Blog Moved to @WitchWolfWriter

“Whose child is this?” Agatha’s voice tore at your soul, sorta like the first cry of your baby. 

The one currently blinking her blue eyes at you and your ex, those eyes that haunted you - the ones that matched Agatha’s. 

“I’ll ask you one more time, who is this?” Agatha’s voice broke, and this time, your baby answered for you. 

“Daddy! I knew it was you! I recognized you from Mama’s photos!”

Agatha’s eyes welled with tears, and you tried so hard to swallow the lump in your throat. 

-3 hours earlier- 

“Whoever makes car seats this difficult deserves their own level in Dante’s Inferno. Fuck! Like seriously? Whoever invited car seats should never get laid.”

You cursed, and Rio laughed at you just as you clicked the last safety belt in. Your knees putting pressure on the evil plastic contraption to weigh it down. You let rage out through heavy breath, sweat sticking to your body. 

Then ungracefully shimmied out of the car seat, one of your overall straps falling down your bicep. Turning to see - to your horror, on Rio’s hip was your daughter. 

“Mama said a bad word!” Willow’s mouth gaped open in having caught you. Your daughter looked like a tiny woodland nymph, her outfit screamed Witchy Libral Mom dressed me. Her dark hair curls around her, with tiny skull bows that Rio no doubt added. Her face, which you had already added sunscreen to was pink from whatever roughhousing Rio and her had done before coming out to the car. Willow, or as you and Rio called her Will. Had cuteness radiating off of her. Her freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks, like constellations. Her baby teeth smile already proving that she would be a heartbreaker. As she constantly made your faith in humanity return. Will was your favorite thing about life. And so was the person holding her guiltily. 

Rio looks pristine in her soft butch rocker aesthetic.  Her plump lips folding one over the other in an attempt not to laugh. In one hand, Willow held her security toy, her stuffed, fluffy tarantula. In the other, a melting Spiderman popcircle and your eyes turned to Rio in true Mama Bear irritation. 

“You gave her a popsicle!”

“What is Laid?” Will asked ever so innocently to Rio.

“You gave her a popsicle before dinner? Rio! Te voy a patear el trasero!”

“Mama, you cursed again!” 

Rio smiled guiltily at you, having accidentally taught little Will Spanish curse words from hours of shouting at the TV during Hockey Games. 

You mumbled about how she was in deep trouble in Spanish but used no slang this time and Rio did seem very sorry. Like a husband who knows he will be sleeping on the couch tonight. Same overall demeanor, that kicked dog whimpering simp. You bend over to Willow’s Spider-Man ice cream pop and bite the last bit off. 

“MAMA!” Willow shrieks appalled and you wink in an evil fashion. You two had been working on sharing, as Rio tended to indulge in your daughters every whim. And you were attempting to talk your best friend out of a nine-foot-tall stuffed rabbit now. Because no, she didn’t fucking need that, and where would you guys even put it. And that’s when Rio started talking about knocking down walls in her house. 

You lived with two children. 

But it was hard to be angry at Rio. You got your best friend in the break up. Agatha and you had been together for nine years, and when you left her…Well, Rio picked up the pieces of your life. And when you found out you were pregnant, you couldn’t go back. Couldn’t face Agatha and tell her. 

So Rio demanded you move into her home, that she would take care of you, both of you. You said no a million times, but Rio didn’t give up. She refused to let you be alone. And so she ripped out her office, turning it into a nursery. One night you walked in to her painting huge chrysanthemums up on the walls. 

“Why chrysanthemums?” You ask, curious, as Rio hadn’t talked about it, just painted the room a light, calming sage green, and then spent hours carefully lining these flowers. 

“She’s gonna be a Virgo, and that’s the flower for Virgos,” Rio answered, distractedly - dipping the roller. Paint all over her ripped acid wash jeans and an old farmers market T’shirt from when she was in her twenties. It had big heirloom tomatoes and said ‘Support Local Tom-Boys’ written across it for the lesbian veggie stand she used to help supply with her excessive amount of harvest. 

The sight of her and the flower instantly made you burst into tears. Covering your face feeling utterly ridiculous. The sound of splattering from the roller hitting the plastic tarp floor did nothing to stop your display. Rio was on you in seconds. 

