hi everyone! my name is iv and i'm your local 26 y/o femme-ish lesbian (she/they) who spends way too much time creating fan content. my requests are closed (read the guidelines pls) but i cannot guarantee i will get to anything that isn’t for my current fixation (Agatha All Along). my full time PhD program is exhausting.
this blog does have some nsfw content, so please keep yourself safe and mind the tags.
pro-choice. black lives matter. free palestine. sex work is real work. pro-lgbtq+. anticapitalist. fuck d***** t****. i live, work, and learn on stolen land. don't agree? you don't belong here.
if you want to be on my tag list, check out this post
Grey’s Anatomy stars Caterina Scorsone and E.R. Fightmaster, who play Dr. Amelia Shepherd and Dr. Kai Bartley, confirmed their romance three
I know that the relationships of real people are none of my business but this just made me insanely happy to see (and also I feel like a detective after all the “evidence” I have been collecting for three years for my theory)
Gel anon is here to tell you there is a Cat and ER sighting at the Greek theater yesterday!!!! They bought Cat to watch MUNA!!!!! Also the Boys are going some pop up thingy I wonder if they will go too
I almost just fell to my knees. I was going to skip work and go see them yesterday but I couldn’t justify flying across the country twice in a month to see them. I HAVE MAJOR REGRETS.
warnings: modern/no powers au, mid20s!agatha, 18+, alternating POV, lesbian agatha harkness, lesbian f!reader (they/them pronouns), themes of lying and manipulation, agatha harkness is not a good person (especially this chapter), minor drug use, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, references to alcoholism, references to verbal abuse, very minor character death mention, some angst
author's note: the penultimate chapter!! thank u for all the love on this fic, im sad its almost over but also excited because i cant wait for the reactions for these final two chapters <3
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"Not having to be passenger princess anymore is great. But having to clean out my car did kind of suck. There was a really big spider in there."
"Did you scream when you saw it?" Wanda giggles.
"Yeah. But only because it reminded me of Rio."
What started as a mini celebration that Agatha could drive her banged up hatchback again, has quickly turned into Agatha feeling far too high on the floor of Wanda's living room. The plush rug feels incredibly soft against her hands as she runs them back and forth across it.
"Do you have anything to eat?" Agatha asks. Wanda, from her spot on the couch, blinks slowly at her.
"No."
"What?" Agatha sits up. "Is your kitchen just completely empty?"
"Natasha said I need to stop giving you all of our food…"
Agatha groans, flopping back on the rug. Wanda's stupid responsible girlfriend absolutely hates Agatha, and she can't figure out why other than vague accusations of Agatha being a "bad influence" and a "freeloader" and "a menace to society." It's not like it's Agatha's fault that Wanda was nice enough to let Agatha crash on their couch for a few weeks after she left Rio.
The things that went missing after Agatha moved out could be considered her fault.
That time sucked. It reminded Agatha too much of the other time Wanda let her crash on her couch. Back before Wanda started dating Natasha, but right after Pietro died. The Maximoff twins had just graduated. The apartment was tiny, but Agatha had finally gotten a job so that she could be free from living with her bitch mother. Rooming with Wanda wasn't all bad, if you ignored the arguments they had when Agatha would be under the influence and get short tempered with a very raw and vulnerable Wanda who cried almost daily.
Somehow, after Agatha finally moved out, Wanda still wanted to be friends. Agatha isn't sure who is crazier, the one who kept making dead brother jokes when she was scared of admitting that she cared or the one who looked past it because at the time, all they had was each other.
Why is she thinking about this? What were they talking about?
Oh, right. Anyway. Agatha's pretty sure Natasha is just jealous.
"I'm hungry," Agatha says.
"I know."
"Your girlfriend is a bitch."
"Don't be mean."
"That's like asking a dog not to bark."
"Muzzle."
"You offering?"
"No."
"I'm going to raid your kitchen."
"Agatha," Wanda whines and sighs. "Fine, I'll get you something."
"Yeah, get in the kitchen and make me a sandwich." Agatha snorts at her own joke. Wanda just glares at her over her shoulder as she goes into the other room.
Something soft brushes against Agatha's arm, and she instinctively recoils. Wanda's (well, Natasha's) black cat blinks at Agatha. Probably wondering what her mommy's least favorite guest is doing on their floor. Agatha sits up, and the cat crawls in her lap.
"You're a lot nicer than your mom, aren't you Lilo?" Agatha mumbles.
"Her name is Liho!" Wanda calls out from the kitchen.
"Same thing." Agatha scratches Liho's cheeks, fascinated by soft she is. Having the cat right in front of her stirs up a thought, and she lowers her voice. "Do you want to know a secret, Liho?"
Liho doesn't respond.
"You seem like a good secret keeper, so I'll tell you," Agatha whispers. "I might have stolen your identity to cover up a little lie. I sent your picture to the person I'm seeing and said you were my pet. You don't mind, right?"
"What?"
"Holy shit, the cat can talk," Agatha gasps, but then she looks up to see that Wanda has returned with a grilled cheese in hand. Agatha reaches up and takes the paper plate eagerly. "We're so back."
"What did you just say to the cat?" Wanda blinks at her in disbelief.
"Why would I be talking to your cat." Agatha speaks through a mouthful of homemade sourdough and fancy farmer's market cheese.
"Agatha."
"I was telling her a secret. God, there's no privacy in this house!" Agatha throws her hands up dramatically, which scares Liho away. Agatha pouts. "Aw."
"It's my house," Wanda reminds her. She sits down in front of Agatha, smoothing her skirt over her legs. Agatha shifts awkwardly. "Why did you tell your girlfriend—"
"They're not my girlfriend," Agatha corrects quickly.
"Whatever. Why did you tell them that Liho was your cat?"
The room feels too warm. Agatha fidgets with the rings on her fingers. She could make up another lie easily, but Wanda is scrutinizing her now. Even though Agatha can still pull one over on Wanda a lot of times, she has a feeling this one won't slide.
"I can't tell them about Scratchy," Agatha mumbles.
"Are they…allergic? You know they make pills for that," Wanda suggests innocently.
"No. They can't know because Scratchy's picture is the one I use on Etsy listings."
The gears in Wanda's head turn. Agatha finishes her sandwich and sets the plate on the coffee table. She leans back on her hands. Wanda's eyes widen.
"Agatha, are you dating a client?"
"I don't think I'd call them clients, really. I think client implies something more professional, and therefore more questionable if I did it. I'm dating a customer." Agatha says it all casually. Wanda's reaction seems pretty subdued, so maybe the situation isn't as ethically dubious as Agatha thought. Her rambling continues.
"It's a funny story really. They bought a love spell, and as I do with all my customers, I stalked them a little bit. Nothing crazy, just finding their Instagram. And I was like, fuck they're cute. I hadn't even realized they lived in Westview yet!" Agatha laughs at the ridiculousness of the situation of her own design. "So, I messaged them. Worked my natural charm. And now we're dating. Or whatever you wanna call it."
Silence settles between them. Not the good kind of silence that Agatha has gotten used to with you. The bad kind of silence that makes Agatha think she might be in trouble.
"Let me get this straight," Wanda says finally. The conversation seems to have sobered them both up a bit, judging from the exasperated tone in Wanda's voice. Though, depending on the direction this takes, Agatha might take another hit.
"Do you have to?"
"Now isn't the time for a gay joke."
"Jeez." Agatha tugs at the collar of her shirt. "Tough crowd."
"Can you be serious for a single minute?"
"What's there to be serious about?" Agatha rolls her eyes. "I found a cute girl on Instagram and took a shot. Slam fuckin' dunk if you ask me."
"You stalked a customer—"
"Looking up someone's Instagram is normalized. Plus, they love those dark love stories, so they'd probably find it hot." Agatha shrugs. Wanda gives her a glare. Agatha waves her hand to tell Wanda to continue her lecturing.
"Someone who you know is emotionally vulnerable and probably sitting around waiting for their one true love to come and sweep them off their feet. Which you can't say you didn't know, because you literally performed a love spell for them!"
"Does it count if I didn't actually perform the spell?" Agatha asks. Wanda puts her face in her hands and lets out a groan of true frustration. "I'm just saying, like, where does that tip things on the morality scale?"
"That's…that's also shitty, but not the point, Agatha!" Wanda raises her voice. The tone shift puts Agatha even more on the defensive. "You took advantage of them while they were vulnerable."
"They're a big girl. They can handle it."
"Your relationship is based on a lie."
"Wouldn't you say that the ends justify the means?" Agatha proposes. "It's not like my intentions were bad."
They weren't exactly good either. Neutral, Agatha would posit. Omitting the fact that she found you by running a mild scam on you really doesn't seem important enough to inform you about.
Especially with how dramatic Wanda is being about the whole thing.
"What were your intentions?" Wanda asks.
"Well, I usually stalk my customers a bit anyway. But when I discovered they were cute, I figured I could get something out of it. Entertainment, at minimum. Sometimes I just like to see where something goes. Call it sociological curiosity."
"So, you're telling me you did this because you were bored?"
Sure. Just bored. Not lonely or anything.
"In the beginning, yeah. Then it turned out I actually enjoy their company, so I stuck around. Honestly, I assumed I would've sent them running by now. Not many people have been able to handle all this." Agatha gestures down her body. Wanda rubs her forehead. Probably a migraine again.
"Have you even considered that they might be looking past all your issues because they were so desperate for a relationship that they were willing to buy a love spell?"
"I didn't say anything about issues. Don't be a bitch."
"That's rich, coming from you."
"Why do you sound so pissed at me for this?" Agatha snaps, hackles raised. "It doesn't have anything to do with you."
This isn't like Wanda. Wanda will lecture her and tell her to be better, but the sass is new. That's Agatha's job, and she doesn't appreciate the competition.
"I'm sorry, I'm not mad at you," Wanda sighs. "I'm being hard on you because I worry."
"Worry about what?" Agatha sneers. "Everything is perfectly fine."
The longer this conversation goes, the more that Agatha is doubting herself. Which is a truly horrible emotion that she'd rather never feel again. She's always right. Even when she's wrong, she's basically right.
