warnings: modern/no powers au, mid20s!agatha, no other warnings theres no explicit smut just mainly fluff :3
note: hiiii happy pride! if you haven't read love potions yet i highly recommend reading that first. this will make fine sense without that but like, you will enjoy the dynamics more if you know these two better.
love potions masterlist | au playlist | ao3 | tip jar
Ping.
"Alright, I sent it."
"Fucking finally," Agatha grins, flopping down on the couch across from you. You're tucked into the old armchair that your parents gifted you when you got your first apartment. It's worn around the edges, but it's long since molded to the shape of your body.
Agatha pulls her phone from her back pocket and opens the document you sent her. It's a short story that you've been chipping away at on and off over the last few months. Mostly in your free time, but sometimes sneaking a couple paragraphs on the side while you're at work. The perks of a fairly unsupervised desk job.
Boss makes a dollar, you make a dime, that's why you write dark lesbian erotica on company time. Or however the saying goes.
Since you started dating, Agatha's constantly pestered you for a change to read your writing. You were too embarrassed by it to do anything but fluster at the idea and make up an excuse. After months of "nothing's finished yet," Agatha revealed that she had in fact, snooped around and found some of the fanfiction you've posted.
You were mortified when she was laying in bed next to you and just started reading your own words back to you. So much so that you knocked her phone from her hand, and it almost nailed Señor Scratchy in the face. Agatha had cackled like a proper witch, rolling you onto your back and insisting that you let her read more out loud while you grinded against her. Which was obviously a deal you couldn't refuse, no matter how embarrassing.
It did feel like Agatha's pestering was her way of being supportive of your writing endeavors. No matter how much she teased you about it, she does always tell you what she likes. She's become a sounding board for some ideas, and her brutal honesty is much appreciated when you've been staring at the same words for far too long.
"Ugh, did you send this as a PDF?" Agatha rolls her eyes. "Why don't you just let me read off your laptop at this rate?"
"Because I'm using it, Agatha."
Agatha makes a face and clicks through to download the doc. You tend to try to keep yourself busy when she's reading so that you don't overanalyze every little facial expression she makes, so you go back to the editing you were doing.
Occasionally, you glance up at her. Agatha's chewing on one nail, but that's normal. What isn't, or at least seems new to you, is the fact that Agatha is squinting harder at her phone than usual.
You've never noticed before, but maybe the font of the document was just a bit too small. You shrug it off and decide not to bring it up.
But now that you've noticed it once, you're hyper-vigilant of the new quirk. Agatha seems to hold her phone a bit closer to her face than normal, which certainly can't be good for her. You wonder if maybe its a screen thing, but you notice it in other places too. When she's reading a magazine or book, her eyes narrow and a little furrow of her brow forms.
Part of you wonders if maybe it's her dyslexia, but then you take note of Agatha's complaints of headaches that always seem to happen after she's been making that face for too long.
One day, you finally decide to bring it up.
"Agatha, do you have trouble reading?"
She rolls her eyes, fingers picking at the cracked plastic edge of the diner menu she's holding. She doesn't even look up at you as she answers sarcastically, "No, dyslexia makes it really easy actually. It's basically a superpower."
"No, I mean like, seeing the words," you clarify. Agatha's lip twitches. "I just noticed that you squint when reading a lot."
"It's not a big deal." Agatha is scowling at the menu rather than looking at you, looking like the breakfast combo deal has personally offended her.
"I only bring it up because you're always complaining about your head hurting," you say, bringing your finger up to pull the menu down away from her face. You figured pointing this out would be unpleasant, that Agatha might be insecure about it even though it's totally normal, but you weren't expecting her to look a little sad. "When was the last time you had your eyes checked?"
"They said I had 20/20 vision."
"And that was how long ago?"
"…middle school."
The waitress comes and takes your orders, grabbing the menus when she's done. Agatha can't fidget with the plastic anymore, so she's started messing with the items on the table.
"There's an optometrist in the Walmart, you know. I think they even take walk-ins."
"I'm not paying for some stupid doctor to blow air in my eyeballs and then tell me I'm blind," Agatha scoffs. "Probably would cost my whole paycheck anyway."
"Fair," you shrug. "What if we just look at some of the readers that they carry? You might be fine with non-prescription."
Agatha ponders this for a moment, tapping her nail against the table.
"Okay, fine. If it helps these fucking headaches maybe it's worth it."
"These are all ugly. Let's just give up."
"They're not ugly, Agatha. You haven't even tried any on," you roll your eyes at her tantrum. "Here, at least see if these lenses help you read the chart. We can decide on the frames after."
Agatha huffs and takes the glasses from your offered hand. They're rectangular, with thin frames and small lenses. You assumed maybe they'd feel less imposing. Agatha turns them over in her hands for a moment, before slipping them on.
She reads the mini vision chart on the side of the stand, and looks a little satisfied that she doesn't have to squint. But when she glances in the mirror, her body visibly tenses. Your brow furrows with concern.