“Shit, shit you hate it! Listen Mama, I can paint over it, or a different color. Fuck I’ll do it right now, I’ll go to the paint store and I’ll get new stuff. I’ll even go through the drive through and get you another gross chili dog.” Rio scrambled, and you sniffled pathetically. 

“You won’t let me eat those!” You sob. 

”Because little papaya can’t eat that much gross mushed meat. But I’ll get you one. I’m sorry, please don’t cry.” Rio begged you, and you laughed now, the sudden change throwing your best friend for a loop.

”You can’t keep calling it fruit!”

”I’m a gardener by trade!” Rio says now in a tone you know is trying to make you laugh, and you rest your head on her muscular shoulder and sigh. Pulling yourself together and sniffling, you gaze adoringly at her. 

”She?” Your voice squeaks. And Rio’s face contorts bashfully. 

”I mean, I know you don’t want to find out.” She tries lamely. 

”Did you bribe the doctor, because I thought you w-“

”No, no! I just, any kid you make I’m gonna love. I just think that if she looks like you - she’ll be a knock out.” Rio whispered and gave you those puppy eyes and you sniffed again and shot forward. Hugging her tightly, Rio always careful of your baby bump. 

”I still can’t believe you are doing all this. Thank you for painting those flowers. It looks beautiful in here.”

Rio rubbed the place in your lower back she knew was bothering you, the one she always asked if you needed rubs for. But you denied her, and now that she was holding you, she would indulge. 

“For you and Papaya, anything,” Rio said, and she meant it. 

And it was so clear every moment in her house, that Willow was loved, and so were you. 

So when you went to grab Willow, Rio swerved and put her in the car seat instead, the one she had asked to install instead of you. 

“Rio I got her.” You chastised lightly, knowing that Rio was supposed to be working right now, and she’d played hooky to hang out with you. To go to this silly childrens birthday party, that she didn’t want to go to. 

“You hurt your back, and Willow is so big!” Rio made funny noises for the giggling girl. 

“I AM NOT!”

”It’s all those avocados you keep eating, oh my gosh you are getting so strong and big.” Rio’s voices always made Willow lose her mind in laughter. 

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly and opened the car door only for Rio to speak rapid Spanish to you about who would drive. 

”Rio, babe I got it!” You laugh, but she makes sure Will is snug and then rounds to the front of the car.

”Aye, don’t hurt my butch feelings.” Rio joked - you scoffed and rounded to the passenger seat. Just as you sat you jumped back up, realizing you forgot your - but Rio just let her wrist fall to the side to hand you your stuff.

Cellphone, AirPods, wallet, and keys all stacked on top of other in Rio’s tan hand.

You find these moments difficult to swallow, where Rio molds against you. Where she answers the question you have yet to verbalize. Where you crave a certain dinner and come home to it already on the stove. Rio is constant, she is safety, and you just don’t know what to make of it. 

Rio carved the guts out of her life, her home, her peace. To do this, you had lied to yourself and said that you’d only lean on her through pregnancy. And then you lied when you brought Will home, saying just until she could sleep through the night. 

And now Will was three, and Rio was co-parenting. A permanent figure in her life. And as Rio put Willow up on her shoulders to help pick peaches off of the grove of trees out in your yard. You couldn’t find it in you to stop this now. This little family you had built. And you were immensely guilty, as you found such companionship in Rio. You found it impossible not to share a glass of wine with Rio at the end of the night. Ask her about her greenhouse, or help on Saturdays as she tends to the yard. Or farmers market hop with her. Movie nights, watching cartoons, and then nightly news or a horror film or documentary. You didn’t mean to accidentally marry your best friend, but it was Rio.  

You got lost in this thought as Rio set her hand on your thigh, and you jumped, surprising her now. And it dawned on you how often you two touched, and you just soaked it in, not aware how the lines had blurred. 

“Aye, Mama, you good?” She questioned, and you shook the thoughts off and plastered on a smile. A frail one that neither of you would buy. 

“Oh yeah,” You lie. But Rio arches an eyebrow and allows it to slide, knowing this may be an after Will goes to bed talk. You shared a silent conversation until she felt the message was clear that this topic was pinned for later. 

