Reader refuses to allow Maya Mason to make you her mate despite how much you actually want her. So a little challenge is proposed to prove Maya Mason's dedication by taking her alpha pride and putting it away.
Pre Fic Notes:
This is my first Hahn Universe fic and I'm hoping the massive fandom around her enjoys it as much as I've enjoyed writing it ;3 I really love Maya Mason as a character and I'm definitely writing more of her.
I intended this on being a short smut fic and then got massively carried away.. sooo. Also my first time having a beta reader :>
If you're just here for the porn its at the end, well pretty much the middle if I'm honest <3
Maya Mason. What could you say about Maya Mason.. You could say she has the largest ego around. You could say she's vapid and self indulgent. You could say she fights and screams more vigorously than any person around. None of those assessments would necessarily be incorrect. In the few months you were made to work with Maya Mason, you had quickly discovered her archetype. Loud. Brash. Cocky. All wrapped up in the healthy dose of Alpha entitlement you had quickly become accustomed to working in the movie industry. But there were hints.. small hints that always kept you wrapped around her fucking finger.
The way her tone softened ever so slightly when addressing you. When she tries to mute the strength of her scent after seeing how stressed you are. How everyday somehow your perfect coffee order ends up on your desk, with traces of that unmistakable perfume on it. Maya Mason was frustrating to an unbelievable degree.
You had sworn off Alphas all together. Their pride. How they swing their dicks around expecting the whole world on a platter; served to them by a scantily clad omega. It all pissed you off so much. And Maya's maybe the worst of them all, because she tries so hard to be 'slick' with it.
Parking your motorcycle and still walking an extra ten minutes to Continental Studios, it was already shaping up to be a miserable day. Even not at the peak of LA summer, the sun beat down on you, sweat forming on your brow. Every step you took was true misery as sweat soaked your clothes, it was a nice outfit too, even if you knew a leather jacket was not smart in the heat. At least it couldn't get much worse. Her scent hit you before you saw her and you couldn't help a groan of exasperation.
Thick layers of vanilla and patchouli with undertones of cinnamon, none of which were moderated or appealing. The vanilla clouded you and gave a headache, the cinnamon hits you square in the back of the throat and the patchouli gave it all a nice ribbon of boozy confidence that made you want to retch.
"There's a sight for sore eyes.. Helloooo there~" Maya calls out. You're half tempted to put on your motorcycle helmet and just die from heatstroke to avoid Maya right now, instead you just ignore her and walk inside. Maya drove her Porsche Spyder right by you, with her roof down, she initially owned a Corvette until Matt bought one; she changed cars the same day. Of course she had a spot right by the entrance to the Studios, everything was grating on your nerves at this point, even the way Maya parked with one hand rolling the wheel effortlessly as she adjusted her sunglasses with the other.
Storming into the building finally, you became acutely aware that your scent must have been rancid as every person hissed in recoil, people also avoided making eye contact with you, thank god for that at least. Reaching the desk you call your own, which just so happened to have been moved within your first week to right outside Maya's office, you put your helmet underneath and press your thumbs into the bridge of your nose. Trying desperately to take deep breaths and calm yourself down, you needed this job and it really was your passion. You loved movies and writing for them was a dream, so you had to start somewhere even if it was as a gopher.
Maya's heels clack painfully loudly as she struts into the Studio, she was trying to make an entrance and get attention. You tried to calm down even harder. Sal very loudly pulls Maya to the side and starts practically whisper screaming at her, "Maya! Get your fucking omega in line. You wanted a fucking squeeze around to tease fine. But she's a distraction to everyone else here. You could at least teach her to release a more pleasant scent. Jesu-"
You had to cut him off at that point, "Holy fuck Sal. It's like you're begging for a HR complaint against you. The only omega being harassed openly in front of her co-workers. I'd LOOOOVE to know how that goes for you." Leaning over the barricade on the higher floor, you make damn sure that everyone can hear you, "Tell me to make my scent more appealing and I swear to GOD, I will get this whole studio cancelled. I am NO ONE'S OMEGA!"
At that point you have to force yourself to sit down and slowly start your day, any more outbursts and you'd be fired for sure, no matter how controversial it would be for them to do so. Maya's heels clacked much more quietly as she walked up the stairs to enter her office, and her stupid scent. Fuck. It was so much more pleasant for some reason now. The vanilla mellowed out and the cinnamon was drawn into the forefront with a warming fire emerging paired alongside luxury jasmine, it immediately put you at ease. You had been unaware how tensed your shoulders were until they finally slackened.
Maya gently placed her hand on your desk, suspiciously close to your hand, acutely aware to not rap her acrylics on the desk. "About Sal-"
"Maya I really just don't want to hear it." You whisper quietly, taking a deep breath in. Before you immediately lock back into place, "Do you have a task for me? Or are you just hanging around to ask me on another date. My answer is still no." You snap, Maya withdraws her hand, curling her hand like she's a villain.
"You caught me." Maya smirks, but her words ring hollow in your head with an emptiness often present in her cadence. You just shoot her a sidewards glance, not even needing to respond. "Soo gorgeous, what's my day looking like then?"
Biting back a comment, you look Maya dead in her eyes and she seems to stutter in her movements for half a second, "I'm not your assistant Maya, I don't have your schedule memorised." What a fat lie, you actually did have her scheduled memorised, you just didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing you did. Your eyes bore into her like drills, trying to disturb her enough to make her leave.
"Oh please, amuse me why don't you. Be mine for a day." Maya lets the silence drag on after you don't answer.. a drawn out stagnant silence until you look up at her unimpressed. Maya pivots quicker than a politician, "My assistant for the day, come onnn~"
"As surprising as it might seem to you Maya, I don't live to serve anyone. I write. That's my job, I write and edit, if you have something like that for me to do, I will. Because that's my job." You were borderline disassociating to avoid the conversation at this point.
"Mmmm if that's how you're gonna play then hot shit, maybe I do have a job for you." Maya smirks sitting down on the edge of your desk.
"You never actually do Maya, not personally at least. Every so often someone from your team reaches out for an edit or two which gets placed in my lap because I'm the bottom rung. You're just pestering me at this point and there's never really anything I can do because you functionally run this place. Despite what Matt's title says." Laying out all the facts in front of her, it left her in a stunned state, Maya simply stands up and walks into her office. That was new.
The rest of the day was dry, painfully so, you wrote people's emails and edited speeches; not for a moment did anything interesting pass your desk, not a script, not even a shitty joke. You wanted to blame the studio for ignoring you but after your outburst, you were still grateful to be receiving work at all even if it wasn't script writing.
The only weird thing that passed your desk was a single violet with a little note tied around it, in block text clearly printed, 'Sorry'. It could have been anyone but some part of you desperately hoped it was Maya, you placed it gently in some water and took it home with you after work. Placing it in an always empty vase, it brought a smile to your face.
Laying in bed, cloaked in big puffy duvets you stared at the ceiling and felt nothing but despondence. Night-time was always so inviting but also the sombre thoughts that couldn't leave you weren't as much. Maybe tomorrow.
Arriving at Continental today, you didn't have time for a morning coffee and you were paying the consequences already. Plopping down at your desk, you absentmindedly turned your head to look through Maya's window. The blinds were partially down; not once had you ever seen something like that before. What was happening in there. You wondered, stories already flowing through your head, possibilities of what Maya could possibly be doing. Why didn't she want to be seen? Was she with someone?
You stood up before you processed the thought passing through your mind, before hesitantly sitting back down and then back up. Over the next twenty seconds you intermittently repeated standing up and sitting down before walking over to Maya's office door. Every fibre of your being wanted to rip that door of its hinges, the unknown was killing you.
Why? Why was this killing you so much? Who cared, surely not you? Maya was a grown woman- Your knuckles rapped heatedly against her door before any semblance of sense appeared to you.
Maya practically wrest the door from its hinges, growling before her eyes laid upon you. That hit you in a place deep within and your whole body shook with fervour. Maya's scent radiated off her in waves, overpowering and dominating every sense, and it morphed more into a burning of plastic, you gagged at the taste.
Everything simmered just as quickly as it had boiled. Her scent dimmed and soothed when she saw the distress in your eyes and the way you could taste the malice in her previous scent, "Oh.. I- thought it was Sal or Matt coming to piss me off. This.. this- is a much more pleasant intrusion." Maya blinked coming down from the anger.
Your stomach churned in a way it had never before and you just look into Maya's eyes stupidly. They were so.. pretty was too dull of a word but everything else sounded pretentious and romantic. Only when your nails picked at the skin around your cuticles did you snap out of it, not because you did anything but because Maya snatched your hands.
"Stop that." Maya chided you, "You have such nice nails don't ruin them. Not as lavish as mine obviously, these babies are straight fire." Maya smirked, flexing off her nails. Acrylics obviously, bejewelled and bedazzled over beige. Your mind was functionally running on autopilot at this point, grasping her hands and inspecting them. Gently running your fingers over the diamonds and platinum, you started to wonder what her nails underneath looked like, not once had you ever even seen Maya without acrylics.
You felt the crease between her acrylics and her skin, holding Maya's hands like this was intimate and she was surprisingly soft as you caressed her. Maya's blush was painfully blatant, and her scent was so.. real, you couldn't stop yourself from indulging.
You finally snapped out of it when Maya started speaking again, "Mmmm if you like my nails so much how about I buy you some. Exclusive nail tech." You let go of her hands and take two large steps back, the disappointment in Maya's eyes was so obvious.
"I don't get my nails done. You can't buy me off Maya." You respond flatly, holding your neck, intentionally covering up your scent gland, now becoming acutely more aware that you had no idea of what your scent was presenting as or of how strong it is.
"Why do you always have to assume that I'm up to no good," Maya winked. "Don't see it as me buying you off, see it as... a gift."
"No."
"Fine then if you're not going to accept that, maybe you'll finally accept a dinner date with me." Maya winks, sliding closer. You wanted to grimace, but you could only feel a creeping warmth up your neck.
You roll your eyes before looking back at Maya, finally able to smell your own scent, ink, sea salt and fresh cherries wrapped up in the cool of night. Removing your hand from your neck, you whisper, "Were you the one to give me the violet yesterday?"
Maya seems bashful in her response, "So what if I was." A small smile crept upon your lips hearing that. Violets were your favourite. How she knew you was a mystery though.
"Fine. You get one chance at this Maya. One. Don't expect anything to come from this. It's mainly just to get you off my back." Maya grinned subtly at that, adjusting her glasses and smoothing her hair. Her scent gave it away though, she was excited beyond belief and that stirred something in you. Whether that stirring was uncomfortable or settling deep within you, it was hard to tell.
"Mmm you're not gonna regret this babe. I make a very good date. You'll find out." Maya walked away after winking at you once more. For the rest of the day, Maya didn't bother you once, she was still brazen and strident. Clicking her fingers and people flocked to follow her orders, but today she was less omnipresent, spending more time in her office.
A script even crossed your desk today, asking you to edit a short dramatic monologue between characters, your heart and soul went into that monologue. Only at the end of your shift does Maya make her appearance known again, placing her hand on your helmet as you're getting up to leave.
"Tonight. 7pm. I'm picking you up. Wear something nice." She taps her nails against your visor.
"Maya do you think I've never been on a date or something. I'll wear what I please."
"Yeah. Like I said something nice," Maya smirks, waggling her fingers at you.
You only realise it when you get home the implications of an alpha/omega date. She was trying to court you, charm you, woo you and the thought.. it didn't revolt you- but it couldn't happen. Maya was just trying to lay you.
When 7pm struck you were applying the last bits of your makeup, the second the minute hand turned over a long drawn out car horn could be heard right outside your apartment. Maya's Porsche looks like it had been polished and buffed specifically for tonight and you couldn't help but roll your eyes fondly before extinguishing that from your mind.
You slipped on your boots and headed outside to meet Maya, forgetting it gets kind of cold at night. Maya was already looking you up and down from the driver's seat, slightly cropped crimson halter top, black slacks and a classy belt. She didn't even care that none of it was name brand, on you she thought it was priceless.
"You really let that horn drag on didn't you? I have neighbours yknow. No need to flex the Porsche," you comment slyly.
Maya takes a second to take you in as your arms are crossed and look down at her with a raised eyebrow, her core tightening. "Hey! I ain't no toxic performative ass cuck. Take me as I am or leave me, and I'm loud baby."
