through the entire ordeal, had made something inside her click, as if there had been one final piece of the puzzle left for her to find, and when her eyes had settled on your form it had been clear that that piece was you, awaiting her return. She had been raw and bare before you, under you, on top of you, and the gentle tendrils of yellow magic had enfolded your sweet sage ones as one, making her feel alive, cared for, loved. That night there had been a sparkle of something, a spell not really spoken, a deep desire that had set the wheels in motion. She pushed herself off your shoulder to face you, her deep chocolate eyes a bit red and puffy, streaks of tears painting her rosy cheeks and yet there was a bright smile on her lips, so precious that if it had been night she would have been able to light the entire town, and all the doubts and fears you had felt in the last few minutes vanished. You wanted this, you hadn’t known until this every moment that the prospect of having a child with Lilia was the most wonderful thing that had happened to you since meeting her.

In a hundred and forty-three years of life children had never crossed your mind, not even once, they were there, so to speak, they did their thing and you did yours, never crossing paths and you had been perfectly fine with that. You had felt far too young to think about it at first, but then wars had happened, depressions, crisis, and your life had just taken extreme turns, far too many for you to even consider forming a family and then of course had been the fact that, first, your magic was a mess and you could not control it one bit, and second, you didn’t have someone you loved enough to settle down with. All that had changed with Lilia and knowing that from the two of you she had been the one to fall pregnant both terrified and thrilled you. You were sure she would be the most beautiful pregnant woman in existence but what you were absolutely certain of was that she would be the best mother in the universe, in every universe. You could almost see it, Lilia sitting in the garden under the warm sun of summer cradling a little thing in her arms, the sweet quiet noises coming from the baby the most wonderful sounds you had ever heard, their skin soft under you finger as you caressed their cheek amazed by their fuzzy curls that resembled Lilia’s when she was younger, the wonders never stopping every time they opened their big eyes to look at you with that unique power Lilia had mastered throughout the years and that they had inherited. You could see that same bright smile Lilia was giving you right now in the kitchen, her face still carrying some of the baby weight she had gained, but it did not matter, she was still the most beautiful woman, the love of your life that had granted you a wish you had never even known you desired.

But until that scene could come true many things had to happen and suddenly reality crashed down over your head. You had no clue what you were supposed to do now, like was she meant to sit on the couch with her feet up until she gave birth? You would have to throw away every single pod of coffee, you had heard it was bad, an alcohol, and cigarettes, did the smoke of candles count? You felt your panic rising, but Lilia was quick to reassure you with a simple touch, the palm of her hand resting on your cheek as she finally let go of the test, letting it fall on the kitchen table. Your knees were beginning to hurt from how you were positioned on the floor, the tiles digging onto the skin and hitting your rotulas, so you pushed yourself onto a chair, still facing her as if by giving her your back would suddenly make you wake up to realise this was all a dream, fearing that she would vanish like smoke in between your fingers and you would find yourself in the still of the night waiting for her to return from the road. But she was solid, real, and she was having your baby, and you could not help the chuckle that escaped your lips, turning into a melodious laugh as you pulled her to her feet and gathered her in your arms, twirling around the room. Lilia had to join you, her arms wrapped around your neck as she let you sweep her off her feet, literally, her own laughter mingling with yours for a minute until she felt you placing her gently on the floor.

-Oh my God, I shouldn’t be picking you up like that, should I? - your hands were suddenly grabbing her upper arms as if she was made out of porcelain and could crack any minute, her own tapping yours as she chuckled. It touched her just how worried you looked, as if something could almost literally make her collapse, but she was perfectly alright, she felt strange but at the same time perfectly fine.

-It’s fine Y/N, I’m fine. I don’t think that this is going to do me much harm.

-Do we have any baby books or pregnancy books?

-No, not really. It’s not a topic we usually read about.

-Then I’ll have to check Google.

-Whatever for? – you let go of her and practically slid over the tiles to grab your phone from the kitchen counter, unlocking it and opening a brand-new tab, typing the single word “Pregnancy” as if instructions would pop up on your screen.

-I have no idea what we are supposed to do! Like, what can you eat, is there anything that you can’t do, is magic safe for you right now?

-Y/N, darling, calm down. Let’s just call Jen, she’ll know exactly what to do.

-Jen? Why do we need Jennifer, she’s a potions witch.

-She’s also a certified midwife. I would feel more comfortable if she were to come and check me instead of us having to fake a birthday and pay two hundred dollars to sit in a waiting room to see a doctor who’s going to complain about my age straight away.

-Okay, okay, if that’s what you want that’s what we’ll do. – you needed to take a couple of deep breaths before you lost your shit, leaving your phone on the kitchen table and moving your hands up and down to calm yourself before sitting back down on your chair. - Divine Mother, and I thought I was going to have a relaxing day doing nothing.

-Tell me about it, I just found out I have a tiny being inside me.

Lilia was always so collected, so calm, or at least most of the time, but underneath that smile and controlled breaths you could see the nervousness that was coursing through her veins as she wriggled her hands in front of her chest. This whole thing was going to be a big change, she knew, and she was no stranger to change but not to this calibre. With quiet steps she rummaged through her purse, on top of the coffee table, pulling out her big black phone before making her way towards her own chair. She unlocked it and tapped the phone icon and Jen’s name but suddenly she found herself unable to follow with her own words, fear overtaking everything else. Jen would be kind, she knew, but what if things went wrong, what if she let it slip and the entire coven found out before she was ready to share this news, what if they had got their hopes up, joy and happiness filling their chests only to be let down, to be told that there was nothing, that the test was wrong. She didn’t feel like she could fight that war, she couldn’t simply sit there and hear her say that there would be no baby, not after realising just how much she wanted this one. Without prior notice she felt tears gathering in her eyes and in an attempt to not cry she lulled her head back, taking a few deep breaths. It took you by surprise this reaction, the way her eyes had quickly shifted from happiness to unbridled fear.