Then her fingers raised up to pop the sunglass compartment and pull out a pair of shades for you. Attentive to your needs at all times. If you didn’t put a pair on, you’d have a headache. And of course Rio had thought of that. 

“Mrs Rachel!” Willow yells, kicking her baby forest green crocks with the tiny avocados jibbitz. Rio had splurged and bought Will and herself matching garden-designated Crocs. But Will required them on every outting.

“I will turn this Subaru around.” Rio mumbled. 

“Pick something else, Willy Wonka!” You correct her and she makes noises with her mouth to think of a different song. 

“Stevie!” Your little girl screams in delight.

“That’s my daughter.” You smirk as you open up your phone and connect to the Bluetooth. 

_________—----_____—----______—---_________—------

When you arrive at the outdoor birthday party, the park is already packed. And Rio had a hard time finding a spot. But once you unbuckled Willow and set her down in the grass. She’s running to go see Lorna, who’s wearing two birthday cone hats to look like cat ears. 

You attempt to say be careful but your kiddo is already on the jungle gym with the other kids, and you see Alice wave. 

You round the back of the trunk, where Rio is grabbing the gift bag and baby go-bag. 

“Go find the goblin, I’ll be right there.” She tells you, and you grab the gift at least, and she tries to stop you, but you roll your eyes. You were able bodied, she was just being over the top. 

You could feel Rio’s eyes watch your back in the tight overalls, as they hugged the curves of your ass. 

But you ignored the warmth in your belly at her clear visual fondling.

Jen had her back turned as she yelled with a little too much Florida-Kale attitude on the back end. But as you see one of the kids trying to hang off of the playstructure with only one hand, you figured she had it under control. 

You hurried over to Alice just as she was about to drop a huge box of Costco-branded grape juice. 

“Easy, you know you just had a baby right?” You remind your friend taking the box out of her hold. 

Alice makes a relieved noise and then throws her arms around your neck. She’s shorter but mighty and all muscle. 

“I should remind you I said that to you with Willow almost daily!” Alice is gently calling you a hypocrite, and you can’t dodge that. You were a nightmare. Rio told you every night that she had found a new grey hair because of you. 

As Alice released you, she looked over your shoulder. 

“Where’s Papa?” 

You glare at her now, but open the giant yellow cooler on top of the picnic table to see ice already in it. You filled the cooler like Mom’s do when they’re trying to be helpful but also need to gab in private with their friends. Dropping two and three grape juices in as Alice ‘folded’ napkins. Though she was so intrigued in what you two were about to talk discuss, you noticed she forgot to fold them and started to make paper cranes. 

Which she had made for you in the hospital, setting them on your tummy to distract you from how long Willow was taking. 

“I never should have told you that.” You try it on for size and Alice already thinks you are being dumb. 

“Of course you do, I’m your bestie.”

“Rio is my best friend actually.”

“No, Rio and you are in love. And that Papa wants you bad. And Jenny and I are rooting for her. I mean no woman should clean you and your babies vomit that much and not get to hit that juicy ass.” Alice grabs your hip to check out the back of you too, and you bat her away. Dropping the last of the juice into the cooler and topping it. 

“God, can you not be so gay for two seconds. And we are just friends, she’s doing us a solid.” You don’t believe it either. And as Alice realizes she’s made three paper cranes and no folded napkins she, decides to go to the second cooler and get out veggie sticks and tofu balls. 

“So you told Will that Rio isn’t her Papa. You and Rio fought, and now what?”

“Now she’s being even more attentive, like she wants to win the title.”

Alice snorts and then gives you a pointed look.

“Honey tits, she’s always been trying to win the title.”

You quickly check behind you to see if Rio is close to hearing all of this. But she’s been stopped by two gay men who are asking her opinion on pesticides to get rid of aphids in their garden. Rio’s eyes immediately snap to you, like she could hear your silent call from miles away. You two were good at the silent communication having, had too much practice with little ears in the house. 

Rio winked at you to let you know she was okay. Just wanting to be done here and come sit with you. So you turn back to Alice who has been giving you a long, drawn-out mothering conversation about how you need to do blah blah. When you finally turn back, Alice pretends to be offended. 