But she can hear herself making flimsy excuses. And, normally, she wouldn't give a fuck. She's been the villain before, and she'll happily be the villain again. The other people that she's screwed over in various ways didn't matter, so she wouldn't even bother trying to excuse her shit behavior. Once she got what she wanted, she'd happily embrace it. Why would she care about being an asshole to people she didn't give a shit about?
But this time is different. She's playing with the emotions of someone who actually gives a shit about her. Someone who sees past the thorny exterior and treats her gently, but not like she's something broken that needs to be fixed. Someone who seems like they not only can handle her, but actively wants to.
"I'm worried because I've seen the look on your face when you talk about them." Wanda chooses her words carefully, knowing that any direct accusations of four-letter-word-that-starts-with-L would send Agatha spiraling. Smart girl.
"I didn't think it would last this long," Agatha finally confesses in a reluctant mumble. Admitting that she severely miscalculated her plans physically pains her. "I didn't expect us to get to a point where I could even hurt them with this. I assumed I'd get bored and hurt them in a completely different way."
"Knowing you, that's not a horrible estimation," Wanda teases, though her smile is sympathetic.
Ugh. Pity.
"Did I screw this up before it even started?" Agatha asks. Her voice sounds a bit shaky. Stop it, Agatha. Do not get choked up. You can't get choked up over a relationship that's just over a month long. That's only one menstrual cycle!
Wanda doesn't respond, which is enough confirmation on its own.
"Alright. Well…Should I just break up with them?" Agatha proposes flippantly. "Since you think this is such a big deal."
Wanda purses her lips. Despite her exasperation, Agatha knows that Wanda will want to help. At this point, they were ride or die.
"I think your options are either to tell them or spend your entire relationship keeping the secret. The longer you keep it, the worse the reaction will be, probably," Wanda says. Agatha grunts, suddenly very interested in picking at the fibers of the rug they're sitting on. "I'm not going to tell you what to do, because we both know that you wouldn't listen. But, I think you should think about it."
Guilt is not a feeling that Agatha Harkness is used to. She's a little glad that she'd never truly experienced it before, because she is not enjoying the way that her mind is racing or the heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach or her heart clenching in a way that it usually only does when she's had too many energy drinks in one day.
With doubt heavy in her voice, Agatha shrugs and gives Wanda a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "What they don't know won't hurt them, right?"
As you walk through the dusty shelves of the bookstore, fingers tracing along the spines as you pass, you suddenly see a small cloud of smoke from the adjacent aisle. You roll your eyes and peek around the corner, suspicions confirmed.
"Agatha, you can't vape in here."
Agatha looks at you incredulously. "Who says?"
"The no smoking sign."
"The one that shows a cigarette?"
"Smart-ass."
"Hey, you love my ass." Agatha winks. She does relent and tuck her pen back in her bag.
You were kind of expecting an argument, considering Agatha's moodiness today. Despite agreeing to go out, Agatha's been a bit off for the past week. You weren't off put by most of it, but you have noticed that you've been the one having to engage conversations and dates more often.
Was she losing interest?
Agatha is virtually impossible to read, so it was hard to say if it had something to do with you or her mind was simply on other things.
But of course, Agatha will always keep you guessing. Because the next thing you know, she's tugging you down a different aisle, towards the back of the store. The light above you both needs to be replaced. It flickers, leaving the little nook in partial darkness.
"What are you doing?" You ask. Agatha's expression has shifted from annoyance. You know that look in her eyes by now. Sparkling with mischief. Definitely planning something.
That something turns out to be pinning you against the bookshelf. You let out a gasp, surprised by the sudden force. The book you were carrying falls out of your hands and lands with a solid thunk.
"Agatha, what are you doing?" You repeat. She leans in closer to you.
"What do you think I'm doing, angel?" Agatha breath is warm against your lips. Her tongue darts out to tease you. Your back presses against the shelf, used copies of Twilight digging into your spine.
"Someone could see us."
"Doesn't that make it more exciting, baby?" Agatha grins. Her fingers tease under the hem of your shirt, tickling against the skin of your stomach. You flex your abdomen out of reflex which makes her chase your body so she can grip your waist. "Tell me to stop and I will."
Since your first time with Agatha, you've quickly learned that her libido is virtually unstoppable. Having been deeply starved for it for years, you certainly weren't complaining that you had a super hot woman asking if she could sit on your face daily. Frankly, it made you feel desired in a way that you never thought possible.
But you really weren't expecting the smell of old books to get her going today. You look around. This section is so tucked away that you can hardly hear the few other customers milling around. From this angle, you'd be able to see if someone got too close. Agatha's fingers drift slowly to the waistband of your pants. Paused. Waiting.
"Keep going," you whisper.
Fingers push into your underwear. Agatha presses her hips against you, her mouth against you. The heat of her breath is heavy on your neck. With how suddenly she sprung on you, you're not quite wet yet. Agatha removes her fingers and presses them against your lips. You part them, thankful for the way they muffle the needy sound you make as you suck on them.
Now slick with your spit, Agatha pushes her hand back into your pants and finds your clit. You bite your bottom lip hard. Her movements are frantic and sloppy. As much as you'd like her to take her time with you, you know that you have to be fast so that you don't get caught.
Agatha's eyes are on you, lips parted as ragged breaths come out. She's watching you intensely, but her brow is furrowed like her mind is still on something else. You bring a hand up and cup her face. Run your thumb over her lip and then over her cheekbone. She wants to say something, but the words are getting caught. Not at all like your Agatha.
"Talk to me," you murmur. She closes her eyes and her inhales sharply. You know the tenderness of your hand on her face always makes her clam up. She's not used to it. Which of course means you do it as much as physically possible.
"I…" Agatha swallows. She presses her forehead against yours. You can count the freckles that are scattered across her nose and cheeks from here. "I've thought about this. Taking you like this."
"In public?" You ask. Agatha pushes her fingers against your entrance. You gasp. She nods.
"In a bookstore," Agatha admits. Pink stains her cheeks, a pretty flush that you want to kiss. So you do. She makes a groaning noise. "You're always telling me about those books you read. Getting all flustered when I ask you about the smutty parts."
Your whole body feels like its on fire, eyes fluttering shut when she pushes a finger inside you. Any questions die in your throat as you let out a moan. Agatha covers your mouth with her other hand and keeps talking.
"I touched myself to the thought of doing this with you," Agatha says, voice low and husky. The thought of Agatha masturbating to the thought of you sends fire through your body and suddenly you feel yourself getting pushed closer to the edge of climax. In your time together, you've never known Agatha to show any shame for anything she does, but the expression on her face as she admits this to you betrays her. "I want you so bad."
"You have me," you whisper. Agatha leans in and kisses you deeply, tongue pushing into your mouth.
The shelf behind you creaks as she pushes you more flush against it, her body rocking against yours. One more finger added and a precise curl of her fingers is enough to make your body explode with pleasure. Agatha holds onto you tight, using the bookshelf to help support you so your legs don't give out.
With a kiss on the cheek and Agatha wiping her fingers on her pants, the two of you manage to pull yourselves together enough to make your purchases and leave. The cashier definitely gives your disheveled appearances a once over, but Agatha's glare makes them keep their mouth shut
In Agatha's car, music playing, you can feel that the earlier tension that was lingering around her has dissipated. She's humming along, hand on your thigh and fingers drumming rhythmically.
"Hey, maybe I could come over to your place tonight?" You suggest as she makes a rolling stop through an intersection. "You wouldn't have to drop me off, and your place is closer to here, isn't it?"
Agatha's hand freezes on your thigh. "I don't think that's a good idea."
You should've known better. She's never invited you over to her place. You've been trying to write it off as nothing, but every time she denies you, you can't help but wonder if she's hiding something.
"I don't mean to invite myself over," you start. "But I'd like to see your space, y'know? And meet Scratchy."
Your body jerks forward as Agatha hits the brake too hard. The red light that you've stopped at mocks you.
"No," Agatha says firmly, facing forward and refusing to meet your eyes. As if she ever focuses properly on the road.
"Why?" You finally ask. "Are you embarrassed about your apartment or something? I don't care if its a mess, I've seen how you keep your car—"
"I said no!" Agatha snaps.
You flinch. Agatha is known for having a bit of a temper, but she's never had one with you. You don't like it. Your body deflates, slumping back into the seat. What happened to the woman who was just obsessing over you? The trees look blurry as Agatha hits the gas again. Always driving just a bit too fast, like she's ready for a car chase at any moment.
The silence is painful. You don't want to be the one to talk first again. The ball is in her court. Her hand is still on your thigh.
Neither of you speak until she reaches your apartment building. You gather your things quietly. Her hand finally leaves your thigh, resting on the gear shift instead, tapping rapidly against it. You don't make eye contact, afraid that if you look at her she'll see the tears threatening to fall. You'd feel stupid for crying in front of her like this.
"Do you still want to go to the museum this weekend?" Agatha asks quietly the moment that you start to open the door.
It's not an apology. Or even an explanation. But, it's something.
It's the plans that you hadn't officially made. The thought of a fun date that you'd dropped in the middle of another conversation. You hadn't said directly that you wanted to go, just said there was a few new exhibits that looked cool. Truthfully, it was so minor that you had almost forgotten that you even brought it up.
But Agatha remembered.
The hurt still sits heavy in your chest, cradled by your ribs next to your heart. You look over at her. Agatha's fidgeting with her rings, wearing an expression that you've never seen her make before. The way that her brows pinch together, the slight downturn of her lips, the way her eyes flick frantically over your face like she's trying to figure out what's going through your head.
Agatha is scared.
It breaks you. Any hesitance at taking her peace offering flies out the window as soon as you see that look in her eyes that she would die before she admitted how desperate it is. You take a deep breath and steady your voice.
"Yeah. I'd like that."
This has to be a set up. There's just zero chance that the universe hates Agatha enough for this to be a coincidence.
The banner above the temporary museum exhibition outwardly mocks her, the words a threat and the dim purple lighting emitting from the room highlighting her face like she's at an interrogation table.