-Hey, hey, what’s wrong? – you took the phone and left it beside yours, taking one of her hands in yours while the other grabbed her chin and gently moved it so she would look at you, a single tear running down her cheek.

-What if we are wrong? What if they are false positives?

-The probability of two being wrong is very low Lilia. But you can take another if you want.

-And if its negative? What if its you the one that’s pregnant and not me?

-Darling, you made me go to store to buy a bag of Doritos, which I’ve only seen you eat like four times in two years, and two of them were at Agatha’s. I’m not pregnant, I don’t feel any different from how I usually feel, I don’t get sick when I have some cinnamon, I don’t have these crazy cravings for cheese either, unlike you. Trust me on this, okay? Everything will be fine, I promise.

-Do you really mean it?

-I do. I know you are scared, but everything will be just fine. How about I call Jen, and you can take another test if it will make you feel better.

Your thumbs wiped her tears as tenderly as you could manage, hating to see her so upset when only a minute before she had been over the moon. You supposed this was brought on also by the roller coaster of hormones she must have going on, but you weren’t going to voice that, you didn’t wish to upset her any further; she didn’t deserve to feel worse than she already did. It was strange the way she nodded, vulnerable before your eyes just like when she had shared all those heartbreaking stories about her past, letting you handle what she couldn’t at the moment. She was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, doubts and fears crushing her under it all, but as long as you were there you would lift it off of her as much as you could. You pulled her into a kiss, her lips holding onto the cheesy flavour of the Doritos, but as much as you wished to deepen it you stopped yourself, pecking her forehead before you picked up her phone from the table. Lilia remained on her chair for a few more seconds as she collected herself and as you pressed the call button, she picked up the box and vanished into the bathroom. It rang once, then twice, and as the third one was mid ring Jen’s deep voice answered, greeting Lilia with a warm friendly tone.

-Hi Jen, it’s Y/N.

-Oh, hi. How are you?

-I’m not sure at the moment. Look, I called because Lilia and I have a bit of a situation going on here and I was wondering if you could pop over in like five to ten minutes.

-Is everything alright? Do I need to bring ingredients for an antidote again? – her tone was playful, but there was a slight jab that tainted them. She just couldn’t resist making you feel a little bit bad about your lack of potion skills, could she? Well, you had no time to engage her in a battle of ironies and sarcasms.

-No, but if you have like a… midwife bag it would help.

-You need me as a midwife? What’s going on? What did you two do?

-You can’t tell anyone Jennifer, and I mean it, no one. Lilia is already all over the place as it is, and I don’t want Agatha or Rio mocking her. We took some tests and hers came back positive.

-WHAT?!

-Jen, my ear!

-Are you serious? Like you got Lilia pregnant for real?

-Yes. Could you come over and check her or do whatever you are supposed to do?

-Sure, sure, I’ll be there in five, I just need to get my bag from my apartment.

-Thank you so much. She’s freaking out and she will only let you see her.

-Okay, keep her calm, I’ll be there soon. Bye

-Bye.

Jen cared for Lilia more than she let on, but you could see it whenever they were together, whenever they talked, she would look at her with a protective glaze in her eyes, as if she could keep her away from harms way. It did not mean she was in love with her, no, she cared for Alice that way, with Lilia it was as if they were sisters, looking out for each other, and you didn’t expect anything else after what they had shared in the tunnels and during Lilia’s trial. They had gone for three days thinking that the other was dead only to find each other in front of the psychic store when Jen had gone there to pay her respects and leave a bouquet of lilies, the flowers forgotten on the floor when they saw each other. Jen had only cried one time during the road but seeing Lilia alive and well after the entire ordeal was like seeing her sister after being apart for years, only an old letter in a drawer to remember her by. Jen could be many many things, like arrogant or rude at first, but once you got to know her, she was kind and caring and she showed it by jabbing you every once in a while, a playful banter that sometimes ended up in arguments that would soon turn into deep conversations over a cup of tea. You trusted her with Lilia because you knew she would never harm her, and she would be honest with all of her findings, exactly what you both needed. Lilia was yet to come out of the bathroom you noticed, her phone locked and on the kitchen table as you stood and headed for the powder room, knocking gently on the door.

-Darling, is everything alright?

-Yeah. – her voice was slightly muffled by the wood, but you could have sworn there was a happier tone to her affirmation, though your mind could totally be making things up.

-Does the test say anything?

-Yeah.

-Do you want to tell me?

The handle was pushed down, the door opening slightly for you to go in. It was a small room, an old ceramic sink on the left side with two glasses with your toothbrush and hers, a bathtub with a white shower curtain like four or five feet from the door and a toilet, where Lilia was sitting on, right in front of the sink and mirror. Without a word she lifted the three pregnancy tests that had been left in the box, two of them showing blue deep crosses while the other one, the last digital test, showed the same message, “+3 weeks pregnant”. Lilia could not believe the relief she had felt when they had taken barely a minute to show the results, like a wave that had swept away all the fear and worry. She was most definitely carrying your baby, there was no doubt about it after five tests, a weight lifting of her chest when you caressed her cheeks and smiling, kissed her tenderly. She still wondered how it was that she could not get enough of your lips, of how much your kisses grounded her and helped her sooth her aching heart when the past came to knock her down. It was the only thing she could never live without. Parting from her you did not move from your spot, squatting before her.