You ignore the innuendo, "Sureeeeee Maya." You move over to get in the passenger side and Maya immediately hops out.
"Baby what the hell are you doing? Here let me," she opens up the passenger door for you, resting her hand on the small of your back and coaxing you in. That's when Maya realised your halter top was backless; her face flushed with pink and she didn't move.
"Maya for fuck's sake I can do that myself," you grumble, sliding into her car and pulling the door shut behind you. It actually did feel nice to have been ushered in, to have Maya's hand on your back, but that is your secret. Now you're the one looking up, it's the first good look at Maya's outfit you've gotten. High waisted black dress pants, a thick Gucci belt and a shoulderless flowy top overtop a mesh shirt.
Maya looked like she wanted to be dinner and god you were ravenous. She grins, "Like what you're seeing? The blazer that goes with it is in the back, I didn't want to be too fuckable before I saw you."
Fuck her cockiness was insufferable, but at the same time you clenched your core involuntarily. "Hurry this up Maya, I don't have all day or night for your own dick sucking."
Maya just slides into her car and begins driving, every so often shooting you glances when she thinks you aren't looking; you're always looking. Maya also thinks she's slick when her thigh gently bumps against yours which you don't flex away from. You don't think you've ever heard Maya completely silent, she's always at least making some form of noise but not now, not even blaring some shitty music. So you took it upon yourself to start conversation.
"So where are you taking me Maya? You've not told me anything about this date." You inquire, leaning a bit against the car door; your chin held up by your hand gazing at Maya.
Maya flicked her attention over to you, meeting your eyes before looking back at the road. "You ever consider that I'd wanna surprise you hmm? Just trust me, I know what I'm doing hun."
Maya's nails have changed since when you'd seen her that day. Simple, black still pointed and acrylic, they almost resembled how you do your nails but more Maya. She tapped them against the wheel rhythmically, too erratic for a beat. You chose not to comment, merely admired her.
"Fine, I suppose I don't have much of a choice now do I..." the second you said it regret flowed through you, "I- I mean.. yeah yknow what. I'll trust you Maya." You give her a small smile. "I mean, I trusted you when you told me that the new trend for food was sushi pizza and that turned out pretty damn good. For what it was at least," you chuckled and Maya cracked a smirk.
"Yeah well that shit didn't last long because the creator of it was exposed for being a massive racist. Shocker that. I had to delete all my damn Instagram photos." Maya cracked up, not faked or posed, it was perfect. Your heart felt slightly warmed and you could feel your face flush with pink, so you immediately turned your head looking out the window. It was hard because all you really wanted to do was look at Maya.
You felt the car stop after a few minutes in silence and looking around there was no extravagant restaurant that you'd have expected Maya to bring you to. Stepping out onto the street, all you saw were a couple already closed stores and a deli, no cinema or park. Your confusion was growing by the minute and so was the cold creeping up your back.
Maya noticed, sidling up next to you and draping her blazer around your shoulders. Placing her hand on your shoulder, usually your instincts would have you flinch away but you didn't. The blazer had a silk interior that soothed your skin and Maya gently turned your body to look down an alley.
Halfway down a soft glow emanated from a window with a sign swinging in the wind. You allowed Maya to guide you down the alley, gently leaning into her. It was too late to be a lone omega wandering around at least without being in a group. Night was so beautiful, and you resented the fact it wasn't safe.
When you were closer to the place it was a small hole in the wall restaurant. It looked like maybe it was an Italian place, "How very traditional," you tease Maya. It was flattering though. When you walked in with Maya everything was so comforting and intimate, only a few people inside with a gorgeous smell wafting from deep in the kitchen.
Maya escorted you to a table near the back, her hand still on the small of your back gently rubbing now. Maya pulled out a chair for you and you sat down just looking up at her. When Maya sat across from you she crossed her legs and leant forwards on her folded fingers, elbows on the table. Somewhere in your mind, you wished she would have not crossed her legs. "So then? Good enough for you?"
You just smirk at her and roll your eyes, "Alright maybe I'm starting to take the bait. But try not to get too big for your britches, eh Maya?" You shrug off her blazer and place it on the back of your chair, Maya's eyes dilate just slightly as you do so.
When the waiter come around, he places two menus on the table, "Anything I can do for you now? Drinks?"
Maya just looks over at you before opening her menu, waiting for you to answer first, so you can set the tone. It's stupid and small but it makes you blush. "Um can I get an extra dirty gin martini stirred please."
Maya smirks over her menu at 'extra dirty', "Mmmm if that's the case. I'll do the same but make it filthy." Deliberately whispering the word filthy was a low blow, it made you quiver.
Browsing the menu became increasingly difficult because you only really wanted to look at Maya, she was so different from her work side, but both sides of her were... appealing to say the least. Maya was very much in the same boat, she felt like a schoolgirl who couldn't keep her eyes off her crush, it was all so juvenile. The way you braided your hair for this date, your eyes, how your lips looked, she could only imagine how they tasted.
Browsing the menu it all looked so good but you had no idea what to order and well Maya had barely glanced at the menu, too focused on oogling you. The silence was broken when you looked up and caught Maya watching you unabashedly, "So then.. you've clearly been here before, what's good. I don't know what to get."
Maya's face lit up trying to remain concealed behind a facade of nonchalance, "Mmm do you want me to keep it a secret then and just order for you."
"I don't know about that, how can I be sure that you won't poison me," you giggle and Maya lowers her sunglasses as if that covers up her blush.
"You think I went through all this trouble just so I could poison you. You've been reading too many horror novels." Maya comments adjusting her glasses, she knew the most recent book you had finished was a horror. Why did she pay so much attention?
"Fine then go ahead, order for me My~" You didn't intend on the flirty tone, or the nickname but it just so happened to slip out.
Maya's eyes dilated to an excessive degree, like she was high off of that. She scrambled a little with the menu, looking over it eagerly trying to find something that you'd like. Never had you seen her act like this, it was new and slightly intoxicating, you folded your menu and pushed it forwards, leaning back. Maya looked kind of like you back in university, overly eager and desperate to please.
You licked your lips, "I have high expectations for you My.. please don't disappoint." Maya looked stressed but loving every second of this and if you were honest.. so were you. Your legs crossed unconsciously and you could feel yourself getting wetter.
Eventually the waiter came back around with the martinis, placing Maya's down first and then your own, "For the alpha and omega respectively, enjoy. Let me know when you want to order." You shot him a deadly look and bit the inside of your cheek, you don't know why that comment irritated you so badly, nor why him addressing Maya specifically when talking about ordering.
You butted in, "Yeah actually *we* are ready to order," taking your martini and taking a long slow sip of it. It's perfect. You nudge Maya's leg with your foot and raise an eyebrow at her smirking but she doesn't respond how you want.
Her scent it perverts from its true form, falling back into the rancid patchouli and overpowering vanilla forcing you to place your drink back down. Maya's tone shifts as well, her cockiness comes back out and you couldn't be more turned off in the moment. "Mmmm yes, we'll get the shrimp alfredo for the omega and the mussel puttanesca linguine for myself."
"Excellent choices." Once the waiter leaves, Maya just looks over at you smug and assured until she saw your expression, one of utter repulsion. Her scent flip flops back again to her warming fire and cinnamon, like she's trying to apologise without words but you just scoff. Your own scent morphing to reek of rotting seaweed just to aggravate the situation a little.
"You're mad..? I did what you asked though." Maya poses, pushing her sunglasses up, like she's looking down on you.
"Fuck, I can't believe I fell for this." You mutter standing up throwing your napkin down at the table, "I'll save you the trouble of finishing this date. It's over." Maya grasps your hand as you start to leave.
"Don't go please.." she whispers and Maya looks like herself, feels like herself. Her eyes are wide and soft, you can feel yourself melting all over again. Fucking omega hormones, they're making this so much harder than it needs to be.
"F-Fine. Fine Maya okay." You sit back down, sipping on your martini, "But you're paying for this whole meal."
Maya grins still holding onto your hand across from the table, "Naturally," Maya takes a long slow sip from her martini and recoiled slightly.
"Do you not actually like martinis?" You chuckle at her recoil, taking great pleasure in her detriment after the stunt she just pulled.
"Nahh the olive brine is lowkey rancid.." Maya admitted, pushing the martini slightly away from herself.
You cover your mouth as you laugh, your cheeks creasing, Maya flushed, "So you really did order my exact order just to make that filthy comment. Was it worth it?"
Maya makes eye contact and attempts to cover her face, disguise her blush. You pull her hand away gently but firmly, pursing your lips, commanding her to answer your question. "Yes. Okay.. I think it was worth it. You fucked with it as well.."
"Oh so confident as well, but what did I really expect from you.. My~" this time it was intentional, gauging Maya's reaction to the nickname, just like before it was like a drug to her and you started to take it in stride, your own confidence growing. "Why don't we get you a drink you'll actually enjoy then.. what do you want? Tell me and I'll make it happen for you hmm~"
Maya was reacting in the way you thought she might, her chest puffed out, her tongue rolled around in her cheek and she tried altering her scent back to boozy patchouli but the way you held her hand. Caressed her softly. Encouraged her silently. Her hand nuzzled into yours.
"Maybe a glass of wine." Maya mumbled, for the first time in knowing her it's like she didn't want to be heard with that answer but you still did.
"More specific My~ Red..? White..? A Rosé..? Champagne..?" You coaxed gently. Maya's ears perked up when she heard champagne, "Champagne it is.. you going to tell me why then?"
You're already signalling down a waitress this time and ordering a glass of their best champagne, still raising your eyebrow at Maya. She knows she needs to answer, "It's silly okay.. and kinda yknow embarrassing as shit.."
"And yet I'm still asking you to answer. No matter how silly, I want to hear. You never know.. what if your answer charms me.." You smirk and Maya fidgets, unable to look you in the eyes until you tenderly lift her chin to meet your eyes.
"Hypothetically maybe I wanted champagne to celebrate.. yknow ugh its moronic and sappy like a shitty booktok novel." she tried to retreat until you squeezed her hand, "To celebrate.. finally having a first date with you.."
Maya was right, it was sappy but god did it touch you deeply. You immediately ordered a second glass, "If that's the case, then I should celebrate with you, but beware. Two martinis and two top shelf champagnes are not going to be cheap My."
"That's fine! I don't mind at all.. I- I'm happy to just celebrate with you.."
"Awww you're so sweet. I like that." You grin, and when your champagne arrives you raise your glass. "To celebrate a first date.. and if you're lucky.. a second soon coming."
Maya clinks her glass with yours, "Definitely a second date.."
As you sip your champagne, you look down at the martinis still on the table, "Maybe you should drink my champagne though, I'm not sure I want to mix alcohols. I'd prefer to be as sober as I can.. For what's hopefully to come next." You bite your lip subtly.
Maya accepts the second glass of champagne and gestures to her filthy martini. "Oh so now you want me to be the filthy one mmm?" You tease, and Maya can start to feel herself getting hard from your low sultry tone.
"Okay.. sure.. but be advised.. I tend to get a little more touchy when I'm drunk. Is that okay with you..? I don't want to be rash." Your whispers carry just far enough to reach Maya's ears but just quiet enough that she can't help but lean in closer to hear.
"Yes.. be rash. I want that.. I'm ready for anything.." Maya voice was very breathy and needy..
"Tsk tsk... Trying to get me more excited.. to act out around all these people. How naughty.. irresponsible even," you chide Maya softly. She was almost quivering in her seat already, and it was getting harder to keep your hands off her at this point. Maya arched her neck, opening up her scent gland, inviting you in. When you took smelt the air, Maya's scent was thick and clouding at this point and it was divine. You could already picture her scent filling you every morning as you woke up, the warm hearth and jasmine pleading for your attention.
Very rudely, you were interrupted by the waiter bringing the food to the table, setting down the puttanesca and alfredo. As he was about to leave, he smelt the air, didn't even glance over Maya and his eyes bore into you. He clearly wanted to say something but instead chose to walk away.
Maya could tell how annoyed you were as the smell of burning baked goods emerged slightly in your scent. Her nose cringed and she squeezed your hand, running the pad of her thumb over your wrist. All the burning in your scent dissipated immediately, you placed your free hand over hers but stayed silent. Just allowing Maya to soothe for a bit.
