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claramelooo · 3 months ago

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WOVEN FATES (15/20)

I'm late, but I'm sure! Sorry guys! My routine is crazy, really. I'm still trying to adapt. But I think I needed this as much as you did!

Cliffhanger, huh?? You didn't see anything yet muhahahaha 😈

Enjoy <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio x Fem Reader

Summary: After Billy's speech, you end up finding out what was wrong and you have to fix it or not.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

The Truth

You were frozen. Your eyes, slightly widened, and your exasperated breathing locked onto theirs as they searched yours like you were a case to be studied.

Source?

What the hell was this, anyway?

You ran your tongue over your lips nervously, debating whether you should ask the question burning on the tip of your tongue. After releasing the breath trapped in your chest, you spoke:

"The what…" You started, your lungs tight. "What is a source?"

The word echoed in your mind, an irritating hum clouding your thoughts.

"Someone from whom everything originates?" Yelena said, trying to sound obvious, only to receive a reprimanding look from Alice.

The young woman stepped closer to you, feeling your growing desperation drowning you. "So, do you remember the legend?" she began, her tone cautious as if you were fragile glass about to shatter. "A mystical being, vast, powerful, that drains energy—life itself."

She finished with careful precision, and you let out a disbelieving laugh.

"Oh, come on, Alice?! What kind of stupid joke is this?" You laughed, but the lump in your throat still scraped at you. "That was our dumb school project, Alice! It has nothing to do with—" you narrowed your eyes, fighting back the tears threatening to spill.

"I lied!" Alice’s voice broke, sharp and desperate, making everyone in the circle flinch. "I lied, okay? It's real. And Rio Vidal is that ." Her voice cracked at the end.

The ground disappeared beneath you.

Rio.

Your Mama.

No. No, that couldn’t be.

"This is bullshit." The words were thick in your throat. You wouldn’t believe this. "Oh, let me guess—Agatha is the woman who saved Rio from herself and was turned into some horrid monster?!" Your sarcastic tone made Alice clench her jaw.

"A witch. Agatha Harkness is a witch," Billy interjected.

"And how the hell do you know that?!" Anger flared in you—pure, burning rage. They were talking about your mothers.

You wanted to kill them.

Sew their mouths shut so they could never speak these atrocities again.

So they could never hurt you like this again.

"It's what they say." He shrugged, completely unfazed. He didn’t care. And that only made you angrier.

"And who the fuck are ‘they’?" You took a dangerous step forward, breathing hard through your nose.

Billy kept twirling a card between his fingers, annoyingly calm. His eyes were sharp, like a cat toying with its prey. "Have you never felt it? The constant exhaustion. The need to always be near them. The way your body feels… drained whenever you're away?"

Your stomach churned.

You had felt it. You always had.

Because there had always been something. Something you could never name, but that slithered under your skin every time you were apart from them.

A weariness that wasn’t just physical. A hunger that wasn’t for food. An emptiness that only faded when Rio touched your face or Agatha whispered soft words into your ear.

The lump in your throat tightened.

"This doesn’t make sense," your voice came out weaker now, less certain. "Are you trying to say that—"

"That they’re more than you think," Billy finished, tossing the card onto the table.

You looked down at the deck, the symbols shimmering as if laughing at you.

"So what?" Your own voice surprised you. The rage had faded, replaced by something more fragile, more dangerous. "If Rio is this… If Agatha is this… then what does that make me?"

Fuck this!

They were yours, and you would defend them with everything you had.

Alice hesitated.

She finally moved, placing a trembling, cold hand over yours. "We’re not telling you this to scare you."

"Then what the fuck is the point?" Your voice was sharp, but your heart pounded wildly.

Jennifer let out a low, nervous chuckle. "We want to help you."

"Help me?" You laughed.

You didn’t want their help. You wanted them.

"With the truth."

The words hung heavy in the air.

Billy flipped the card toward you. The image depicted a pure, shining spring of water, but around it, dark shadows drank from it, draining its glow until the source became shallow, dull.

"Sources don’t last forever, you know..." he said, his voice disturbingly gentle. "Eventually, they dry up."

It felt like the air was stolen from your lungs.

Your chest clenched. Your mind refused to accept it, but your body betrayed you—your skin prickled, your stomach burned.

"You’re saying that I…"

"That you’re being used," Jennifer finished bluntly.

The world stopped.

No.

No, that couldn’t be true.

But the gears in your mind began turning.

The exhaustion. The heat. The overwhelming need to be near them. Agatha holding you in her lap as if cradling you after a nightmare. Rio always knowing when you were about to break.

Dread clenched your chest like a fist.

"No." You shook your head. "This is insane. You don’t even know what you’re talking about!"

Billy leaned back, crossing his arms. "We can prove it."

Alice bit her lip, hesitating.

Tears stung your eyes as you stood up abruptly. Alice followed, grabbing your hands in a futile attempt to calm you. "Breathe," she said, her fox-like eyes watching you closely.

"I know it sounds crazy. But this… This force exists, and now it’s in you."

You tried to yank your hands away, but Alice held on. Not forcefully, but with a gentle insistence, as if she feared you’d disappear if she let go.

"This doesn’t make sense." Your voice cracked. You swallowed against the bile rising in your throat. "I’m nothing. I’m not special. I don’t even know what you’re talking about!"

"But they do."

Billy spoke quietly, his dark eyes locked onto yours. "All four of them. Agatha, Rio, Calderu… Wanda."

Her name hit you like a slap.

"I—" You stepped back, only to feel the edge of the table press against your back.

Alice loosened her grip slightly. "Breathe."

But you couldn’t.

They knew.

They had always known.

The things that once made sense—the overwhelming affection, the intense looks, the way it felt like you were being absorbed by them—now felt wrong. Stained.

You shook your head, struggling to inhale. "This… This can’t be real."

"Then why are you reacting like this?" Yelena asked, raising a brow.

Alice stepped closer, eyes locked onto yours as if watching a wild animal about to bolt.

"Because, on some level," she whispered, "you already knew."

The silence in the room thickened, heavy and suffocating. You could feel the weight of their gazes pressing into you, burning your skin, as if they were waiting—no, hoping—you would understand.

But you didn’t want to.

The air felt too thin. Your lungs refused to work, as if something dense and invisible wrapped around your throat. Your heartbeat was erratic, too fast, too wild.

"This doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t. It doesn’t." Your voice was a whisper, broken and pained, a desperate mantra that still echoed through the stifling room. You looked around, waiting for someone to laugh, to say this was some cruel joke.

But no one laughed.

Billy just watched you, arms crossed over his chest. Jennifer averted her gaze to the table, her fingers tapping anxiously against the carved wood. Yelena sighed, like she had seen this moment unfold before.

But it was Alice who stepped closer again, her fox-like eyes locked onto yours, filled with something you couldn’t name.

“Breathe,” she whispered again.

But you couldn’t.

You swallowed hard, your knees threatening to buckle, and everything seemed to snap inside you. Like your mind was trying to connect the dots. Like something was whispering in your ear, but you couldn’t understand it.

Agatha. Rio. Calderu. Wanda.

The four of them.

Always close. Always present. Always touching, watching, calling your name like a prayer.

Always taking care of you.

Protecting?

Or feeding?

After all, that’s all you were, right?

Your stomach twisted, and you had to grip the edge of the table. Your vision blurred for a moment.

They knew.

They always knew.

The wave of emotions was too much, too raw, and the words slipped out before you could stop them:

“How is this possible?” Your voice shook, and you hated it. “Why me?”

Alice sighed, as if she had been expecting that question. The others remained silent, but you could feel the electricity in the air, the dense tension between them.

Billy was the first to break it.

“The pure, untainted energy of a good heart is one of the most valuable resources in existence,” he said, spinning a card between his fingers. “It’s more than enough to make hidden beings desire it.”

You frowned, not understanding.

“Why?”

Alice squeezed your hands. Her gaze was intense, sharp, like she was measuring how deep she could go before you broke.

“Because it invigorates them,” she explained. “It strengthens, sustains, rejuvenates. You’ve heard stories of how ancient gods were nourished by the worship of their followers? How their temples were centers of energy, rituals, sacrifices?”

You nodded slowly, your own breath coming unevenly.

“It’s possible through sex too,” Jennifer said, her voice light but cutting.

Your insides turned to ice.

“You—” You stopped, your throat dry.

Billy leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “There are many kinds of hunger, and this is the most primal. The oldest. The most powerful.”

You shook your head. No. This was madness.

“But…” Alice hesitated, touching your face, forcing you to meet her eyes. “What worries me isn’t what they do with your energy. It’s how long you can last before it consumes you.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. Every word they spoke made your mind spin, like it was trying to piece together a puzzle you never realized you were assembling.

“And…” You tried to speak, the words stuck in your throat, cutting like glass. “How do I get rid of it?” Your own voice came out unsteady, almost a painful whisper.

You couldn’t believe you were even asking, feeling the weight of the words on your tongue.

You felt like you were betraying them.

Billy and Yelena exchanged glances. Jennifer looked away, suddenly focused on spinning a ring on her finger. Alice, however, didn’t.

“That depends,” Billy finally said.

“On what?” Your impatience coiled tight in your throat.

“On how deep the connection is,” Alice murmured, still holding the small glass vial between her fingers. “If it’s just a superficial bond… it’s simple. Getting rid of it wouldn’t be difficult.”

You swallowed hard. Something in the way she said that made your skin prickle.

“But if it’s deeper…” Jennifer finally spoke, her voice low and measured. “If they’ve already rooted themselves in you… then there’s no easy way.”

“Rooted?” you whispered, the word foreign in your mouth.

Billy leaned in, pushing the vial toward you.

“If you want the truth, drink this before you sleep.” He held your gaze. “And pay attention to the sounds around you.”

The object felt ten times heavier in your palm. You stared at the dark liquid, a shiver running down your spine.

“What will happen if I drink it?”

Alice hesitated.

“You’ll notice things you normally wouldn’t,” she finally said. “And hear… what has always been there.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs. You wanted answers. You needed answers.

But were you ready to hear them?

The way home was a blur of lights and shadows. The cold wind bit at your skin, but it was nothing compared to the ice spreading in your chest, suffocating, cruel.

Your mommies. Your women. The only ones who ever loved you, the only ones who ever protected you.

And what if it was never real?

You felt each heartbeat like a sharp blade. Every memory—Agatha holding your face with firm, warm hands, Rio pulling you into a lazy hug on the couch—felt like poison now. You wanted to push them away. You wanted to rip them out of you, but they were buried too deep.

You almost laughed, a dry, humorless sound.

Rooted. Just like Jennifer said.

They were inside you. Feeding on you.

The glass vial burned against your skin in your pocket. Your hands trembled.

When you arrived home, everything felt even stranger. There was no usual comforting silence. No familiar scent of Agatha’s woodsy perfume or the expensive candles burning around the house.

There was something else.

A voice.

Familiar.

Rio.

Your stomach dropped. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Not this soon.

She was still supposed to be in Paris, preparing for the exhibition. You checked the time on your phone. Not even close to 9 PM. What was happening?

Well, did you miss me?

Walk on water just to kiss me

Oh, come and get me

Drag me out, destroy me

I've been expecting you, I'm ready

Deliver me that bad news baby

Your feet hesitated as you approached the living room, trying to make as little noise as possible. But it was pointless.

“My baby!” Her voice, warm and naturally mischievous, hit you. And it hurt so much. It hurt to imagine she was deceiving you.

Using you.

You forced a surprised smile, but you felt the burn behind your eyes, the frustration-laced tears that weren’t allowed to fall.

“Mama,” the word came out strangled from you. “What are you doing here?”

Rio gave you a lazy smile, the kind that always made you feel safe.

Your heart clenched with confusion. She stood up in one fluid movement, walking toward you as if there wasn’t an ocean of doubt and betrayal between you. Her strong arms wrapped around you in a warm, perfumed embrace.

The familiarity of her touch nearly made you crumble.

“Well, Mommy had an unexpected issue here, so of course, I had to come. I left Vision in charge. I didn’t really want to go anyway.”

You pulled back slightly to look at Agatha, who was sitting on the couch, a glass of wine in hand. She sighed, watching you with forced patience.

“An issue?” Your eyes narrowed slightly.

“Nothing you need to worry about, darling.”

The words should have been comforting. But you felt the weight of them, the unspoken truth behind them.

Am I your dream girl?

You think of me in bed

But you could never hold me

You like me better in your head

Make me evil, then I'm an angel instead

At least you'll sanctify me when I'm dead

You sat down beside Rio, feeling her warmth against you. She seemed relaxed, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the hem of your sweatshirt. Before, you would’ve adored this gesture. Now, it felt like a magician’s trick—something beautiful and deceiving, meant to distract you from what really mattered.

The wine on the table reflected the soft glow of the fireplace, the clink of ice against Agatha’s glass the only thing filling the momentary silence.

You had to act normal.

You had to deceive the deceivers.

They couldn’t know what you knew.

The knot in your throat doubled in size, but you swallowed it down along with your suspicion. You forced a small smile and stood up.

“I’m going to take a shower,” you said, making yourself sound casual.

Rio runs her fingers lightly along your arm, her lazy blue eyes meeting yours as she nods. Agatha merely tilts her head, watching you like a puzzle she’s trying to solve.

You step away, feeling your back burn under their gazes.

With every step toward the bathroom, your heart pounds harder.

You needed to get out. Needed to think. Needed to understand what was happening before they realized something inside you had already shifted.

Hot water cascaded down your skin, washing away the weight of the day—but not the weight of your thoughts.