-Do you feel better now?

-Yes, very much.

-I talked with Jen and she’ll be here shortly. How far along do you think you might be?

-Seven or eight weeks? If we take the night I came back as the conception date.

-You were very receptive to me that night, I think it would be right to assume it is. How about you sit on the couch, and I’ll make you a cup of tea until she arrives.

-Just warm up the vanilla that’s on the pot, no need to dirty more dishes.

Perhaps you were seeing things that were not quite there, but she seemed to be glowing. Her eyes held a different light to them, her soft curves seemed to speak of a secret she nestled under her heart, so precious that she didn’t think she could love someone so much even before they had laid eyes on them, a little life that you had both created. There were no need for words, not anymore, and you took Lilia’s hands in yours to take her out into the living room, her body following without protest as the evening light began to change into oranges and pinks that bathed the room beautifully, the colours reflecting on Lilia’s peppery curls in a lovely rainbow that reached her eyes, so deep, so rich and happy. Walking backwards you rounded her favourite armchair and pushed her softly until she was sitting with her back on her flowery cushion, your lips making contact with the soft skin of her palm, sprinkled with freckles and spots brought on by time. You did not care that she was over four hundred years old, she could have been a thousand and you would have still loved her for all eternity, every second of every minute of every day without a doubt, without question. She had meant everything to you for two whole years, and now you had something else you could love her even more for. Your fingers slipped from hers as you made your way to the pot, the amber liquid lukewarm to the touch as you let a drop fall on your pinkie. Picking up a clean cup you poured her some and placed it in the microwave to warm up again, taking the time until the microwave beeped to head to the shop to turn the sign from “open” to “closed”, pushing the door slightly closed but not fully shutting it, the cooler breeze that was still coming through it and from the garden keeping the house at a nice temperature.

Night would soon come, and in your dreams, you hoped to see what the future may hold for you both, a little girl with Lilia’s curls or a little boy with her big brown eyes, you didn’t care much, as long as they were healthy, and Lilia had no issues. The microwave beeped as you stared through the glass to the sky above, the streetlamps having just turned on keeping the stars hidden from your eyes, but it did not matter, as soon as you crossed the beady curtain, Lilia’s head turned to look at you, a sweet smile on her lips as she curled on her armchair, her feet under her. Her eyes held all the stars you needed to see. Crossing the room to the kitchen you picked up the cup and placed it on a saucer, and as you turned to head back to her you saw the open bag of Doritos, a smile gracing your lips. Coming around Lilia you handed her the tea, a quiet thank you reaching your ears, but you did not sit down at her feet like you always did when you were watching the telly, no, you took your free hand and placed it on her lower stomach, her eyes travelling down to watch it as it rested over her red and blue gown. A gasp escaped your lips when you felt it, a small spark of magic that was not quite yours nor Lilia’s, your fingers tingling at the feeling, until she placed her own hand over yours, the electricity passing from yours to hers, both raising your heads to look at each other. Lilia’s smile was so deep and bright, so utterly happy that you could not help it, and you crashed your lips over hers letting her feel the joy and glee that was coursing through your veins, the tea forgotten on the armrest as her hand went up to your cheek. When you had woken up you hadn’t imagined that a simple joke could bring such happiness to your life, that your Lilia, your wonderful, beautiful Lilia would be the one to give you a family, though you could not imagine anyone else you do this with.

-I think Y/N, that we are having a baby.

#lilia calderu #lilia x reader #patti lupone #avis amberg #avis amberg x reader #agatha all along #patti lupone x reader #we thank miss lupone simply for existing

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no-phrogs-in-hats · 3 months ago

Text

Death and the Fool

Chapter 3: The Three of Pentacles--Reversed

Agatha Harkness x Fem!reader

Summary: Where the personification of Life believes she has no chance with Agatha Harkness after Death gets to her first.

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Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

Taglist: @hannah-0730 @loveshineslikethesky

“Three of Pentacles–Reversed: Disorganization, lack of teamwork, group conflict.”

__________

The ground beneath your feet is cold.

Leaves are littered on the path–the road. The Witches’ Road. The Witches’ Road that shouldn’t exist and has never existed before. But, somehow, now it does.

The rest of the coven walks far ahead. Teen, who seems quite excited, practically bounces up and down as you walk beside Agatha. You can see it in her mannerisms. She’s deep in thought—and you know exactly why.

“Agatha, what the fuck?” you mutter.

She shoots you a dangerous look and flexes her fingers. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’re not the only one here with that question.”

“How did this happen?” you ask quietly, completely ignoring the way that word makes you feel. “You don’t think he—”

“Of course I think it was him!” she hisses.

“You know what this is?” The shrill cry of Sharon rings out, interrupting your conversations. “This is a kidnapping! And I think it is high time we involve the local authorities!”

“Are we gonna ignore the fact that something chased us down here?” Jen asks, looking pointedly towards Agatha.

Alice’s face grows hard. “Chased Agatha,” she clarifies.

Agatha rolls her eyes as Sharon raises her phone in the air. “Okay!” she cries. “No cell service!”

Nobody but her seems to be concerned. At least not externally. You hold your emotions quite well as a cosmic being. Internally, however, you were losing it.

Lilia scoffs. “Well whatever chased Agatha down here, it’s our problem now.”

“Is that because covens share blessings and burdens alike?” Teen, in contrast to the rest of the coven, is bright eyed and excited.