Eventually you pull away slightly to finish off your martini, "Well then, I suppose we should eat before our food gets cold hmm?" You're clearly eyeing up Maya's puttanesca over the shrimp alfredo. Maya noticed and immediately pushed the plate towards you.
"Oh My~ I can't do that to you. Didn't you order the alfredo for me. It was you recommendation no?"
Maya looks down at the plate, "I.. no. I got the puttanesca for you but I don't know.."
"Are you just saying what I want to hear hmm? It tends to be a good idea but I'd prefer your honesty right now." You take a long sip of Maya's filthy martini as you whisper that. Maya nods her head and rubs her arm embarrassed. "Alright then, what do you want to eat? Still want me to try the alfredo?"
Maya tapped the puttanesca closer to you. Dinner was perfect. Maya was a treat to be on a date with. Made you laugh like no end, was so much fun to taunt and you could feel yourself falling for her. It was the last thing you expected. As dinner came to a close, both of you finished your drinks and food just waiting on the cheque to come around. Now you were absentmindedly running your boot up and down Maya's calf, teasing her.
The waiter finally rolled around with the cheque, placing it down in front of Maya. You rolled your eyes. But you kept teasing Maya, leaning back in your chair. You raise an eyebrow at Maya as she pulled out her black AMEX, inching your foot a little higher up on her thigh. Maya twitches as she tries to maintain her composure, beginning to smell that punchy vanilla coming back, you go higher. Maya melts a little before you.
The waiter accepts the card and then smiles, "Thank you Ms. Mason for dining with us, I hope you and your omega had a good time." Your stomach rejected that idea and half wanted to puke out of spite. Your omega? Like you were something to be owned, Maya's property.
Maya responds, "Mmmm yes we did, thank you so much. We'll be off now."
You stood up and tossed Maya's blazer back into her lap, leaving without looking back. Maya quickly apologised to the waiter and chased after you out of the restaurant. You're already on your phone looking to order an Uber home when Maya places a hand on your shoulder.
"What was that all about? What are you doing? I thought the date went fucking bomb." Maya interrogated, trying to peer at your phone.
"I'm calling an Uber. I should have known. I can't even believe I stayed after you asked me to. God how stupid am I?" You quip rhetorically flipping to turn Maya.
"Why are you calling an Uber? I thought I'd drive you home.. and maybe you'd invite me in." Maya puffs out her chest, trying to regain her standing and pride.
"Seriously Maya. I can't deal with your fucking flip flopping bullshit. One minute you're the sweetest person ever and I want to kiss you till I can't breathe. The next you act like a prideful cunt whipping your dick out for a goddamn contest. I can't do it."
"WHAT? What brought this on? Come on let me drive you home baby." Maya attempts to place her hand on the small of your back but you lean away.
"Not a chance in hell. Look Maya. I am not your omega. I let you take me on one date and you've shit the bed. Every time you had a chance to act like a.. like a pompous, arrogant conceited cunt you took it. I wouldn't even mind that. It could be kind of hot but nooooo Maya. Because you and your fucking alpha pride got in the way. That's what brought this on. You think you can own me, I'd be your omega," your words pour out like the pressure is finally able to be released after all this time.
"I don't have alpha pride! What a load of fuckin' bs. If you can't handle me just say that!" Maya snaps back.
You pocket your phone and spin around, slamming Maya back against a wall, your voice dominant and erotic, "Now now My~ Don't lie to my face mmm. Nod if you understand." Maya begins to nod looking down at you, her lips parted, her neck tilted.
Then she resumes form, flipping positions, pinning you to the wall and for a second you could feel yourself aroused, until that putrid patchouli scent arose. "I don't have alpha pride. I'm just not a little bitch, yeah? So are you coming back to mine? Or do you want to keep arguing." You could see the disingenuity rising off her skin like steam.
You push Maya off and began to walk away again, calling over your shoulder, "Yknow what Maya. I was going to invite you round, until you seemed too focused on proving you were an alpha. Do you even have an inkling of what its like to be an omega? Hm? I thought not. To be treated like a prize for any alpha who takes you out," you gesture at her.
"If you really wanted me, Maya, you'd be willing to admit it. That you're wrong. That you're full of yourself and if you let that down, let it rot away and die like it needs to. I could be your mate."
Maya takes a hesitant step back before asking, "How do I do that then? How do I prove to you that maybe I do want you. Maybe I do love you."
"I don't fucking know Maya, maybe you'll just have to take it from the back by me. You clearly wanted to the whole goddamn dinner. But I'm done taking shit from you." With that your Uber arrived and you subtly thank whatever deity out there let you leave with that line playing back in Maya's head.
She tried to call you, a number of times but you let them all go to voicemail, the first few were angry, then the next apologetic and one more which was Maya sobbing, begging for forgiveness. You couldn't bring yourself to finish that one.
When you laid awake that night, staring at the ceiling, you wished Maya was laid there with you, with the cinnamon and fresh hearth fire scent wrapping around you. It wasn't though and you fell asleep after a drawn out restlessness.
The next morning you saw Maya tried calling you a dozen more times but you ignored them all as well as the numerous texts she sent. You just milled about your apartment for the day, grateful enough it was a weekend to avoid having to see or interact with Maya at work.
It was cheesy and stupid but you ordered ice cream, watching every movie you could think of wanting to watch with her. Just a day with you alone, cradling a pint of ice cream trying not to cry and scream about how unfair the whole world was. Every so often you checked outside the window to see if Maya had parked that stupid Porsche of hers outside, but no dice. You gave up at a point, you hadn't received a single further call or text since last night, you figured you only got those because Maya got herself drunk at home.
By the time that night came for the second time, there wasn't a point in holding out hope any longer. Staring at the bright light of your phone, you realised you couldn't be bothered to cook yourself anything to eat and so take out it was. When your fingers moved independently of your body to bring up Maya's text messages, you see that she had deleted her most recent text, from 4am this morning. It had read 'I'll make it up to you.'
What a load of shit. You tossed your phone across the room onto your couch. Folding up on the armchair and watching another depressing tragic movie. After about ten minutes of crying your eyes out, you get up to grab your phone again, in a futile attempt to check for Maya again. When you're interrupted by a knock at the door.
Wow, you knew this food was quick and cheap but not that fast. Slinking behind the door, you tentatively open it ready to indulge in so much grease but when you peer around, the door is thrown wide open.
Maya walks in. Standing in all her glory, she's practically glowing with radiance. Even with the tear stains all over her face, her messy hair and the fact she was wearing a hoodie. Maya looks stunning, and she was here.
Maya just stood there wordlessly in front of you. In the middle of your apartment, Maya gently shuts your door for you. She also notices that you've been crying as well, the almost fully melted ice cream pint and the sad movie.
Before she can get a word out, you walk over to your couch and drop down, curling up into your sweatshirt. "What do you want Maya?" you croak, voice raspy and shot. Of course she had to smell perfect, she didn't wear any perfume to come see you, so all you could smell was her and it was pervading the whole place.
Maya silently walks over to the couch and sits down next to you, still too far away to touch. "You never responded to my calls.. or texts but I can see you had seen them.."
You chose not to respond to that, instead turning the movie back on and laying on the armrest a little more. "You're making this a lot more difficult than it needs to be yknow.." Maya whispered, reaching a hand down to press down on the cushions, like she wanted you to move closer.
"Ohhhh I'm making this difficult huh?! Maya just be frank with me. Are you here to apologise and leave or what?"
"That's not fair.."
"HOW?! How is that not fair Maya? Not fair on you maybe because I predicted exactly what was going to happen?" You snap, turning off the movie.
Maya just looked at you silently, hurt, before placing a hand on your knee. Sparks ran through you, Maya whispered, "You said that my pride was getting in my way.. and that I had to.. take it from the back by you. So I'm here. For that."
You looked at her dumbfounded by what she had just said, the longer you made eye contact with her the greater the blush that erupted on her face. "What? Maya.. I wasn't being serious.." You closed your legs as you felt arousal start to dampen your panties.
Maya's eyes widened, and she leaned in closer, "Please..."
It was getting difficult to keep your hands to yourself at this point, keeping them in your lap as Maya started to look progressively needier. "Please what..? Use your words for me My~" You didn't mean to it just came out. Maya's parted lips, her wide eyes and the soft noises she was making all but begged you to ravage her right now, but she needed to say it.
"Please.. keep calling me My.. and I want to be yours. So please.. please.. don't make me beg."
"Oh but I have to now, don't I My~? I need you to say it. Say you want me to, admit that you were being an ass yesterday." You grasped Maya's chin, holding her firmly, her lips spread further on impulse.
"P-Please.. I was a total asshole yesterday, I was condescending and rude and I let people treat you wrong. I thought I could own you but I just... I need you.. please.." Maya quivered in your touch, whispering breathily.
"Now why was that so hard for you to admit yesterday hmm? If you did.. you'd be staying for a second night in a row."
Maya's eyes widened and dilated eager for redemption, she answered without prompting this time, "I didn't admit it yesterday because I didn't want to give up my power.. being an alpha and all."
"Good girl.." You praise and Maya squirms in your hand, "So what I'm hearing is that you're giving me your power. You want me in control.. isn't that right..?"
Maya is getting more bold now, desperately needy, you can smell it on her. "YES! Yes for the fucking love of god yes. PLEASE! Just do anything.." she whines.
"I'm getting there.. my My~" you tease. Its so blatantly obvious that Maya is going to burst if you draw this out any longer. Even though that idea tempts you to no end, it'll have to be saved for another day.
You lean in and gingerly meet Maya's lips for an exploratory first kiss. Fuck they're so soft. You pull back to look at Maya, she looks on the verge of tears, "You're so pent up aren't you My~ You keep wriggling and whining, my sweet My~"
Winding your arms around Maya's hips, you hoist her onto your lap and she immediately starts to grind down on your thigh. She got a quick tap on the flank for that, "You're like insatiable aren't you baby. It's like you're in heat." You coo and Maya nods furiously.
"Please.. pleaseeeee.. Mistress," Maya begs, your hips buck up into her when she says Mistress.
"Alright then.. Fine. Slowly.. you may continue.. but only because I really enjoyed being called Mistress." Maya immediately gets to it and you have to place your hands on her hips to control her pace as she slings her arms around your shoulders. You lean in again and kiss Maya, this time longer, your tongue presses against the crease in her lips and she instantly lets you inside, desperate to taste you. Maya tasted better than you could have imagined, ambrosia, food of the gods couldn't even compare. You held the back of her head and kissed her hard.
When you pulled away for a second, pressing your foreheads together, breath intermingling, you finally noticed that Maya was hard, really hard. Pressing into your thigh, gently humping against you with the pace you were still setting. "Poor baby.. how long have you been trapped in those slacks? Tell Mistress how long you've been hard."
Maya shudders, and tries to turn away but you correct her with the hand still on the back of her head. "The.. whole time.. I tried to hide it because I didn't want to pressure you."
You could feel yourself get more wet just from that comment, "Aww my sweet girl. How considerate of you.. but you don't have to worry about that anymore. Take off your clothes. Mistress needs to see you.."
Maya, breathing heavy, sits upright and starts to strip off her hoodie, revealing a short crop top underneath. You moved your hands from their places to slide onto her stomach, running up and down her sides. Indulging in Maya, you hear her moan softly and you look up at her, "I didn't say to stop, did I?"
Maya preened under all the attention, shedding her crop top next to reveal a lacy black bra, "Came prepared didn't you My~?" You pressed a soft kiss to Maya's cheek as she nodded her head. Maya reached for her bra next and you grasped her hand, "No no. Not yet. I'll do that. Slacks. Off now."
Maya protested, "But- I don't want to get off your lap Mistress.. help me at least..?"
You press a kiss to Maya's throat and you can feel it bob as she gulps, she knows she's testing limits, seeing how far she can go. You were a little ashamed to admit that you couldn't resist her pretty begging. "You're pushing your luck, my girl.."
Nonetheless, you help Maya to her feet and grab her hips pulling her flush against you. You kiss her on the forehead, then her nose, her lips. Maya grabs onto your waist flexing her fingers just needing something to feel. As you pepper kisses down Maya she struggles to remain good, you can tell she wants to pounce and beg.