"DOWN THE WITCHES ROAD: A JOURNEY THROUGH THE HISTORY OF WITCHCRAFT"
Agatha closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. You're busy chatting with the man at the front desk, where you're supposed to be buying tickets, but have clearly gotten preoccupied. A million thoughts run through Agatha's mind. Was this some sort of test? Did you suspect something, and now you were trying to coax the truth out of her? Have you brought her here so that you can have a dramatic "gotcha!" moment and then break up with her in front of the black and white photographs of Salem?
God, she hopes she doesn't get broken up with in any proximity to Salem. That's where her mother is.
"Ready, babe?" You walk back over to her, looping your arm in hers.
"Yeah. So, which exhibit was it that you thought looked cool?" Agatha asks, keeping her tone intentionally relaxed.
"Honestly, I didn't look at what was going to be here that closely," You shrug. "I knew they added some things since I was here last, and they change out their temporary one monthly. I didn't check what it was though. I figure maybe we can go to the new contemporary art wing and then circle back here to check out the witchcraft exhibit before lunch? Oh! And the gift shop, of course."
Okay, great. No conspiracies. This is just karma, and the universe hates her more than she previously thought. Which is saying something.
The beginning of the date goes fine, but Agatha is sure that you can feel the way that she's not fully relaxed. She's hoping that you chalk it up to left over awkwardness from the fight the other day. The one which neither of you have dared to address. Agatha suspects that you're worried that addressing the elephant in the room would make things worse than just making peace and moving on. And she's certainly not eager to try to explain away her little outburst.
Over the last couple of days, Agatha imagined about twenty different ways that conversation could have gone. The best option she's come up with is, "The real reason that you can't come over to my house is because I have a rabbit. I lied to you about him being a cat. Oh, why did I lie about that? Because if you saw him you'd immediately recognize him from that little Etsy listing that you stumbled upon. But hey! Now that the rabbit's out of the bag, you can come over!"
Really, not ideal. But, as much as Agatha hated to admit it, Wanda was probably right that the truth had to come out at some point. It was either that, never let you come over to her apartment, or get rid of Scratchy. The not visiting part is clearly a new point of contention, and she'd never even entertain the idea of giving Scratchy away.
Though, she did consider if dyeing his fur would be a viable option.
Agatha holds your hand as you lead her to different art pieces. You take time to read every tag, noting to her every one that you really like. Even the ones you don't like, you seem to find something nice to say about them. Agatha, of course, has something snarky to say about most of them. But she tries to let you react first, so she doesn't shit on one that you happen to enjoy.
Finally, you reach the end of the art exhibit, and loop back to the entrance to the temporary exhibit wing.
"You wanna sit for a second, or you good to keep going?" You ask Agatha innocently. Agatha gives you a small smile and tells you she's fine. Internally, she's bracing for impact.
Agatha's always had good instincts. She's always a few steps ahead of everyone around her. It's what makes her so savvy. She's never once thought that it was a bad thing. Until now, because her stomach is churning with anxiety that she's not used to because she knows what's coming.
It's a shame that Agatha can only concentrate on the discussion lurking around the corner rather than the museum. Any other day, she'd be eating all of this information up. Maybe she'll try to come back before the exhibit leaves and explore it properly. If it doesn't give her PTSD after today.
She can already tell by the look on your face as you read the displays that something is on your mind. There's a question hanging in your head, the string so thin that it's about to snap without any pressure.
Once she goes down this road, there's no going back.
The other shoe doesn't drop until you stop in front of a particular glass display case. It's full of crystals of all shapes and sizes. Behind them, there's a chart explaining all different types of metaphysical properties that each kind has. Emeralds, amethysts, jade, and more shine under the warm light of the case.
Your face scrunches up in concentration as you read. Agatha's stomach does a somersault.
"Do you believe in any of this type of thing?" You ask, glancing at her.
Yeah, my crystals are actually like, way bigger than these. Not that size matters. Instead of saying her very funny joke, Agatha shrugs noncommittally. Smooth.
A beat. You chew on your lip thoughtfully. Agatha's stomach is now competing for gold in gymnastics.
"Can I tell you something?"
The words set off her fight or flight instincts. But even though she's great at doing both of those things, has spent her whole life doing them, all she can do in this moment is freeze.
"Before we started talking, I honestly had almost given up on dating." You turn away from her slightly as you continue, too embarrassed to make eye contact. "I couldn't find many social things that suited me, and dating apps are a fucking nightmare. So, one day, I impulse bought one of those manifestation spells on Etsy."
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
"And that same night, you messaged me." You squeeze her hand. Agatha's breath catches, and she finally dares to look at you. Your eyes are shiny in the light, and she's praying it's just the light and not fucking tears. If you're getting emotional already, the rest of this conversation is not going to be fun. "So, I think I believe in it. Because I really don't know why you ever would've messaged me if it wasn't because of some sort of shift in the universe."
Agatha swallows hard. You sincerely believe that the two of you meeting was magic. It would be so easy to just keep up the lie from here.
But she can't. Not now.
It's not the nagging voice in her head that sounds an awful lot like Wanda that finally pushes Agatha to speak, but it's the thought of having you believe that it was some outside power that drew Agatha to you. As if you were undesirable otherwise. As if Agatha didn't want you from the very second she saw you. She's going to break down this false reality even if it hurts her, because she simply can't let you think that magic is the only reason Agatha is with you.
"Funny story, actually," Agatha begins, feigning a casual tone. "I actually knew about that."
"…What?" Your face falls a little. But you don't look totally shocked. Like maybe the thought had crossed your mind. Your grip tightens around hers.
"Basically, you fell for one of my side gigs. I learned about witchcraft in high school and started practicing some stuff as a hobby. I started doing things like spells and tarot readings for friends. I didn't hop on the Etsy witch train until after I broke up with my ex. Needed money, so I figured why not? Turns out, you stumbled upon my page. I take the liberty of researching my customers, because I don't always actually perform the spells. Wasted effort on people who probably don't deserve it."
All of this spills out of her, and now that the floodgates are open, she can't stop. You open your mouth to say something, and she just keeps going. It has to all be laid out right here, right now.
"Not that I think you didn't deserve it, even though your message was kind of pathetic. I just didn't think you needed it. What you needed was a confidence boost. But, anyway. I found your profile and thought you were pretty cute. So I messaged you. You know how the rest went. Oh, also, Scratchy isn't a cat. He's my rabbit. The one from the listing photo. That's why I haven't let you come over."
You shake your head, overwhelmed with information. You drop her hand, running yours through your hair. Brows pinch together as Agatha watches you try to put all of this in context to your relationship.
"Pathetic?" You ask indignantly. Agatha holds her hand up and makes a pinching motion with her pointer and thumb to say a little bit. "Okay, well, maybe. But wait. So, not only have you hidden this from me, but the spell wasn't even real?"
"Nope. All I did was burn the candle so the set up looked real. Got high and scrolled through your videos while I waited for it to melt." Agatha remembers how she masturbated to the thought of you. It feels too revealing to say. Too obsessive. Too raw. So, instead, she turns it on you. "Honestly, I'm surprised that you didn't realize sooner. But maybe you're just so obsessed with me that you intentionally misread all the signs."
As soon as the words leave her mouth, Agatha realizes the route she's taken. She's pushing you away, and she can't stop now that she's started. The train can't just steer off the tracks. You simply stare at her, struggling to form words in the face of the realization that Agatha had been keeping this secret and is framing it like you were the fool for ever trusting her.
"I'm assuming you don't want to get lunch now," Agatha sighs, as if this situation is a minor inconvenience and not her twisting the knife into the one piece of true happiness she has. "Do you want me to do the hard part here so you don't have to?"
"Agatha…" Your voice cracks.
No. Agatha isn't going to break things here. Not officially. She can't bring herself to say those words. But she'll be damned if she gives you the opportunity to.
"I suppose I should give you some time to think about it. See if you come running back to me."
Agatha leans in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek, turns on her heel, and walks away, leaving you still stunned in the middle of the exhibit room. Her boot steps echo through the museum, the tall ceilings and tile floors making them sound deafeningly loud with how heavy her steps fall.
Agatha doesn't look back at you. She can't. She just has to cling to the hope that you'll follow.
Chapters: 28/28
Fandom: Agatha All Along (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Agatha Harkness/Rio Vidal
Characters: Agatha Harkness, Rio Vidal, William Kaplan (Agatha All Along), Lilia Calderu, Jennifer Kale, Alice Wu-Gulliver, Wanda Maximoff, Nicholas Scratch (Marvel)
Additional Tags: Fleetwood Mac au, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Second Chances, Inspired by Daisy Jones & The Six, Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Motherhood, Nicky is alive, Trauma, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Sobriety, Slow Burn, like really slow burn, exes to friends to lovers, they never stopped loving each other, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, NOT between agatha and rio, toxic workplace, I wrote this while listening to MUNA’s music, Top Agatha Harkness, Bottom Rio Vidal, Making Out, Nipple Piercings, Rio Vidal on her knees for Agatha Harkness, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Scissoring, Rio Vidal is a good girl, Semi-Public Sex, sex instead of talking, Strap-Ons, Top Rio Vidal, Bottom Agatha Harkness, switchy witches, Overdose, Panic Attacks, Internalized Lesbiphobia, READ TRIGGER TAGS IN CHAPTER NOTES!!, Temporary Character Death
Series: Part 1 of Under the Violet Light
Summary:
“Why does this ridiculous little family have to include me? Sounds like you’re just making up reasons to be upset,” Agatha said, pursing her lips to try and keep in character, to not let her performance slip.
“Because it’s you, Agatha,“ Billy said, not letting go of Agtha’s hands. "Because I love you and you matter to me. You matter, Agatha. You always have, that has never changed. You are the heart of this family, no matter what you pretend to be otherwise to keep us at arm’s length. Our beating, bleeding, broken heart that we need to stay alive.”
“I’m not broken,” Agatha grumbled, not hating the analogy as much as she should. “Quit writing me poetry.”
“No, Agatha, you’re not broken. But we hurt you, we broke your heart, and I won’t pretend that we didn’t. Please give us a chance, give me a chance to make this right. Just one more time. And if you hate it, I promise to never ask you again. Just one more tour.”
–
Or, Fleetwood Mac rewritten as ex-wives Agatha Harkness and Rio Vidal. It’s been 10 years since the band broke up– can anything be salvaged?