“Okay someone really needs to call this kid’s parents,” Jen says.

“Oh I’m 100% positive they’re asleep. Unless…” His head tilts back and examines the surroundings. “Do you think this could be perpetual night? You know…as a vibe?”

Speculations and grievances are thrown around as you stand by with Agatha. Bickering and arguments make it hard to focus and hard to think of a way to get through this.

“What are we gonna do?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. “This has gone completely off the rails. You’ve nev—”

Agatha shushes you instantly. “Let me handle it. Calm down,” she says. “It’ll be fine. They’re not the most gullible bunch I’ve met, but they’re desperate, that’s for sure.”

“What are we even up against?” Jen looks directly at Agatha, clearly expecting an answer.

Instead, Lilia speaks up, her voice breathy, “Tame your fears. That’s what we’re up against—our worst nightmares.”

“But, in what form?” Jen asks.

“Trials,” Alice says, before turning sheepish. “At least…that’s what the song says.” Her eyes land on Agatha and everyone else follows suit. “What are they like?”

Your eyes meet Agatha’s cautiously, almost as if to warn her. When she looks back at the coven, they’re all anxiously waiting for her answer.

“The Road,” she says grimly, “will test us on our knowledge of the craft…One trial for each skill.”

It’s silent as the coven takes in her words, until Jen speaks up, “How do we pass them without any power?”

“Well,” Teen cuts through, “there’s always analog magic.” There’s an awkward silence before he tries to convince them. “You know, labor intensive, manual acts of magic…Witchcraft! Emphasis on the craft!”

“Again,” Jen sighs, “who are you?”

And there it was again. The sigil. Covering his mouth as he spoke his name.

Everything about this boy confuses you.

You’ve made every single soul that walks the Earth. From North America to Asia, from the northern hemisphere to the southern hemisphere, every single soul was a creation of your own.

But this one does not feel right.

This one isn’t yours.

So, if this soul, in which you did not create, is living and breathing, then where is the other soul? Where is the life this soul stole?

“Don’t look at me,” Agatha shrugs, a look of disgust on her face. “I didn’t put that clumsy glamor on him—sigils are beneath me.”

You can see the coven isn’t convinced, and their attention is directed on you now.

“What about you?” Jen says.

You’re taken aback by her question. “Excuse me?”

“Who even are you?” Jen asks, narrowing her eyes. “Why aren’t you a part of the coven?”

You open your mouth to respond but Agatha’s arm comes to your torso, pushing you aside. “It doesn’t matter,” she says. “I have no idea what’s under that sigil. He could be something special, or he could be a pest that some cranky witch stashed under a rock.”

Jen gives you a pointed look as Agatha continues, “We can crack him open later. The real value lies at the end of the Road…besides, she’s too good for this coven–if I should even call it that. That’s why she’s not a part of it, Jennifer.”

You can see Jen become visibly aggravated. Just as she opens her mouth to let out her rebuttal, Teen grabs everyone’s attention. “Wait, where’s Mrs. Davis?”

All bickering stops and pandemonium ensues when you’ve realized that Sharon has wandered off.

“I mean, you take your eyes off of her for two seconds,” Agatha mutters, just as a shriek pierced the air.

Just up ahead, as you and the coven rush over, Sharon is elbow and knee deep in thick, black mud.

“Help me!” she screams. “Getting lower, witch people!”

Alice is the first to get to her, wrapping her arms around Sharon’s waist and pulling. Save for Agatha, the rest of you run quicker to help Alice, a domino effect of arms around waists as you all pull Sharon from the mud.

“Really?” you mutter to Agatha. “You couldn’t have helped?”

She rolls her eyes at you before sighing, “Okay, well, I thought this was pretty obvious, but for the uninitiated…Rule one!” She raises her arms, moving them to mimic the boundaries of the path. “Do not step off the Road!”

Sharon scoffs and Teen’s face lights up, “‘I stray not from the path!’”

“Yes,” Agatha says sarcastically, “thank you, Teen!” She turns her attention back to the coven, addressing them almost condescendingly. “So, if we all just follow the instructions of the ballad, we’ll be safe as kittens! Okay?”

You know this won’t end well. The group hasn’t even been on the Road for half an hour and it’s already fallen into mayhem.

“What is that?”

A golden light slowly creeps onto the blue leaves that are scattered across the path. Everyone’s attention turns to its source, and just beyond the path lies a Cape Cod style beach house. Its blue exterior stands out against the orange sky, looking so perfect it was almost two-dimensional. When your bare feet hit the sand, it’s warm, and dead reeds that have fallen off of the original plant bury themselves in the top layer.

“Was that there before?” “I think we should stop asking that question,” Agatha says.

The walk to the beach house is quick. Bits and pieces of shells, broken down and softened by erosion, mix in with the sand. The feeling is uncomfortable and you try your best to step lightly.

The porch of the house is large. Coastal style furniture greets guests as a resting place and soft lighting illuminates the blue shingles. The large door is what stands out the most.

“It’s a full moon,” Teen says. “The water phase.”

There are awkward glances exchanged between the coven.

“So…Do we go in?” Alice asks.

Sharon huffs and rings the doorbell. “Well, we don’t want to surprise anybody!”

A beat passes before Agatha gasps and smiles, “Don’t we?”

When she barges into the house, no one bats an eye. Instead, everyone becomes enthralled by the interior decoration. Large windows look out to the ocean where the sky remains a warm orange, casting light onto the sofa sets and armchairs.