You braced your hands against the damp tiles, inhaling deeply, trying to ignore the small bottle sitting on the sink. The dark glass seemed to pulse toward you, demanding a decision.

Should you drink it? Unravel the truth once and for all?

Dream girl evil, dream girl evil

Your heartbeat thundered in your chest. If Alice and the others were right, drinking it would shatter the illusion. It would be like opening your eyes for the first time—but were you ready for that? Could you bear the truth that came with it?

You swallowed hard, fingers closing around the bottle. The dark liquid inside swirled like ink, thick and opaque. Slowly, you twisted the cap… but your hands trembled. The temptation to take a sip was there—but so was the fear.

What if this was a mistake? What if it was just another trick to pull you away from the only people who had ever truly mattered?

You exhaled sharply, snapping the lid shut and shoving the bottle into the bathroom cabinet.

Not now.

Stepping out of the shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel and glanced at your reflection in the foggy mirror. Your eyes looked different. You couldn’t tell if it was just exhaustion or something deeper—something already changing inside you.

Drying your hair quickly, you left the bathroom and stopped in the hallway. In the silence of the house, you found yourself standing between two doors.

Your room or theirs?

Your grip tightened on the towel, chest rising and falling with hesitant breaths. Your room meant safety, distance. But theirs…

You could almost smell Agatha’s familiar perfume, feel the warmth of Rio’s arms—the place where you had always felt safest. The weight of that longing made you waver for a moment.

Should you keep your distance?

Did I disappoint you?

Did mommy make you sad?

Do I just remind you

Of every girl that made you mad?

Make me perfect, make me your fantasy

You know I deserve it

Well, take it out on me

Or should you go to them, curl into the space that had always been yours, and pretend nothing had changed?

You pushed open their door and found everything... normal.

Too normal.

Am I your dream girl?

You think of me in bed

But you could never hold me

You like me better in your head

Make me evil, then I'm an angel instead

At least you'll sanctify me when I'm dead

Rio sat in the corner chair, the cold glow of the iPad illuminating her face as she scrolled through the screen, seemingly absorbed.

Agatha stood at the vanity, massaging floral-scented lotion into her arms with slow, meticulous movements. The sweet, woody aroma filled the room—a scent that once brought you comfort but now felt suffocating.

They looked up at the same time when you entered.

“Finally,” Rio murmured, eyes still on the screen. “You were taking your time, baby.”

“I think I relaxed a little too much,” you replied, aiming for casual as you walked toward the bed and sat down.

Agatha smiled at your reflection in the mirror, rubbing lotion along her neck. “Did you relax… or did you need some time alone, sweetheart?”

Your stomach twisted.

“How was Alice?” Rio asked, closing her iPad and crossing her legs.

You shrugged. “Fine.”

Silence.

Agatha turned to face you directly, one brow arched. “Fine?”

Rio smirked, the corner of her lips curling like she was enjoying this.

“You know,” Agatha continued, stepping slowly toward the bed. “Calderu mentioned she’s quite the troublemaker.”

You forced a neutral expression. “Is that so?”

“It is,” Rio answered before Agatha could. She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. “Great ideas, but sometimes too much creativity… affects her in ways it shouldn’t.”

Agatha sat at the edge of the bed beside you, her perfume weaving around you like a web.

“She might start seeing ghosts, for example.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

You forced a laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rio stood, walking toward you at an unhurried pace. “It means some people are easily influenced. They pick up bad ideas. Start believing things they shouldn’t.”

Agatha’s eyes gleamed with something unreadable. “Oh. And I bet she’s filled that silly little head of yours with the most filthy nonsense.”

Dream girl evil, dream girl evil

It happened too fast.

The grip.

Her fingers found your throat—firm, demanding.

You gasped, not from the force of it, but from the shock.

“And I think we deserve to know the truth, don’t we, sweetheart?” Agatha murmured, leaning in close until your faces were nearly touching.

Watch me shimmer (shimmer)

A projection of your mother (mother)

But don't come crying (crying)

I am nobody's moral center

Rio moved behind you, her hands sliding over your shoulders—cold, chilling.

“Let’s have a real conversation, baby…” Rio whispered against your ear, her warm breath drawing a shaky sigh from you. “Just the three of us.”

Agatha’s fingers tightened around your neck, the floral-scented lotion making the grip feel almost intimate, at odds with its brutality.

It cannot hold, it cannot hold

The room—your safier sanctuary—was now a cage.

And you… you were trapped inside it.

~*~

Another cliffhanger chapter cuz I know my babies love that.

Tell me about your theories!!

Mommies always know.

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher @reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good @imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp @lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01 @aboutcustardcreams @upsidedowndanvers @starbucks-06 @absolute-memegarbage @trinity2k @greyella @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @whitelotus00 @dandelions4us @creaturesaphique @warpdrive-witch @sweetmidnights

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riovidyke · 6 months ago

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“i hope i never lose you, hope it never ends, id never walk cornelia street again.” rio after agatha died and she stopped using her human form; because what was the point? the only reason she used it was because agatha fell in love with it, that form of rio, and now agatha was gone. billy when i catch you im gonna slap your twink ass hard as fuck (kidding.)

#agatha harkness #agathario #agatha all along #tears in my agathario eyes #kathryn hahn #rio vidal #agatha x rio #lady death #agatha harness x rio vidal #agatha harkness x rio vidal #taylor swift song #taylor swift #cornelia street #cornelia street is such a sad song yall don’t get it

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riovidyke · 6 months ago

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agathario tumblr posters try not to make a sad post for once (FUCKING FAILED)

"What is grief, if not love persevering?"

#what the actual fuck #literally why #why would you even say this #aaa #tears in my agathario eyes #i miss rio #i miss her #i’m gonna start crying and sobbing #if i kms it’ll be ur fault.#it’s so over

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esouliie · 7 months ago

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WILL YOU SLEEP ALONE TONIGHT?

(rio vidal x reader) (agatha harkness x rio vidal)

synopsis | you finally see her again, after what feels like a century apart. but she's not the person you remember—her smile is wrong, her eyes colder, and her voice carries an edge that cuts through nostalgia. something is off, something you can’t name, like death painted in the wrong shade of blue: unfamiliar, unsettling, and hauntingly beautiful.

tags | angst, hurt/comfort, unrequited love and ohh it burns, it’s set after end of agatha all along sooo, open ending, everyone’s crying :(

word count | 2k

authors note | i’ve not written in a while but this lil thing was inspired by my recent obsession with aubrey plaza & my friend’s constant need to bombard me with sad agathario edits - @cuinaminute229

The air was heavy with silence, save for the faint hum of the single streetlamp casting a pale glow over the cracked pavement. You clutched your keys tightly, the cool metal digging into your palm as you walked across the empty parking lot, your dingy car left on the other side. The forest loomed at the edge of your vision, a wall of shadows that seems to lean closer the longer you look at it. The lamp flickered once, then twice, as if unsure of its purpose.

She’s not hard to miss, sat on the weathered bench beneath the light, her silhouette fragile against the darkness. Her face is pale, almost ghostly, and her eyes—a vivid, unnatural red—glint like dying embers. Old tears tracks carved glistening paths down her cheeks, catching the light like molten silver. You stopped mid-step, unsure whether to approach or retreat. This was something completely new to you. Rio was never one to let her emotions spill out, never the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, her true form bare for all to see. With you, especially, she was a fortress: stone walls, guarded gates, and windows so shuttered even the light struggled to slip through. Your time together had always been private, locked away behind closed doors and tangled in the heat of shared breaths and whispered sighs. It was nothing serious—that had been the deal from the start. No expectations. No promises. You’d both agreed to keep it light, easy, uncomplicated. It worked for her, and you thought it would work for you, too. After all, you weren’t exactly searching for a fairy tale with a happily-ever-after. But Rio had a way of upending expectations without even trying.

To you, she wasn’t just beautiful—though she obviously was. It wasn’t just her sharp jawline, her dark, stormy eyes, or the way her lips curved when she was amused. It was how she moved through the world: always untouchable, always unbothered, and entirely herself. Rio was the kind of woman who could make you feel insignificant and seen all at once. You told yourself it was harmless, that the smirk she gave you when you made her laugh didn’t mean anything. That the way she pulled you into her arms each night, her hand firm on your wrist, wasn’t your undoing. But oh, how wrong you were. She’s not the type to play fair, and you knew that from the start. Still, you let her draw you into her world, a place where shadows whispered secrets and the nights stretched endlessly. Every time she tilted her head and smiled at you, the world narrowed until it was just her, framed in smoke and fleeting light.

You weren’t supposed to fall for her. You should’ve listened to her warning. But you’ve always had a reckless streak, haven’t you? Life, after all, has a funny way of dancing with Death herself. And to you? She’s never been more beautiful.

“Go away.” she said, her voice stripped of its usual playfulness. The sharpness of her tone stung more than you’d like to admit, being the first you had heard from her in a century, but you stayed put, feet rooted to the cold pavement. She’s sat there, trembling, her arms wrapped tightly around herself like they could somehow block out the chill setting in her bones. Her shoulders hunched forward, defensive and small, nothing like the powerful witch you once knew.

Without thinking, you untangled the scarf from your neck. The soft beige fabric still holds the faintest trace of warmth as you gently draped it around her shoulders. She doesn’t resist, but she doesn’t thank you either. Her dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, just for a moment, guarded and unreadable, before dropping back down to her pale hands. Those hands clasped together tightly, her knuckles white from the effort, as if she’s trying to trap the heat that’s rapidly escaping her. You sat beside her on the bench, closer than she probably wants, until your knees press together. She doesn’t move away, but her silence felt heavier than the night air. Carefully, you reached out, cupping her cold fingers in your hands. They’re frozen to the touch, long and elegant as always, despite the way they’re trembling slightly, itching to flee from your touch, and yet, desperate for the heated comfort.

“I don’t have any gloves,” you murmured, a poor excuse for an explanation. Not that it matters. Your hands were always warmer than hers and always managed to make their way into hers.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. Her shoulders softened, just barely, and you think you might feel her fingers shift slightly against yours, hope you might feel her palms twist to wrap her fingers around yours.

But she didn’t.

“You shouldn’t…” she started, her voice quiet, fragile, but the words trail off into the cold.

You shouldn’t be here.

“I know,” you said softly, cutting her off. “But I am.” You saw the look in her eyes—the shift of calm waters against the storm brewing beneath her tightly clenched jaw, her ragged breath betraying the composure she so desperately tries to hold.

“Rio, what’s wrong? Where’s Agath—”

Before you could finish, she snatched her hands from yours as though your touch had burned. The abrupt movement knocked you against the back of the bench, as if she had actually pushed you away. Without another word, she spun on her heel and stormed off, her pace frantic, shoulders trembling. “Rio? Wait!” Your voice cracked as you called after her, your legs already moving to close the growing distance, “Rio, please! What’s happen-“

”Shut up,” Rio spat over her shoulder, her tone cruel enough to freeze the words in your throat. But as she glanced back, her eyes betrayed her; and there lied the truth. Her cheeks glistened in the dim light, a fresh stream of tears cascading down her face like a quiet admission of defeat. “Rio,” you said again, softer this time, cautious, of the wounded woman.

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed, her voice shaking. “Don’t say it like that.”

You know what she meant.

Don’t say it like you care for her.

Like you’re in love with her.

Her steps faltered, and she turned to face you fully, her arms crossing over her chest like armor hastily thrown up against your probing gaze. She looked like she wanted to fight you, to lash out and drive you away as she hid herself behind walls, but the anger in her eyes was tempered by something else—something fragile and crumbling. That part of her soul she had shared with you once before. This wasn’t the first time you’d witnessed Death’s cruelty, the way it tore through lives and left people hollow. You had seen it before, but this time, you weren’t going to let it win. Not with her.

“Don’t do that,” you whispered, stepping closer, nimble fingers hesitating, waiting for the slightest indication she’ll let you in, for the remnants of her walls to fall down.

“Don’t hide from me, Rio.”

Her breath hitched at the sound of her name. The way it left your lips felt like a one last touch, one last plea, one last kiss. For a moment, you thought she might lash out again, her walls snapping shut, impenetrable. But then something shifted. Her shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of her like a tide retreating from the shore. She stared at your hand, her eyes flickering between your outstretched fingers and your face. You don’t wait for her to make the first move, hands pulling her face into the crook of your neck, her shuddering breath warm against your skin. Her whimpers are quiet, but they echoed loud into your chest, her heartbeat rapid and raw against yours.

You heard her muffled words against your skin, faint and broken, and pulled her away just enough for your eyes to meet. Your thumbs brushed against her wet cheeks, coaxing her to speak again, though the tremble in her lips warned you of the weight of what she was about to say. “She’s gone,” she whispered, voice cracking under the pressure of holding herself together. You tightened your hold on her, pulling her closer as though your arms could shield her from the grief threatening to consume her. Your hands continued their futile attempts to wipe away her tears, even as fresh ones cascaded down. You pressed your forehead to hers, a silent plea for her to keep going, though you knew a part of you already dreaded what she would say next, of what really happened to those close to Death.

“I killed her.” The words ripped from her lips in a guttural sob, the kind that seemed to tear her apart from the inside. She collapsed into you, her weight nearly buckling your knees as she clung to you with desperate force. Her face buried itself into your neck, her tears soaking through your shirt as she poured her anguish into you, her cries now raw and unrestrained. You stood firm, steadying her as best as you could despite the waves of emotion raging between you, and for the grieving woman before you. Your hand found her dark curls, stroking them in soothing motions, while the other rubbed slow circles against her back all the way to her neck. “I’m sorry,” you murmured over and over again, your apologies feather-light against her crown. They felt insufficient, hollow even, but they were all you had to offer.