Chapters: 28/28
Fandom: Agatha All Along (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Agatha Harkness/Rio Vidal
Characters: Agatha Harkness, Rio Vidal, William Kaplan (Agatha All Along), Lilia Calderu, Jennifer Kale, Alice Wu-Gulliver, Wanda Maximoff, Nicholas Scratch (Marvel)
Additional Tags: Fleetwood Mac au, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Second Chances, Inspired by Daisy Jones & The Six, Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Motherhood, Nicky is alive, Trauma, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Sobriety, Slow Burn, like really slow burn, exes to friends to lovers, they never stopped loving each other, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, NOT between agatha and rio, toxic workplace, I wrote this while listening to MUNA's music, Top Agatha Harkness, Bottom Rio Vidal, Making Out, Nipple Piercings, Rio Vidal on her knees for Agatha Harkness, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Scissoring, Rio Vidal is a good girl, Semi-Public Sex, sex instead of talking, Strap-Ons, Top Rio Vidal, Bottom Agatha Harkness, switchy witches, Overdose, Panic Attacks, Internalized Lesbiphobia, READ TRIGGER TAGS IN CHAPTER NOTES!!, Temporary Character Death
Series: Part 1 of Under the Violet Light
Summary:
“Why does this ridiculous little family have to include me? Sounds like you’re just making up reasons to be upset,” Agatha said, pursing her lips to try and keep in character, to not let her performance slip.
“Because it’s you, Agatha," Billy said, not letting go of Agtha's hands. "Because I love you and you matter to me. You matter, Agatha. You always have, that has never changed. You are the heart of this family, no matter what you pretend to be otherwise to keep us at arm’s length. Our beating, bleeding, broken heart that we need to stay alive.”
“I’m not broken,” Agatha grumbled, not hating the analogy as much as she should. “Quit writing me poetry.”
“No, Agatha, you’re not broken. But we hurt you, we broke your heart, and I won’t pretend that we didn’t. Please give us a chance, give me a chance to make this right. Just one more time. And if you hate it, I promise to never ask you again. Just one more tour.”
--
Or, Fleetwood Mac rewritten as ex-wives Agatha Harkness and Rio Vidal. It's been 10 years since the band broke up-- can anything be salvaged?
summary: a series of firsts with agatha leads to new questions.
word count: 6283
warnings: modern/no powers au, mid20s!agatha, 18+, alternating POV, lesbian agatha harkness, lesbian f!reader (they/them pronouns), agatha&wanda are besties, background sambucky and wandanat, themes of lying and manipulation, agatha harkness is not a good person, minor drug use, references to homophobia/conversion therapy, first kiss, first hookup, agatha has nipple piercings, vaginal fingering, thigh grinding, eroticization of witchcraft, reader is a little oblivious and a little in denial
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The next day, you drive over to pick up Agatha from her shift. She's standing on the sidewalk outside of the drug store where she does late night inventory. A billow of smoke clouds around her as she takes a hit from her pen. She waves it away as she sees you pull up beside her.
Agatha tries to open the door before you can unlock it. Then proceeds to try again right as you're unlocking it, which makes it lock again.
"Fuck!" She shouts in frustration.
"Just wait a second." You roll your eyes and hit unlock again while Agatha pouts. She finally gets in the passenger seat, flopping down with a deep sigh. "Hi."
"I need caffeine," Agatha grumps.
"Good morning to you too."
You pull out onto the road as Agatha grabs an energy drink from her bag, opening the can with a sharp pop and fizz. As you roll up to a stoplight, you glance over at her, watching her jaw and neck as she chugs the drink. The action should not be as hot to you as it is, but you're starting to accept that this will be a normal feeling when it comes to anything Agatha does.
"How was your shift?" You ask, trying to fill the silence as you drive.
"It was fine." Agatha shrugs. "I don't sleep well in general so I don't mind the timing. And working before we open means I don't have to deal with stupid ass customers."
"You don't like annoying questions or complaints that you don't have the answer for?"
"That's actually the one good part, because then I get to lie to their faces." Agatha pitches her voice higher and puts on an over-the-top Southern accent. "I'm so sorry, we're out of stock of those condoms because they got recalled. Yes, they've been making people's dicks smaller. You haven't been using them, have you? Oh, dear. It's too late for you, I'm afraid."
You laugh out loud at her ridiculousness. Agatha grins, eyes sparkling.
"So, where is this super secret hidden gem you've been so coy about?" Agatha asks, propping one foot up on the dashboard, her boot no doubt scuffing your old car. You try not to stare at her stompy dyke boots too hard. Driving. You're driving.
The car jerks as you have to step on the brake a bit more suddenly than you'd prefer when you realize the light in front of you is turning red. Agatha yelps as she's yanked forward. You feel bad, but the noise was really cute.
"Sorry." You grimace and force yourself not to look over at her any more. "It's in between the ABC store and that super sketchy massage parlor. It opened kind of recently, so not a lot of people know about it yet. I think that it used to be an old pharmacy."
Agatha hums and grabs your phone without asking so that she can fiddle with the music playing.
"Gay."
"What?" You furrow your brows.
"Your music. It's gay," Agatha states simply. She's certainly not wrong.
"Well, I have some very shocking news for you." You pull into the shopping center and find a spot close to the front, since it's basically empty. Once your car is in park, you unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face Agatha with a serious look on your face. "I wasn't sure when I'd have to tell you this but…I'm gay."
Agatha clutches her imaginary pearls and lets out stuttered, dramatic noises. "No. What? No. This can't be true. You're lying."
"It's true. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner."
"Are you sure it's not just a phase?" Agatha grabs your arm. Her fingers feel good wrapped around your wrist. "I know a priest. Maybe he can help fix you. Let me call him and get the Bibles out, go get a white dress on."
"Rather specific pull there," You say flatly, trying to sound teasing but you're not sure it landed the way you intended. Or maybe it just wasn't a time to tease. Agatha's face twitches in a way that tells you that this bit has run into a roadblock. Her grip around your wrist tenses, tightening almost imperceptibly.
You put your hand over hers, rubbing your thumb along her fingers. She pulls back. Her eyes don't meet yours, suddenly focused on unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car. You follow her lead and round the front to walk beside her into the thrift store. "You okay?"
"I'm great." Agatha gives you a tight smile. Then she suddenly adds, "It wasn't that specific. It happens to a lot of people."
Casual horrible trauma joke. Seems about right for Agatha. The air is a bit awkward now. The unspoken implication of Agatha's words hang between you. She seems to be regretting even hinting at the fact, and you have a feeling an apology would sound too much like pity to her. You choose to change the subject rather than push more. You bump your arm against hers. "Be prepared to be hounded by a very sweet but very talkative old couple when we walk in."
A bell above the door rattles (not rings, it's too rusted for that). Just as you warned, you're immediately bombarded.
"It's you again!" The older woman behind the counter beams. "And you've brought a friend!"
"Hi," you wave and give her a small smile. Her husband's head pops up from an aisle that he's stocking, his long white beard making him a spitting image of Santa Claus.
"Well, hello there! I didn't think you'd be back so soon. You're in luck, we just got a bunch of donations in yesterday."
Agatha doesn't seem eager to talk to them, giving them a half-hearted smile and glancing around for an escape. So, you tell them that you're going to show her the back rooms so that you can avoid getting into a long winded conversation. You hook your arm into Agatha's and tug her through some racks and shelves down a hallway.
"See, they have these weird side rooms." You gesture to the doorways. "I think there used to be examination rooms back here too. It would be kind of creepy if it was dark in here, to be honest. Big backrooms energy."
"Maybe it's haunted."
"I highly doubt anyone died in here."
"You never know…" Agatha singsongs the last word and wanders into one of the rooms, dragging you along with her.
The two of you spend a good hour looking through every nook and cranny of the store. While you're looking at the vintage glassware (much of which definitely contains uranium), Agatha browses a bookcase full of various trinkets.
"Look at these little guys," she says. You look over and see her holding a couple of Beanie Babies. "They're funny."
The sight of the worn toys makes your eyes light up. You stride over and immediately take one of them from her grip. "These are so cute!"
Agatha watches carefully as you look through the bin that she found them in. There's a couple dozen of them. Someone must have given away their collection. Overwhelmed with decision, you sigh and start walking away. Agatha looks at you, puzzled.
"Are you not gonna get one?"
"I don't need any, I think." You shrug. "If I buy one of them, I'll want to buy more. I should probably wait until I get paid to go down that road."
Truthfully, you feel a little embarrassed about how excited you just got over them in front of Agatha. Even though she was the one who pointed them out, something about getting a toy for yourself makes you self-conscious. Maybe next week you'll come back and buy a few.
You wander into another room so that you aren't tempted any further, but Agatha lingers behind. The owners end up catching you and getting into the string of small talk that you were trying to avoid, but you politely nod and chat with them while you wait for Agatha to catch up.
When you finally manage break away from a discussion about how the weather has been all over the place lately, you find Agatha trying on a leather jacket. It fits her perfectly. You bite you lower lip as you look her up and down. From her boots to the jacket, you're having a hard time forming any coherent thoughts other than how irresistible she looks right now. She glances up at you from where she was messing with the sleeves, smirking when she sees your expression.
"Hot, right?"
"Very. You look like an edgy biker." The sight of her makes you bold. You step into her space, close enough that if you just leaned in a bit you could kiss her. But, you're not that bold yet. Agatha's eyes dart across your face. You can see her freckles from this close. You reach around her to the bin on top of the racks and grab a pair of sunglasses, carefully placing them on her face. "These complete the look, I think."
Agatha's hands fall to your hips, and your breath hitches. She notices, tilts her head with a little amused smile on her lips. "Yeah? Should I get them?"
"Definitely."
The rattle of the bell as someone else walks into the store makes you jump back instinctively. Agatha's hand drops from your hip, but her gaze is no less intense. "If it pulls this reaction from you, then it's a must-buy."
You ended up not getting anything, so you wait as Agatha pays. She grunts and puts on a convincing smile as she listens to the old woman tell her about what a character the guy who donated the jacket was.