"You're being so good baby. It's okay, just enjoy what's happening now. I'll give you all the attention in the world, I promise." Each pause you take you kiss her somewhere new, her chest, her stomach, her flank until you're kneeling, undoing the button on her slacks. The second the button comes loose, her slacks drop to the floor and she steps out of them wearing only a matching set of lacy black panties.
"God you look perfect My~" your eyes fall and you can see her cock straining against the fabric, "Mmmm I'm impressed baby." You run a finger along her length and she juts forwards into your hand. "Eager too.."
"Please Mistress.. Let me see you.. I need to touch you." Maya practically sobs. You kiss her inner thigh, very very slowly.
"Okay okay, my girl is feeling so needy for me. I think its time I finally give her a little something more." You lightly shove Maya back onto the couch, sliding up between her thighs. Running your hands along her legs, you can't help but moan, nosing against her panties Maya bucks closer to your face.
"This is good.. but I really want to see you Mistress.. please." Maya whines running her hands through your hair.
"Yknow what My.. I'll make you a deal. If you can keep it together for lets say.. five minutes, then I'll strip for you.. mkay?" You coo. Maya shakes with arousal as you slide your fingers underneath the waistband of her panties. Pulling them down oh so slowly is torturous for not only Maya but yourself. Revealed to you first is her trimmed bush and you can't help but plant a lewd kiss there before finally releasing her cock.
Maya's cock twitched when it was finally out in the open air, a small bead of pre-cum forming on her tip. As you eyed up and down her length, licking your lips, Maya covered her face with her hands, "Tsk tsk. Absolutely not. I want to see you and you're gonna see me. Sit on your hands." Maya obliges.
"Better." You plant a kiss at the base, before taking a long slow lick from bottom to top, making sure to lick up that pre-cum forming at the top. Maya squeals and you could feel your slick begin to seep into your own panties. You're set on getting as many of those moans and squeals from her as possible. One hand wraps around her cock and the other squeezes her thigh encouragingly, and she opens her legs wider in response.
You start pumping your hand up and down her length, Maya jerks up trying to get more friction but it needs a little something more. So you spit straight onto her cock and Maya moans quietly. Not loud enough for you. When you start pumping your hand again its much easier this time, jerking her off slowly before picking up the pace watching her face as she so clearly enjoyed it but she really tried to hold herself together.
Maya closed her eyes and looked away from you. You clicked your tongue and Maya immediately turned her attention back to you, "Mmmmm you're so well trained already aren't you." Maya opened up her mouth like she was about to make a scene and act out, so you took that opportunity to take her tip in your mouth. That shut her up really quick.
You bobbed your head up and down, just on her tip, sucking and licking. You were trying to push Maya to the very fringes of her resistance, edge her to the very peak. Moving your hands to wrap underneath her legs and pull her as close as you could, with every bob you relax your throat a little more and let Maya further inside. Maya throbbed desperately in your mouth and you finally come up for air. A thin strand of spit connecting your wettened lips to her cock; Maya quivered and whined as soon as she wasn't warm and snug in your throat.
"How long?" You ask, catching your breath. Maya pretends to look confused for a second so you roll your eyes, "You know what I'm asking baby. Don't pretend."
"It's been almost 4 minutes. I'm gonna get to see all of you Mistress," Maya smiles excitedly.
"Awww that's so sweet. I appreciate your naivete," you smirk before taking her entire cock down your throat, choking lightly on her as your nose reaches her pelvis. Maya tasted so good and you could feel yourself invigorated to make her lose. Maybe your own pride in that way. You sucked as hard as you could determined to make Maya crack, bobbing up and down from tip to base every time.
Maya started throbbing, you could feel her in your mouth. Maya started to cry softly as she reached her peak. Hot thick streams of cum hit your tongue and you wrapped your lips around her cock, gently sucking every last drop out of Maya. Slowly you made sure to lap up and swallow all of it, helping Maya through her aftershocks. When you finally finished, you looked up at Maya who was still crying quietly.
"Hey.. hey what's wrong..?" You whispered, crawling up to lay next to Maya, you go to wipe her tears away but the second you touch her; Maya dives into your shoulder, nuzzling and taking comfort in your scent. You cradle her head and whisper into her ear, "Baby.. hey it's okay. I'm here.. everything is fine. I just need you to speak so I know how to help My."
It takes a minute or two for Maya to recompose herself, wiping her tears out her eyes. "I- its silly and childish.." You pull Maya back much to her chagrin and just give her a look, holding her there despite how much she'd rather be in your arms. "I thought I would have fuckin' annihilated your challenge. And well.. got to have seen you.. naked."
"Oh.. is that what it is..? Oh baby, oh don't cry over that. My sweet girl, you'll see me, oh come here." You coo, pulling Maya back into your shoulder, releasing more of your scent to aid you. Maya holds you tightly, still sensitive from her orgasm. "I mean.. if you're up for it.. you did come here with a goal in mind and that hasn't been achieved yet." Maya perks up immediately at that. "But first.. why don't you help Mistress get out of some of these clothes, they're incredibly stuffy."
Maya's hands were all over you, immediately yanking off your sweatshirt, exposing your chest to her. Your nipples pebbling under the observation and the new breeze, Maya looked up at you asking for permission. "Nuh uh, not until I've had my way with you," you remark smugly. Maya reaches behind own her back now trying to rip off her bra, and you tapped her hands away. "Sometimes you're perfectly well behaved and sometimes your need for attention makes you misbehave. It's cute. Now let Mistress," you smirk, leaning forwards and deftly unlatching Maya's bra.
The lace is discarded somewhere across the room, and your hand snakes up to cup Maya's tit gently fondling her, rolling her nipple between your fingers. Maya moans lewdly pushing her chest further out practically begging for more attention. "Greedy." you tease, Maya just responds with a breathy 'mmhmm', you kiss her neck and trail down until your lips sealed around her other nipple, swirling your tongue around. Maya is sliding her hands down your arms, trying to grope at your own boobs. Your mouth is too occupied to protest, not that you'd want to with how turned on you were at this point.
Maya was weirdly gentle, tender and you had no idea why that turned you on further. You made sure to alternate which of Maya's tits were getting attention from your tongue and fingers, only when you were thoroughly satisfied did you finally pull away. Maya's erection made you well aware of how aroused she was even after just having orgasmed.
Confidence swelled within you after feeling that, you stood up and leaned towards Maya, slowly stripping off your now slick soaked panties. They stuck to you slightly and you could feel it now being watched with ravenous eyes. "Come with me." You yank Maya up, already kissing her. You weren't so sure she was an alpha at this point with how hot she felt, warm to the touch and god you never wanted to stop, every inch of her curves were a gift from heaven. It swelled you with a degree of certainty you had never felt before.
You're both practically interlinked at this point, Maya is grasping at your curves, the softness of your ass and you trailing your nails over her back, chests pressed against eachother as you lead her into the bedroom. Breathing heavily, you toss Maya onto the bed, kissing each of her thighs before crouching down. You yank out a box hidden beneath your bed and open it to pull out your strap.
Maya's eyes go wide, and you notice, "We don't actually have to if you don't want to My~" Maya shakes her head vehemently, "Well if that's the case baby, why don't you come help Mistress." Maya eagerly jumps up, grabbing the strap from you, holding it out for you. You stepped into the harness, holding onto Maya's shoulder, kissing her lips. She pulled the harness up, making no attempt to hide how she grasped the dildo, affixing it around your hips and tightening.
The second you could feel the strap on your hips, you were back on top of Maya, kissing her all over as she keened into every single one. Her muscles flexing underneath the pressure, you could feel the strap stimulating your clit already as the dildo rubbed up against Maya's cock.
You lean backwards, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a bottle of lube. "This is gonna be cold sweet girl." Squeezing a dollop onto your hands before massaging it onto the dildo before warning Maya. She hissed when the cool touch of the lube made contact, pumping your hand up and down, Maya quickly got adjusted as the warmth of your body took over.
"Mmmm there you go baby. Fuck you're so big Maya. I could watch you squirm around with your pretty cock all day." Every word of yours dripped with honey, and Maya quaked with how desperate she was to please you. She reached her hand down, trying to line up the lubed strap with her ass. "Ohh big scary alpha is feeling needy hmm? Or just excited to take my strap huh?" You had to pin down her hands with how much that she writhed from that comment.
Once you lined up your strap with her ass, you whispered softly, "Speak up if anything goes wrong or doesn't feel good mkay my pretty girl." Maya nods eagerly, tongue lolling out all she wants right now is you.
You slowly insert the first inch, allowing Maya to adjust to the size but she's already moaning loudly, "One inch is all it takes to get you excited hmm?"
Maya babbles, "Please keep going Mistress, I can take it all. It's going to feel so good." You thrust the second inch in and begin to fuck Maya with just those two inches.
"Can you keep your arms above your head for me My~? For Mistress." Maya nods her head eagerly and you let go of her wrists and begin to palm one of her tits, greedily indulging as your other hand moves to tease her cock. Starting to pump with your hand, you move closer thrusting inside Maya with more and more inches, trying to take your time and let her get accustomed to more and more.
That was until Maya basically shrilled, "I NEED IT ALL MISTRESS, PLEASE." That was the straw that broke the camel's back, it was impossible to resist. You pull the entire strap out and thrust roughly into Maya, she took the strap so perfectly up to the hilt, The vibrations of the thrust stimulated your clit, and Maya's pretty moans made you slick all the more.
You started to fuck at a greater pace, pumping Maya's cock at the same pace. Each time you bury the strap inside her and you can feel it hitting deep inside, she was so tight and every time your hips met her ass it only encouraged the next thrust. Maya was perfect, she moved in sync with you trying to fuck herself more on the strap, eager to bury deeper. "You're so fucking gorgeous like this My. Trying to fuck yourself on my cock. You should have asked for it sooner baby. I would have *loved* to give it to you."
Maya moaned, "Fuck, I love it so much Mistress, please god. Please keep fucking me, I need you so badly." You moved your hand playing with Maya's tits to instead hold her legs, for a better angle to fuck her deeper. Clearly you had found it when Maya cried out in pleasure, still pumping her cock. That's when you noticed the base of Maya's cock, it began to swell up trying to form a knot.
"Oh baby are you knotting the air right now?? Is Mistress making you feel so good that you can't resist it. My girl's pretty alpha knot in the air all for me?" It was like ecstasy for you, seeing Maya so desperate for you and it was evident in your tone. Starting to sound a little more manic with pleasure, "It's like you're fucking built to respond to me."
All Maya could do was cry out, "Yes! GOD FUCK! MY KNOT IS ALL FOR YOU MISTRESS. ALL FOR YOU."
Feeling yourself get closer alongside Maya with every thrust, you drive it home, clapping against Maya's plush ass grunting each word, "For an alpha you really take your omega's dick well don't you my girl. Huh? You love being made your omega's bitch don't you gorgeous."
Maya squealed out, "I FUCKING LOVE IT! I LOVE BEING YOUR BITCH." You thrust once more and you were gone, in the throws of your pleasure, your strap buried deep within Maya. She joined alongside you, twitching and cumming all over her stomach. It was the best orgasm either of you had ever had.
You slowly pull the strap out of Maya after you rode out your aftershocks with a few light thrusts, unlatching it and letting it drop to the floor before you collapsed into bed with Maya. She pulled you in the second you were close, your cheek now on top her chest, her scent begins to slowly dim from the thick cloud of pheromones. You finally noticed how strong her arms were as they draped over you.
"Mmmm," you hum softly, feeling your body slowly begin to curl up into Maya. Teasing her right now felt too easy so you run your hand up along her curves and rest it lazily on her shoulder.
It was so warm, you were about to be lured into a hazy dream but you were kept awake by Maya shuffling, "I- wow. That was.. really thorough.."
"You're underselling my abilities My," you coo, pressing a kiss on her chest. "Are you.. trying to leave?"
Maya's scent rushed back out, the cinnamon dulling your senses. "I could fucking never, you're stuck with me now toots." That brought a soft smile to your lips, so you returned the joy, kissing up Maya to her scent gland. Very gently pressing a kiss to the gland, Maya shuddered under the attention, you knew that she adored it even how sensitive she was.
Maya weaved her hand up to tangle in your hair, keeping you close to her scent gland. With your nose pressed deep in, you murmur, "Trying to seduce me again Maya..?"