You weren’t entirely sure of the relationship between Agatha and Rio. She had never explained it fully, and you had never pressed her. From the outside, you had assumed it was similar to your relationship with Rio—intimate in a way that didn’t require a label but never crossed certain boundaries. But then you started to notice things. The way Rio’s eyes lit up whenever Agatha entered the room, as though her very presence ignited something within her. The subtle changes in her voice when she spoke to Agatha compared to you—softer, warmer, tinged with something more. And the way she leaned into her touch, like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth. The only thing worth spending an eternity on this plane for. You had tried to dismiss it at first, the ignorance extending beyond your grasp, but now, holding her like this, the depth of her devastation told you there was more to it. Agatha wasn’t just someone Rio cared about—she was someone Rio loved, the only person she ever truly loved.

Rio’s sobs continued to shake her tall frame, and you held her tighter, even through your own suffering, as flashes of your last moments together crashed into you. It all made sense now. The distance. The arguments that spiraled out of nowhere. The way she’d simply disappeared, leaving you with questions that burned like open wounds, and a heart wounded by her cruelty.

She had fallen in love.

She had fallen in love with someone else.

The thought sliced through you again, sharper this time, and you had to fight the urge to pull away. To protect yourself. To let the hollow ache in your chest guide you into a defensive shell. Instead, you stayed. You held her. Because even if her heart had chosen someone else, yours still belonged to her. And you wanted to say something, anything that could offer solace. Words teetered on the edge of your tongue—a joke to lighten the air, a reassurance that she’d be okay, a confession, never able to see the light of day, that you’d buried deep for so long you weren’t sure it could ever surface. But the words lodged in your throat, too heavy, too tangled with your own grief.

So you stayed silent. This wasn’t the first time you had carried her pain over yours, and you suspect it won’t be the last. Her tears soaked through your shirt, hot and unrelenting, and her sobs turned to shuddering gasps. She clung to you as if you were the last solid thing in a world crumbling beneath her feet. And maybe, you were. Right now, you’d be whatever she needed. You pressed your lips against her cold cheek, arms still wrapped around her trembling form, “I’m here. Always.”

Even so, you couldn’t offer her what she sought, the life she once had with Agatha. That kind of love was never yours to give, never wanted by the woman in your arms. Death was never yours. But you knew you could offer her this: the steady, unwavering presence of someone who cared.

Someone who has and will always love her.

#my fics! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹#rio vidal x reader #rio vidal #agatha harkness x rio vidal #agatha all along #agatha harkness #agathario #marvel #agatha x rio

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saphiccarma · 2 months ago

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Agathario with familiar reader

ughhh my heartttttttt

SFW HC

familiars are bonded from the moment they were born, tied to someone with an invisible string of fate

Most familiars were only connected to one person, you were bonded to two.

Agatha found you first, when she was young and you weren't much older. The two of you became friends before you realized you were bonded to her.

You were going to be killed with her, until she lashed out.

Rio met the two of you when Agatha killeed her coven and you could feel the bond tightening, binding you to them.

As their familiar, the two women had total control over you (and the fact that one was a witch and the other was death)

Your favorite moments were when the three of you would curl up in a field and watch the sunset together

You'd make them floweer crowns and bread before Nicky was born, the three of you staying in a cabin together.

Agatha loved to run her fingers through your hair

Rio prefered to lounge in your lap at random points, not caring if you were busy or not

The three of you had a ritual that after a long time apart, you would all bathe together before curling up in bed while Agatha read a book to the two of you.

Those nights were the ones where you slept the best

Agatha displayed a casual dominance around you, a hand on your back, asking you get something, guiding you through the markets - simple things.

However, Death herself could act like a literal child sometimes. She grew flowers for you so you could make flower crowns for them and dragged you around while talking in an excited voice

When Nicky was born you could feel the cracks in the relationship start to form.

NSWF HC

They had complete control over you.

After you'd been bratty for a week, disppearing to hide in Switzerland for a little while, Agatha cast a spell on you so you couldn't orgasm unless it was with her and under her express permission

Of course the two of them found you in Switzerland and fucked the ever living daylights out of you until you were sobbing and begging for release.

"Are you done being a brat?" Agatha had cooed as Rio toyed with your nipples and the blue eyed witch fingered you.

Even though you babbbled a "Yes" and pleas out, the two didn't let you come for hours

While Agatha's thing was edging, Rio adored overstimulation. She loved eating you out, or fingering you, or using an enchanted strap (for the sake of the story pretend it exists) until you had hazy eyes and couldn't even form a coherent thought anymore.

"One more, please?" She pleaded, giving you pouty lips - not that you could see much through your haze of tears, "Just give me one more then I'll stop."

Their favorite thing to do together? Or at least Agatha's, was have two of you fuck while the other watched.

Your least favorite was when Agatha fingered Rio or ate her out while you were forced to watch and not touch yourself.

The one time you failed at that, Agatha denied you orgasm for weeks, casting that spell on you again (it became permanent after that)

Agatha's favorite was the watch you fuck Rio, forcing Death to bottom and you to top. She adored the sounds you both made, her own mingling in as she touched herself.

Rio's favorite of that situation was when Agatha topped her. She was a greedy slut and was not afraid to admit it.

The pleasure you got from being their familiar was only intesified. The bond made you feel their emotions, and holy fuck, orgasming when you could feel three people's pleasure was a lot.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x y/n #rio vidal x reader #rio vidal x you #rio vidal x y/n #agathario x reader

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witchingwithscissors · 2 months ago

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Canon confirmed: Rio’s the other mom.

So this is for the ones who want rough nights, slow mornings, and a body that always feels like home.

Agathario AU | Rio’s drowning in scrubs, grief, and silence. Her wife wants her back—under her, over her, beside her. They’ve got a kid. A marriage. And one hell of a flame to reignite.

The front door shut with the quiet caution of someone who didn’t want to wake the person they loved. A rush of rainwater pooled beneath Rio’s shoes as she stood in the entryway, trembling from head to toe. Lightning flickered outside, illuminating her in a quick, silver flash—her dark hair plastered to her neck, her navy scrub top turned nearly black with downpour, sweat, and the lingering scent of antiseptics.

She listened for any sign from the rest of the apartment: the hum of the fridge, the soft dripping of the rain on the windows. The only noise was the rapid thump of her heart.

She hadn’t texted Agatha—she simply couldn’t.

How was she supposed to sum up the devastation of losing yet another child on the table, let alone one who reminded her so much of their own son at home?

Slowly, she toed off her soggy sneakers. Her socked feet made no sound on the hardwood. She felt as though any loud movement, any jolt, would shatter the tenuous barrier holding back her tears. The air smelled faintly of lavender tea, which always reminded her of Agatha’s attempts to soothe them both after the hardest workdays. But the mug on the counter looked abandoned, half-filled and gone cold. Across the open floor plan, she spotted Agatha in the kitchen—barefoot, wearing an old white sweatshirt of Rio’s with a half-faded Columbia University logo. The lion mascot was missing half its mane, worn down from years of post-residency washes.

Agatha turned at the sound of Rio’s quiet approach. She didn’t speak right away. Instead, she took in the trembling corners of Rio’s mouth, the dark circles under her eyes, the way her arms were wrapped protectively around her torso. Slowly, Agatha put down the dish towel she’d been holding, like she was setting down all of her own concerns so she could hold Rio’s instead.

Rio tried to meet her gaze but faltered, head drooping, water sliding off her chin onto the floor.

“I lost someone,” she managed, voice cracking and hollow. “Nine years old. She coded right in front of me.”

The distance between them lasted only a heartbeat. Agatha stepped closer, her hands warm as they cupped Rio’s chilled cheeks.

“You did what you could,” Agatha said, her voice low, that gentle hush she used when Nicky was drifting to sleep.

Rio swallowed hard. “It wasn’t enough,” she whispered, voice raw. “She had freckles—like Nicky. She wanted to be a vet… She was so excited about animals. I tried, Agatha. I tried.”

Tenderly, Agatha smoothed Rio’s damp hair away from her forehead. “I know,” she said.

The tears came then, unstoppable. Rio sucked in a ragged breath, pressed her face into the curve of Agatha’s neck. She could feel Agatha’s heart beating in time with her own, a living metronome that steadied her just enough to keep her from collapsing onto the floor.

Agatha’s arms enveloped her entirely. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes, my love,” she whispered, mouth skimming the shell of Rio’s ear. “We can talk or not talk… whatever you need.”

But the thought of speaking more, of repeating the story of a mother’s screams and the frantic attempts at resuscitation, made Rio’s skin prickle with dread. She couldn’t talk about it yet. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. But right now, her grief and guilt were fused together, a knot in her chest.

“I want—” Rio began, then stopped. She looked up into Agatha’s enchanting blue eyes, eyes that always seemed to see right through her. “I want you.”

Understanding glimmered. Agatha gently tugged her forward. “Then let me take care of you, baby.”

Flashback to Baltimore, Four Years Ago

Rio had never believed in serendipity, or soulmates, or anything like that. It was pure coincidence that she’d been in Baltimore for a pediatric medical conference, running late and juggling a latte and her phone. She was scanning the conference schedule when she felt a solid thunk. Her foot came down on someone else’s stiletto, cracking the heel. Hot coffee sloshed onto a crisp white blouse.

She froze, mortified. The woman she’d collided with raised her eyebrows, flicking coffee droplets off her blouse with an almost amused smile.

Rio grabbed for napkins. “I’m sorry—so sorry—I’m usually more graceful than this,” she stammered.

The woman—Agatha, as she introduced herself—assessed Rio’s flushed face, her messy bun that had half-fallen out of the hair tie, the stammering apology. And then she laughed, a low, melodious sound that throbbed with humor and attraction all at once.

“Are you always this charming, Doctor?” Agatha teased.

Rio offered the handful of napkins with trembling hands, catching the stray thought that this woman was too gorgeous to be real. “Not usually. I mean, yes. I mean… I’m sorry about your shoe?”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Agatha said, her grin sly. “Otherwise, I might have pressed assault charges for the coffee fiasco.”

They ended up side by side at the same first-day lecture, exchanging glances over the top of printed slides. Later, over overpriced red wine in the noisy hotel bar, they discovered they worked in the same field: pediatrics. Agatha was a nurse practitioner with a gift for crisis management. Rio was fresh out of her internship, half-certain that her dream of working in high-stakes pediatric care would break her. But she couldn’t let it go.

Agatha asked her about that drive: “If it hurts so much, why do you keep going back?”

Rio shrugged, swirling her wine. “I guess I keep hoping the next time will be different. And sometimes it is. I really like the parts where we save them.”

Agatha’s expression was thoughtful, luminous. “You’ve got it bad for these kids,” she said softly.

“I do,” Rio admitted. “But it’s so… personal.” She exhaled, tension raw in her shoulders.

Agatha’s hand slid across the table to rest atop Rio’s. Something electric passed between them. That was it: the moment that changed the axis of Rio’s world.

Two hours later, they stumbled into Agatha’s hotel room, lips colliding in frantic passion, fumbling with each other’s clothing. Agatha’s shirt fell to the floor. Rio’s belt clanged against the bed frame.

Agatha kissed like she wanted to map every part of Rio’s body, to read her like Braille. She explored Rio’s skin with a confident ease that made Rio’s nerves buzz. When Rio tried to apologize for not being more experienced with women, Agatha silenced her with a long, thorough kiss.

“Don’t overthink,” Agatha whispered. “Just feel.”

Rio let herself be guided, let her breath stutter as Agatha trailed kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, lower—until Rio could barely remember her own name. Their bodies moved in sync, a dance of discovery. And in the throes of Rio’s first orgasm with another woman, she forgot every doubt she’d ever had about the power of connection.

“Tell me you’ll remember this,” Agatha said after, voice husky, lying on her side, one hand propped under her cheek.

Rio’s heart thundered. “I don’t ever want to forget.”

⸻

Back in the present, Rio allowed herself to be led to the bedroom.

Rain battered the windows as thunder mumbled in the distance. The overhead light remained off; only the glow from the hall lamp provided a soft gold halo across the comforter. The hum of the air conditioner filled the silence.

Agatha coaxed Rio onto the edge of the bed. With careful fingers, she peeled away Rio’s soaked scrub top, revealing the sports bra beneath. She pressed her lips to the hollow of Rio’s throat while reaching around to tug the elastic band free from Rio’s long hair. Her hair tumbled down, half-dry, half-soaked. Agatha stroked through the damp strands.

“You don’t have to talk,” she murmured, her voice like a lullaby. “Just let me hold you.”

But a surge of desperation flooded Rio. She wanted more than comfort. She needed to claw her way back to feeling alive, needed a visceral reminder that she wasn’t made solely of sorrow and guilt. Her hands gripped Agatha’s waist, traveling under the sweatshirt to feel the smooth expanse of Agatha’s back.

“Don’t be gentle,” Rio pleaded, voice shaking. “I don’t want gentle tonight, sweetheart.”

Agatha’s lips quirked. “Well, if it’s doctor’s orders,” she teased.

Still wearing the old sweatshirt, Agatha settled onto the bed. She arranged Rio so that she was lying beneath her, bra halfway undone. The floor was still slick with the droplets that had slid from Rio’s body, but they ignored it, lost in the moment. Agatha grazed her teeth across Rio’s collarbone, then lower, until she managed to peel off the soaked bra entirely. The cold air made Rio’s skin pebble, but Agatha’s mouth was warm, an anchor.