As for the coven themselves, your clothes have changed. Original clothes have turned into outfits that make you all look straight from a show about housewives. Your hair is now curly and pinned up in an intricate updo while your cardigan, only buttoned at the top, reveals an off-white top tucked into a long skirt.

The coven wanders around the first floor, Alice and Lilia sticking together and talking about how the house has “Big Little Lies all over it”. When Teen calls out from the dining room, everyone rushes over to see that he has a piece of cardstock in his hands.

“What is it? A wedding?” Agatha asks, snatching it from his hands. “Please, God, not a baby shower.”

“Oh, like anyone would ever invite you to one of those,” Jen scoffs.

Everyone takes a turn with the card, scanning over the gold text:

My age has value

I’m no fun alone

I mess with your mind

My tricks are well known

Agatha hums, “Sounds like a witch.”

“Sounds like you,” Jen chides.

With the coven standing in a circle, you all think hard as to what the riddle could mean–and then Sharon gasps.

“Wine!”

“That’s…right,” Alice says, turning around to see five glasses and a bottle of wine. “Ten points to Mrs. Hart!” She immediately stops Sharon when she reaches for the bottle, “Wait, wait, wait! We don’t know what it could do!”

“Sure we do! Something terrible!” Agatha says. “But if we don’t follow these obvious breadcrumbs, we can’t move forward and we won’t get to the big prize, so does anybody have a corkscrew?”

Teen’s face lights up, “There’s a built-in bar!”

“I’ll go with you,” Jen says, hurrying behind him.

You knew immediately why she wanted to go with him, so instead of staying with the rest of the coven, you pipe up, “I’ll go too!”

In the main sitting room, a mini bar filled with expensive glasses and china is built into a corner. When you hurry over you begin to open cabinets and drawers, not paying too much attention to Jen, but just enough for your ears to perk up when she says, “Hey, just a bit of advice…watch your back with Agatha.”

You remain focused on the task at hand, still listening in–that was, until Jen brought up the rumors surrounding Agatha. The rumors that she never once defended, no matter how repulsive they became.

Because it was impossible for her to let them believe that she, Agatha Harkness, the most feared witch in history, did not give up her child, but lost him instead.

She could not let it be known that even her magic wasn’t powerful enough to stop the inevitable.

“Did you know that she traded her own child for the Book of the Damned?” Jen asked.

“That can’t be true,” Teen says.

You have to bite your tongue, but it’s becoming increasingly hard as she continues talking.

“No,” she scoffs. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But that is what people say. They say, no one really knows what happened to him.”

She continues.

“They say he might be dead. Others say he might be a demon…or an agent of Mephisto. But, hey, that’s what happens when you have Agatha Harkness as your mom, right?”

No. That isn’t what happens.

“I doubt she’d even recognize her own son if he showed up on h–”

You slam the drawer shut. “I found the corkscrew,” you snap. “Teen, go back to the dining room.” When he leaves, you hold the corkscrew up and point it at her, your voice lowering in a deadly manner, “You…don’t know the half of it–not even a quarter of it. And don’t think you will ever be privy to the knowledge of what really happened.”

She’s taken aback and scoffs, “Oh, the glorified babysitter’s got a lip on her. Why should I listen to you?”

The memories of the Agatha-that-was returns. Seeing her in your clean chemise after having Nicky that morning. Seeing her smile as she rocked him to sleep, and how happy she was when he’d smile up at her.

And seeing how desperate she was to keep him alive. How desperate she was to stick to Rio’s deal.

“Because you have no idea who Agatha Harkness really is,” you spit. “And until you do, I don’t want to hear a single damn word come from that mouth of yours.”

Jen doesn’t get a chance to respond when you finish, walking away quickly.

“Here,” you say bluntly as you enter the dining room. “The corkscrew.”

When you place it on the table–a little more aggressively than you planned–Jen is walking in. She’s clearly affected by your words but says nothing. Agatha’s eyes immediately meet yours and she raises her brows, a curious yet humorous look following.

__________

Sharon is on her second glass of wine when the coven retires to the sitting room. The sofas and chairs are pale, the only color being the lightest of blues–a rich contrast from the wine that sits in the covens’ glasses.

“Ugh, I hate red wine,” Jen says.

“Suck it up, buttercup,” Lilia smiles. “Just think about the prize.”

You can see Agatha walking the perimeter of the room, almost sizing it up. And you’ve known her long enough to know what she’s thinking. You divert your eyes to the rest of the room–they’re all distracted by their own conversations, and when you get to the mini bar, Agatha is setting her glass down.

“Already finished?” you utter, a hint of mischief behind your words. “You always did like your reds, Aggie.”

You can see her cheeks start to redden and she flips her hair over her shoulder–something you had always seen her do when she gets flustered or awkward.

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” she huffs quietly.

You smile, “Oh, you always liked it when we called you that.”

“Well that was…” She stiffens visibly. “Before.”

“Before?” you reiterate.

“Before…Events,” she murmurs.

“Right,” you mutter. “You look great by the way–not something you’d wear at all.”

“I know, I hate it–”

“--But I could get used to it.”

Your words mingle together and you smile softly. “Not sure I like the nails, though…Well, I’m gonna go take a seat, because I don’t think we’re going anywhere anytime soon.”

You take a seat at the opposite end of the sofa that Alice sits on with Teen in between you. Sharon sits across from you in her blue cardigan that the Road gave her, and seems much more relaxed than she was at the start of this.

“So, a witch is just another name for a bad girl, right?” she asks.