"Always baby." Maya smirked, "And that's a fuckin' promise."
Post Fic Notes:
I've read through every single Maya Mason x F!Reader and only read one where Maya was the sub sooo I wanted to change that ;>
Summary: After dropping out of your doctorate under difficult circumstances, your younger brother Billy gets you a job babysitting his boss, Professor Harkness’ 4 year old Nicky. Little did you know that this part time job to get you out of the house would lead to so much more.
Word Count: 9.5K
Warnings: talk of abuse of power and assault but no graphic descriptions x no smut this time loves but as always MDNI xo
A/N: lots of backstory and plot on this one folks x hope you all enjoy and hope you’ve had a blessed beltane and are taking care of yourselves xo
The waiting room is too bright. Every wall is stark white, filled with posters about mindfulness and breathing techniques in pastel colours, the faint whir of a vent overhead the only sound. You sit in one of the plastic chairs, knees pressed together, hands fidgeting with the strap of your bag.
Your phone vibrates in your lap.
~ Mum: Good luck today, sweetheart. So proud of you. ❤️~
A second buzz, almost immediately after.
~ Billy: You’ve got this. Text me after or I’ll come drag you out for coffee, deal? ~
And then, right on their heels is a text from Agatha.
~ Agatha: With you in spirit, babygirl. Be gentle with yourself. Call me the second you’re done. ~
You stare at the three messages stacked on top of each other, all soft and supportive, and somehow they just make your stomach twist harder.
You swallow, staring down at the screen until the words blur. It should feel good, having them cheer you on. Instead it feels like pressure. Like they’re all waiting for you to come out better somehow. Fixed.
You slip the phone back into your bag, pressing your palms to your thighs to keep them from shaking.
Your name is called from the doorway, your head jerking up at the sound of your name.
The air feels thick in your chest as you stand, your body already too warm. You force your legs to move, every step toward that office making the sick feeling coil tighter in your gut.
She’s not what you expected.
Short, with dark hair pinned back in a loose twist, streaks of silver glinting through. Big, expressive eyes lined in kohl. Her clothes are professional enough but there’s something wildly witchy in the way bracelets are stacked at her wrists, a single silver ring catching the light when she pushes the door open wider for you.
“Come on in,” she says, her accent faint, a lilting undercurrent that makes you glance twice.
You step into her office, clutching your bag strap too tight. The space smells faintly of herbs and old books. There are shelves lined with psychology texts, yes, but also a few dog- eared novels, a thick candle burned low in a glass jar.
And behind her desk is a framed, weathered map of Sicily.
Your nerves tangle with curiosity. “Are you Sicilian?”
Her mouth curves, faintly amused. “I am. Very perceptive.” She gestures to the map, stepping past her desk to pull a chair out for you. “My family is from Palermo. I keep that there to remind me of home.”
You nod quickly, sinking into the offered chair. Your heart is still hammering, your palms clammy, but there’s something steady in the way she looks at you, direct but not unkind.
Dr. Calderu settles into her chair across from you, her bracelets give the faintest chime when she folds her hands in her lap.
“So,” she says gently, tilting her head a little, “why have you decided to come to therapy?”
You pull your knees up into the chair before you can stop yourself, arms wrapping around them tight. The position makes you feel smaller, safer.
You sigh, eyes flicking to the floor. “I don’t know. I guess… people are worried about me.”
“People?” she echoes, tone curious but not sharp.
“My mom. My brother. My…” You hesitate, chewing the inside of your cheek. “My… girlfriend.” The word comes out quieter than you mean it to.
Dr. Calderu nods once, like she’s tucking the detail away without judgment. “Why do you think they’re worried?”
Your gaze skitters away from her, catching instead on the lines of that old Sicilian map behind her desk. You focus on the faded coastline and the faint, sea worn names of towns you don’t know. It feels easier to look at that than her eyes.
You shrug, hugging your knees tighter. “I left my doctorate. I moved back home. Slept a lot.” Your words are flat, like you’re reading them off a page.
She doesn’t rush. “Why?”
Your throat tightens. You squeeze your arms tighter around yourself, knuckles pressing into your ribs. Your gaze drops to your shoes, blurring a little through the sheen of gathering tears you refuse to let fall.
You shake your head, voice cracking just slightly. “I don’t… I just...” you can’t seem to get the words out.
She nods again, slow, calm, like she expected that answer. “That’s alright. We don’t have to talk about anything you’re not ready for.”
Her voice is steady and low, grounding in a way that makes you breathe a little deeper, even as your arms stay locked tight around yourself.
Dr. Calderu lets the silence hang for a moment before she shifts slightly in her chair, her bracelets chiming as she folds her hands loosely again.
“Alright,” she says softly. “Let’s try something else. Tell me, what do your days look like now?”
You sniff, wiping quickly at your cheek, though no tears have fallen yet. “Um… I babysit a little boy.” Your voice is small, but it’s something. “Most weekdays.”
She nods. “That sounds like important work.”
You huff a laugh, quick and humourless. “It’s just one kid.”
“Just one kid who depends on you,” she counters gently. “That still matters.”
You look down, embarrassed, your arms tightening around your knees. “The rest of the time I… I don’t know. I sleep. Or I’m at home with my mom. Or with…” you trail off, fumbling for the word, “…her.”
Dr. Calderu’s eyes are steady, but not piercing. Just open. “So it sounds like your days are split, some responsibility, some rest, some time with people who care about you.”
“I guess,” you whisper, though your shoulders hunch tighter. “But it still feels like nothing. Like I’m not doing anything that counts.”
Her head tilts. “Counts to who?”
The question lodges in your chest, simple and impossible at once. You don’t answer right away, your throat tightening. You just squeeze yourself smaller, trying to avoid her gaze, the question buzzing in your ears.
You don’t speak for a while but when you do, your voice is quiet. “I always wanted to be a professor.”
Dr. Calderu doesn’t interrupt, just waits for you to continue.
“I loved what I did,” you continue, staring down at the floor. “I was good at it. I mean… I was becoming kind of a leading researcher in my field. My specialty was folklore, and the history of witchcraft. Obscure archives, manuscripts, oral traditions… I loved digging through things no one else seemed to care about.”
Your arms tighten around your knees. “My whole family was proud. My mom told everyone I was going to be a Doctor of History. Billy bragged about me. It felt like my life was all finally… coming together.”
You swallow hard, your throat thick. “And now anything else I do feels… empty. Pointless. Like I’ve already failed at the only thing that mattered. Babysitting, sleeping, cooking dinner with my mom… it doesn’t touch the same place. It just feels like I’ve ruined everything.”
The silence after is sharp, and you almost wish she’d say something, challenge you, contradict you, anything. But instead Dr. Calderu just nods once, her expression unreadable except for the steady warmth in her eyes.
“That’s a lot to carry,” she says softly. “No wonder it feels heavy.”
Your lip trembles, and you duck your face back into your knees, ashamed of how raw your voice had come out.
Dr. Calderu watches you tuck your face down into your knees, arms locked tight around yourself. She doesn’t rush, doesn’t fill the silence, just tilts her head and lets the space hold. Then, softly:
“Would you like to try again to tell me what happened?”
The question cracks through your chest like glass underfoot. You sniff, wiping your nose with the cuff of your sleeve, and your anxiety surges sharp and immediate, throat closing, stomach rolling, palms damp against your jeans. You don’t want to look at her. You can’t.
Your heart is already pounding, the way it always does when the memory comes. You can taste it, that awful mix of shame and bile, and your body doesn’t seem to know whether it wants to run or collapse.
“My professor,” you start, barely audible. “My… mentor.” The word sticks in your throat. You swallow hard, your voice cracking. “She was… inappropriate.”
Your whole body tenses, like even saying it out loud is dangerous. The air feels too thick, like it’s sticking to the inside of your lungs.
“I didn’t… I didn’t know what to do,” you manage, words tumbling, shaky. “So I went to the dean. And they…” You break off, hugging yourself tighter, fingernails pressing crescents into your arms. “…they took her side.”
The shame rushes back hot and heavy, like it’s happening all over again. You can feel the sting in your throat, the heat behind your eyes.
“So I left.”
The words hang there, small and brittle.
You drag a shaky hand through your hair, your whole body restless, twitchy with the memory. “And now I’m nothing. I walked away from everything I worked for. And she’s still there. She’s still teaching, still publishing, like nothing happened. No fucking consequence.”
Your voice cracks harder, breaking into something closer to a sob. “And I’m so angry. All the time. I loved what I did. I really, really loved it. And now it’s gone. It’s just…” you clutch your knees tighter. “It’s nothing. I’m a failure.”
The words echo in the quiet of the office, and for a second you can’t breathe, like you’ve hollowed yourself out just to say them.
You hug your knees tighter, your face pressed into the fabric, as the silence stretches. It feels like ripping a scab clean off, raw air rushing into an open wound you’ve kept hidden, hidden so well you almost convinced yourself it wasn’t still bleeding. And now it’s gaping wide, stinging in every nerve. You can feel your pulse in your throat, in your fingertips, in your temples.
For the first time in a long time, you don’t try to patch it over. You just let it sit. The ugly truth of it. The humiliation. The anger. The grief.
“What happened to you,” she says, her accent softening the words, “does not make you a failure.”
Your head tips, just enough to peek at her through damp lashes. She hasn’t shifted in her chair — she’s still sitting, composed, but her eyes are fixed on you, steady and unwavering.
“You were wronged,” she continues. “By someone who abused her position, and by an institution that chose to protect her instead of you. That is not your failure. That is theirs.”
You swallow hard, the lump in your throat catching.
“I hear how much you loved your work,” she says. “How much you poured into it. That love doesn’t vanish because you were forced to walk away. It’s still yours. What she did… what they did… it cannot erase the truth of your talent or your worth.”
Your arms loosen a little around your knees. Just a little.
Dr. Calderu leans forward slightly, resting her forearms on her thighs. “You are not nothing. You are someone who survived being betrayed in the place you should have been safest. And you are here choosing to talk about it and get help. That does not look like failure to me.”
Your lip trembles, the tears threatening again, but this time they feel different, not humiliation but something closer to release.
Dr. Calderu doesn’t look away from you, doesn’t soften into pity or harden into judgment. She just watches you carefully, her voice lowering another notch.
“All you wanted,” she says, quiet but steady, “was to go to school and to learn. To do the work you loved.”
Your breath catches, and suddenly you can’t hold it back anymore. The tears spill fast, burning hot as they track down your cheeks, and then you’re sobbing.
And still, Dr. Calderu doesn’t move to interrupt it, doesn’t shush you or rush you along. She sits in her chair, letting the silence of the office hold your sobs, like there’s space here for all of it. Years of anger, shame, betrayal, and all the things you never said out loud, spill out in sobs that feel endless yet cathartic. Your chest hurts, your throat raw, but it’s different than before. This isn’t panic, it’s release.
When the sobs finally start to ebb, you can hear your own shaky breathing again, the hitch and stutter of air trying to find its rhythm.
Dr. Calderu speaks only then, her tone the same as it’s been from the start, calm and solid.
“What was done to you was wrong. But none of it changes who you are. You are still the girl who loves to learn. That’s still in you. And it always will be.”
You wipe at your face with your sleeve, the fabric damp by the time you drag it away. Your chest still hiccups a little with the aftershocks of crying, but your lips tug into the faintest smile. “…thank you.”
Dr. Calderu doesn’t soften into platitude. She just inclines her head, eyes steady, a small curve of her mouth. “No need.”
The quiet lingers for a few beats before she shifts, crossing one leg over the other. Her bracelets clink faintly. “Tell me,” she says, voice still calm but curious, “how are you taking care of yourself?”
You blink at her, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“Forms of self care,” she explains. “Little rituals, routines, things you do to keep your body and mind steady. Ways you give yourself kindness.”
You sniffle, your frown deepening as you hug your knees tighter. “I don’t really… I don’t know.” You shrug, embarrassed. “I don’t think I do that.”
She nods once, decisive but not unkind. “Then that’s your homework. Between now and the next session, I want you to choose ways you can take care of yourself. It doesn’t have to be anything complicated, just something.”
You hesitate, then murmur, “My girlfriend’s taking me to the movies tonight, does that count?”
“Yes.” Dr. Calderu’s smile widens just slightly, enough to feel like approval. “That’s a start.”