Rio slid her hands up the back of Agatha’s sweatshirt, nails lightly scoring her skin, wanting to claim her, to let go of the day’s horrors in the push and pull of their bodies. Agatha groaned, arching into Rio’s touch, letting the sweatshirt ride up to expose toned thighs and the curve of her hips.

Before Rio could blink, Agatha kissed down her abdomen, a trail of open-mouthed, wet kisses that seared fire into Rio’s blood. She paused just above the elastic waistband of Rio’s scrub pants, looked up, and said softly, “I love you.”

Rio’s breath caught. She combed her fingers through Agatha’s hair. “I love you,” she returned, voice trembling. “Now please—”

With a sly smile, Agatha tugged Rio’s scrub pants down, along with her underwear, in one swift motion. Cool air caressed Rio’s bare thighs for an instant, but then Agatha’s mouth was there, her hands cupping the underside of Rio’s hips. The first brush of Agatha’s tongue shot a spark through Rio’s entire body. She moaned, hips lifting, and felt Agatha’s low hum of approval ripple across her skin.

She was undone so easily by this woman. Every lick, every gentle scrape of teeth, every press of Agatha’s fingers along her inner thigh set her nerves alight. Agatha’s name became a chant on her lips. Rio’s eyes fluttered shut. Each time a memory of the day tried to intrude—pediatric code, failing vitals—Agatha’s touch brought her back to the bedroom, to the now, to what felt safe and vital.

When Agatha pressed two fingers inside her, Rio’s moan mingled with the distant rumble of thunder. She twisted her fingers in Agatha’s hair, urging her on. The speed built, a trembling wave. The coil of need tightened in Rio’s belly, not just from the physical sensation but from the emotional catharsis that came with it. In Agatha’s hands, she was never a failure. She was cherished. She was powerful and vulnerable all at once.

“Yes,” Rio gasped, “fuck—Aggie—oh my god, baby—”

She came in a white-hot spasm, her cry muffled as she buried her face in the crook of her arm. Agatha held her through every moment of the climax, lingering until Rio’s breath slowed, until her heart no longer pounded so violently. But Agatha didn’t stop there; she continued, relentless, drawing out every last tremor until Rio’s eyes glistened with overwhelmed tears. Only then did Agatha crawl up beside her and cup her cheek.

“You don’t have to hold it all alone,” Agatha said, pressing a soft kiss to Rio’s forehead.

Rio closed her eyes, chest tight with gratitude. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “for shutting you out.”

Agatha draped an arm around her. “I know. And I’m here. Always.”

Lightning streaked across the sky, highlighting the silhouette of their tangled limbs. They lay together, panting softly, hearts echoing in tandem. Rain battered the glass as though determined to wash the city clean.

Flashback, Three Years Ago

For nearly a year after that conference, Rio and Agatha tried the long-distance thing.

Agatha worked in Baltimore, while Rio was completing her specialized pediatric residency in New York City. The relationship was new, precarious; the demands of their careers left them exhausted and occasionally short-fused. Yet every phone call, every text, every video call, every stolen weekend was charged with a desperate energy to make it work.

Agatha would schedule “work trips” to New York, couching them in half-truths. Sure, there was a professional reason to go—but mostly, she just wanted to be near Rio.

She’d slip into the dingy, cramped, barely-up-to-code apartment Rio shared with another resident. A woman named Alice—who, at first, made Agatha a little jealous. But seeing how little time Rio had, and how all of it went straight to Agatha, she couldn’t really complain.

Agatha would bring fresh groceries, which they cooked together—though “together” usually meant Agatha doing the chopping while Rio sat at the counter, taste-testing and sneaking sips of wine after her late-night shifts. Rio especially loved Agatha’s mushroom risotto. She always said it was nice to eat something homemade for once, not just microwave dinners or whatever salty garbage the hospital cafeteria served. It made her feel warm. Taken care of.

Their nights fell into an easy rhythm: they’d start a movie, never make it past the first twenty minutes. As soon as Rio put her arm around Agatha, Agatha would lean in for a kiss—and it always ended with them tangled up in bed. Afterward, fully satisfied and too exhausted to do anything else, they’d barely keep their eyes open—but they were always determined to share at least a few hours wrapped around each other.

One night, near the end of their first six months, Agatha and Rio found themselves sitting on the floor of Rio’s bathroom—one of the only private spots in the tiny apartment—drinking cheap wine from chipped mugs. Tension hovered, unspoken, thick as steam.

“What are we?” Agatha asked softly, swirling the last sip of wine in her glass.

Her voice barely rose above the hum of the city outside, but it was enough to still the air between them. The question lingered—delicate, a little frightening.

Rio looked up, her heart thudding. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen this coming; it was that she didn’t know how to answer without giving Agatha the softest, most unguarded part of herself.

There was something raw in Agatha’s face, as though she was bracing for Rio to laugh it off—call this a fling or a phase. As if she was already preparing to let it hurt.

Rio swallowed, the back of her throat tight. She could lie or deflect—but this time, she didn’t want to. So she leaned in, voice unsteady with honesty.

“Something I don’t want to fuck up,” she said, and watched relief flicker in Agatha’s eyes.

Agatha let out a breath she seemed to have been holding. “Okay,” she whispered, sliding her free hand over Rio’s.

Rio exhaled, relieved and a little dizzy. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she added, “but when I’m with you…I’m not bracing for the crash. I’m just here.”

Agatha smiled then—soft, hopeful, and still a bit uncertain. She squeezed Rio’s hand, glanced away, then back again. There was a pink flush on her cheeks when she spoke.

“Soooo,” she drew out the word in a playful lilt, “we’re doing this, right? I can call you mine?”

Rio’s heart seemed to expand in her chest, filling up all the hollow spaces she’d never even known were empty. She laced her fingers with Agatha’s.

“Please do,” she murmured, a shaky smile curving her lips. “I’m yours.”

They sealed it with a kiss that tasted of sweet wine and unspoken devotion.

Over the next several months, they teased each other through late-night calls, turned phone screens into windows of desperate need. One memorable night, Agatha confessed she was transferring to New York mid-video call, and Rio climaxed so hard she nearly toppled off her couch. It was clumsy, thrilling, and sealed their commitment in more ways than words could.

After the move, they braved an apartment, half-updated, with paint-splattered floors and a perpetually broken radiator. They learned each other’s routines—who hogged the bathroom first, who folded the laundry (or forgot to). They bickered over sweaty scrubs and stolen shampoo, but they laughed even harder, especially on nights when they collapsed into bed at dawn, too exhausted to do anything but cling to each other.

They once tried a threesome on a tipsy dare. Fifteen minutes in, Rio felt a jealousy coil in her gut, while Agatha hated seeing someone else’s hands on Rio. They sent the third partner home with awkward apologies, then spent the night tangled up in each other—relieved to realize they both truly wanted exclusivity.

They attended hospital potlucks and friend gatherings hand in hand. Some nights, they’d sneak onto the rooftop for stolen sex beneath the city lights; others, they’d just binge on bad TV, exhausted from back-to-back shifts. It was in those quieter moments that Agatha would catch Rio studying her with a look that said, We can build more than a life—we can build a family.

One night, after a particularly grueling shift for both of them, Agatha sank onto the couch. She rubbed the tension from her neck and blurted, “My biological clock’s going off like an alarm I can’t snooze.” Anxiety threaded her voice; children felt like such a far-off thing, but suddenly the desire was roaring in her ears.

Rio, without missing a beat, reached for Agatha’s hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Then let’s do it. Let’s start a family.”

Agatha stared, breath caught between excitement and fear. “But your career—my career—do we have time for this?”

Rio shook her head, determination lighting her eyes. “I want to take care of you for once, Agatha. You’ve spent so long looking after me. Let me give you what you want—what we both want.”

Agatha’s throat felt tight with emotion. She exhaled a shaky laugh. “You’re serious?”

Rio just grinned. “Dead serious.”

A few weeks later, they were hunched over a fertility donor profile, scanning it in disbelief.

“Favorite color: Green,” Agatha read aloud. “Hobbies: Running, wood working, women’s basketball. Favorite movie…” she said to Rio, voice rising. “He even has your birth date!”

She glanced at Rio, half-laughing, half-freaked out. “You’re sure you’re an only child?”

Rio frowned at the screen, equal parts startled and amused. “Pretty sure. But hey, if we want the kid to look like me, we’re sure as hell rolling those dice.”

Agatha snorted. “Technically, that means I’m picking you as my baby daddy.”

Rio’s grin stretched wide. “And I’m honored.”

Nicky entered their world with all the tumult and beauty a newborn brings. Agatha carried him, and Rio joked that she paced holes in the hospital floors waiting for the moment she could hold him.

Despite wanting him fiercely, Rio was terrified. The weight of responsibility, the fear that she could lose him like she’d lost so many young patients in the hospital, pressed on her chest. But from the moment he came squalling into the world, Nicky had wrapped Rio around his tiny finger.

He had big brown eyes and a sweet laugh that infected both his mothers. He’d watch them with an intense curiosity, as if taking mental notes for how to be as determined and caring as they were. Even in that first year, when exhaustion from night shifts piled onto the sleeplessness of new parenthood, Rio and Agatha managed to keep each other afloat.

“Look at him,” Agatha would say at 3am, passing the fussing baby into Rio’s arms for a feeding. “We made this. Well, I made him, but you know what I mean.”

Rio would grin, bleary-eyed. “He’s so perfect it hurts.”

That tiny life changed them. Made them see the world with sharper edges and deeper tenderness.

Life was hectic and, admittedly, they’d talked about marriage only in theoretical ways. But on a quiet Sunday afternoon, with the city’s noise a distant murmur, Rio looked up from the laundry basket in their kitchen, saw Agatha bouncing a fussy, six-month-old Nicky on her hip, and simply knew.

“Marry me,” she said, setting aside the shirt she was folding.

Agatha glanced over, eyebrows raised. “Now?”

“Always,” Rio murmured, crossing the room in two strides. She pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Agatha’s mouth, mindful that Nicky was wedged between them, babbling. “I don’t want to wait until life slows down, because that might never happen.”

Agatha’s eyes lit with joy. “I was hoping you’d ask,” she teased, voice catching with emotion. Then she broke into a beautiful, tearful smile. “Yes. Yes.”

Nicky squealed, as if in agreement, and they laughed, hugging each other right there, laundry half-folded, the ring not yet chosen. But that was them: sometimes chaotic, always certain of their love.

⸻

The storm continued most of the night.

After their intense lovemaking, Rio and Agatha drifted into a doze, limbs entwined. But sometime past midnight, Rio woke again, heart pounding. She slipped out of bed, careful not to rouse Agatha, and wandered into the dimly lit hallway.

She found herself at Nicky’s door. She cracked it open, peering in. Even in the darkness, she could make out his small form beneath the covers, breathing softly. The nightlight cast dancing shadows of animal shapes across the walls, illusions that always made Nicky giggle before sleep.

Her chest squeezed. The little girl she’d lost today had been nine, but she also had freckles, also had big innocent dreams.

In the hush of that room, Rio’s eyes stung with fresh tears. She wondered if she was selfish to keep working in such a high-stakes area. Each failure carved another piece out of her heart, leaving her feeling undone. But she couldn’t imagine doing anything else—she couldn’t walk away from saving as many children as she could.

A quiet rustle startled her. Agatha appeared behind her, wearing only a pair of cotton shorts and a worn tank top. Her hair fell around her face in gentle waves.

“You okay?” she asked softly, placing a hand on Rio’s shoulder.

Rio swallowed. “Just watching him,” she whispered. “He’s so beautiful.”

Agatha nodded. “He is.”

Rio felt a trembling sigh escape her. “I keep thinking—what if… if something happened to him? I’d lose my mind. I can’t even handle losing the kids at work sometimes.”

Agatha turned Rio gently, arms slipping around her waist. “Hey,” she murmured, pressing her lips to Rio’s forehead. “I know it’s terrifying. That’s why you love him so fiercely. Because you know how fragile life is.”

Rio sniffled, leaning into Agatha. “It’s just so hard. Balancing it all. The heartbreak. The love. Sometimes I’m afraid I’m not strong enough.”

“Bull,” Agatha said with a half-smile. “You’re the strongest person I know. And if you ever can’t hold yourself up, I’m here. We’re a team.”

Rio exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing. Together, they stepped back from the door, leaving Nicky to his peaceful slumber. They retreated to their own bedroom and lay entwined beneath the covers again. Rio pressed her face to Agatha’s shoulder, breathing in the comforting scent of her skin.

“I’m sorry I disappeared,” Rio whispered after a long silence. “Not physically, but… I haven’t really been here.”

Agatha stroked her arm in slow, soothing motions. “It happens,” she said. “Especially after a bad day. But every time you get lost, I’ll help bring you back.”

Rio closed her eyes, letting the steady thump of Agatha’s heartbeat lull her. “Thank you,” she breathed.

They fell asleep like that, hearts beating as one.

Over the next few years, life marched on. They fell back into routine: early mornings, quick breakfasts, juggling Nicky’s homework and soccer practice, balancing their intense medical schedules, and occasionally stealing moments of intimacy that reminded them how lucky they were. As Nicky grew, they found themselves faced with new questions about family, about the future. Should they move to a bigger place? Should they adopt another child eventually? Could they handle that with both of their demanding jobs?

One evening, they curled up on the living room couch after putting Nicky to bed. The apartment was silent except for the hum of the old radiator. A stack of medical journals lay abandoned on the coffee table. Agatha rested her head on Rio’s lap, while Rio’s fingers absently traced patterns along her scalp.

“Remember that old dream?” Rio asked quietly, gazing at the collection of pictures on the wall—photos of Nicky at every age, their wedding day in a small garden, a shot of them in scrubs looking exhausted but triumphant.