When Lilia responds it’s almost as if a bomb goes off, and your attention shifts to Agatha. She rests on her side on the backrest of the sofa that Sharon sits on.

And you can’t help but eye her up and down–or side-to-side in this case.

The brown blazer and white turtleneck is something you never thought she’d wear–or even touch. And the sensible loafers were even more shocking.

But not in a bad way.

Not in a bad way at all.

Even in something she hates, she looks refined. Almost elegant in a way. And as Lilia rambles on, she can clearly feel your eyes on her. Agatha turns her head with a sly grin, looks directly at you, and winks.

You only have time to feel the heat rush to your cheeks when Alice gasps. Sharon is at the front of the sitting room, rambling on about her wrinkles, and unbeknownst to herself, her face has swelled immensely. It almost looks like she’s had ten too many botox and lip fillers.

“Okay, Mrs. Hart,” Alice says, approaching her cautiously.

“It’s Sharon!”

“Sharon,” she corrects herself. “You’re…a little swollen.”

The whole room stares at her in shock and Agatha looks at you again, whispering, “I think she looks fantastic.”

“We’ve been poisoned!” Jen exclaims, standing from her chair.

“See, I told you it would be something awful,” Agatha mutters to herself, rolling her eyes.

Quickly, the whole covens’ faces swell to that level. Shrieks of how bad they look, especially from Jen, are endless.

As Jen talks to Sharon, trying to explain to her what’s happened, your eyes drift to where Agatha should’ve been. Instead, you’re met with empty space, and when you turn your head around just a few seconds more, she’s back in the dining room. She’s frantic, clearly unaware that you’re onto her ploy as she tries to open the doors.

Sharon panics, picking up her wine glass and trying to get the last drops out.

“No, no, no!” Teen says, rushing over. “It’s poison, remember, Sharon?”

“Why don’t you just let her drink it all?” Agatha shouts from across the room, standing close to the door. When she realizes what she’s said, she pulls her hair in front of her face and twirls it, lowering her voice. “I mean, it just serves our best interest is–”

“You didn’t drink,” you say.

She freezes.

“You didn’t drink the wine,” you say again, “did you?” Those feelings clouding your mind just minutes ago have dissipated.

Teen looks around, finding her glass and grabbing it from the mini bar. “She didn’t drink.”

The glass was suddenly full again and Agatha grows increasingly agitated, raising her voice as she tries to defend herself. “Well, why should I? Not all of us have to suffer! Neither of you drank!”

“I’ll shove it down your gullet, so help me!” Lilia grumbles.

“Well,” you surmise, taking the glass from Teen and handing it to her, “according to you, I’m too good for this coven. And Teen is underaged. I mean…you can’t cheat Agatha. You’ve been on the Road before, you know this.”

Yeah, well–” She takes the glass and smashes it on the floor.

“We’re wasting time!”

“You have to drink, Agatha!”

“Well, I would, but there’s no more wine,” she says. “So…”

Alice turns around and grabs her empty wine glass. The dark liquid starts from the bottom of the glass and works its way up to a third of it. She glares at Agatha, holding it out to her.

“Drink,” Teen commands, his voice low, almost deadly. When Agatha makes no move to take the glass, he does. “Fine, if you don’t, then I will.”

“No!” Agatha pulls him back and grabs the glass from Alice’s hand. She sighs and then groans, begrudgingly tipping the glass back and gulping it down. “Ugh, it’s so cheap.”

The poison reacts quickly and Agatha’s face begins to swell. Jen’s quick to help identify the poison, asking Sharon various questions.

“Do you feel tingling in the back of your throat?”

“No.”

“Do you taste mulberries?”

“What do mulberries taste like?”

“Do you hear fairies–”

“I love you guys.” Lilia has a blank stare before she blinks it away, clearly unaware of what she just said.

The swelling quickly fades, with Agatha’s just only a couple minutes behind. Sighs of relief and bubbles of comfort are torn down by Jen when she says, “Not ‘yay’. Very much not ‘yay’. The fact that the facial swelling decreased so quickly means it can only be one type of poison, Alewife’s Revenge.” The look of sheer terror only increases as she lists the effects. “Facial swelling is just the beginning. Next is dizziness, delirium, loss of motor function. Tachycardia, hallucinations, and eventually…death.”

The room is quiet as the realization begins to weigh on them–all except Teen, who asks, “How do you spell ‘Alewife’?”

“I’ve gotta get out of here,” Agatha says, darting across the room and picking up a candle holder. She holds it tightly as she tries to break the window, the coven yelling at her and rushing over to stop her.

A large crack has formed when you rip it from her hand and you set it down on a nearby table. “You can’t run from this, Agatha!”

“Why not?” she shouts.

When you go to answer, you’re stopped. Sharon begins to cry out, “Wanda? Wanda, I’m begging you. Let him breathe. Please!” Her eyes become droopy and she begins to sway before she collapses onto the couch.

You point behind you. “That’s why!”

The kitchen is massive. It’s hard to take in every detail as Jen rushes you through the ingredients of the potion.

“Okay,” she huffs. “I need frankincense and the gut of a eusocial insect.”

“We’ll handle that first part!” Alice says, completely out of breath, but still moving quickly out of the room with Teen hot on the trail.

“Next, I need a corpse that’s been decaying for at least 30 million years.”

Agatha, clearly irritated as she fans herself during a hot flash, huffs. “Is that something readily available? Because I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Jen rolls her eyes and groans. “Do I have to translate everything? It’s zooplankton! It’s in petroleum products!”

“That,” you say, “maybe we can do.”