“You couldn’t listen to me and give gooey eyes to Papa, huh?”

“I was listening.”

“The fuck you were,” Alice says before putting some ranch into mini cups. 

“You said it’s time to move on from you-know-who and give Rio a shot at the title. You were lecturing me on my dried-up pussy and lack of sex life. You reminded me that Rio isn’t her. And they broke up so long ago and so on.” You half-guess mom listened to her comments, and Alice puts a hand on her hip. 

“Lucky guess.”

“No, you’ve been telling me this so long I don’t even need to listen, really.” You explain to her and then dig into the bag to start putting paper plates out that have unicorns and rainbows on them. 

“I have an idea, maybe listen to me this time. And do not ask what you are about to ask me, every time we talk.” Alice warns, but you don’t stop.

“How is she?”

“She’s a fucking mess, she’s always a mess, though. And she isn’t over you, and she’s angry at everyone and everything. Jenny says she’s tried to set her up, but she won’t. She’s being Miss Havisham, but you don’t have to.” Alice reminds you, as she always does. 

“Can you leave the rest of this lecture until after cake?”

Alice groans, and you are confused until she fills in. 

“Jennifer Kale - health and care guru, said no cake this year. So I had to make a ube-no gluten, no soy, no dairy - glob. Lorna hasn’t seen it yet, but I tried to tell ‘Kale Kare’ that our child is about to have a full tantrum and lose all her friends, on her birthday.

You don’t tell Alice that she may be projecting a little about her own childhood trauma. Instead, you empathise as that is her love language. 

“Poor Lorna, do you want me to go sneak out and get some candy?” You offer and Alice lights up until her face falls in terror and you don’t get it. But you turn around afraid it’s Willow hurt or trying to burry a kid in wood chips to help them ‘grow’ again. 

Instead you see the crash in slow motion. 

Agatha fucking Harkness, your baby Daddy, your ex-fiancé, the love of your life. And then your eyes snap to the force moving towards her, as fast as her toddler legs could carry her. 

“DADDY!” She screams, and you drop the plates and sprint to catch what has already happened. Your cozy world coming to a halt. 

Agatha’s in a gorgeous, casual, not casual tan suit, and she looks like a million bucks. And you hate it as her face comes alive, like it used to, like it always did when she found you in a crowded room. 

That is, until a small little girl hit her body with enough force to make her stumble. 

“DADDY, I KNEW YOU’D COME FOR ME!” Willow screams, and you reach them, but the volume is now so ear piercing that all the adults were watching. 

You ignore Agatha’s shock and you get on your knees to Willow's height and grab her shoulders. 

“Baby, this-” You start but Willow breaks that by screaming as soon as you try to pry her off Agatha’s body. One hand grabbing her nice dress pants and the other her two fingers in a vice grip, like she knows you wouldn’t understand her. 

“I KNOW IT’S DADDY, I KNOW IT IS! YOU ARE MY DADDY!” Willow is speaking to Agatha now, who is in such a state of shock.

“Will, I need you to listen to Mommy.” You fake calm, and no one is buying it. 

“Mommy?” Agatha whispers like she needs more context. Like this can’t be happening. 

Willow starts to cry when Agatha doesn’t immediately give her a hug and kiss. Not the white night she envisioned, the vision you tried so hard not to make for your kid. Because you had believed Agatha was that too, the savior, your perfect other half. 

You hadn’t realized Rio was there until she got on her knees to Willow too, fear so evident you knew your daughter wouldn’t reach out to her safety, Papa now. 

“NO, NO, NO!” She shrieked, and Rio reached out to try and take your little girl's hands off of your ex. But Willow let out a sob and said, “Please..” In the smallest voice possible. 

And all you could see was the day of the break-up. The worst day ever, as Agatha whispered the last words you had heard from her. ‘Please.’

It had you stopped now, and you felt your heart shatter all over again. As your daughter was a spitting image of Agatha to you. 

“Whose child is this?” Agatha’s voice tore at your soul, sorta like the first cry of your baby. 

The one currently blinking her blue eyes at you and your ex, those eyes that haunted you - the ones that matched Agatha’s. 