“Which dream?” Agatha murmured, eyes half-closed.

“That we’d open our own small clinic one day, do nonprofit work somewhere less privileged,” Rio said, lips quirking in a gentle smile. “We talked about it in bed one night, after that first time Nicky slept for six hours straight.”

Agatha laughed softly. “I remember. But we never had the money, or the time, or—”

“Yeah,” Rio finished for her. “I wonder if we ever could make it work. Maybe in five years, or ten. Maybe after we’ve saved up more.”

Agatha rolled onto her back, looking up at Rio. “The idea of it still makes my heart race in a good way. We could do so much good together. No politics of a big hospital, just patient-focused care.”

A slow, mutual smile bloomed between them. For that moment, they let themselves imagine a brighter future. Despite the challenges, neither of them had lost the idealism that had first brought them together.

It was a weekend night when their next chance for “wild and exciting” intimacy came, free of interruptions. Nicky was at a sleepover with friends—his first one that lasted the whole night away from home without either mom on standby. It felt strange, slightly nerve-wracking, but also liberating.

The moment they dropped him off, Rio and Agatha returned to their quiet apartment and grinned at each other across the living room.

“It’s just us tonight,” Rio said, trying to keep her voice casual as a swirl of anticipation flared in her chest.

Agatha quirked an eyebrow, stepping out of her sneakers. “Whatever shall we do?”

For once, they didn’t have to worry about waking a child. They didn’t have to listen for small footsteps shuffling to the bathroom in the middle of the night. No babysitters’ texts. No rush to check the clock. The freedom buzzed through both of them.

Rio took Agatha’s hand. “How about dinner first? We haven’t had a real date night in forever.”

Agatha nodded, but the gleam in her eye was mischievous. “Food can wait a bit, though, can’t it?”

Rio’s stomach fluttered. “It can,” she agreed.

They tumbled into the bedroom, shedding clothes as they went. Agatha’s laugh filled the air as Rio’s shirt snagged on a doorknob. They left the lights on this time, wanting to see every inch of each other. Their bodies had changed over the years: subtle scars from life, laugh lines around the eyes, the lingering softness of post-partum curves on Agatha. But all of it was the map of who they’d become together, and each mark only deepened the love in Rio’s eyes.

Agatha pressed Rio onto the bed, pinning her wrists lightly above her head. A surge of excitement made Rio’s pulse jump. She loved the playful dominance that sometimes coursed through Agatha. She loved not being in control for once.

“Don’t move,” Agatha commanded gently, leaning down to kiss along Rio’s jaw. “Or I might stop.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Rio teased, but she obeyed, letting her arms rest above her.

Agatha’s kisses trailed down Rio’s neck, teased along the outer curve of her breast before finally circling a taut nipple. Warm lips closed around it, and Rio inhaled sharply, arching her back.

“Mmm,” Rio moaned, “that feels so—”

“Shh,” Agatha coaxed, releasing one nipple to move to the other. She let her free hand wander, drifting across Rio’s ribs, her stomach, and eventually lower. The slightest brush of fingertips over Rio’s inner thigh made Rio’s breath catch.

A slow, tantalizing exploration followed. Agatha licked and sucked at Rio’s breasts, leaving them flushed. Her tongue dipped into the hollow of Rio’s collarbone, tasted the salt of her skin. When she finally slid her hand between Rio’s thighs, she found her wet, more than ready. Rio whimpered, lifting her hips.

Agatha chuckled, a wicked smile on her lips. “So needy,” she teased, but the love shone clear in her eyes.

Rio found her voice. “Blame yourself.”

Agatha slipped two fingers inside, curling them in a way that made Rio’s eyes roll back. At the same time, Agatha leaned over to capture Rio’s mouth in a devouring kiss. Their tongues tangled, breath mingling, and Rio’s free hand latched onto Agatha’s shoulder. Though she’d been told not to move, she couldn’t help digging her nails into Agatha’s skin, urging her deeper.

The pleasure mounted fast, intense. Each thrust of Agatha’s fingers was met by Rio’s determined roll of the hips. The wet sounds and their ragged breathing filled the room. Agatha slowed, then quickened, making Rio whine in frustration and then gasp with delight. That control, that skill—Agatha knew exactly how to undo her.

When the orgasm built to a breaking point, Rio let out a frantic, breathy moan. “Agatha, I’m— I’m close—”

Agatha nipped at Rio’s lower lip. “Let go.”

Rio’s body bowed, a silent cry lodging in her throat as she came, wave after wave. Agatha never looked away from her, soaking in every pulse of pleasure that rippled through Rio’s body. Finally, Rio slumped back, chest heaving, limbs loose with euphoria.

She opened her eyes to see Agatha poised over her with a smug grin. “Don’t think I’m done,” Agatha murmured, leaning down to press a hot kiss to Rio’s neck. “We’ve got all night.”

Rio’s belly clenched with renewed arousal at the promise in that tone. “God, you’re going to kill me.”

Agatha laughed, a low, sultry sound. “Never,” she promised. “I want you alive—and begging.”

And so the night continued in a heady blur of lips and hands, breathless giggles, and hushed cries of pleasure. They switched positions, sometimes frantic, sometimes languid. At one point, Rio rolled on top and teased Agatha until the woman was delirious with want, tangling the bedsheets around them both. Their kisses ranged from gentle to biting, from playful to near-desperate. Each orgasm was its own surrender, a testament to how they trusted each other to hold any vulnerability, any fear.

By the time they finally collapsed—drenched in sweat, hearts hammering—it was almost two in the morning. No child’s footsteps. No fear of being overheard. Just the two of them, reclaiming the spark that had first drawn them together in that Baltimore hotel room.

Agatha brushed tangled hair off Rio’s forehead. “I think we should do more date nights,” she teased, voice scratchy.

Rio laughed, pressing a soft kiss to Agatha’s bare shoulder. “I agree.”

They fell asleep like that, sweaty and sated, the entire bed a tangle of limbs and sheets that smelled of sex and promise.

Sunlight found them curled under a thin blanket, exhausted but content. When Rio’s eyes finally opened around nine, she startled—she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept in so late. Then she remembered: Nicky was away. For a second, she felt the pang of missing him, but it was swiftly replaced by the warmth of Agatha’s arm draped across her waist.

They spent the morning in bed, dozing in and out of consciousness, exchanging languid kisses. Around noon, they dragged themselves into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over them. More kisses, some laughter, playful splashing that turned into pinned arms and gentle moans against the shower tiles. They eventually managed to towel off and slip into clean clothes, finding an easy, tender domesticity in the aftermath of their sensual marathon.

Agatha brewed coffee while Rio flipped through takeout menus, deciding they’d treat themselves. Over greasy Chinese food containers at the kitchen counter, they talked about everything and nothing—travel plans for next summer, the new staff at the hospital, Nicky’s unstoppable obsession with dinosaurs.

“I feel more like myself than I have in years,” Rio admitted, taking a sip of coffee. “It’s like… I get lost in the heartbreak at work sometimes. But nights like last night remind me I’m more than just a doctor who can’t save everyone.”

Agatha reached across the counter and squeezed Rio’s hand, her gaze brimming with warmth. “You are enough,” she said softly. “You’re my best friend, my partner, Nicky’s mother, our provider, my rock. A thousand things at once—and I love every single one of them.”

Rio smiled, her eyes misting. “I love you too.”

They picked Nicky up from his friend’s house later that afternoon. The second he saw them, Nicky bounded over, backpack swinging, freckles dancing across his nose.

“Mami! Mama!” he shouted, launching himself into Rio’s arms. She grunted and stumbled back, then spun him around, nose buried in his hair.

“Have fun?” Agatha asked, ruffling his curls.

He nodded vigorously. “We watched a dinosaur movie and had pizza and played tag. But I missed you guys.”

Rio’s heart melted. She hugged him tighter. “We missed you too.”

In the car, Nicky chattered about his night away, oblivious to the secret little smiles exchanged between his mothers. Rio’s gaze flicked to Agatha’s, remembering how just hours ago, they’d been moaning each other’s names in bed, free and uninhibited.

A week later, another storm brewed. This time, it wasn’t the weather—it was the phone call from the hospital. A complicated pediatric emergency. Rio’s day off vanished in a flash of adrenaline. She rushed out, calling over her shoulder for Agatha to pick up Nicky and manage dinner. Agatha understood; she always did. There was no frustration in her voice, only concern.

Hours ticked by. The child survived, but it was touch-and-go. Rio stayed to make sure everything stabilized, to update the family, to hold the mother’s hand as tears of relief replaced terror. By the time she trudged home, it was nearly 2am. The door opened just enough for her to slip inside, exhausted.

Agatha was waiting in the living room, reading a book. Nicky was asleep. The table lamp cast a warm glow, haloing Agatha in golden light. Rio dropped her bag and kicked off her shoes.

“You saved them tonight, didn’t you?” Agatha asked softly.

Rio nodded, relief and weariness warring in her expression. “Yeah. That was… it was close.”

Agatha smiled. “Come to bed with me.”

Their bedroom carried the hush of night. Rio changed into pajamas, every bone in her body heavy with exhaustion. She slid between the cool sheets to join Agatha. Instinctively, they curled close, legs tangling. Agatha traced gentle circles on Rio’s arm.

“I wish I could promise that it won’t hurt so much every time,” Agatha said. “But I know you’d never believe me. And I know you wouldn’t want to believe it, because if it didn’t hurt, you wouldn’t be the same person.”

Rio swallowed. “I can’t imagine not feeling it so deeply.”

“It’s what makes you so good at your job,” Agatha said. “And also, it’s what can break you if you don’t have something to anchor you.”

Rio nestled her face in the crook of Agatha’s neck. “You. You’re my anchor. You and Nicky.”

Agatha’s eyes shone. “And you’re ours.”

Their kiss was soft, tender, no urgency this time—just two souls re-centering on each other, a promise renewed.

Somewhere down the hall, Nicky stirred in his sleep, but stayed asleep. Outside, traffic hummed, but inside their home, there was the hush of two hearts in sync.

Morning light streamed through the curtains, revealing the slow dance of dust motes. Nicky bounded in, full of morning exuberance, wearing mismatched pajamas. He climbed onto the bed between his mothers, squirming to wedge his way into the warm space.

“Mami, Mama, wake up!” he insisted, brandishing a toy dinosaur.

Agatha opened her eyes first, her grin sleepy. “Hello, munchkin. You’re up early.”

Nicky shrugged, nestling between them. “I got hungry.”

Rio yawned, arm flopping over her face. “Okay, let’s go feed you, little monster.”

He giggled. “I’m not a monster, I’m a dinosaur.”

Both women laughed. It was a simple, ordinary family moment—one that smelled of morning breath and warm blankets. But these were the instants that made every heartbreak at the hospital bearable. The unconditional love in that bed overshadowed the fear that had once plagued them.

Soon, they trailed into the kitchen, where coffee would be made and cartoons might flicker on the TV for Nicky. Agatha would inevitably slip behind Rio to murmur a little “good morning” kiss onto her neck, and Rio would steal a moment to press her palm to the small of Agatha’s back in silent gratitude.

They were far from perfect.

Nothing about their high-pressure jobs or the ache of losing patients ever truly vanished. They still argued, cried, worried over bills, daycare, and the million demands of parenthood.

Yet whenever the world threatened to pull them under, they clung to each other—anchored by the same spark that lit up a shabby conference lobby in Baltimore, where a spilled latte and a cracked heel somehow became the first step of a lifelong bond. Their love was as fierce as any storm—and it refused to break.

#emotional support pussy #the brainrot is real #agatha all along #agathario fic #agathario #agathario au #modern domestic agathario makes me asdfghjkl

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riovidyke · 6 months ago

Text

my morning just turned into a good morning after this

#kathryn hahn #good morning to me #shes so pretty #and gorgeous #tears in my agathario eyes #i’m so lesbian

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ragnarockz · 2 months ago

Note

hi big fan of your stuff. Would you ever consider writing a little bit of agathario pregnancy kink? perhaps Rio's been gone an unusually long time ferrying souls and when she returns Agatha's pregnancy has just started to show and Rio Has Strong Feelings About This™

I GOT YA'LL!

THE Agatha/Rio/Nicky song: Fiddler's Green by The Tragically Hip

Other songs while writing: Labour - Paris Paloma, Forwards beckon rebound - Adrianne Lenker, Wicked Game - Chris Isaak, Silver Springs - Fleetwood Mac

There was nothing left for Agatha to do now but walk along the river. Everything else was put into place, taken care of, looked after. Floor was swept and animals were fed; clothes were scrubbed and hung to dry. Flowers cut and arranged. Wood chopped and stored.

Agatha's left hand moves down to press gently against her stomach; the swell more prominent now than it ever had been. It was new territory now; a footstep into unmarked territory.

She had never gotten this far before; not even with the other ones.

The water moved along; swirling and bubbling as it pushed along. Agatha took a careful seat down by the bank and kept her gaze on the water before her. She knew she wouldn't have to wait much longer now as she felt a slight breeze brush against her cheek; almost like a feather of a kiss. A caress.

She did feel a kiss then. Lips planting onto the crown of her head. Agatha squinted her eyes against the ray of light filtering from the trees to look upwards. Rio was there, standing over her now. Agatha smiled as she watched Rio move around her to join her on the bank.

There was nothing to be said between the two of them as they watched the water move and swell; a sensation that they both gathered from the other. They weren't unlike this body of water; more in common with it than they would ever know. Maybe Rio knew; knew it all too well as her gaze darted to the side to trace the outline of the tiny swell of stomach on Agatha.