Back in the car at last, you start up the engine and scroll through your phone for a moment while your car heats up. "Do you want to get lunch or anything? I don't remember if you mentioned having another shift today, but we could always go through a drive-thru."
"Hold out your hand."
"What?" You furrow your brows at Agatha's order, then obey. Agatha places a Beanie Baby in your palm. It's a deer, complete with cute white spots. You gasp, holding up the toy like it's a precious artifact. "You bought this for me?"
"Yep." Agatha smiles, watching your face light up. "You seemed like you really wanted one. These things tend to go fast, so I didn't want you to wait it out and then have them all be gone by the next time you came."
"I didn't even see you put it on the counter," you say casually, not thinking too much of it. She must have slipped it under her jacket to pay for it so that you would be surprised.
"I have my ways."
"Thank you." You place the deer carefully in your cup holder for now, arranging it's legs so that they hang cutely over the rim. "Really, that's super sweet of you."
Agatha waves like it's nothing, but you can see her cheeks turning a pretty pink at the compliment. The confidence from earlier returns, and you lean over the center console. Agatha's brows raise, a bit surprised, but she leans in as well.
"Can I…?" You eyes dart down to her lips. Her perfect fucking lips. The unspoken question doesn't hang in the air for long.
"If you don't, I will."
You giggle a bit, and Agatha meets you in the middle. Her lips press against yours, eager and curious. A soft thud makes you flinch, realizing you've bumped your head against the roof of the car with this angle. She presses her tongue against the seam of your mouth, and you make a squeaky noise. When you lean back, she blinks at you like her brain is catching up.
"Sorry."
"No. I liked it," you assure her. "I just wasn't expecting it right away."
"I like my kissing like I like my…" Agatha purses her lips. "Fries? I hate the French too much to make that joke better."
"You're silly." You lean in again, and Agatha grins against your mouth when you swipe your tongue against her lips this time. She tastes like the energy drink that she's been sipping all morning, but her lips are so soft that you can't think about anything else.
Between the car heater and the increasingly needy kisses, both of you start feeling incredibly warm. Agatha grunts, pulling away so that she can tug at her leather jacket. "Jesus, I'm sweating."
"Yeah," you sigh, taking off your cardigan. You glance at the time, eyes widening. "How long have we been in the car?"
"Like…twenty minutes. Give or take a few."
"I'm starving."
"Burgers?" Agatha suggests.
"Works for me." You put your seatbelt on and put the car in drive. The mirror has fogged a little. You wipe it off with your fingers, but still end up bracing your arm on the back of Agatha's seat so you can look over your shoulder to back out. Agatha tilts her head and nips at your arm. "Ow, what the hell?"
Agatha's eyes crinkle at the corners. "You looked tasty."
"First fries and now this? We need to get some food in you."
You rest your arm on the console and peel out into the street. Agatha takes your wrist and guides your hand to rest on her thigh. You automatically rub your thumb against her leg. "I didn't take you for a passenger princess, y'know."
"I'm not always. My license is suspended right now."
"Why?"
"Unpaid tickets."
"Jesus, Agatha."
Agatha rubs her thumb along the side of her phone as she reads your message.
"do you want to hang out and watch a movie or something?"
She had just been complaining that she was bored and needed something to do, and now you're presenting her with what she'd normally interpret as an offer for sex. That's usually what she's after, anyway. But, her mind is set on other things. Like how you want to hang out with her, to scroll through really shitty movies that you can laugh at together, to probably cuddle and kiss on your couch.
The thought makes her chest and face and her entire fucking body feel really warm and…fuzzy?
God, what is she becoming?
Agatha types out her response, a totally chill "sure sounds good babe." The pet names really came naturally to Agatha, she honestly didn't think very much of them. But she loves all the reactions you've had to the different names she's thrown at you over the past few weeks.
You respond with two messages. The second one makes Agatha tense.
"yay! <3"
"my place or yours? I don't mind driving to yours so you don't have to take the bus"
Fuck. If you come over here, she'd have to hide all of her witch supplies. And Scratchy. Both because you might remember his picture from the Etsy listing and the fact that he is definitely not a cat like she'd told you.
Honestly, until this moment, Agatha had almost completely forgotten her little secret. She's been too caught up in enjoying your company and conversations.
Agatha isn't used to someone being so invested in her like this. Sure, she's had a lot of women chase after her to some degree (and one particular one that she can't shake), but there's a special warmth that you've brought to her that she's never experienced before.
It's not one big thing, but a lot of tiny things that add up in an equation that Agatha is still solving. You notice things about her, like her preferred tea that you've brought her when you've been kind enough to give her a ride. Kindness without expectation isn't something Agatha is familiar with, both in herself and others. She's questioned your intentions outright before, and her suspicions were dismissed with a curious look but no prying questions into her odd reactions. You simply wore your heart on your sleeve.
Not just that, but it seems like you genuinely enjoy Agatha's presence. She rants to you about annoying people at work, and you listen intently and always chime in with something surprisingly snarky that catches her off guard. You go out of your way to talk to her. Every morning she wakes up some stupid memes or cute texts waiting for her, and she's started looking forward to it.
You've honestly looked past a lot of red flags that she's dropped on you so far. Most people would have at least gotten a little hesitant, but you seemed to be just as enamored with her as you were day one. If Wanda asked, she'd brush it off and say something like, "Of course they're so obsessed with me that they don't care about my eccentricities."
But, against her will, Agatha has started getting attached, and there's a good chance that she might actually regret it if she fucked things up with you.
With this in mind, she does what she does best and worms her way out of the situation.
"let's do your place. my apartment is a mess."
You don't question it — of course you don't, it's perfectly reasonable — and just respond with, "cool! come over whenever <3 just lmk when you're on your way!"
One outfit change and a bus ride that was shorter than the outfit change later, Agatha stands outside your apartment door. There's a fluttery feeling in her stomach. Are those butterflies?
Oh my god, Agatha, stop acting like a schoolgirl even though you'd look sexy in the uniform. Get it together.
Agatha knocks, and the door swings open. You beam at her, eyes lighting up as if this is a wonderful surprise and you hadn't asked her to come over. It does not help her feel less infatuated.
"Come in!" You tug her inside. The motion makes Agatha finally get herself together. She's a lady-killer, not some flustered girl with a crush. You're the one who's supposed to be flustered. So, naturally, she pins you against the wall after the door clicks shut. You let out a breathy gasp that makes Agatha ache, looking at her with your bottom lip caught in your teeth. "Someone's eager."
Your teasing comment makes Agatha growl as she starts kissing along your neck, her hands sliding up your shirt. "Not eager. Just…Shut up."
"Make me."
Fuck.
Agatha pulls back. If she starts something, she won't stop until she's had her fill. Part of her worries that you really don't know what you're asking for with that teasing little comment. The dominant side of her hears that challenge and is ready to meet it in full force. But, she knows you're not the most experienced, so she takes that beast and chains it up for the moment so that she can think with a clear mind.
"Careful," Agatha warns, her voice huskier than she expected. "You're gonna be in trouble if you keep talking to me like that."
"Maybe I like trouble."
Of course you do. You're dating her.
"Yeah? I thought you just wanted a cute movie date," Agatha accuses with an amused smile. She starts tugging you towards the couch, pushing you to sit and swinging her legs over your lap so she's straddling your thighs. The T.V. is in fact on, open to the main menu like you were preparing for the two of you to browse options when she arrived. But your attention is fully on her now. Hands on her waist, thumbs rubbing along a bit of skin that's exposed from where her shirt has ridden up. "Were you just trying to get in my pants, baby?"
"I can want more than one thing."
"You can. But if we start this, I have a feeling that you'll be too tired for a rom-com by the time I'm done with you," Agatha warns. She watches you swallow, your throat bobbing. She wants to latch her teeth into the flesh of your throat, dig her canines in and refuse to let go like a dog with resource guarding issues. Your hands on her hips tense a little, like you're having second thoughts.
Agatha wants this. She wants you. So bad that it hurts. You do too, there's no doubt in her mind. But you're clearly nervous, all your bravado having faded away as the prospect of sex suddenly became so much more real.
You're always so sweet to her, even when she's moody. So Agatha is starting to think maybe she could show some of that in return.
"Hey." Agatha cups your face, making you meet her eyes. "We don't have to if you're nervous."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize to me." The words come out much firmer than she intended, disgusted that you'd ever feel bad about this. You try to look away, embarrassed, but she doesn't let you. Agatha leans in and brushes her nose against yours. "Let's just pick a movie. You choose."
After Agatha crawled out of your lap and let you snuggle up under her arm, you started to relax again. The nerves all vanished, and you were content in flipping through film titles and offering them to Agatha, who kept rejecting them despite saying that you could choose.
Eventually, she relented after you huffed that you'd never watch anything at this rate. Despite Agatha's seemingly endless stream of commentary on the cheesy straight-to-streaming garbage that you picked because the main actress is hot ("She's way too good to do this shit," Agatha had grunted.), she wasn't paying that much attention.
Her focus was on the way that you leaned into her touch. Your hand resting on her thigh so casually, like it was meant to be there. Agatha adjusted a bit, bringing her hand to your jaw. She presses her fingers against your chin, tilting you up to face her. Your eyes sparkle in the low lights. Agatha's eyes dart to your lips. You nod.
You taste like the chapstick that you have in every bag you own (so that you don't ever leave home without some). The press of your lips against Agatha's has her getting worked up all over again. She guides you to lay down on the couch, tossing your decorative throw pillows aside, other than the one she has you rest your head on. Seeing you laid out for her makes her groan.
Agatha pushes your shirt up so that she can kiss up your body. You aren't wearing a bra, so her lips find your tits immediately. You arch into her eager mouth, moaning as her tongue swipes over your hardened nipple.
This is further than she's gotten with you before. The most that the two of you have done up until this point has been some over-the-clothes groping while making out. It's been killing her. Agatha's not sure how much longer she can keep herself under control. Especially with those sweet noises you keep making.
You're watching her with needy eyes. As she hooks a finger in the waistband of your pants, she looks up at you again. A silent question. You nod again.
"Fuck yes," Agatha growls.