"Are you okay?"
"I…" Agatha swallows, fingers coming up to adjust the glasses perched on her face. "I look like my mother."
Oh.
You fall silent, unsure of what to say. Agatha continues speaking.
"I never thought I really resembled her much aside from some minor things, thank god. But she's worn glasses like these since I was a kid, and now…"
"Is that why you've been avoiding this?" You ask. Agatha's lack of response answers your question. "Here, give them to me."
Agatha's body jerks and she looks over at you like she forgot you were with her. Her hands are a little shaky as she takes the glasses off. You set them back in their spot on the stand.
"Did they help?" You ask, trying to divert Agatha's thoughts away from her mother.
"Uh, yeah, actually," Agatha admits. "They did."
"Good," you smile. "We can find different frames."
Agatha nods, letting you scan the shelf for some more options. You avoid anything that looks too much like the first pair, which unfortunately doesn't seem to leave you too many good options. Near the bottom, there's a shelf of ones with much wider lenses and thicker frames. They certainly don't look like the offending pair.
"Here," you take one with a simple black frame and put them on your waiting girlfriend.
Agatha adjusts her hair around the arms of the glasses and looks in the mirror. She pouts.
"I look like a fucking nerd."
You stifle a laugh. Agatha keeps adjusting the way her hair is framing her face. You scoot directly behind her and rest your chin on her shoulder. Your eyes meet hers in the mirror.
"I think you look cute."
"I could wear a fursuit, and you'd think that."
"Depends on the fursuit. What animal would you be?"
"I'm not indulging you with that information."
"You could be a bunny like Scratchy!"
Agatha rolls her eyes, but she seems less frustrated than she was. Your fingers find her stomach as you wrap your arms around her, tracing little patterns.
"Fine, I'll get them," Agatha says at last. You smile and kiss her on the cheek, feeling her skin warm under your lips. "Only because they're five bucks. Any more and I would've just resigned to migraines for the rest of my life."
You were lying when you said Agatha looked cute in the glasses. Okay, wait. Lying isn't quite accurate. You just didn't tell her the complete truth.
Because, truth is, you think she looks so fucking hot in glasses.
It's taken a couple of weeks for Agatha to remember to wear them, but she's finally reached the point where she carries the glasses case you bought her everywhere.
And god, it's so hard to not stare.
Something about the way the frames sit on her face, they draw your focus to her beautiful eyes and her strong nose that you're absolutely obsessed with. It's genuinely unfair how good she looks.
Agatha, for once in her life, seems unaware of how sexy she is. She's written them off as her nerd glasses and thinks your staring is because you think she's just "cute." Like, in a kitten that fell over its own paws kind of way.
Really, you're trying to figure out the least desperate way to say, "The glasses stay on during sex."
Which is stupid. She wouldn't need them.
But still, the next time you initiate a makeout session while she has them on, the second she moves to take them off, you grab her hand.
Agatha raises an eyebrow. "What's your problem?"
"I…" You lick your lips, lowering your hand. "Can you keep them on?"
She pauses for a moment. Then, a grin breaks across her face.
"Oh my god," Agatha laughs.
"Nevermind," you shake your head, pulling away from her. "It's dumb."
"Oh, baby. You're not getting out of this that easy." Agatha hovers further over you, forcing you to lean back until your head hits the pillow on the couch. "You're into the glasses."
"Maybe."
"Maybe," Agatha says in a mocking tone. She sits back a bit, leaving you horizontal under her. She adjusts her glasses. You swallow. "Mhm. Very convincing."
"Shut up."
"Only if you admit it."
"Fine," you sigh, relenting easily. There's no point in fighting it. "I'm really into your glasses."
"And?"
"And I picked them because I thought you'd look hot."
"Aaand?" Agatha singsongs. She has no reason to assume there's more. Just her gut feeling. And, of course, she's right. She knows you far too well.
"And I've fantasized about fucking while you're wearing them."
"There," Agatha smirks. She leans down to press a kiss to your lips. "Was that so hard?"
"Yes."
"Only because you made it hard," she pats your cheek. "You can't hide anything from me."
"Yeah. Stalker."
"Unrelated."
"Whatever. Can you keep kissing me now?"
"Say please."
"Please?"
"Good girl," Agatha purrs. You groan, pulling her down to slot your lips together once more.
In between the greedy noises coming from both of you, Agatha breathes out heavily, "If you ask really nicely, I'll eat you out with my glasses on."
You whine, but before you can even answer, she adds, "Or, I could sit back and read while you're in between my legs instead. Hmm. Decisions, decisions."
"Yes. Either one. Both. Please."
"See?" Agatha chuckles. "Good things happen when you just tell me what goes on in that dirty brain of yours. Me first, though. Get on your knees, baby. Then, I'll make you cum so hard that you have a fucking Pavlovian response to my glasses."
Two orgasms and one broken pair of glasses later, neither of you have any regrets.
💜
bonus little text convo i was going to include but didnt find a place to:
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