“I’ll ask you one more time, who is this?” Agatha’s voice broke, and this time, your baby answered for you. 

“Daddy! I knew it was you! I recognized you from Mama’s photos!”

Agatha’s eyes welled with tears, and you tried so hard to swallow the lump in your throat. 

Thank fuck Alice and Jen broke this moment for you all. 

“What are you doing here!” Alice's anger was so clearly out of her protective nature toward you. But Jen answers instead with a smile, showing her teeth in anxiety. 

“I invited her, I didn’t know Willow was coming.” 

The two of them began to bicker, and you stood up and clenched your fists three times, trying your absolute best to try and breathe again. Rio stood too and grabbed your arm. Agatha’s eyes fell to the movement and then back to your face. Her mouth fell open, and jutting to the side, like she saw everything she needed to know now. 

“Willow, can you come and get some juice with me?” Alice tries looking at you for something, anything. But you just look at Agatha and blink stupidly. 

Willow is now in full sobbing as Alice scoops your child up. Her hands not leaving Agatha as she dug in, but Jen helped detangle your toddler, and you can only watch. Like a dream where you are in a fight and can’t lift your own fist. 

“NO! DADDY! NO NO NO!” She screams as the two adults take her away from this scene. 

“She’s mine,” Agatha says, looking off into the distance and back at you. You see a million emotions pass through her, but hurt is in each second. It’s not a question, she knows, just like you knew she was yours when Willow smiled at you that first time in the hospital. You just know. 

“She’s not yours.” Rio answers and turns to Agatha now, her need to shelter you and Will was so strong. Rio was ready to fight. And you couldn’t breathe. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Hoping you would be here,” Agatha answers honestly, like it was clear an adult in her 50s didn’t just show up to a kid's birthday party to help a business friend like Jennifer. You look behind you at the parents whispering, and you don’t care. 

“Rio, can you give us a second?” You try, knowing that these two in this space would only turn volatile. Agatha looks at Rio now, as though she’s sizing up the body bag they’ll take her away in. 

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m not leaving her alone with you.” Rio’s glare, her mean mug, was intimidating, usually. Her arms crossed over her chest, and she turned to Agatha like she wouldn’t allow her to come near you. 

“Cute Rio, really mature. Are you going to lift your leg and pee on her next?” Agatha’s body turns away from you now, her scope set - Rio in the cross hairs. 

“Rio-” You start, but she cuts you off to talk to Agatha. 

“You've got some nerve coming here.” She grinds her teeth at your ex. 

“You wasted no time. I should hand it to you. You move in quickly. Little fight in our relationship, and you sunk your claws in good.” Agatha’s tone was acidic, but you knew these two wouldn’t be friends ever again. But now she turns to you. 

“Nothing to worry about, huh?” Your ex-fiancé reminds you, as you swore up and down you and Rio were just friends.

“You didn’t love her right, the only one you have to blame is yourself.” Rio hopes it stings, hopes it’ll make Agatha stagger. But your two loves were too quick and two sharp. Their battle wouldn’t be so easy. 

“You don’t know anything.” Agatha scoffs before saying to you now with so much hurt: “How dare you.”

“That’s rich.” Rio defends, but you don’t have any words yet. So when Agatha’s anger goes back to your best friend, she repeats. 

“How dare both of you. You just couldn’t let us work it out. Too desperate to play house with my wife.”

“She’s not yours.” Rio repeats her canines showing. But Agatha’s bored with her now, her hands over her chest all protective of you, someone she felt that Rio had no rights to anyway. 

“She’s gotta be three right? She’s three? You said - Willow?” Agatha asked you, like this information may save her. But you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. 

“You’ll never know her.” Rio, warned, but Agatha shook her head and t,hen it came to her all at once. 

“You knew this whole time, and you didn’t tell me.” Agatha looked ready to gut Rio, who’s veins in her biceps were bulging. She was ready to get physical. 

“Agatha it’s been over for a while. You never reached out, you can’t sit here and tell me how-” YOu say but Agatha makes an angry yell. 

“This is too much! You didn’t tell her did you?”

That sits out there for a moment, everyone is staring at Rio now. Who’s jaw clenches over and over but doesn’t actually say words out loud. Like the lie she’s holding can’t be let into the sun. 