You duck your head, cheeks hot, but there’s a flicker of warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before.
The clock on the wall ticks past the hour. You hadn’t even noticed how much time had gone until Dr. Calderu leans forward, uncrossing her legs.
“Well,” she says, tone gentle but conclusive, “that’s enough for today.” Her eyes stay fixed on you, steady and unflinching. “You’ve done the hardest part, showing up and saying the truth out loud. Now we can begin to make things better.”
You sniff, rubbing your sleeve under your nose, but there’s a tiny warmth in your chest at her words. A cautious spark of relief.
She stands, offering you her hand to help you up. When you’re on your feet, she simply says, “Same time next week,” like it’s already decided, and somehow that makes it easier to nod.
“Yeah. Okay.”
Her smile is brief but real. “Good work today.”
You leave her office slowly, the weight of what you said still clinging to your shoulders, but lighter now, like some of it was peeled away.
In the hallway, you finally dig your phone out of your bag. The screen lights up immediately with stacked messages.
~ Billy: Still alive in there? 👀~
~ Mom: Thinking of you. Call me when you’re home. ❤️~
~ Agatha: How’s my girl? ~
The knot in your stomach twists again, but this time you remind yourself that they’re all waiting for you, that you’re not walking out of this alone. You tuck the phone back into your hand, breathing deep, before pushing the door open to step outside.
The door clicks shut behind you, the late afternoon air hits cool against your face. You’re fumbling for your earphones when movement across the street catches your eye.
Billy.
He’s leaning against his beat up little car, jacket collar turned up, hands stuffed in his pockets. He’s scanning the building, bouncing on his heels like he’s been waiting a while, trying to look casual but not quite pulling it off.
Your chest clenches so fast it knocks the air right out of you. Your eyes sting all over again, vision swimming before you can stop it. He looks up at just the right moment and catches sight of you, his face softening instantly.
You don’t even think. You just run.
Your boots slap against the pavement, your bag thudding against your hip, tears blurring your vision as you cross the street. Billy straightens, arms already opening, and you crash into him hard enough to make him stumble a step back.
“Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, wrapping you up tight, his chin resting on the top of your head. One hand strokes down your back, steady and sure. “You did it. You went in there. I’m so proud of you.”
You clutch fistfuls of his jacket, sobs coming again, smaller now but with all the rawness still in them. He just holds you, rocking faintly, his cheek pressed against your hair.
“Shh,” he soothes, rubbing between your shoulders. “It’s over now. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Just breathe.”
And you do, clinging to him on the street, tears soaking into his jacket, the weight of the session finally breaking loose in the safety of his arms.
Billy flicks the blinker on once you both get into the car, pulling out into the slow crawl of late afternoon traffic. He drums his fingers against the wheel like he wants to fill the silence but knows better than to push too soon.
After a few blocks he glances over, voice careful. “Did it… go okay?”
You keep your eyes fixed on the window, watching the blur of shopfronts and bus stops slip past. Your throat feels raw. “I told her.”
There’s a pause. He chews on his lip, then asks, gently, “told her… about university?”
You nod once, quick, still staring out the glass. The words scrape their way out, shaky. “I told her what happened. About…” you falter, clutching your sleeve tighter. “About my professor. And the dean. And how I left.”
Billy’s hands tighten on the wheel, knuckles pale, but he stays quiet, letting you say it.
You breathe hard through your nose, tears starting again before you can stop them. “She said… she said all I wanted was to go to school and learn, and…” Your voice breaks on the memory, sobs catching in your chest. “And it’s true. That’s all I wanted. Just to do what I loved. And now it’s gone. It’s all gone.”
Your chest heaves, your forehead pressing to the cool glass. Tears blur the passing cars into streaks of colour.
Without a word, Billy flicks the indicator on and pulls the car to the side of the road. The hazard lights tickn in the background. He shifts the gear into park, then leans over, one hand on your arm. “Hey. Hey, look at me.”
You shake your head, but he tugs gently until you turn, and then he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you across the console into his arms.
“I know,” he murmurs into your hair, squeezing you tight. “I know, I know.”
You sob against his chest, clutching the front of his hoodie like you’ll fall apart if you let go. He just rocks you a little, his hand rubbing circles into your back, his voice steady even as yours cracks apart.
“You’re not a failure,” he says firmly. “You’re my sister. You’re brilliant. You survived something that would’ve broken most people. And I love you. Always. No matter what.”
The words crack something deeper in you, but this time the sob that comes feels like release instead of shame. You let yourself cry into him, and he just keeps holding you, repeating soft little “I know”s until the storm ebbs enough that you can breathe again.
By the time Billy pulls up outside the house, your eyes are raw and sore, your chest still hiccupping now and then with leftover tears. He kills the engine, squeezes your hand once, and says, “Ready?”
You nod, even though you don’t really feel it, and follow him up the path.
The door barely clicks shut behind you before your mom’s there, wiping her hands on a dish towel, eyes darting to your face.
“Sweetheart!” She doesn’t wait for you to explain, just pulls you into her arms.
It’s different from Billy’s hug, less steady and more frantic, her hands smoothing over your hair, your back, like she’s trying to check every part of you at once. You sink into it anyway, letting her fuss, letting her hold you.
“Thanks,” you mumble into her shoulder, a small smile breaking through. “I really needed it.”
She leans back just far enough to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing under your tired eyes. Her own smile is soft, if not a little wobbly. “Anytime, my love. Always.”
Your throat tightens again, but you nod, squeezing her hand before gently untangling yourself. “I’m just gonna… go upstairs for a bit.”
She presses a kiss to your temple before letting you go, turning back toward the kitchen.
You slip up the stairs, your phone already in your hand by the time you reach your room. The screen lights up with a fresh message from Agatha.
~ Agatha: Well? How’s my girl? ~
You curl on your bed, back against the headboard, blanket tugged around your shoulders. Your thumbs hover for a moment before you finally type.
~ Y/N: I feel better x tired but better ~
It only takes a few seconds before her reply pings through.
~ Agatha: Good girl. I knew you’d get through it. ~
Your lip wobbles, but you smile, tucking the blanket tighter. You type again.
~ Y/N: How wasNicky? ~
~ Agatha: Handed him to Rio this morning. He clung a little longer than usual… always does when it’s her week. The house feels too quiet without him. ~
You stare at the screen, chewing your lip. You know how hard those hand offs are for her, she never says it outright but you can read it between the lines.
~ Y/N: Then it’s a good thing we have a date tonight x ~
The typing bubble appears instantly.
~ Agatha: Damn right we do. What time are you coming over? ~
You grin at your phone, typing back.
~ Y/N: Whenever you want me x but fair warning my therapist gave me homework to practice more self care so I’m picking the movie x ~
There’s a beat, then her response flashes up:
~ Agatha: Ohhh self care is it? So what are we watching? A three hour black and white documentary about goat sacrifices in the Carpathians? ~
You snort, shaking your head.
~ Y/N: Very funny but no x and you’re not allowed to complain! ~
~ Agatha: Never. I’ll even buy you the big popcorn bucket. Anything for my girl. ~
Your chest warms, the ache of the day easing a little more with each message.
Later on you stand in front of the mirror for longer than you mean to, tugging the hem of your dress down, smoothing it again even though it doesn’t need it. Your hair falls just the way Agatha likes, and you swipe on a little lipstick just enough to feel like you made an effort. You glance at your reflection, heart fluttering at the thought of her seeing you like this.
By the time you come downstairs, your boots clicking against the steps, the living room is filled with the low hum of the TV. Your mom looks up first, dish towel still in her hands.
“Well, don’t you look nice,” she says, brows rising. “Where are you off to all dressed up?”
Before you can even open your mouth, Billy twists around on the sofa, a grin spreading wide across his face. “She’s got a date.”
“Billy!” you hiss, heat rushing up your neck.
Your mom’s eyes light up instantly. “A date?” She steps closer, eyes narrowing with curiosity. “Who is she? How long have you been dating? When do I get to meet her?”
“Ma stop.” You laugh nervously. “You’re not meeting her!”
Billy snickers, leaning back on the sofa with his arms stretched wide, smug as anything. “I’ve met her.”
Your jaw drops. “Billy!” you gasp, whipping your head toward him. “Stop it!”
He just grins wider, unbothered. “What? It’s true.”
Your mom turns on him immediately. “You’ve met her?”
“Billy,” you warn, glaring, but he just wiggles his eyebrows, enjoying every second of your mortification.
“Sweetheart,” your mom presses, turning back to you, her voice practically a coo, “why can’t I meet her? If your brother has-”
“Because,” you cut in quickly, grabbing your coat from the hook, “it’s new, and you’ll scare her off, and ugh, stop interrogating me.”
Billy snorts, hiding his laugh behind his hand as you shove your arms into your coat sleeves.
“Not funny,” you mutter at him, though your cheeks are flaming.
He just grins. “Kinda funny.”
You’re still fussing with your coat zipper when Billy pipes up again, voice all faux innocent.
“Don’t stay out too late, okay? Curfew’s midnight.”
You shoot him a murderous look over your shoulder. “God, I miss life before Mom adopted you.”
“I’m not adopted!” he protests, sitting bolt upright on the sofa.
“Yeah okay,” you say sweetly, already pulling open the front door. “Keep telling yourself that.”
He splutters behind you, and your mom sighs, “Children,” in that long suffering tone that tells you she’s trying not to laugh.
You step out into the cool evening air, the flush of embarrassment still warming your cheeks. The sky’s deepening violet, the street lamps just flickering on as you cross the drive to your car.
By the time you slide behind the wheel and start the engine, your nerves are sparking again but this time with excitement and the anticipation of seeing Agatha.
The drive over is a blur of headlights and nerves. Your fingers keep tightening and loosening on the steering wheel, stomach flipping every time you picture her face when she sees you and the fact that you actually made an effort to look pretty for her.
When you pull up outside her building, you cut the engine and fish your phone from your bag, thumbs tapping quickly before you can second guess yourself.
~ Y/N: I’m outside! ~
A couple minutes later, the front door swings open, and there she is.
Agatha steps out onto the stoop like she’s walking into a premiere, her hair blown out smooth, lips painted deep red, a soft silk blouse tucked into tailored black trousers that make your breath catch. A cropped jacket is slung over her shoulders. She looks devastatingly put together, every inch of her styled for you.
Her eyes find you through the windshield, and her mouth curls into a grin that makes heat spark low in your belly. She strides down the steps, heels clicking, and opens the passenger door like she’s already claimed the seat.
“Well, don’t you look edible,” she purrs, sliding in and letting her bag drop at her feet. She leans over the console before you can answer, pressing a slow kiss to your mouth, her perfume curling around you.
You melt instantly, giggling when she nips your lip lightly before pulling back.
“You driving us tonight, babygirl?” she teases, smoothing a hand over your thigh like she already knows the answer. “Good. I like being chauffeured around.”
You roll your eyes, cheeks hot, but the butterflies in your stomach are fluttering so hard you can barely focus on putting the car back in gear.
The car hums back to life under your hands, headlights catching the wet sheen on the road as you ease out from the curb. Agatha shifts in the passenger seat, one leg crossed over the other.
You clear your throat, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “Okay, but fair warning, you’re not allowed to criticise my driving.”
Her head tilts, a smirk already tugging at her lips. “Sweetheart, I would never criticise… I would observe, maybe. Colourfully.”
You snort, shooting her a quick look. “That’s worse.”
She laughs, the sound warm and throaty, and it untangles some of the nerves fizzing in your chest. She leans back into her seat, watching the way your hands grip to the wheel. “Relax. You’re doing fine. Better than Billy anyway, the boy thinks turn signals are optional.”
That makes you laugh despite yourself, and her smile sharpens like she’s pleased to have dragged it out of you.
Her hand drifts then, sliding over to rest warm against your thigh. The weight of it is immediate, her thumb brushing idly against the fabric of your dress.
You flinch. Just a tiny jolt, your leg stiffening under her palm.
She notices instantly, withdrawing her hand back to her own lap like she’s been burned. “Hey,” her tone drops softer, careful, “sorry. Too much?”
You bite your lip, cheeks heating, eyes flicking from the road to her and back again. “No, I’m sorry I just… it’s been a rough day.”