"How are you feeling, my Love?"

Agatha smiled softly into Rio's words as she leaned to her left so that her shoulder was touching Rio's. She felt the warmth; the touch of the woman she loved pressed against her. Agatha sighed as she nodded her head. Her left hand came up to wipe at the skin under her eye; chasing away a sudden tear.

"Very good...really good, my Love..."

Agatha's words were soft in her mouth as she stole a glance at Rio. She could see the soft shadows were cast on the woman's face; shaped and contoured with bone white. Agatha's smile grew as she fell in love all over again. The hand that wiped away her tear fell downwards to reach for Rio's hand to hold.

Agatha felt the tight squeeze of Rio's fingers; her palm. She held her hand tightly and with care. She never wanted to let go of her.

"We should go inside..."

Rio's words drifted over the rush of the river before them; louder than the water could ever be. It was if Agatha could hear those words in her mind ringing like a clear bell. Rio kept a strong grip on Agatha's hand as she stood herself up and helped Agatha get to her feet. The woman in green never took her eyes away from Agatha's stomach; not even for a second.

The cottage was only a few steps away from the river; built sturdy and fast in means of shelter. Agatha had done it all by herself; worked hard to collect and steal and barter for all the things she needed to make her homestead. It was a place of solitude; away from everyone else. The only person who knew of its whereabouts was Rio and soon, Agatha prayed, their child.

They walked past the chicken pen and the small garden Agatha had built and tended with her own two hands. Rio was leading Agatha inside and felt the welcoming sensation that Agatha had sealed over the door. Herbs and brooms and candles welcomed the two of them. A table; a bed. Agatha didn't need much and Rio needed even less.

A wooden cradle sat proudly at the opposite end.

Agatha smiled whenever she laid eyes on it; dreaming of the day when she could put their baby inside of it and rock them to sleep. Wishing that, the dreams they would have would be sweet ones. Loved filled and safely secured in a place and with the two people that loved them so very, very much they broke all means of times and space for.

One day, Agatha thought, as her hand mindlessly drifted down again to touch the swell.

"Do you need to lay down?"

Rio's words were still soft as she gently let go of Agatha's hand so she could turn and face her. They looked at one another for a moment or two; soaking in this moment between them. They had many moments like this; all of them eventually ending the same way before Rio was summoned elsewhere.

It was always a parting gift; something that made Agatha feel alive. Something that made Rio feel closer to Agatha; more human.

"Only if you lay with me, my Love..."

Soft and whispered were the words that chased Rio's. Agatha pulled the cord on her cloak to take it off. She had a simple dress on, bare feet. Rio was always dressed a little more fancy; an easier apparition to look upon in ones final moments. It brought people ease and comfort, Rio came to realize. That was something Agatha had told her once.

You look like a dream; who would be scared of you?

They walked together with Agatha a step behind to the bed. Rio stood at the foot of it and watched Agatha climb on top before laying herself down and leaving a space for Rio to join. She did. She didn't need an invitation. Death never did.

Agatha shifted and Rio without a second to waste took over. It had always gone this way; a dynamic that just settled into it's positions without much thought. Agatha let out a low breath from her mouth as she felt Rio's hands pull her dress up to expose her. She helped Agatha take it off completely; bunching the dress behind her head to support her neck.

Rio's eyes feasted upon Agatha's body as she took in all the newness there. Newness that she had given her; newness that Agatha took.

A gentle hand came out and down to rest upon Agatha's stomach. Rio glanced up to see the smile spread across Agatha's face; a silent permission to keep going. She had never gotten to feel Rio's touch this way. They had never gotten this far.

Agatha shifted up to sit herself up; wanting more of Rio's touch. It had been too long since they had seen one another; had time to be alone. She knew Rio would eventually have to leave once more and that pained Agatha. They stole whatever moments they could with one another and to the fullest extent of them.

"So beautiful, my Love..."

Agatha sighed at Rio's words, the sensation of her hands moving up her body now. Agatha watched and felt with a held breath as Rio's hands worked their way underneath her breasts; cupping them as gently as she could. Another shift in their bed; trying to get into a position that worked for their needs. Agatha felt like her mind was burning; scorching. It always felt this way whenever Rio touched her; kissed her.

The voices in her head still swarmed with warning that she would be forever damned to live like this. Her sins would outweigh her good; the darkest parts of her soul would outweigh the lighter ones. The sexual perversions she had would damn her forever into eternity and into death.

If Death had given her anything, it was permission. It was acceptance.

Rio loved to chase Agatha's breath as often as she could; wanting to hear the loud and breathy exhales of being touched by her trained hands. She squeezed Agatha's breasts gently and let her fingers roam upwards to spread across her nipples. She had learned rather quickly what pleasures Agatha craved; how she liked to be treated and touched and worshiped. Rio never forgot them; couldn't. It was far too important to give Agatha the love she deserved. The love she needed.

Everything was different yet the same as Rio kept her utmost focus on Agatha's breasts. They obviously felt a little different now; maybe a little bit more full. The response was still the exact same upon Rio's touch; nipples hardening with pleasure and attention; goose pimples pricking the soft skin. Agatha just about melted into Rio's hands as she did countless times before.

Agatha's hands came up to meet Rio's, cupping over them so the pressure was a little more. She didn't want Rio to take her hands away; wanted to soak in the sensation just a little longer. It was the sudden look in Rio's eyes as they met Agatha's that made the witch pull her own hands away.

Head bowed slightly as if she was about to pray, Rio used her hand to help guide Agatha's right breast into her mouth. Tongue hit the hardened nub and Agatha sighed in relief. Her mind shot back to the constant swell and push of the river outside and she felt herself feel the same as she chased the pleasure that only Rio was capable of giving her.

"Please..."

Agatha whispered in a plea. She felt Rio would have to leave soon; knew how precious their time was together. She wanted so much. She wanted to be filled until the next time they saw one another again. Rio recognized the sudden desperation in Agatha's voice as her hand let go of Agatha's breast so she could fulfill the witches plea.

With her mouth still working Agatha's nipple, Rio's left hand came to rest on the small pregnant bump while her right hand eased its way past Agatha's legs. She heard the woman exhale loudly above her, basically into her ear before she hung her head backwards to fully give into every ounce of Rio's touch. She was completely at Death's mercy once more.

Gentle loving hands and mouth gave Agatha everything she could ever ask for and more. Rio was adept as she gave attention to every part of Agatha that needed it. She felt the soft warm sensation of her fingers enter into her lover; the welcoming wetness that chased instantly at the contact. The affectionate contract and release as her body tried to take more. That was Agatha, Rio thought, someone who would swallow the world if she could. She smiled against her lovers breast as her fingers entered a little deeper.

Take the world; take it and then some.

As Rio listened to all of Agatha's sounds, pleasure welling up and over her, she knew that the next time she would see her again she would be changed once more. Her body would continue to do so; accommodating for the life they had created together. She knew even then she would give Agatha anything she asked for; everything she couldn't say with her own words.

Rio let her mouth open so she could drag her tongue up and over Agatha's nipple. She continued upwards; tracing to her neck and under her jaw. She could feel the slight slick of sweat on Agatha's skin as her body flushed from the contact. A salty tear hit Rio's tongue as she came up to kiss Agatha on the mouth. Slow and soft; giving and taking as they did; as they only knew how to do. Agatha brought her hands up to hold Rio's head as she deepened into their kiss.

She hated to let go as her need to consume and take everything; take it all filled her in more ways than one. Rio's lips ghosted over Agatha's, just enough for her to whisper against them.

"I have you..."

Her words invoked a soft moan in response as Agatha scrunched up her face and felt the sudden, steady rush of pressure release from deep inside of her. Rio's hand on her stomach felt like a vice and her fingers keeping her anchored pumped a little slower. She drew them out gently so Agatha could catch her breath.

"We have you..."

Another whisper from Death's lips as she closed the gap once more; kissing the witch on her lips. They held that way until Agatha felt the stark emptiness inside of her and Rio's hand sliding off of her pregnant belly.

The time had come for her to go.

#Ask #Anon #Marvel #Agatha All Along #Agatha Harkness #Rio Vidal #something something they've had pregnancies before something something #something something being the child of death doesn't really mean you get to live something something #dON'T MIND ME #I KNOW THESE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE SUPER HOT AND SUPER DIRTY AND THEN MY BRAIN WENT HAHAHA NO #A N G S T #go figure #Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #I will never be over them #EVER

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another-fantasy-world · 2 months ago

Note

headcanons for your latest fic please 🥺🥺

Your wish is my command 🫡 anything for you 🫣

-> student!agathario x professor!reader hcs

-> random thoughts that are canon but may or may not appear in the series

-> minors do not interact pls

A little more about the reader and your reputation:

Students fear you. Like a lot.

They drop out of your class like flies

Your unrelenting standards make even the smartest nerds fall down to their knees and beg

Yet, unlike Pietro, you won last year's poll of "most attractive female professor"

You could care less about it but you do admit it stroked your ego

That same insignificant student poll was the reason Agatha and Rio chose your class.

Yes, that's right. It wasn't an accident, it was on purpose. They heard about you, saw what you looked like, and knew how much younger you are and yet you still manage to have the very same doctorates degree that they're aiming for? Yeah, they're going to break you.

They're not in your class for their grades, they're here for the thrill of making you stumble

Agatha loves a challenge, she wants to see you unravel, tear apart at the seams, she wants to see you melt in her hands.

Rio, on the other hand, loves driving you insane. She wants to know everything about you, she wants you completely. She already knows that you want her, the only mission she has is making you realize that.

Together, they want to see how much you can bend before completely breaking apart for them. They meet your eyes and hold it, and now you're the one squirming under their intense gaze.

Your sharp tongue, quick wit, and academic arrogance entertains them.

Let's face it, you're already their pet the moment you step foot into your own classroom.

They're definitely the first ones to arrive and the last to leave.

Everytime they leave, the room practically smells like them, which leaves your knees weak as you gather your things up.

Agatha smells like an old library at midnight: Dark amber, smoke, ancient leather, black currant, and a whisper of something herbal mixed with old books

Rio smells clean, but sharp, like something precise and disciplined. Masculine-leaning but elegant. Spicy, metallic, with a citrus bite.

If Agatha is the heat of a hidden fire, Rio is the cut of a blade kept in ice.

They drive you absolutely nuts especially while you teach

They love to call your attention when you assign classworks

"Professor, can you elaborate this part?"

You bend down to read the part she points at, only for her to brush her fingers against the shell of your ears

Agatha would bristle, getting competitive and she practically steals your attention with her honeyed voice.

"Professor, can you check if my work is correct?" She asks, knowing full well that it is.

She pulls her top down slightly and practically grins at the way your eyes flutter to her tits before stuttering out a reply

They're the only students in your whole academic career to ever ace your exam.

Your hands shiver with annoyance and exasperation, damn near looking for any mistake, any at all, yet finding nothing.

You end up enduring their accomplished smirk when they saw their graded paper.

Agatha toys with you, in a very intellectual way. Flirts through literature too.

She lingers after lectures, asking deceptively simple questions that make you second-guess your own syllabus.

Her handwriting in your margins during peer reviews is annoyingly elegant.

And she always finds the one blind spot in your logic.

She references erotic passages from obscure texts mid-class with a smirk.

Once she quoted Sappho while holding your gaze, and your voice cracked reading the next line.

She noticed. So did Rio.

Rio drives you mad with her playing the long game.

She’s quiet in class, but her essays are razor-sharp and personal in a way that feels invasive.

She sits like a statue, always watching. Yet her smirks are sharp and recognizable.

She acts like she's the natural order of things, like you will inevitably fall down on her lap and she will eat you (out) on a silver platter.

Rio tests your rules too.

She arrives late on purpose, lounging into her seat with an apology laced in irony.

She submits a paper that flirts with plagiarism just to see how far you’ll push back.

She smiles when you do. It’s a war of attrition. You're not winning.

She once submitted a paper referencing her own work, and Agatha's as well.

You asked her to re-write it.

Agatha and Rio sees you as a burnt out academic achiever that has everything she wanted but has nothing she truly needed.

They know that beneath your well-kept facade, lies a girl who can barely take care of herself.

You're like a fawn in their eyes.

They adore the way your knees shake when they do something they know will get on your nerves.

Like what @saphiccarma put in her hcs Rio nibbles on her pens and pencils a lot. It started as a hobby, but she noticed how you and Agatha practically drool over the way her lips look, she does it so much yet it never loses impact

Agatha, however, likes flexing her hands. She loves putting her fingers in her mouth as she pretends to ponder about what you lectured. She plays with her pens, twirling it around her fingers like magic.

They hog your office hours to be honest. Well, not like any other student goes to your office hours in the first place.

And they never book appointments, which infuriates you. They just appear. Leaning against your doorframe like sin and shadow. Sometimes alone, sometimes together.

You hate how your heart rate jumps at the sight of them.

You hate how they notice.

Later on in your relationship, they disregard your office hours entirely.

Rio perches on your lap like a cat, demanding your attention and taking it forcibly if you still stubbornly grade papers

Like how could you? She's right there?!

Agatha, on the other hand, waltzes into your office with coffee in hand.

She coos when you drink it like it's the one thing holding you together.

And then she makes you fall apart with her words.

"Come on sunshine, lighten up. We wouldn't want our pet to look like they lived longer than they have" She says as she drives her fingers into your shoulders, undoing every knot that settled into your bones.

There are days when they just lounge in your office, claiming the couch you placed there for naps. They often do their work there, quiet and productive.

You bathe in their presence when that happens.