“You are a piece of shit. I will end you over this Rio. I swear to God.” Agatha threatens but you throw your hands out and get closer to rio. 

“Tell me what?!” You need her to say it, not your ex. The person who’s supposed to love you. Who you trusted more than anything. And Rio’s eyes hold regret but s,he still doesn’t speak. And you swear you hate her for this. Because it’s Agatha who speaks, like she’s too happy to blow up your perfect home, your idea of Rio. 

“I’ve come to the house many times. I’ve sent you letters. You blocked me on everything. I’m in therapy -” Agatha rail rrailroadsou cut her off, unable to believe those words. 

“You are in therapy?” The words break apart in your throat, you . You begged her to go to therapy. To work on her shit, to do couples therapy too. To save your relationship.

“I want to win you back. I’ve been going for years!” Agatha is yelling now, and the words slide into your gut like a knife does tender organs. 

You can’t believe it, all this time you were sure she was angry at you. And didn’t want you back. Just that you two were bad and she was angry - but…But when she didn’t reach out, you were sure she was done with you. 

“You….You….” You stammer and Agatha’s face softens, pissing off Rio to no end. But when Agatha gulpe and then reached into her pocket. You were sure this was a nightmare. That purple velvet box she held between her fingers was this conversations cyanide pill. 

“I carry your engagement ring in my pocket so if I ever run into you I can ask again, I was wrong. I was a coward. I love you, I always have. I always will.” She tells you with so much love and conviction your hands shake now. 

“Agatha.” You start but, Rio breaks into the conversation, not about to watch you crawl back to her. If that is your plan, which you aren’t even saying it is. 

“You lost her, you lost her. You treated her in the end like shit. No, go fuck yourself.” Rio lays the past out for everyone to remember. 

“You can’t keep me from them Rio. You just can’t. That’s my daughter, and that’s my wife!” Agatha shouted and you wanted so badly for them to stop this. For this to go back to this morning. Where none of this was erupting in your face. 

“She has my eyes.” Agatha says like it’s the only DNA test she needed. Then she has to remind everyone here of Rio’s betrayal.“You knew the whole time!”

“Don’t talk about Will.” Rio growls again, and now you realize you have two broken women in front of you. Agatha used to be safe. Rio was supposed to be safe, and now you knew she wasn’t either. 

“She’s not your kid,” Rio spat it at like Agatha would for two seconds believe that. 

You can hear Willow screaming in the background of this birthday party. Fuck this wasn’t supposed to happen. 

“So she’s yours then? Does she call you Daddy too?” Agatha’s fierce tone brought you back to the moment - this was never-ending. 

Rio’s face couldn’t hide it no matter how she would have liked it to. She was clouded in darkness - Rio’s biggest insecurity played like a fiddle by Agatha. Your ex had a superpower for finding the hurt and using it. 

“Stop this.” You gasp. 

Thought neither listen, and you can’t believe this is how the three of you ended up.

Agatha was smiling her wicked curel cruel, where she wasn’t having fun. But she goess to deliver the next bullet to Rio’s emotional open bleeding chest cavity. 

“You got to go to all those doctors appointments, ultrasounds and rub her feet. You fucking cunt, you  sleep next to the love of my life. Make my daughter breakfast and read her stories and then what Rio? Is this because of college, you think this is payback?” Agatha is on a roll and her smile is from pain and anger. She learned how to fight like this from her own mother. And you saw how she hated everything she was saying, but it was too late for all of that. 

What you didn’t think was that Rio would step even closer into Agatha’s face to fight her narrative. 

“Fucking Hell it isn’t about you! You vain shit! Willow isn’t yours. You didn’t care for your fiancé. I did, and I do! I was there for the morning sickness. I was there as she had nightmares and screamed for you to save her! I cut the umbilical cord. I taught my daughter how to sing ‘Lemon Tree’ and throw rocks into the stream! I was there and you threw them away! And you won’t take her, it’s not happening. “

You don’t know what you expected Rio to say in this situation, but it wasn’t that. Agatha didn’t seem phased in the least though. 