She tugs your pants down your legs, letting out a guttural noise at the sight of your damp panties. Your bush peeks out of the edges a bit, and Agatha fights the urge to stop and take a pretty picture.
"I wanna see you," you say, almost too quiet for her to hear. Like you're scared she'll say no. As if she'd deny you that.
Agatha sits up and looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, the blues of them swallowed by the hungry void of her pupils. The air is thick with tension as she slowly tugs her sweater over her head. She'd forgone a bra as well, so her tits fall free as soon as the fabric is gone. You sit up, and with Agatha's positioning, she's basically in your lap again. Agatha starts tugging your shirt off all the way, laughing as you make a squeaky noise when it gets caught on your head.
"Sorry."
"It's okay." Your eyes land on her tits, zeroing in on her nipples. "You have nipple piercings."
Agatha blinks and looks down as if she's forgotten. She's so used to them that she doesn't even think about it. She pulls her hair behind her back so that you can see better. "Oh. Yeah, I do."
"Did they hurt?"
"Eh. I mean, yeah. But I have a high pain tolerance." Agatha shrugs. "Being a masochist helps."
She decides to forgo the detail that the piercings were done by an ex of hers, and that the whole session was basically foreplay. Which was extra torturous, because Agatha was forced to let them heal for so long before she could even reap the rewards. A fun fact, but probably not so fun while she's actively trying to seduce you.
Or, maybe you'd find it hot. She wouldn't be surprised. But that's a wager for another time.
Agatha watches you try to get the courage to ask if you can suck on her nipples, before you get distracted again.
"You didn't tell me about this tattoo." You drag your finger across the ink a bit below her breasts, along her lower sternum. The ovular shape contains three female figures, all silhouetted carefully inside the embellished edges.
Agatha must have failed to mention that she had multiple tattoos when you first saw the one on her left shoulder — a lonely crow, surrounded by intricate linework. Magical runes, her own design. At the time, she was too focused on the way your finger traced each line like you were solving a maze.
"Triple Goddess," Agatha says simply. She scoots back under the guise of letting you see the tattoo better, but really it's so she can squeeze her hand between your bodies. Your thighs spread instinctively when her digits press against your mound, lips parting in a needy whine. Agatha smirks. You're trying to speak, ask her more, but the mere feeling of her fingers against your pussy is delaying the process. "You're so adorable like this. So needy."
"I can't help it."
"Can't help being adorable?" Agatha chuckles at the way your eyebrows scrunch up in concentration. They flutter shut when she finds your clit through the fabric. That won't do. That's against the rules of the game she's made up just now. "Ah, keep your eyes on me. I'm telling you about my tattoo, remember? It's very rude to ignore me when I'm telling you something so intimate."
You whine and open your eyes again.
"Good girl."
Another whine. Agatha can't listen to that anymore without getting some sort of stimulation. She stands up and yanks her pants off, almost stumbling over with how fast she's moving. You laugh at her foot getting caught in the pants leg, so she sticks her tongue out at you. Her panties are damp, so she kicks them aside as well.
When she settles back on the couch, she straddles your thigh. Your eyes are glued to her cunt as she presses herself against you. The damp curls of her bush rub against your skin.
"Holy shit," you groan. The way that you're looking at her makes her feel a warmth spread through her entire body. Desire. Power.
And something else she's afraid to name.
"Now, where were we?" Agatha hums, ready to put those feelings in a little box that she can hide under the metaphorical bed in her brain. It's getting crowded under there. She brings her hand back down between your legs, pressing her fingers more purposefully this time. Having learned from last time, you don't let your eyes close. You keep them trained on her. So obedient. "Good. Do you what the Triple Goddess represents?"
"No." Your voice is stuttered as she slides two fingers around your clothed clit, rubbing the sensitive bud between them. Your panties are going to be ruined.
With her other hand, she tangles her fingers in your hair and tugs lightly, making sure that you look at her tattoo. She sees your eyes darting to the side, no doubt looking at her pierced nipples. She smirks and arches her back invitingly. You open your mouth, and she guides your face to her tit. The second that your tongue swipes carefully over her nipple, the metal of the barbell cool against your tongue, Agatha moans.
"Maiden. Mother. Crone." Agatha takes deep breaths between each word. You look up at her through your lashes as you wrap your lips around her nipple, and she swears she's going to see stars just from this. She scratches gently at your scalp. "Representations of different phases of a woman's life."
You reach up, and Agatha thinks you're going to tease her other nipple, but instead you touch your fingertips to the ink again. Carefully. Slowly. Reverently.
Agatha might come right now.
No, fuck. Keep it together, Harkness. You're losing your own fucking game!
"The maiden. Youth. Innocence. Independence." Agatha grinds herself down against your thigh. Her slick smears against your bare skin. When she hits that perfect angle, where her lips are parted so her clit presses perfectly against your tensed muscle, Agatha starts rocking her hips faster.
"The mother. Self-explanatory, really." Agatha pushes you harder against her breast. You moan around her nipple and suck deep, your cheeks hollowing. Agatha's eyes roll back. "Fuck, I could keep you here all day."
The fabric against your cunt is slippery now, her fingers struggling to find good friction for you. With the way your hips are moving, she can tell that you need more. Agatha takes pity on you and pushes the soaked gusset to the side.
"And last, the crone. Endings. Death." Heat engulfs her fingers as she presses two into your waiting cunt. You gasp, her tit falling free from your mouth. Agatha bites her lower lip as she watches you. You can't keep your eyes open any longer. She lets you close them now, feel every sensation of her exploring you, pressing her fingers deep like she's trying to pull something from deep within. "And rebirth."
Your body wracking with another moan and the way your pussy clenches around Agatha's fingers is enough to send her over the edge. Agatha gasps, thighs locking around your leg as she humps through the shockwaves shooting through her body. Her hands are shaky, but she manages to remove her other hand from your hair so she can rub your clit while she fucks you. She thanks the gods that it's enough, because she's about to fall over after her body stops shaking.
You lose balance as your orgasm crashes into you, falling flat back against the sofa. Agatha's trembling hand moves away from your cunt. She groans as she lifts herself off of your thigh. Both of you are covered in each others juices. Agatha licks her fingers clean. You taste heavenly.
The movie credits are rolling now. Soft, romantic music plays as Agatha lays down on top of you. Chest to chest. Her piercings brush against your nipples, and the sensation makes you twitch.
Neither of you say anything for while. The silence isn't heavy. It's safe.
Agatha's never felt safe before. It's a little scary, but only because it's a foreign concept. Her lips find yours again. Slow and without pressure.
"I like the tattoo," you break the silence finally. Agatha laughs, raspy from moaning.
"Yeah? I think you'll have a very positive association with it now."
When your bodies have had enough rest, Agatha sits up and stretches her arms above her head. She makes a squeaky, pleased noise as her muscles pop. "Oh fuck, that's good."
"Thank you. For tonight."
Agatha looks down at you. You're looking at her like she's something precious. Something good.
It terrifies her.
Because she knows it's not true.
"No big deal, I'm good at giving orgasms," Agatha jokes. Always laughing it off. Never time for sincerity.
"Well, yes. You are. But I meant earlier." Agatha knows what you meant. She shrugs and pats your thigh and doesn't continue the conversation. The awkwardness of her avoidance doesn't have to stick around for long, at least. You are merciful and shift the topic. You're scarily good at that, reading her needs when she can't voice them. "Do you have any other tattoos?"
"One more."
You tilt your head at her as she twists her body. On her lower back, right above her ass, there's a tattoo of a trio of rabbits, hopping in an arch. There's a few small stars around them, like they're leaping through the night sky.
Agatha already knows you're about to reach out and touch the ink, so she stays in the uncomfortable position. Something about seeing the designs seems to make you very tactile. Not that she's complaining.
"Bunny tramp stamp, huh?"
"Yeah." Agatha holds her tongue, almost instinctively saying that it's dedicated to Scratchy. "I like rabbits."
"They are cute." You accept her simple response. Agatha lets out a small sigh and relaxes into a normal position again. You wrap your arms around her waist and tug her forward so that she's pressed against your lap again. "Like you."
"Aren't you a charmer?" Agatha smiles and boops your nose. "Are you trying to butter me up?"
"Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to spend the night."
"Ah, so the truth comes out! Just trying to manipulate me into sleeping in your cozy nest of a million pillows and a billion stuffed animals."
"Shut up."
"Make me," Agatha grins.
Lips crash together again, and the two of you dissolve into a mess of giggles and moans once more.
The bedroom is quiet. Or, it would be, if Agatha wasn't snoring.
Her body is on top of yours, her face tucked into the crook of your neck. You initially woke up from your deep slumber because you wanted to get water, but now you're pretty sure it would be cruel to move and wake her.
Agatha is sleeping as if she's never had a good night sleep in her life. Which, given the tidbits you've learned about her childhood and her general self-destructive habits, you wouldn't be shocked by. There's a wet spot on your shirt where she's drooling. You carefully reach over to the nightstand to grab your phone and take a picture of her to torture her with later.
You run your hand up and down her back. Her shirt rides up a bit, and you find yourself running a finger along her tramp stamp again. The trio of rabbits jumping across her lower back keep returning to your head. Along with the other tattoos. The crow with runes. The Triple Goddess.
These things were all undeniably witchy. And that realization put a question in your mind.
Were these all truly coincidences? Or could it be possible that Agatha wasn't telling the complete truth with how she stumbled across your profile?
In the darkness of the room, your phone casts a glow across your face as you look back at that Etsy purchase. The listing photo that has that little brown and white rabbit in a woman's arms.
You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. Surely this meant nothing.
But it's going to bother you until you have something to dissuade the conspiracy theorizing. You open Instagram and do a quick scroll through Agatha's profile. There are no pictures of the rabbit. You have to assume that if she had a pet rabbit, she would've posted it. Would she really go through the trouble of hiding a bunch of photos? And what would even be the point of lying? It's not like you would've have thought it was any weirder for Agatha to be upfront from the beginning and say that she was the witch you bought the spell from.
The theory starts to wither in your head. It was just your brain trying to connect dots. The universe worked in weird ways, it's totally not out of the picture that the woman who contacted you immediately after you bought a spell just happened to also be into witchcraft. Plus, Agatha is a lesbian who was born in Salem. It would be weird if she wasn't into witches.