It's so easy to forget that they're actually established individuals when all they do is tease the shit out of you

THEY LOVE ACCIDENTALLY BRUSHING YOUR SKIN

and then they smirk when they see the way you either flinch, or freeze up.

Later on in your relationship, especially when they finished your course, they invite you to academic gatherings where they parade you around as their little genius pet girlfriend.

NSFW

You also support their conferences and guest lectures, hanging on their every word and sometimes giving them a taste of their own medicine.

Rio calls Agatha "Witch", "Darling", and "Lover"

She calls you "Professor", "Chick", and "Darling"

Agatha calls Rio "Bitch", "Brat", and "Love"

She calls you "Pet", "Sunshine", and "Darling"

Oh my god, you dream about them so much it drives you to the brink of insanity.

Sometimes you dream about putting Rio in her place, making her mewl in your lap as you paint her ass red.

Sometimes you dream about them dragging you to your own desk in your own classroom, making you completely undone under their oh-so-heavy gaze.

Sometimes you dream about commanding them to kneel in front of your desk in the privacy of your on office while you make them wait as you checked numerous exams. The only sounds that cut through the air are the scratches of your pen, faint vibration, and soft moans.

You can't even count the number of times you woke up sweating bullets and shaking from sexual frustration.

They used to wear sinfully attractive outfits that make your eyes wander to them every so often during lectures.

Yet they don't wear outright seductive things.

Not until you gave into them.

The day after you established your relationship with them, Rio wore tight fucking faux leather pants that made you do a double take and wonder if you could slap her with a dress code warning. It didn't help that her white top was messily tucked in her pants, and a few buttons were undone.

If you looked closer, you could see marks, purple marks peeking through.

Not that Agatha was better, she wore a fucking short skirt that was barely acceptable yet it was long enough that you didn't have the grounds to dress code her.

The day after that however, they wore matching suits. Agatha with her lavender blazer and Rio with her moss green coat.

You canceled discussion that day and opted for classwork instead, not trusting yourself with talking over a long period of time with them looking like that.

They later told you that it was for a press conference.

Agatha is all about psychological unraveling.

She whispers filthy things in your ear while still using academic language

“Tell me, professor, is this the kind of ‘close reading’ you assign your students?” as she pins you to your chair.

She knows the exact tone to use to make your knees buckle; condescending, clinical, cruel.

She bites, scratches, leaves love bruises in places only you can see.

It’s not just for her, it’s a warning. A signature.

You wear scarves in meetings and avoid mirrors because you like seeing what she’s done to you, and it terrifies you.

Agatha never relinquishes control.

Not even when she’s letting you ride her thigh or letting Rio top you for a moment.

She’s watching. Guiding. Controlling the pace, the rhythm, the outcome, everything.

“Good girl. Now make her beg,”

Her voice is velvet and venom.

And you’ll do it, because there’s no edge to her dominance. It’s inevitable.

She likes restraint. Silk ropes, fluffy purple cuffs, you name it, she probably has it.

When you're the one topping Rio, Agatha will whisper filthy encouragement in your ear

“Look at her, darling. You’ve ruined her so well. Think she deserves to come?”

She wants you to take control, but only under her command.

Your dominance is another weapon she uses.

You burn under Agatha's gaze

She cups your chin and says, “Down.”

She makes you read poetry while she fingers you slow and deep until you cry.

On the contrary, Rio takes her time.

She makes you beg without ever saying a word.

Her favorite game is pushing you to the edge with just her voice and a single hand under your shirt, completely calm, like she’s reading from a syllabus.

She praises your reactions like they’re test scores.

“There it is. Good girl.”

Rio uses your own rules against you.

“No extensions, no exceptions.”

She repeats your words mockingly as she pins you down, mouth dragging down your thigh.

“Submit it on time, or take the punishment.”

The lines blur between academic dominance and something much filthier.

Rio lives to toe the line. She’ll act up just enough to provoke you or Agatha

She's a brat, through and through.

She bites her lip as she rolls her eyes, feigning disinterest when she's soaked through her silk boxers.

Yes boxers. I said what I said.

With you, she’ll challenge your authority; legs spread, head tilted, voice saccharine as she purrs, “Is that all you’ve got, professor?”

But the moment you press her into the mattress with a hand at her throat or shove her over your desk, her breath catches and her eyes go hazy.

She melts under firm control.

You love making Rio squirm, pinning her wrists, whispering, “What was that, Vidal?” as you grind down on her.

Her bratty little whines are your reward.

When Agatha’s in charge, though? Rio brats harder.

She wants Agatha’s attention like a starving feral thing, pulling her hair, biting her thigh, whispering filthy things under her breath until Agatha snaps and punishes her.

She whines when she’s denied.

They don’t wait until after hours.

She thrives on teasing you until you can't take it and ruin her.

You’ve tied her up while Agatha watched from your office chair, legs crossed, humming in approval. “Don’t be gentle,” she told you. “She likes to be handled.”

You often lock the door during “consultation time” and let them ruin you between your annotated texts.

There’s something sinful about getting fucked against a pile of ungraded essays, groaning into a stolen department-issued uniform cardigan.

the cardigan belongs wanda and they fuck you in it while you drown in their jealousy and possessiveness

When they’ve bracketed you in the dark of your locked office, your breath shallow and your buttons undone, they smell like sex and power. Amber and iron. Wine and smoke.

Like something ancient and indulgent, like you’ve stepped into a forbidden room and closed the door behind you.

You smell them, and you forget your name for a second.

They never let you finish first.

That’s the game. They take you apart with lips and fingers, edge you until you’re trembling, then stop.

They want you desperate, breathless, begging.

Only when you say please, really say it and mean it, do they give you what you want. sometimes.

There are nights where you’re sandwiched between them, overwhelmed, overstimulated, completely at their mercy.

Agatha mouths wicked things against your throat while Rio holds your wrists and counts every moan like it’s part of a lesson plan.

They like your strength. Your bite. Your fire. But what they love, is watching it flicker

Watching you gasp their names when you swore you never would.

They don’t want to just own you. They want you to choose surrender. To be theirs. To sign your own signature. And you will.

AFTERCARE

Aftercare is… unconventional, but sweet. Aftercare is layered. Aftercare with them varies.

She still looks at you like she owns every inch of your soul, but her hands get gentler, her voice a rich velvet murmur.

Agatha’s intensity doesn’t drop, it shifts. From commanding to consuming.

She's cool and collected, brushing hair away from sweaty foreheads.

She’s already got a plush towel, a glass of water, and a cooling salve waiting on the nightstand

She's also methodical, almost ritualistic. Every action is precise. She doesn’t rush, doesn’t fluster.

Everything is under control, and that soothes you more than anything.

Of course she planned this scene days ago.

She reads your body like scripture, checking your breathing, the tremble in your thighs, how your fingers twitch.

She reads your needs before you voice them.

Her hands are slow and grounding as she traces soft circles on your spine.

Her voice drops to a near whisper low, rich, and reverent, even as she puff out clouds of smoke

Agatha lights a cigarette and reads from a banned book in your bed.

“You did so well, darling. You’re mine. You’re safe.”

She kisses your temple like a benediction, wipes you clean with a warm cloth, and curls around you protectively, like she’s shielding you from the world.

If she submits, Rio melts post-scene.

She’ll hold you until you fall asleep, whispering affirmations in a cadence that feels half-spell, half-prayer.

“That’s it, darling. Come back to me.”

She relearns your body, Her hands never stop moving; your shoulders, your thighs, your spine.

“Breathe, little one. I’ve got you. I always have.”

“You’re mine. You belong to me. And I take care of what’s mine.”

“You need anything, you tell me. Doesn’t matter how small.”

With Rio, Agatha’s aftercare is layered with emotion. There’s history in her touches. A kind of quiet awe.

She kisses Rio’s fingers, one by one and holds her face.

“You were so good for me, cariño. So brave.”

Sometimes Rio tries to act tough after, still playful, still cocky,but Agatha sees right through it.

“Don’t hide from me, Rio. Not now.”

And Rio melts every time.

She’s boneless, flushed, eyes soft, completely undone. Her bratty act drops, and she gets clingy as hell.

She drapes herself over you like a cat, arms wrapped around your waist

“You wrecked me… hope you’re proud of yourself.”

You are.

There are times when she’s all whimpers and praises afterward, burrowing under the sheets with a dazed grin

“God, I love it when you’re mean to me.”

If she was dominant, she’ll joke about it while sneaking kisses to your shoulders.

she’ll straddle your waist after, teasingly tracing the red lines you left on her thighs.

You’ll feel the soft burn of power still lingering, and she’ll keep it light, but there’s real reverence in the way she kisses you after.

Rio sometimes makes you tea and asks questions like, “What did you learn today, professor?” as she strokes your thigh.

She’ll lift your chin and kiss you slow, almost reverently.

“Breathe, baby. You did so well for me.”

She’ll wrap you in one of her softest shirts; worn, warm, smelling like cedar, vetiver, and skin.

She guides you to straddle her lap, holding you close, grounding you against her heartbeat.

“You’re not leaving this bed until I’m sure every inch of you feels mine again.”

Takes great pride in rebuilding you after sex.

“I don’t care how wrecked you are. You're still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever ruined.”

She loves when you hold her, even if she played a dominant role

Stroke her hair and whisper sweet things because it makes her feel safe enough to show the soft, needy core she hides behind her sass.

For Agatha, even if she's still domme-aligned, Rio knows when she’s in that hazy, raw state after a scene.

She’ll take Agatha’s chin in her hand, kiss the corner of her mouth

“Let me hold you, witch.”

Agatha might resist, might grumblebut she always ends up lying between Rio’s legs, her head on Rio’s chest

Rio’s fingers stroking through her hair while you spoon her from behind.

Rio will hum, low and soothing, her voice like a lullaby only Agatha and you get to hear.

“Look at you two. Gorgeous messes. All mine.”

“You both let go for me. You trusted me. That means everything.”

She traces the bruises and bite marks she left behind like she’s admiring artwork, her artwork. All hers.

Every kiss is grounding. Every whisper is ownership. But not just of your bodies, of the bond between the three of you.

But then there are times where Agatha needs the aftercare

She doesn’t ask. Not verbally. Not directly.

But you feel it; the stiffness in her body after, the way her breathing falters, how her voice is just a touch hoarser.

Her façade might still be intact, but she clutches your wrist just a little tighter when you try to pull away.

That’s your signal.

You guide her to lie down, and she protests but her body sags the moment her head hits the pillow.

You’re gentle. Commanding. You stroke her hair and say:

“No. You gave us everything. Now let us give you something back.”

Rio joins in, slipping behind Agatha to spoon her from behind, whispering softly against her ear:

“You were perfect. You don’t always have to hold us up, you know.”

Agatha doesn’t cry, but her eyes glisten. And when you kiss the inside of her wrist or her temple, she leans into it with quiet desperation.

She likes being cradled. She’ll never say it out loud, but the feeling of you and Rio holding her between your bodies makes her feel safe in a way she rarely allows herself to experience.

Soft fabrics. Candlelight. Low murmured voices. It’s like she needs the world to shrink down to only you two, just for a while.

She won’t talk much unless you prompt her.

But if you ask: “What do you need right now?”

She might just whisper, “Don’t leave.”

You pepper kisses along her spine.

You massage the ache from her shoulders, whispering:

“Let me take care of you. You don’t have to be anything right now.”

She’ll melt, slowly. Her hands will go slack. Her breaths deeper.

She may never openly ask for that kind of aftercare but now you know. And so does Rio. And it changes the way you read her silences.

did i use this post as a cheat sheet for the rest of this series? yes

Sometimes, you feel less like a teacher, more like their prize.

Yet they assure you endlessly

They double team the tenderness. Agatha spoons you from behind, hand stroking over your chest, while Rio lies facing you, pressing kisses along your collarbone.

Agatha grounds you. Rio distracts you.

One calms the ache in your bones, the other makes you laugh while still glowing with warmth.

They both check in afterward—asking what you need, whether it’s food, cuddles, a hot bath, or silence. And they deliver.

Post-threesome? The three of you end up tangled in satin sheets, naked and half-asleep, limbs tangled.

Agatha’s on one side, Rio on the other, both pressing into you like you’re the anchor that keeps them steady.

Agatha runs her fingers through your hair while Rio softly sings under her breath in Sokovian, not even realizing she’s doing it.

you tease her later that she learned it from wanda which made agatha punish the both of you for your sheer audacity

No one moves until someone absolutely has to. And even then, it’s with kisses, grumbles, and a promise to pick up where you left off.

#flor writes #agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal x reader #agathario x reader

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galaxysupreme17 · 7 months ago

Text

Agatha's Trial

Y/n = Your Name

AgathaRio x daughter!reader

Alice Wu Gulliverx fem!harkness!reader

Y/n stirred, blinking sleepily as she lifted her head. Around her, everyone was still asleep. Alice's arms were snugly wrapped around her, making Y/n smile softly. She carefully extricated herself, trying not to wake her girlfriend, then stretched quietly as she scanned the campsite. The first thing she noticed was the absence of her mothers—a detail that, in her experience, was never a good sign. A familiar presence appeared behind her, and she turned to see Rio standing there.

"What do you want, Mother?" Y/n asked, meeting Rio's eyes with a guarded expression.

Rio chuckled as she stepped closer. "Now, now, Mija, no need to be so defensive."

"With you? Defense is always the best option," Y/n replied coolly, crossing her arms.

Rio's expression softened, though she tried to keep her tone light. "Oh really? Just a few hours ago, you said you missed me. Admit it—I was always your favorite mom."

Y/n's eyes flashed. "You were also the mother who abandoned me. At least Mama stayed, even when losing Nicky destroyed her."