You rush out with Agatha as Lilia and Jen stay in the kitchen searching for the other ingredients.

Agatha is panting as you go through each hall, searching for the one that leads to the garage. When you open the door, you’re met with an empty concrete room.

“No car,” Agatha huffs.

“And no gas,” you say. “What else could we use?”

“Okay, I’m thinking…umm…petroleum…Jelly!” Agatha exclaims. “Petroleum jelly!”

“This is why I wanted you to stop with the Road shit,” you mutter as you swiftly walk back down the hall.

“No,” Agatha shrugs, giving you a smug look. “You wanted me to stop because I was throwing you and Rio into overtime.”

You wanted to disagree, but in all honesty, that was a huge part of it. You love your job. But it’s exhausting having to help three or more souls at once. You and Rio rarely had to help more than two souls at once, but when Nicky came along it was almost every day.

After Rio’s deal with her, Agatha would usually prepare the week in advance: siphon the powers from three witches on a Sunday, travel to a new village with Nicky, then siphon the powers of four more witches on Monday.

One soul for each day.

One soul for each day Nicky is alive.

One soul to keep the sacred balance.

But, once Nicky was dead, it didn’t stop. It was almost like she was doing it out of spite, even out of desperation to get Nicky back.

But she never did.

And the Witches’ Road continued.

You stumble upon a bathroom. It’s large, with pillars squaring off an area for the sink and separating it from the shower and toilet. On the shelves, surrounded by powder pink decorations are jars of moisturizers and creams.

“Ugh, of course Jen’s skincare made it to the Road,” Agatha scoffs.

You look at them, taking one in your hands and examining it. “But, it’s all organic, right? There won’t be any petroleum in these.”

Agatha looks over the entire shelf and purses her lips. “Hm…I know a snake oil salesman when I see one.” She eyes you a mischievous grin. “I say we call her bluff.”

The second her fingers touch the jar, she freezes in place.

“Agatha?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she turns around, completely ignoring your presence and walks slowly to the opposite side of the room. Agatha takes measured steps and it seems almost like she’s in a trance.

You follow her slowly and when she kneels down she begins to breathe heavily. She reaches out, touching nothing but thin air before smiling. She laughs softly and tears prick her eyes, but the look of happiness soon vanishes.

She gasps loudly and you fall to your knees beside her as she cries out. When she tries to crawl backwards, you grab hold of her and force her to face you, cupping her cheeks softly.

Her eyes are red as tears stream down her face and pool beneath the skin of your hands.

“It’s not real,” you reassure her. “Whatever you saw, Agatha, it wasn’t real.”

Her voice is thick and she struggles to speak. “I lost him–I lost him, again–I–”

You know what she’s saying, and you don’t let her continue. Instead, you pull her into your arms as she sobs against your shoulder and clings to you tightly. Your hand goes to her head and threads through her hair.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “It wasn’t real.”

“Jesus, what happened here?” Through the open doorway, Alice stands with Teen behind her. Her eyes look tired and she’s breathing heavily.

Agatha pushes away from you immediately as if the entire situation never happened. She stands up and flips her hair, huffing as she marches over to the shelf of skincare products, wipes her eyes, and takes an armful of them.

When you stand, she moves past you and pushes through Alice and Teen. You avert your gaze and follow Agatha down the hall and back into the foyer.

Jen and Lilia are there, both equally shaken by whatever they must’ve seen as well. When Alice and Teen return, Jen looks at them, terror evident in her eyes.

“Are you guys okay?” she breathes.

Alice sighs, shaking her head. “Definitely not.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Agatha says. “We’ve got ours, what’s next?”

There’s a cracking sound amidst the heavy breathing of the coven. Heads turn toward the large window in the sitting room where Agatha had tried to break free.

The orange sky was gone.

There was no warmth remaining outside of the Cape Cod beach house. And the warmth inside had dissipated long ago.

“Are we underwater?” Teen asks.

A steady stream of saltwater trickles from the crack in the window.

“How long until it breaks, do you think?” Alice says.

“Well,” Jen says, looking at the timer, “considering we have less than ten minutes left, I’d say not very long.”

The entire coven carries Sharon to the kitchen, placing her on the table before rushing over to the sink.

“Okay, we have to add the ingredients in a specific order, in a specific time, starting with guts and eye,” Jen explains, struggling to breathe. When she pours in the ingredients her hands can barely function, and she instead has to move her whole body.

Beside you, Agatha struggles to hold the containers of Jen’s skincare and her breathing becomes more labored. You reach out and take the jars from her, letting her relax against the countertop.

“Where’s the zooplankton?” Jen asks.

Agatha grins as she struggles to keep standing, “Ooh…all natural or not, Jen?”

She clearly weighs the option of admitting she’s a fraud or dying–and she decides it’s not worth it. “Drop it in.”

“I knew it,” Agatha sneers, watching you drop the containers as a whole into the sink.

The timer continues ticking down as Alice struggles to open the frankincense.

“Take your time, Alice,” Agatha groans. “We have all night, don’t worry.”

When Teen takes over, there’s a visible flash of embarrassment across Alice’s face. The second the last drop of frankincense hits the water, it glows pink.

Jen looks confused. “Any bright ideas on how to set the sink to boil?”

“You didn’t think of that earlier?” Agatha scolds.

“When I was in the middle of a traumatic hallucination?” Jen snaps. “No, Agatha, I did not!”

Teen gasps. “Is there a sous vide?”

“What the fuck is a sous vide?” Agatha mutters as the kitchen erupts into chaos trying to find one.