“Which one Rio?” Agatha stepped forward too, with murder in her eyes. They were squared up. And you knew for a fact that both of them had been in real fist fights, not little scuffles or pulling of hair. No, both could end up in the back of a cop car. You move grabbing Rio’s shoulder and then pushing Agatha with your other hand to make some space. Knowing neither of them would ever hit you or allow any hard to come. But still this could get ugly. 

“Either of my girls.” Rio, states with a fierceness you hadn’t seen yet. And Jen comes out of nowhere to grab Agatha so you don’t have to hold back both of them. 

“Okay shows over!” She tells the people watching you three. But Agatha pushes forward so that she can’t be taken away. 

“Stop it, fuck stop it. Rio, go get Willow we are leaving.” You instruct her but Rio smiles now to match Agatha’s. 

“Stay away from my family.” She tells your ex. 

“You mean my family? The one you stole, you filthy liar.” Agatha snaps and steps forward only for Jen to attempt to body block.

“No one wins when lesbians fight!” She yells but you spin Rio around and try to push her towards the playground. She hesitates for a moment,  she eyes you like a promise she won’t be far. And will be back quickly, not liking the distance you are creating. 

“Go away, let the grown-ups talk” Agatha snarls and Rio hesitates you push her arm to motivate her. You all can still hear your daughter screaming in the background with Alice. 

“You can’t take her away from me again!” Agatha yells to Rio’s form as she is practically running now to go help a distraught Willow. 

You move forward to grab Agatha’s arm and yank her towards the parking lot, away from all of these kids and adults. 

“You good girl?” Jen calls, and you thank her, but Agatha talks over you. 

“She’s fucking safer with me than puta!” She curses, and you lead Agatha by her forearm further into the parking lot. 

“What the hell! Agatha, this is a kid's birthday party!” You remind her, seeing as the three of you just made a huge scene. 

“Come home to me,” Agatha tells you and you gape at her, unable to believe it. 

“You are out of your mind.” You say but Agatha licks her lips and pushes on. 

“I was, I should have listened. And obviously I’m late to say all of it. But I’m here now. Let me win you back, let me meet Willow. Let me in.” Agatha pleads and she tries to caress your elbow. But you yank yourself back. You would have loved to have heard this three fucking years ago. So you force yourself to close your eyes picture it before. The pain of before, you crying alone in a bed, all alone in your relationship.  And you work up the nerve to tell Agatha what you’ve rehearsed in your head. 

“You only give false promises, I can’t let you break her heart, she’s only three!” You refuse to allow your daughter to wait for Agatha to show up, only to be disappointed over and over again. Show up for her first loose tooth or soccer game. Only for Agatha to miss the milestones, fuck no. 

“I am not letting Rio raise her. And it’ll be a cold day in hell when I let you settle for her.” Agatha meant it too, but you laughed and threw your hands up. 

“We aren’t together, not that it’s any of your business.” You didn’t know if it was true. But you hadn’t been sleeping together, that’s for sure. Agatha’s face tilted down to yours in the way that used to make it impossible not to kiss her. Damn her. 

“You are my business, and so is our child. And I didn’t get the opportunity to show up. And now I have to make up for lost time and whatever the fuck Rio’s been putting in your head!” She threw her finger out towards the park. 

“Agatha, stop shouting. Listen to me, if you want to show up for Willow, we need to set up rules.” You wouldn’t go to a legal battle like this. And it was too late for Willow to unsee Agatha. 

“I’ll do anything.” Agatha opened her arms, and you just couldn’t stomach this one more second. 

“Can we just not do this here?” You reason, looking behind as a family watches you two and loads their foldable chairs back into their minivan. 

“You won’t return my calls. Please, how do I know you won’t just disappear again?” Agatha gets instantly anxious, and you sigh and pull out your cellphone. 

“I got a new number.”

Agatha scoffs like ‘of course,’ and takes out her own phone. You read the digits and she reads them back just to be sure. You spot Rio pulling the car around with Willow still crying from her meltdown in the backseat. 

“I have to go.” You say and go to leave and Agatha tugs you against her in a hug. You don’t reciprocate, just try not to inhale the scent of the woman you had almost called wife. 