Something in her expression eases. The sharp teasing softens into something warmer. She nods once, leaning back in her seat. “Then we’ll make it better. Starting with popcorn the size of your head.”
You let out a shaky little laugh, shoulders relaxing again as the road unfurls ahead of you, her gaze still steady on you in the glow of passing streetlights.
“So,” she says finally, low and lilting, “therapy.”
Your knuckles whiten against the wheel. “Mm.”
“How did it go?” she presses, her tone not quite teasing this time.
You can feel her waiting. It ties your insides up instantly. “Uh,” you murmur, eyes darting between the road and your side mirror. “It… went.”
“It went,” she repeats, one brow arching. “That’s very detailed. Extremely helpful.”
You let out a nervous laugh, heat crawling up your neck. “Yeah, well, I’m not writing a report.”
She hums, amused but clearly not letting you off that easy. “You know, if I had a dollar for every time someone tried to dodge me with a vague answer…” She trails off, turning her head to look fully out the window, but the smirk stays. “I’d still be working at the university, but at least I’d have a nicer office.”
“Very funny.”
Her eyes flick back to you. “So? Was it awful? Was it bearable? Did you feel like you could say what you needed to say?”
Your chest tightens. Your throat does too. You swallow, fingers twitching on the wheel. You can feel her watching you, steady and expectant, and the pressure of it makes your heart hammer harder.
So you blurt the first thing that comes into your head. “My mom wants to meet you.”
That gets her. She blinks, then lets out a low laugh, sharp and delighted. “That’s… not the same thing.”
You risk a glance at her to see that she’s grinning, lips painted red and wicked, and groan. “I know. But she asked, okay? Tonight. She was all ‘who is she, how long have you been dating, when can I meet her?’” You shake your head, cheeks burning as you stare hard at the road. “And I said absolutely not. She’s not going to meet you.”
Agatha smirks, leaning an elbow on the console, chin in her hand as she studies you. “Why not?”
“Because she’ll…” you falter, feeling the heat creep higher into your face. “She’ll interrogate you and scare you off.”
“Oh, baby.” She leans in just enough that you feel her gaze burning into the side of your face. “Nothing about your mother could scare me off.”
Your stomach flips violently and you bite your lip, keeping your eyes on the road just so you don’t have to look at her directly.
She notices anyway, she always does. “You’re blushing,” she teases, voice velvet smooth.
“I am not,” you protest immediately.
“Yes you are. I can see it.” She grins wider. “It’s adorable.”
“God, you’re annoying,” you mutter, but your voice cracks on the word and it makes her laugh, throaty and warm.
The neon glow of the theatre sign cuts through the rain slick night, splashing red and blue light across the windshield as you pull into the lot. The wipers drag one last streak across the glass before you kill the engine, the hum of the car falling into silence.
You’re fumbling with your bag strap, nerves jittering again now that you’ve actually arrived, when you feel her eyes on you.
“Hey,” Agatha says softly, drawing your attention.
You glance over to see she’s already leaning in. Her hand comes up, sliding over your cheek, her thumb brushing the corner of your mouth before her lips press to yours.
Your breath catches, and you melt into it, eyes fluttering shut as her mouth moves against yours. She lingers, kissing you deeper, her palm warm against your skin. When she finally pulls back, her forehead rests lightly against yours, her lips still brushing yours when she speaks.
“Better,” she murmurs. “I’ve been waiting all damn day to do that.”
You giggle softly, your stomach flipping, and she grins at the sound, her thumb stroking your cheek once more before she leans back, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“C’mon, babygirl,” she says, voice low but playful again. “Let’s go see what ridiculous film you’ve picked for me.”
Inside, the theatre lobby is buzzing with families corralling kids toward animated features, clusters of teens clutching sodas, and the hum of arcade machines chiming from the corner. The smell of buttered popcorn and artificial cherry slush fills the air as you step inside.
Agatha keeps close behind you, her hand brushing the small of your back as you head for the ticket counter. “Alright,” she murmurs, leaning down toward your ear, “what are we seeing? Please tell me it’s not three hours of men in spandex punching each other.”
You bite back a grin as you pass her the ticket stub. “We’re seeing a scary movie.”
She lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Of course. My little witch picks the horror flick.”
“You don’t like scary movies?” you ask, pretending innocence.
“I love scary movies,” she declares, her chin tilting up, lips curving into her trademark smirk. “Love ‘em. Bring it on.”
But the way she smooths her jacket down and clears her throat says otherwise.
You hide a smile, threading your arm through hers as you head to the concession stand. She doesn’t argue when you order the jumbo popcorn, just pays for it and hands it over like she planned it that way.
By the time you find your seats in the darkened theatre, previews already rolling, she’s sprawled into the chair beside youl, jacket folded neatly over her lap.
“This is nothing,” she mutters under her breath as the lights dim further. “I’ve lived through faculty meetings. Nothing’s scarier than a tenure review.”
You snort, sipping your soda. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“I am not.” She takes a handful of popcorn, eyes flicking to the screen a second too quickly as the opening credits roll over a dimly lit house and a low, ominous score.
When the first jump scare hits, a sudden shriek of violins accompanied by a figure lunging across the screen, Agatha jolts in her seat, her hand flying to the armrest.
You smirk into your soda straw. “Not scared, huh?”
“Shut up,” she mutters, her hand sliding deliberately over yours on the shared armrest. “Just making sure you’re not scared.”
You squeeze her fingers, hiding your grin as the movie swallows the both of you in shadow and sound.
On screen, the camera glides through a dark, empty house. An ominous score swells and you know what’s coming. The second scare comes sharply, a figure slamming past the window with a crash of strings. The whole audience gasps. Agatha, too. You bite your lip, smothering a smile.
She leans sideways, voice low and dry. “Don’t you dare say a word.”
“I wasn’t going to,” you whisper back, eyes glinting.
“Uh huh.” She crunches a kernel like she’s proving a point, then focuses her gaze stubbornly on the screen.
But the movie doesn’t let up. A long stretch of silence, a door creaking slowly open on its own. Agatha tilts her chin, like she’s not fazed at all.
And then a hand shoots out of the dark to grab the protagonist’s shoulder.
Agatha jumps.
This time it’s not subtle, her hand shoots across the armrest and latches onto your thigh before she can stop herself. Her nails dig through the fabric of your dress, and you bite back a gasp more from the suddenness than the pressure.
Slowly, you glance at her. Her eyes stay glued to the screen, jaw tight, like if she ignores you, it didn’t happen.
“You okay?” you murmur, lips quirking.
She exhales through her nose. “Perfectly fine. Just making sure you’re safe.”
“I feel very safe,” you whisper, giggling.
Her hand doesn’t move, though. If anything, her thumb strokes once over your thigh like she’s soothing herself.
The film spirals darker. After every scare Agatha stiffens a little, shoulders tightening under her silk blouse. She keeps up the bravado, muttering dry little comments like “oh yes, by all means go into the basement, that’s clever” but every loud sting in the score makes her jump again, her hand squeezing your thigh tighter.
At one point, the protagonist creeps toward a closet, the camera closing in on the knob twisting slowly. The theatre goes dead silent. You can feel Agatha holding her breath next to you, her grip iron tight. The door bursts open with a shriek of violins and Agatha actually yelps under her breath.
You press your fist to your mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
Her head whips toward you, eyes narrowing in the glow of the screen. “Not. A. Word.”
You lean in, whispering so close your lips brush her ear. “You’re so brave.”
She smirks, but her ears are pink.
By the time the third act rolls in, full of bloodied survivors running through shadowy corridors, monsters lunging from every corner, she’s flinching in her seat, her arm now solidly around your shoulders under the guise of keeping you safe.
When the credits finally roll, the lights starting to come up, Agatha exhales like she’s been holding her breath for two hours straight. She shakes her head, smoothing her hair back into place, trying to look casual.
“Well,” she says, voice a touch higher than usual. “That was… interesting.”
“Totally.” You grin at her, eyes sparkling.
She narrows her eyes, lips twitching. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“Maybe.”
She sighs theatrically, standing and stretching her arms over her head, blouse riding up just enough to make you blush. “Fine. Next time, I pick the movie.”
“You promised me selfcare!”
Her grin returns, sly and sharp. “Exactly. And selfcare means no more demon closets.”
You laugh, trailing after her as she leads the way out of the theatre, her hand sneaking back into yours as the crowd spills into the neon lit lobby.
The crowd spills out into the night, chatter buzzing with nervous laughter and retellings of the scariest bits. The neon from the marquee paints everything in red and blue stripes, slicked across the wet pavement.
Agatha slips her hand into yours as you step down the curb together, her grip firm, like she’s still recovering from the film.
“How,” she says, voice low and incredulous, “do you enjoy that shit?”
You laugh, the sound spilling out before you can stop it, shoulders shaking. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she throws her free hand up dramatically, “two hours of jump scares and bloody shadows, and you’re just sitting there, sipping your soda like it’s a Sunday matinee.”
You grin, bumping your shoulder against hers as you walk. “I’ve always loved horror movies. Even as a kid. I used to sneak them on late night TV when my mom thought I was asleep.”
“Of course you did,” she mutters, smirking sideways at you. “Creepy little thing.”
“Hey.” You giggle, pretending to pout.
She squeezes your hand. “Cute creepy,” she amends, the smirk widening.
By the time you reach the car, the rain’s thinned to a mist, dampening your hair. She presses the key fob, the lights flashing, and opens the drivers door for you with a little flourish. You roll your eyes but climb in, still smiling.
When she settles into the passengers seat, adjusting the mirrors with a casual flick, she glances over at you, lips curving into something slower, heavier. “Back to mine, baby?”
You gasp theatrically, pressing a hand to your chest. “Agatha Harkness. Are you suggesting I put out on the first date?”
She barks a laugh, throwing her head back against the headrest. “Oh, sweetheart.” Her hand slides deliberately onto your thigh again, this time with no flinch from you. “That was always the plan.”
You giggle, turning the ignition, the car purring to life beneath you both as she eases it out of the lot.
The engine hums low as you pull out of the lot, headlights cutting across wet asphalt. Inside the car it’s quiet, just the swish of the wipers, the muted thrum of tires on slick road.
“So,” she drawls after a beat, “did you have fun tormenting me, babygirl? Sitting there watching me jump out of my skin?”
You stifle a giggle. “Maybe a little.”
She side eyes you, smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re cruel. I like it.”
You take one hand off the wheel to hit her arm lightly, pretending to pout. “I wasn’t cruel! I was supportive.”
“Supportive,” she repeats, amused. “Is that what you call smirking every time that I jumped in my seat?”
You can’t help giggling outright now, shoulders shaking. “You were so brave, though.”
“Brave?” she scoffs, squeezing your thigh just enough to make you squirm. “Baby, I nearly threw the popcorn at the poor bastard sitting in front of us.”
You bite your lip, grinning at the windshield. “I’d still go to another one with you.”
Her smirk softens into something warmer, “yeah?”
“Yeah,” you say, quieter.
There’s a pause before she murmurs, “Good because like taking you out. Even if it’s to a fucking haunted house.”
The car hums on through the wet streets, streetlights flashing across her profile. Every now and then, her thumb strokes idle patterns against your thigh, like she’s not even aware she’s doing it.
“So…” you start, smirking. “What exactly are your intentions with me tonight, Professor Harkness?”
Her smirk returns, slow and dangerous. “Oh, sweetheart. My intention is to get you back to mine, pour you a drink, and see how long it takes you to climb into my lap.”
You gasp, half laughing, half flustered. “You can’t just say things like that while I’m driving!”
She chuckles, low and pleased with herself, leaning back in her seat. “Consider it motivation.”
Your breath catches. The light turns green, but you barely notice, you’re too busy stealing a glance at her, heat crawling up your neck.
“Eyes forward,” she teases, voice like velvet.
You swallow hard, forcing your gaze back to the road, but your pulse is a drumbeat in your ears. The car hums on, block after block bringing you closer to her place, the tension tightening like a bowstring.
By the time you pull into her street, your hands ache from gripping the wheel. You slide into the curb, kill the engine, and before you can even draw a steady breath, she’s leaning in.
Her mouth crashes against yours, hot and insistent. You whimper into the kiss, your hands flying to her shoulders. She pulls you over the console, her fingers already tangling in your hair, kissing you like she’s been starving for it.