You, however, stay at the counter, because right now, Agatha’s legs are starting to give out. Teen comes back after finding one and places it in the water. “It’s a super fancy cooking tool,” he says. “It heats water to a specific temperature so you can cook your meat evenly. My dad loves his.”

“Oh, cute!” Agatha says, rolling her eyes.

Jen calls for Teen and tosses him a wooden spoon and comes to his side. “I need you to stir with your dominant hand, counterclockwise.”

He goes to stir and then pauses. “Um–”

“Oh, jeez,” Agatha mutters to you. “The kid doesn’t know his right from his left.”

“To the left!” Jen snaps. “Everyone poisoned, pull a strand of hair out of your head now. A single strand only.” She pauses and the coven waits for her signal to drop it in. “Wait…Okay, now. Stop stirring.”

Jen grabs your hand and Teen’s. “We need to clasp hands and clear your minds. Once our intentions are aligned, it will glow bright cerulean.”

“What are our intentions, again?” Agatha asks you.

“To not die,” you sigh.

There’s a bubbling sound from the potion as it swirls in the sink. When your eyes open, the potion is far from blue.

“I must’ve missed an ingredient,” Jen mutters to herself.

“We have one minute left!” Agatha says. “What did you forget?”

“I don’t know!” Jen shouts defensively. “I’ve never made this potion before! I make retinol serums, for Christ’s sake! And they’re not even organic!” As the timer beeps down to the last fifty seconds, Jen begins to panic. “There was once a time where I could solve this with a wave of my hand…But now? I’m bound. He took my magic, and we’re going to die. We’re going to die, and it’s going to be my fault!”

Despite struggling, Agatha limps over to Jen and holds her in place. “I have always hated you,” she seethes.

“Agatha if this–”

“But I left you alone,” she continues. “Unlike many other witches, I left you alone, because you were doing something important. Not this Kale Care crap. You were doing legitimate work. You weren’t powerful because of your magic. You have knowledge beyond many people’s comprehension, so fuck whatever that doctor did!” She takes a deep breath, steadying herself as much as possible. “Pick through that stuck-up, pretty little head of yours and find what you need to finish the potion.”

“Blood,” she blurts out. “Blood of the unpoisoned.”

There’s no hesitation from you. Your fingers fly to your hair and retrieve one of the silver pins holding your hair in place. You reach over and take Teen’s hand, pricking his finger quickly and yours after. Drops of your blood mix with his in the potion, turning it bright blue.

Cups are dispersed to the coven and despite everyone having taken a drink of the potion, the timer is still counting down with ten seconds left.

While the rest of the coven rush to get a cup of the antidote to Sharon, you know it’s futile. A hazy glow surrounds her relaxed form, and even as they pour the potion into her mouth, you watch her soul lift into the air.

Amidst the chaos, no one seems to notice that you’ve disappeared. You simply watch from the kitchen counter as they carry her lifeless form through the waves of water and send her down the trial’s exit.

It’s quiet as the water drains and it’s not long after that Rio appears.

“I can’t believe you left me to take all those souls by myself,” she teases. “Not surprised to find you here, though. I knew you’d visit Agatha when I told you about her.”

She’s in her black cloak, vines sprawled across her shoulders and creeping down her legs. She’s light on her feet as her natural curiosity gets the better of her and she looks around. “Hm…I have to say he’s really proven himself. I’m impressed. Not to the level his mother’s done. But for being sixteen, it’s pretty good.”

“How are we gonna do this, Rio?” you ask.

“Well,” she huffs. “He has a sigil on him, so until it’s broken, there’s not much we can do.”

“And if he dies? If he doesn’t sacrifice himself to you…he’ll reincarnate again, Rio.” You lean against the counter as she continues looking through drawers. “Wanda was so irresponsible doing this. Two spare souls–we don’t even know where the other one could be, or if it’s even entered into another vessel.” You let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s hard enough to keep track of natural born souls, but artificial ones? I–”

“Hello?”

Your words are cut off by a voice behind you. It’s Sharon.

“What happened?” she asks. “Where is everyone?”

Rio joins you in front of Sharon, her presence looming over her. It’s obvious she doesn’t know what to feel–confusion, mostly, maybe even fear.

“You’re dead,” Rio states bluntly.

“Rio…” you mutter. She’s never once been good at breaking the news to the newly passed soul. “Sharon,” you continue, “you’ve passed away.”

“What? It was only supposed to be a party…”

“It’s a lot to process,” you say. “However, your soul is fairly new, so you have some options.”

“Options?” she repeats, still reeling from the realization.

You nod. “If you feel that you have some sort of unfinished business, you’re more than welcome to stay as a spirit and try to complete it. If you’d rather, though, you move on to a new life, or retire your soul. I do, however, try to encourage relatively young souls to move on rather than retire…but it’s your choice.”

Sharon looks at you both, nodding lightly as she takes the information in and processes it. “What happened to my husband’s soul?” she asks finally.

“He retired his soul,” Rio answers.

“Okay,” Sharon whispers. “If I retire my soul…can I bring it out of retirement if I want to?”

You smile softly. “Yes,” you say. “If you wish to, you can retire your soul for as long as you please, and then take form in a new life.”

“Okay,” she says again. She’s quiet as she mulls the choices over, weighing them all before she says, “I’d like to retire my soul for now, if that’s okay. I want to see my husband again.”

“Okay,” you smile. “Follow us.”

#kathryn hahn #agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #fanfiction #alice wu gulliver #lilia calderu #jennifer kale #rio vidal #billy maximoff

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