Rio's face fell, but she recovered quickly, pointing a finger at Y/n. "You don't know the whole story, Y/n. I had to leave. Your mother never forgave me, and you know that."

Y/n scoffed, shaking her head. "You don't get it. Mama forgave you the moment it happened. She still loves you, even after everything. What she hasn't forgiven is you leaving without fighting for her. For us. She was shattered, but you actually listened when, in a fit of grief, she told you to leave and never come back. The one time you should have fought her, you didn't. Not only did I lose my brother, but I lost my mother too. Mama tried hard to be there for me but couldn't help feeling she'd failed."

A tear slipped down Y/n's cheek, which she quickly brushed away before turning on her heel and heading back to the group. Rio opened her mouth as if to say something, but no words came. Y/n had understood far more than Rio realized, even at ten years old.

Back with the others, Y/n noticed Lilia stirring awake with a gasp. "They're coming! We have to go!"

Y/n frowned as she gently shook Alice awake. "What? Who's coming?" she asked, helping Alice to her feet.

Hurriedly putting on her jacket, Lilia replied, "The summoning spell—we left the door open!"

Alice tightened her grip on Y/n's hand. "What did you see?"

Before Lilia could answer, Rio appeared, smirking. "Go on, Lilia. Tell them."

Lilia glanced at the others, her expression tense. "The Salem Seven."

A shiver ran down Y/n's spine as Lilia continued, "When Agatha killed her original coven—"

Jen interrupted. "By stealing their powers."

"Because her own mother tried to have her executed," Rio added defensively.

Jen glared. "Are you seriously defending a known serial killer?"

Y/n, irritated by the insult toward her mother, took a step forward. "Back off, Jen."

Alice pulled her back, looking around anxiously. "Come on, someone finish the story!"

Lilia continued, a little shakily. "Agatha spared the young children of the coven she killed..."

Rio gave a dark smile. "And now they're a feral, hive-minded coven, hell-bent on revenge."

Just then, Agatha burst around the corner, shrugging into her jacket. "Lesson learned: always finish what you start. And mercy? Overrated. Alright, everyone, grab your stuff! Let's go!"

The group bolted, running until they reached a dip in the road with a thick brush surrounding it. They heard a wolf's howl ahead and strange noises behind them.

Teen, thinking quickly, suggested, "What about a hexenbesen?"

Everyone except Rio and Y/n immediately shot the idea down, but Y/n's face lit up. She'd always loved flying on brooms.

Soon, her mothers were setting up, and Jen and Lilia also paired up. Seeing the odd number, Y/n turned to Alice. "Trade partners?"

Alice gave her a reluctant look. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine. I'll ride with you," Y/n replied with a reassuring smile.

Teen's face lit up as he realized Alice would trade with him. Meanwhile, Agatha and Rio looked puzzled when they saw Y/n standing alone. Y/n caught their expressions and shrugged. "I'm riding with Alice. I'll be okay."

As Teen finished his broom, one of the Salem Seven lunged at him. Quick-thinking, Alice struck it with her broom, allowing Teen to complete his spell. Agatha and Rio led the group into the air, and Alice soon followed, pulling Y/n up onto the broom, wrapping an arm around her waist while Y/n clung to her shoulders.

"We need to get off the road!" Y/n shouted over the wind. Everyone gained altitude, Alice laughing with exhilaration. Y/n leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek, which made Alice smile. She turned her head and caught Y/n's lips softly, letting their foreheads rest together afterward.

They soared onward until the air around them shifted strangely. The group began to panic as they felt an unseen force dragging them downward. Alice tightened her hold on Y/n, determined to keep her safe.

"The next trial!" Teen shouted as a small house appeared in the distance. Just then, one of the Salem Seven appeared, insects spilling from its mouth as it prepared to attack. The group sped toward the cabin, dismounting as they reached it. Alice held Y/n close, shielding her from the chaos around them. They barely made it inside before Agatha slammed the door shut.

"Alright, we're safe," Agatha panted, trying to catch her breath.

Jen pointed to the dark figures gathering outside. "Safe? The entire Halloween aisle is outside waiting for us!"

Agatha rolled her eyes as she adjusted her hair, picking a few bugs out. "They can't get in, can they? We must complete the trial and get out before they break through."

Alice looked down at herself, then at everyone else. "So... what? Kiss, marry, kill?"

Y/n wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, I really hope not."

Teen suddenly realized he was missing his spell book and started to panic. While searching for spells, Y/n glanced down, noticing that her outfit matched Rio's almost exactly—except for a purple trim on her clothes. It was ironic, she thought, as if fate was screaming who her parents were.

Y/n's thoughts were interrupted by Teen's voice cutting through the silence. "Whose trial is this?"

Rio leaned against the window, gazing out at the blood moon's eerie glow. She chuckled softly, though there was little humor in it. "Agatha's."

Y/n's head whipped around to face her mother, worry flooding her expression. Sensing her daughter's gaze, Agatha turned, catching Y/n's anxious eyes. She tried to reassure her with a gentle smile, but an unmistakable hint of fear lingered beneath her calm facade.

"The blood moon," Lilia whispered, glancing at the crimson glow in the sky. "When the veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest."

Teen looked to Lilia, confused. "Wait. I thought talking to the dead was your department?"

She gave him a small, knowing smile and shook her head. "A common misconception. I read people; I read time. But spirits? Talking to them was just a con."

Rio stepped forward, smirking as she raised her dagger disguised as an ordinary hairbrush. "And who better to commune with the dead than someone who's put so many in the grave?"

Y/n rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, "That's rich, coming from you."

A board game flew off the shelf as if on cue, skidding across the floor and landing with an ominous thud by Teen's feet. He bent down, picking it up and examining the dusty box. "Looks like the road wants us to Ouija," he remarked, holding it up to the others.

Then, a sharp beeping echoed in unison from everyone's watches, signaling instructions for the next part of the trial. After a brief scuffle over who got to read the message first, the group reluctantly agreed to gather around the board. Each placed their hands on the planchette, and Y/n chose a spot close to Agatha, her protective instincts kicking in.

They began the session, and Agatha's hands soon lifted from the board, her fingers twitching as if guided by an unseen force. Her body started to jerk, her eyes rolling back as her voice became unnatural. But Rio, unfazed, just rolled her eyes.

"She's just scared," Rio muttered dismissively.

At her words, Agatha dropped the act, blinking and returning to herself, though Y/n shot Rio a glare of pure frost. They resumed, and this time, the planchette began to spell out words slowly but surely: "P-U-N-I-S-H A-G-A-T-H-A." The message repeated, each time faster and more aggressively, until Agatha yanked her hands away from the board.

The room seemed to pulse with dark energy, a chorus of low, guttural voices rising around them, chanting, "Punish her."

Agatha slumped to the floor, covering her ears and squeezing her eyes shut as the chanting grew louder. Y/n stepped toward her mother, but before she could reach her, Rio grabbed her arm, holding her back.

"Stay with me, Y/n," Rio warned.

Y/n pulled free, her protective instincts overriding caution, and rushed over to her mom, checking to ensure she wasn't injured. Agatha, noticing this, removes her hands and covers her daughter's ears, attempting to protect her.

"What do we do?" Alice asked, looking between her friends, panic etched across her face.

"They already told us. Punish Agatha!" Jen shouted, and the voices went dead silent as if by command.

Y/n rose to her feet, planting herself firmly between Jen and her mother, her expression fierce. "Like hell, you will."

Jen crossed her arms, unfazed. "I'm sorry, Y/n, but that's the only way to pass the trial. Your mom's done... terrible things. We all know it."

"Oh, and you're a saint?" Y/n snapped back.

Teen tried to ease the tension, but his voice was gentle. "Come on, there's got to be another way."

"We could tie her up," Lilia suggested, though there was a hint of doubt in her voice.

"You can't be serious," Alice said, inching closer to Y/n as a show of support.

"Or," Rio interjected, lifting her dagger and tilting it thoughtfully, "we could just slit her throat." Her tone was casual, but Y/n knew her mother well enough to sense the underlying bitterness in the remark.

"Let's not be so hasty," Agatha cut in, her tone calm but firm as she pushed herself up, standing protectively in front of Y/n. Y/n took a step back, her heart pounding.

Suddenly, the lights flickered, casting the room in darkness, then snapped back on. Alice looked around frantically, a pang of dread in her voice. "Where's Y/n?" Her question hung in the air, and the group's expressions shifted from confusion to fear.

Agatha turned sharply, scanning the room. "Y/n? Sweetheart, where are you?"

Rio's face hardened as she called out, a note of worry slipping into her voice despite her best effort to hide it. "Y/n, Nena, come back. We won't hurt your mother."

The lights flickered again, plunging the room into darkness once more. Teen fumbled around, finally finding an old lamp. When he switched it on, he pointed it toward the ceiling, gasping at the sight above him.

"Oh my god, what happened to her?" Jen's voice cracked as she staggered back, pressing herself against the wall.

"Someone, get her down!" Alice cried, her voice laced with panic as she stared up at Y/n, who was somehow contorted and suspended against the ceiling, her limbs twisted in unnatural angles.

Rio stepped forward, her voice steely. "No one is touching her."

"But she's going to get hurt!" Lilia protested, her hand covering her mouth in horror.

Before they could make a move, Y/n's body dropped from the ceiling, hitting the ground with a hard thud. Alice stepped toward her, but Teen grabbed her arm, holding her back.

"That's not Y/n," he whispered, eyes wide with fear.

Y/n's body began to move in unnatural jerks, her limbs twisting as if controlled by an unseen force. Her head snapped up, her gaze vacant and hollow.

"She's possessed for real," Teen gasped, backing away.

Rio took a protective step forward, her voice firm. "No! She could get hurt. No one is to touch her."

"Then how can we help her?" Agatha cried, moving to Rio's side, both torn between the need to act and the fear of making things worse.

Before they could decide, Y/n's body went limp, collapsing to the floor. But before anyone could reach her, she disappeared again as the lights flickered and dimmed.

"Where is she?" Rio's voice cracked with desperation as she searched the room frantically, her face pale.

Just then, a white fog began to form by the stairs, curling upward, thick and heavy like smoke. Rio's face darkened with recognition. "That's a ghost. I hate ghosts," she muttered under her breath.

Agatha's gaze sharpened, her breath catching in her throat. "Mother?"

At the top of the stairs, Y/n reappeared, looking dazed as she cradled her injured knee, struggling to heal it.

Agatha's face contorted with rage as she glared at the foggy figure. "What did you do to my daughter?"

Evanora Harkness's ghostly figure smirked, her voice dripping with malice. "You must continue the witches' road without her."

A horrified gasp escaped from Alice. "No! No way!"

"Leave her with me, and you may go free," Evanora taunted, her smirk twisting cruelly.

"You will not take my daughter!" Agatha shouted, her voice breaking, tears pooling in her eyes.

Rio placed a steadying hand on Agatha's shoulder, her voice soft but fierce. "She's coming with us, Agatha. She's not staying here."

Evanora's gaze turned venomous. "You do not deserve to have any children. You were evil the minute you came into this world. What makes you think I would let you continue this rotted bloodline? I certainly succeeded with the other one."

Her words hit Agatha like a physical blow. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Y/n, finally healed, locked eyes with her mother, her expression fierce and unwavering.

"Mama, don't listen to her. You are amazing. You made me who I am," Y/n said softly, her words cutting through the room's darkness like a beacon.

Before Evanora could respond, her figure flickered and vanished, but not before her malevolent presence seemed to seep into Y/n, whose body twisted again, contorted and crawling down the stairs. Alice, anger flooding her features, pushed past Agatha.

"Leave my girlfriend alone, you Bitch!" she yelled, unleashing a blast of magic.

"Alice! Be careful!" Agatha shouted, reaching for her.

After a tense struggle, Evanora's spirit finally left Y/n's body. Y/n crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath. Alice was the first to reach her, pulling her into her arms. Agatha and Rio knelt beside them, their hands trembling as they checked her over.

Agatha hugged Y/n tightly, her voice breaking. "I'm so, so sorry, my sweet girl."

Y/n managed a weary smile. "It's okay, Mama. I'm okay, I promise."

Rio brushed Y/n's hair back, her fingers lingering. She embraced her, Y/n melting into her warmth, and then turned to Alice, who held her close, her face buried in her shoulder. They watched as the door creaked open, signaling that they had passed the trial.

Later, the group began working to make a fire, while Rio and Agatha stood off to the side.

Rio turned to Agatha, her expression soft but uncertain. "Agatha, I... I'm sorry."

Agatha looked at her, surprised. "For what?"

Rio chuckled bitterly. "I always thought you hated me for what I did... for leaving."

Agatha's eyes softened as she reached for Rio's hand. "I was hurt, Rio. I wanted you to stay, to fight for us."

Rio's gaze dropped. "I see that now. Agatha, I have always loved you. I just... I hope you can let me back into your life."

With a gentle smile, Agatha squeezed her hand. "You've always been a part of me, Rio. I'd love for you to stay."

Rio pulled her close, their lips meeting in a soft kiss that was filled with years of longing and forgiveness, a promise of a new beginning.

As they pulled apart, Y/n nudged Alice and whispered, "Looks like they finally figured it out."

Alice grinned. "Three centuries is a long time to wait."

Hand in hand, Agatha and Rio joined the others by the fire, the warmth of new hope settling over them all.

#x reader #reader insert #agatha x daughter! reader #agatha all along #agatha x rio #agathario x daughter!reader #rio vidal #agatha harkness #agatha all along season 1 #agatha harkness x daughter!reader #alice wu gulliver

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