You gasp against her mouth, and she takes advantage, deepening the kiss, her tongue stroking yours greedily. Her other hand fists in the hem of your dress, tugging you closer.
“Been waiting all night for this,” she growls against your lips, kissing you harder, her teeth catching your bottom lip just enough to make you moan.
Your breath comes fast, fogging the windows, your body melting against hers as the kiss turns hungrier, the whole world shrinking to the heat of her mouth and the steady grip of her hands.
You whimper when she drags you fully over the console, the gearshift digging into your thigh as you straddle her lap. You don’t care, her hands are everywhere, one cradling the back of your skull, the other gripping your hip tight enough to bruise.
“Fuck, babygirl…” she groans against your mouth, kissing you harder, open and hungry. “You’re killing me.”
You tug at her jacket, fists clutching the silk of her blouse underneath, kissing her back with everything you’ve got. The need floods hot through your veins, sparking at every point of contact.
Her mouth leaves yours only to trail down your jaw, her teeth grazing your throat as she licks and sucks there, messy and possessive. You gasp, nails digging into her shoulders.
“Mine,” she mutters into your skin, voice ragged. “All mine.”
Your hips roll helplessly against hers, and she groans, bucking up just enough to make you gasp. The car rocks faintly with the movement, the leather seat creaking under you both.
Your kiss turns frantic again, teeth clashing, tongues sliding, the two of you breathing like you can’t get enough air unless it’s from each other.
You break only long enough to whisper, “Agatha,” your voice shaking with it, “please don’t stop.”
Her hand fists tighter in your hair, pulling your head back so she can kiss you deep and filthy, like she’s trying to devour you whole.
The windows are nothing but mist now, the whole car swallowed in your heat, your panting, and the desperate sound of her kissing you like she’s not letting you go.
You moan when her hand slides up the back of your thigh, fingers pressing into bare skin. “Agatha…” comes out as a whimper, broken and needy.
“Mhm,” she hums against your throat, teeth catching your pulse. “Tell me what you want, babygirl.”
“I-” your words scatter when she rocks up against you, the friction sparking heat through your whole body. “I want… god, I just want you.”
That earns you a low, guttural laugh. “Already have me baby.” She kisses you again. “Always.”
Her hand inches higher, skimming dangerously close to where you need her most. Your hips buck, desperate, and she groans into your mouth like she’s the one falling apart.
The seat squeaks, the car rocks faintly, her breath hot and heavy as she mutters, “You feel so fucking good in my lap… could take you right here, couldn’t I? Fuck you until the car shakes.”
You whimper, clinging to her shoulders, dizzy with need. The heat between you both is unbearable, every kiss frantic, every touch like she’s staking claim all over your body.
Then she stills, forehead pressed to yours, both of you panting. Her fingers flex on your thigh, achingly close.
“As much as I’d love to ruin you right here,” she rasps, eyes dark and wild in the dim light, “you deserve a bed where I can take my time.”
You whine, hips rolling helplessly against hers, but she just smirks, kissing you soft and slow now, a cruel contrast to how desperate it’s been.
“Don’t worry, babygirl,” she murmurs against your lips. “We’re not stopping. Just relocating.”
Her hand slides back to your hip, steadying you as she helps ease you off her lap, both of you flushed and panting in the fogged up car.
By the time you stumble into her apartment, your cheeks are still flushed, lips swollen from the car. You kick your boots off half blind, her mouth still chasing yours as she shrugs out of her jacket and tosses it somewhere.
She’s tugging you toward the bedroom when her phone buzzes against the counter, a vibration so insistent it doesn’t stop. Then again. And again. The screen lights up: 12 missed calls. Rio.
Agatha freezes, her hand still curled around your wrist. “Shit.”
You blink, heart still racing, the heat of the makeout still buzzing under your skin, but the tone in her voice slices right through it.
She snatches up the phone, thumb swiping across the screen. It barely rings once before Rio’s voice bursts through, tinny and frantic. You can hear enough to piece together that Nicky’s sick, feverish, and inconsolable, crying for his mother. Rio’s frazzled, her voice clipped with panic.
Agatha’s whole posture changes, shoulders stiffening, face sharp with focus. “I’ll come get him,” she says quickly, already moving, hunting for her keys. “Just keep him cool, I’ll be there in twenty tops.”
She hangs up, shoving her phone into her pocket, muttering, “Goddammit.”
You step closer, touching her arm. “Let me drive.”
Her head snaps up, eyes flashing. “You don’t-”
“You’re too upset to focus on the road,” you remind her gently. “And Rio already knows about us. It won’t make a difference if I’m the one behind the wheel.”
For a moment she just stares at you, jaw tight, breathing heavy through her nose. Then she exhales sharply, shoulders sagging. “Alright.”
You squeeze her arm once, steadying her. “Go grab what you need for him. I’ll get the car.”
She nods, still rattled but grateful, and you turn for the door, the urgency of the night flipping from hungry kisses to something far more fragile, getting to Nicky.
The city blurs past in streaks of neon and wet asphalt, wipers beating fast across the glass. Your hands grip the wheel tighter than usual, every muscle in your shoulders strung taut with the weight of the moment.
Beside you, Agatha is nothing like the composed, teasing woman from the theatre. She’s wound tight, knee bouncing, fingers tapping restless patterns against her thigh. Her phone sits face up in her lap, screen dark now but still heavy with the weight of those missed calls.
“Shit,” she mutters under her breath, more to herself than to you. “He sounded bad. He hardly ever sounds that bad.”
You glance over briefly, heart twisting at the sight of her. “Kids get sick,” you say carefully. “It doesn’t mean-”
“It does with him,” she cuts in, sharper than she means to. She drags a hand through her hair, sighing hard. “He’s always been… fragile. Even as a baby. The asthma, the infections, the nights I was up with him every hour.” Her voice cracks but she swallows against it. “Every time he so much as coughs, I hear it all over again. Him tiny, gasping, hooked up to those fucking machines.”
You bite your lip, eyes flicking from the road to her profile. The streetlights catch the tightness around her eyes, the way her jaw works like she’s trying not to cry.
Your hand slips from the wheel just long enough to brush her knee, steady and grounding. “He’s not that tiny anymore,” you murmur. “He’s bigger and stronger. And you’re already on your way to him.”
Her hand finds yours fast, gripping like a lifeline. “I just hate how fast it all comes back.”
You squeeze her fingers, the hum of the car wrapping around your silence. Rain spatters harder against the windshield, and she leans her head back, eyes closing, still holding onto you.
The road stretches ahead, but all you can think is getting her to her son and keeping her steady until she’s there.
You pull into Rio’s drive, the porch light a soft yellow against the rain. Before you’ve even shifted the car into park, Agatha’s unbuckled and out the door, heels clicking up the path in a near run. You stay put, hands locked on the wheel, heart thudding as you watch her disappear inside.
Through the rain blurred glass, the scene unfolds. Rio opens the door, hair mussed, wearing an oversized sweater. She looks frazzled and pale and the second Agatha steps in, Nicky is already there, flushed and teary, reaching for her. Agatha scoops him up without hesitation, murmuring against his damp curls, rocking him close.
You can’t hear through the car windows, but you can see Rio talking, the sharp gestures of her hands, the way she leans in close. Agatha shifts Nicky on her hip, answering clipped, then starts for the door again. Rio blocks her path.
You crack the window, just enough for voices to filter in over the rain.
“Stay,” Rio urges, her voice low but edged with something fierce. “He needs his mother here. Just stay the night.”
Agatha shakes her head, calm but firm. “No. He needs to be comfortable in his own bed. I’ll take him home.”
Rio’s tone sharpens. “It’s his home here too.”
Agatha exhales through her nose, jaw tight. “Y/N’s in the car. We’ll go back together.”
The name lands like a slap. Rio’s posture stiffens, her arms folding, her mouth curling. “Of course. Her.” The word drips venom.
Agatha adjusts Nicky against her shoulder, protective. “Don’t start, Rio.”
“I’m not starting,” Rio snaps back, voice rising. “I just don’t understand why she has to be involved in everything. She’s the babysitter, Agatha. She’s not family.”
Your stomach twists at the words, heat crawling up your neck even as you sink lower in your seat.
Agatha’s eyes flash, steel behind them. “She’s mine,” she says simply, quiet but razor sharp. “And she’s here. End of story.”
Rio bristles, lips parting like she wants to lash out more, but Nicky whimpers against Agatha’s chest, and the fight drains into a hissed sigh. She steps aside, jerking her chin toward the door. “Fine. Go.”
Agatha doesn’t wait another beat, she tightens her hold on Nicky, presses a kiss to his hot forehead, and sweeps back out into the rain toward the car.
The passenger door swings open hard enough to rattle the hinges, and then she’s climbing in, rain streaking her hair, Nicky clutched tight against her chest. He’s whimpering, little fists knotted in her blouse, his face blotchy and damp from crying.
Agatha doesn’t even glance at the front seat. She shifts straight into the back, settling against the leather with Nicky curled into her, murmuring low in his ear.
You turn in your seat, heart tugging at the sight of them. “Both of you stay in the back. I’ll get us home.”
Her eyes flick up to yours, gratitude breaking through the storm in them, and she just nods. Nicky’s too far gone to notice, he’s burrowed against her shoulder, trembling and whimpering, his breaths hitching like he can’t quite calm down.
Agatha rocks him gently, her cheek pressed against his curls, whispering soft comforts only he can hear. Her hand rubs slow circles between his shoulder blades, her whole body curved around him like a shield.
The car fills with his small, uneven sounds, the shudder of his breath, the occasional broken “Mama” against her neck.
Agatha hums softly, kissing his temple again and again, eyes closing as she holds him tighter. The steel you saw in her face at Rio’s is gone now, replaced with pure, aching love for her boy.
You keep your eyes on the road, hands steady on the wheel, giving them that cocoon of space. The quiet hum of the engine blends with her soft murmurs and the sound of Nicky’s clinging little breaths. He hasn’t let go of Agatha, tiny fists still fisted in her blouse, his face pressed wet and hot into her neck.
You ease into her drive and kill the engine. For a moment, none of you move. Agatha strokes her hand over his back, pressing another kiss into his curls, whispering so softly you can’t quite catch the words.
Then you twist in your seat, catching her eyes in the dim glow of the streetlight. “Go take care of him,” you murmur. “I’ll come by tomorrow, yeah?”
She blinks, lips parting like she wants to argue, to insist you come in — but then she sees the look on your face. The understanding. The way you’re not asking her to split herself in two, not making her choose between you and the boy trembling in her arms.
Her throat works, and she exhales slowly, relief softening every sharp edge. “God, baby…” Her voice cracks just a little. “You get it.”
You smile, small but sure. “Of course I do.”
She leans forward as much as Nicky will allow, pressing her forehead to yours through the gap between the seats. Her free hand curls at the back of your neck, squeezing gently, her breath warm against your lips.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “For knowing.”
You close your eyes, soaking in the touch, before she pulls back. Nicky whimpers again, and she shifts him higher on her hip, climbing out of the car with the practiced ease of a mother who’s done it a thousand times.
You watch as she disappears inside with him, the door closing behind them. Tomorrow, you’ll come back. Tonight, she belongs to her son.
Agatha, Salem Survivor (Massacre Girl, Known Killer)- Young Agatha kills her murderous coven, and starts in monoblack, the color of ambition, death, and power. The deck is specifically focused on withering- draining the life force of her opponents and benefiting from their deaths. Irritating, but for the serial killer still learning her craft.
Agatha, the Witch Killer (Tasha, the Witch Queen)- Older and wiser, Agatha picks up both the Darkhold and blue mana, the color of knowledge, wit, and most importantly theft. This dimir deck is annoying, and full of rage bait mechanics that revolve around stealing your opponent's cards for fun and profit. No survivors, and no one will want to play with you anymore.
Agatha, Phantasmal Crone (Kess, Dissident Mage)- If you thought the last deck was annoying, let me introduce you to this one. Agatha adds red mana, the color of freedom, and finally becomes the grixis shitlord she was always meant to be. Unfettered by a body or the graveyard, she's full of the dirty tricks of a life and death of chicanery, complete with some very in character alternate wincons- such as winning by milling yourself to death- and this little number:
gamechangershow
romaincrisis
germansingergirl
stormborns
gummygunk
prguitarman
tangentwithtanner