You're overthinking it.
A particularly loud snore jolts you from your thoughts, and the way your body jerks wakes the noise source.
"Hmm, what?" Agatha's eyes open the tiniest bit, squinting at you. She looks impossibly cute like this, a little disoriented, her hair messy and drool on her chin.
"Sorry. Your snoring scared me."
"I don't snore."
You kiss the spot between her eyebrows. "Of course you don't. Go back to sleep."
"Mmkay."
Within moments, Agatha drifts back into slumber. You sigh and set your phone aside. Part of you wonders what you'd even do if your theory turned out to be true. Would you confront her? Would you wait and see if she was plotting some nefarious long scheme?
Would any of the potentials even completely tear your heart away from Agatha?
Agatha's fingers tighten around the fabric of your shirt. Her face scrunches up for a moment. You frown, running your fingers through her hair. The motion seems to calm her, and her face relaxes again, but her hand remains latched onto you.
Your heart aches. How can you be doubting her when she's clutching onto you like this?
You close your eyes. No more overthinking things. All that matters is the reality of Agatha in your arms.
summary: lonely and desperate, you impulse purchase a love spell from an etsy witch.
word count: 3970
tags: modern/no powers au, mid20s!agatha, 18+, alternating POV, lesbian agatha harkness, lesbian f!reader (they/them pronouns), agatha&wanda are besties, background sambucky and wandanat, themes of lying and manipulation, agatha harkness is not a good person, minor drug use, not rio vidal friendly (but its more of an agatha problem), light cyberstalking, masturbation
authors note: it's here!!! i wont ramble for too long, just know that the next chapter will be up this friday (march 6) and from there fridays are the normal update days. i just really wanted to get the first chapter out 💜
chapter navigation | au playlist | ao3 link | tip jar
It's a stupid idea.
Pathetic, really.
But, fuck it, why not? What do you have to lose at this point?
Your dignity. And a few dollars.
You slump into your couch, laptop perched on your legs. The keyboard clicks softly as you type "manifestation spell" into the Etsy search bar.
Immediately, you're bombarded with listings. AI generated images of vaguely witchy scenes assault your eyes, and you almost close the tab out of pure disgust. But desperation pushes you forward.
This isn't something you've ever done before, but at this point? You'll try anything, no matter how stupid.
Dating apps are a bust. Every time you re-download them in hopes of finally getting matches, it's the same story. Girls looking for friends, couples looking for thirds, and with the few women you actually do feel brave enough to try to message, they never respond or the conversation dies within the first few exchanges.
Going out is also hard. Your city isn't the biggest, so the options for queer spaces are extremely limited. The few options available aren't exactly your scene either. The gay bar downtown is fine, but the few times you mustered the courage to go with your friends, the number of lesbians was next to none. Dyke bars going practically extinct will be the death of you.
Maybe you should've kept trying, but you've been discouraged so often that it seems hopeless.
The natural third option was paying an Etsy witch to manifest good energy for you, right?
Your best friend and beloved neighbor, Bucky, shrugged when you posited the idea.
"I don't know. Seems kind of bullshit, but Natasha's girlfriend is into that mumbo jumbo, so maybe—"
His partner, Sam, jumped into the conversation. "Hell no. Don't fool around with that stuff."
"You scared of witches, Sam?" Bucky teased him.
"Look, I'm just saying, you gotta accept the risks when you mess with shit like that." Sam put his hands up as if to say, but that's none of my business. "Best case scenario you get scammed. Worst case scenario? Cursed."
Bucky's cat, Alpine, made a disgruntled noise from your lap. Sam gestured to her.
"See? Even the cat agrees with me."
The curses you're not that worried about, but as you scroll through the listings, the thought that many of these are probably scams certainly echoes in your mind. You completely avoid any that have AI used — seriously, if someone can't even be bothered to take a photo of their own witchy materials, can they really be trusted to cast a proper spell?
You're not really sure what exactly you're looking for otherwise though. Maybe you're just hoping that one will speak to you, in some vague nonsensical way. That would probably be a sign.
After clicking through a bunch of options, you finally stumble upon one that makes you pause.
Bewitch Your True Love, Attract Your Soulmate
But it wasn't the name that caught your eye, it was the photo. The text was overlayed on top of an image of someone, presumably the witch, holding an adorable white and brown rabbit in her arms.
Attention captured by the cute animal (and definitely not the fact that the hands holding it were very nice looking), you read further.
This spell is designed to help you focus your energy, hone your potential, and thus make you irresistible to those around you. Your power lies within, this spell simply aids in unlocking it.
If you are…
Lonely
Desperate
Just about to give up on finding a relationship
…this is for you.
A little on the nose. But whatever.
The description states that the witch will perform a spell and send photographic evidence of the items that she used. Naturally, you glance at the reviews. They seem good, a lot of five stars with people saying that they finally had successful dates almost immediately after the spell was cast.
It costs $5. $10 for priority shipping…er, casting.
A small price to pay if it works. Less than a latte if it doesn't.
You select the cheaper option and click add to cart.
Agatha's phone buzzes. She grabs it from the table, her mouth full of food from her lunch. The Etsy notification makes her eyes light up.
"What are you so happy about?" Wanda asks.
"Got another sucker. I'm telling you, you gotta get on this," Agatha mumbles around her food before swallowing. "Well, maybe not. You might steal my customers."
"You're still doing that scheme?" Wanda rolls her eyes. "I thought you were going to stop after you made enough to pay Rio back for the stuff you stole."
"Yeah, well, I have rent to pay and stuff to buy," Agatha sneers. The mention of her ex-girlfriend makes her prickle up. As far as Agatha was concerned, the furniture and clothes she stole were basically hers anyway, considering she used them more than Rio by the time they split.
If Agatha didn't want Rio stalking her more than she already was, she had to either she give the items back or pay Rio for them. Wanda wouldn't let Agatha do her preferred option of changing her name and fleeing to another state, so Agatha chose to just hand over some cash. She liked the clothes she took far too much to get rid of them. They're vintage! Thrifted! There's no way she'd ever find such perfect sweaters again.
"You'd think the fact that you steal most of your belongings from all your part time jobs would help your budgeting situation."
"Meh meh meh, I'm Wanda and I have a girlfriend with a fancy secret government job so I can work at a crystal shop that gets two customers a week," Agatha says in a mocking, squeaky voice, her lip curled up in contempt.
"Alright, I'm leaving."
"Ugh, stop. Don't be so dramatic," Agatha sighs, slumping back in her seat. She pokes at her mostly eaten burger with her fork, considering apologizing for being an asshole. Wanda puts her bag back down and raises an eyebrow at Agatha.
Agatha should really be a bit kinder to Wanda. She's the closest friend she has.
Okay, only friend. Whatever. Who's counting?
But Wanda always seems to want to fix Agatha. Help her be better. And, frankly, Agatha had endured enough of that from her mother. Really, Agatha has improved a lot. She wasn't setting fires or getting into bar fights anymore. Wanda should be proud of her.
Ugh, gross.
"It's only a few dollars. It's, like, barely robbery," Agatha reasons.
"I'm just confused why someone who was into witchcraft enough to get kicked out of Catholic school—"
"Hey, that was for making out with my classmates!"
"—would want to do fake scams for money."
Agatha shrugs, swiping a carrot from Wanda's plate and munching on it loudly. "I do the real thing sometimes."
"Why only sometimes?" Wanda tilts her head. It's cute. In another world, Agatha would've ruined her like she ruined Rio.
Speaking of Rio, Agatha opens Instagram and scrolls back through Rio's profile, presses like on a picture of them from six months ago, and then puts her phone down again. Just for fun.
"If I feel like someone doesn't deserve it, I won't perform the ritual."
"What?"
"Magic should only be for the deserving, Wanda. And most people don't deserve it." Agatha rolls her eyes as if its the most obvious thing in the world. When Wanda's face still looks puzzled, Agatha elaborates, gesturing as she speaks. "They want to use it as a shortcut rather than a manifestation of their inner power. If they believed enough, they could figure out how to do it themselves. But, no. They come crawling to strangers who can take advantage of them."
"Lemme guess, they're asking for it?"
"Exactly! You're catching on."
"I'm being facetious, Agatha."
"But you still followed my point," Agatha says with a smug look. Wanda sighs dramatically and rubs her head like Agatha is giving her a migraine. It wouldn't be the first time, and it certainly won't be the last. "I don't know why you're so invested in this. There's zero chance I'm the only one scamming people. You think that all these other bullshit accounts are the real deal? It's harmless."
"Is it?" Wanda asks, exasperated. "You're giving people false hope."
"Tell that to my good reviews." Agatha taps her phone. "A little placebo goes a long way. Tell these suckers that they have a protective aura around them, and suddenly their confidence skyrockets."
Before Wanda can retort, her phone buzzes, and she glances at the time. "My break is over. I have to head back to the shop."
"Lame."
"Don't you have a shift to get to?" Wanda asks as the waiter hands them their checks.
"No, I worked inventory this morning so I could spend the rest of my day rubbing a few out. Oh and having lunch with you, I guess." Agatha signs the check and tucks the waiter's pen in her bag.
"Charming."
"I always am."
When Agatha gets back to her little studio apartment, she kicks off her boots and watches them thunk against the wall. She checks her phone as she walks, navigating the crowded space without even glancing up.
Only the one request to take care of today. Love spell. Typical.
Agatha shakes her head as she reads the note that came with the order. The listing asks for a name and has an option for a little bit of personal information to help Agatha "properly channel her energy." She skims the name (for now) and glances at the rest.
"First time doing anything like this. Hoping you can help me manifest a pretty girl, since it seems like I can't on my own."
Pathetic.
Pretty girl is intriguing, though. Agatha's never had a male customer, which she knows because she likes to thoroughly stalk everyone she can so that she can judge them properly, so she assumes this must be someone with more sapphic sensibilities. Not uncommon, but Agatha still stalks a little extra hard in these cases.
A quick glance at the name, and Agatha starts her lurking. After checking the recent followers on her shop profile on Instagram, she's able to find an account that matches. She sees you for the first time. Agatha's eyebrows quirk up a little.
Your account is a mix of personal photos with friends and family and reels of various hobbies. Agatha swipes through and finds some book reviews and little craft projects with a meager amounts of likes and comments. You must do it for the pure enjoyment of it. And probably to show off to your presumably nerdy friends.
Agatha chews on the fingernail on her pinky finger thoughtfully. You're cute, even if you seem like a dweeb. Definitely a wet dream for a lot of cottagecore dykes. So, Agatha can only assume that your problem finding relationships comes from a confidence issue or a leaving-the-house issue. Probably both.
Her eyes widen when she glances at the order again, noting the billing address. You live in Westview too.
A dyke in the same city who Agatha's never heard of? Oh, you must really be struggling to put yourself out there. Agatha does not give you the benefit of the doubt that you might be new in town, but it doesn't matter anyway because as she scrolls through your photos and more carefully identifies landmarks, she notices that your posts in Westview date back at least a couple of years.
Agatha's never had a customer so close to her. And an attractive one at that. The little feral animal in her brain is fighting the calculating mastermind for dominance over what to do with this new information.
She could take advantage of this. Find a way to make you think that the spell's actually worked. Play with you like a cat with a mouse that it refuses to kill out of some sick, twisted amusement. It would be pretty funny. Plus, she has nothing better to occupy her time.
She decides to bullshit the spell.
Agatha remembers to let Scratchy, her rabbit and only other friend, out of his cage to run around a bit, and then starts grabbing materials. Candles and crystals and herbs. She arranges them neatly on her desk that's tucked away in a little alcove of her apartment. It's already adorned in a purple tablecloth with various runes on it, since Agatha never actually does anything there besides this.
The arrangement looks nice, Agatha muses. But she purses her lips as she realizes that she only has a brand-new candle. That won't do. It needs to be convincing, especially if you happen to post a review and add a photo. Discerning eyes would notice the candle is unused and realize that she faked it.
Agatha grabs the candle and her lighter from her purse and heads to the bathroom. Might as well do a little self-care while she burns this. While she waits for her bathtub to fill, Agatha keeps scrolling through your Instagram.
She listens to a few of your book reviews intently, as if she's ever heard of whatever trash romance you're talking about, while she rolls a blunt. You're very passionate about them. Agatha likes that. She drops a bath bomb into the tub. Accidentally knocks a little bit of weed in too from where she spilled along the edge. Oh well.
The water is a little higher than Agatha meant to fill the tub, so she has to be careful as she sinks in. She lights the candle and her blunt and sighs deeply as she relaxes back into the warmth.
The scent of the lavender bath bomb fills the room, mixing with the woodier and muskier smells of the candle and the weed. Agatha's mind slows, something it rarely does, as she feels the tension melt from her body.
Compulsively, her hand edges between her thighs. The water sloshes as she parts her legs as much as she can manage in such a tight space. Her long fingers find her folds and stroke through them lazily. Agatha bites her bottom lip, letting her head fall back against the bath pillow behind her.
She finds her mind wandering as she rubs her clit. Rio passes through her mind, and Agatha grunts, trying to channel her attention to anywhere but her ex who is already blowing up her phone asking why she's liking old photos of them. Wanda passes through as well, and while those thoughts are much more welcomed, they aren't quite doing it for her right now.
Agatha sighs as she presses harder against her pussy, mind sifting through the vague memories of recent hookups. Suddenly, without her realizing, the image of her pinning down that butch she ghosted last week is substituted with a different face.
Fuck, she really shouldn't have kept stalking your socials, because now your face is in her brain. Am I really going to get off to thoughts about a random customer that I've never spoken to?
Agatha pushes two fingers inside herself.
She imagines meeting you at a little bookstore, finding you flipping through an erotic book between the stacks, hoping no one will see your flustered expression as you debate whether to buy it. Teasing you about it, pushing you against the shelf and shoving her hand into your pants to find you wet and just waiting for someone to give you what you need.
Water almost spills out of the tub as Agatha's body jerks with her climax. The slick clings to her, and she reaches for a washcloth to clean herself up before she gets out of the tub.
Not her proudest orgasm, but Agatha had very, very little shame, so she chooses not to analyze it too much. Your face was just in her brain, that's all.
With the candle successfully melted enough to be convincing, Agatha throws on her silk robe and strides back into the other room so she can take a photo and complete your order.
You're not really sure how you expected to feel after the spell was cast. Maybe a little more confident? More motivated to put yourself out there?
But, as you lay in bed that evening, opening and closing the photo that the witch had sent you as if that would help speed the process along, you feel…the same.
Okay, so, maybe you have to do something first. That was surely it. It's hard for people to be drawn to you if you don't interact with them, after all.
You switch apps, remember that you had deleted Hinge off of your phone the last time you got discouraged, go to the app store to re-download it, get really annoyed with the two-factor authentication, and then finally log in.
It's still not a lot of actual candidates, but this time you're determined to give your options a little bit more thought rather than just impulsively swiping. It must have been long enough since you were last online that you're getting some women you've definitely seen before (or maybe you saw them on a different app and are mixing them up? Who knows.)
God, swiping through makes you remember why you gave up in the first place. It's just so hard to get a good idea of anyone through their carefully curated profiles and quippy answers to the prompts.
I go crazy for: Sushi! Boring. Next.
bet i can outsmoke u Is that their entire personality? Judging by all of their photos…yes.
just looking for friends!! <3 Then why are you on a dating app!?
You end up liking a couple of profiles, even attempting to message first with a "you're so pretty! <3" or a "I love that show too! who's your fave character?" It's a bit lackluster, but it's an attempt, so you are at least making a tiny bit of progress.
Staring at the dark ceiling suddenly becomes much more interesting than your phone. There's a soft glow cast on it from your little fairy lights. The fan occasionally blows on them, causing the lights to move and twinkle. You watch them for a while, lost in your thoughts, wondering if you're just wasting your time again.
Buzz buzz.
You grab your phone, excited that maybe someone's replied back. But, no. Just an Instagram notification. Thinking that it's just a friend sending you a stupid reel that will inevitably start you scrolling, you start to set your phone aside for the night. But, a quick glance at the notification tells you it's a message request.
Weird.
Navigating to your direct messages, you furrow your brow as you see the profile staring back at you.
Agatha H.
You don't recognize her from the tiny profile picture. Maybe you have mutual friends? When you open the message, you're met with even more confusion when you read, "hey i just found ur reels while scrolling and wanted to say that ur like super hot xo."
This has to be a spam bot or something. It's not completely impossible that people randomly come across your profile, but your reels usually get just a handful a views from your friends. Before you reply, you click on her page to scope it out and verify that this is a real human being.
Through your rapid scrolling, you come to the conclusion that Agatha is very real. And very, very hot.
You almost forget that you need to reply to her message because you're too preoccupied staring at her. Gorgeous blue eyes, a perfectly untameable mane of hair, and a body to fucking die for. Agatha's style seems to be a perfect blend of masculine and feminine, with just the right amount of alternative edge to make you immediately enamored.
As you're staring at a photo that's close enough to her face that you can see a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, you realize you should try to form a response. Fingers hovered over the keyboard, you wrack your brain for something clever.
"omg right back at you! 🥰"
Stupid stupid stupid. You mash the backspace key and type out two new messages.
"that's a big compliment coming from you, you're gorgeous x"
"which reels?"
Better. She might as well know right away that you're a double texter. Really, it baffles you that it's something that gives people the ick. Multiple messages is just clearer sometimes.
Any intention of going to sleep is totally gone now. Waiting for a response from a hot stranger is far more important than rest. Agatha takes a few minutes to reply, but soon you see another message pop up.
"the one where u knitted a sweater for a cat"
You smile. That was a gift for Bucky's cat. Alpine surprisingly hasn't torn it to shreds.
"oh yeah, that was for my friend."
"my friend's cat. my friend isn't the cat."
"well, i guess she kind of is?"
You're hoping that your messages come off as charmingly dweeb-ish rather than just normal dweeb-ish. It seems to work, because Agatha continues the conversation.
The two of you talk about pets for a bit. You tell her that you don't have any of your own so any pictures you've posted are with your friends' pets. Mainly Alpine. Occasionally you friend Kate's dog, Lucky. Agatha tells you that she has a cat named Scratchy.
"his full name is señor scratchy but that's what my ex called him so i dont call him that as much"
You reply back, "wow, so you're erasing his latino heritage?"
Agatha is a react-to-messages type of person, apparently. But instead of a laughing emoji, she reacts to your sass with a middle finger. You try to see if there's pictures of Scratchy on her profile. But strangely, none.
"can I see a pic of him?"
A few minutes later, Agatha sends a picture of a black cat lounging on a quilt. You were kind of hoping for a picture with her holding him or something similarly cute, but you heart react to the photo regardless.
Your eyes start getting tired, but you want to stay up a bit longer to keep talking. While Agatha is replying to your question about if she's reading anything cool ("dont read much. usually non-fiction when i do." she says), you glance at one of her pictures again, recognize where she's standing in it, and realize something.
"wait, are you from westview?" You ask.
Agatha responds shortly, both in speed and message content.
"lol ya"
You chew on your lip. This could be your chance. The worst she can do is say no. And in that case, you'll just crawl in a hole and cry. Seems reasonable. A good plan. Great, even.
"I live there too! would you want to hang out sometime maybe? we could get coffee?"
Memories of the few times you've tried to ask someone out and they didn't realize you meant as a date flood back, and you quickly add: "in like a gay way."
Agatha is typing… seems to linger on screen longer than before, taunting you. You're ready for rejection, bracing yourself for another failed attempt. Maybe you were better off—
"gay is the only way i get coffee ;) tomorrow work for u angel?"
Angel? Pet names already!? You're doomed. This woman is going to ruin you.
You quickly type out a cool and not-too-eager yes and suggest a place downtown.
"sounds perfect xo see u tomorrow cutie," Agatha replies.
When you finally put your phone down and decide to get some shut eye, the realization hits you. You have a date with a stunning woman who seemed to find you by pure coincidence. The universe practically dropped Agatha in your lap.
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