“I love you. I love you so much. And I didn’t stop. I want you, just know that.” She kisses your cheek, and you close your eyes just as you see Rio’s expression sour even further. When she releases you, you can’t say anything. Just go to Rio’s side of the car and crawl into the back, where your poor child was still screaming. 

“MOMMY! MOMMY MOMMY!” She wailed and you knew her tiny body was unable to regulate.

“What do you-” Rio begins to asks but you just unbuckle Willow, and she clings to you so fast. You take her out of the car seat and open the door, getting out of the Subaru. 

“Where are you going?” Rio panics, thinking you are going to walk towards Agatha. But you don’t you slam the door closed a little too hard and head towards the road. 

“Rio what the fuck!” Agatha shouts, but you are walking too fast to listen anymore. Needing distance from both of them. You get to the sidewalk, and you clutch to a sobbing Willow. You walk and shush her, but she just keeps crying. You are too numb to cry yet. So instead, you sing to her.  

“Do you always trust your first initial feeling?

Special knowledge holds truth, bears believing

I turned around

And the water was closing all around

Like a glove

Like the love that had finally, finally found me”

You sing, and Willow stops crying, soothed by her Mama’s voice. And you tried not to let memories wash over you. Just sing and hold your sweet girl. 

Rio pulls the car along side you and when she rolls the window down you almost can’t believe that Agatha is in the car as well. And it’s her who shouts at you first. 

“Baby get in the car! You two can’t walk on the side of the road!” She yells, and Willow just hiccups and sniffles. But you ignore your ex and walk. 

“SUNFLOWER PLEASE! We’ll all figure it out, we love you two! Get in the car!” Rio moves her body so she can yell out the window at you. Agatha says some words in Spanish and the car stops. But your voice shakes, and you sing again. 

“How the faces of love changed turning the pages

And I have changed, oh, but you

You remain ageless

I turned around

And the water was closing all around

Like a glove

Like the love that had finally, finally found me”

 You try to sing, but your voice cracks and you hear Willow whimper a soft “Mommy?’

And as you try to flee the two women in the car, getting lost around the suburbs you want to make a plan. Pack your shit, get out of Rio’s house. Could you just run from them both? Take little Will and go?

But it’s Rio who runs to cross the street, a car coming around honks at her as she runs in front of it. Putting her hand out to stop them from coming too close before she gets onto the side walk. 

Agatha had gotten in the driver seat and was driving slowly on the side of the road. And she rolled her window down to signal for someone to pass her. She wasn’t about to let you walk with Will alone in the middle of nowhere. 

As Rio runs to you and you try to not let her catch up. But she’s in shape and easily keeps your pace. 

“Come on Mama, what’s the plan? You gonna walk home?”

“I’ll Uber to Lilia’s and then get our stuff later.” You don’t look at Rio -  just marching ahead, Willow is all cried out but she’s still shaking in your arms, holding you tight. 

Rio stops for a millisecond, like she can’t physically handle that information, but she’s quick to jog to catch up and try again. 

“No, come on. Hey, it’s a stupid fight. You can’t just pack up and leave! “

“Rio, get away from me.” 

But now Rio moves so that her body is blocking your patch. 

“Sunflower listen to me! I know I should have told you. I just wanted you. I know that’s really selfish and bad. But you can’t just leave. Let me make it up to you, let me do something, bebé por favor! You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you two. God, get in the car. Let me-

“No, no more lying. No more pretending.” You tell her, and she stops in her tracks like you couldn’t have said anything crueler. ‘Pretending’ ringing over and over for Rio.cAnd you move around her body, and this time she doesn’t follow you. 

You hear cars honking as your vision blurs, and now Agatha is chasing you. She’d stopped the car, parking it to get to you. Seeing that Rio couldn’t help.

And as she catches up to you, your tears fall hard. 

“Hey! Listen to me, baby. You are mad at me, fine! But you can’t run along the side of the road. Get in the car, you and Willow, okay. You keep yourself and our child safe. I’ll drive Rio home. Please come on.” Agatha begs, and you stop now, and nod. Agatha crosses the street in front of you, making more cars honk at you three, but she is careful so you two are safe crossing. 

Rio is on the side of the car, and she opens the door for you to put Willow into the carseat. You strap her in, and Willow starts to sob a little more, tears leaking over her dark red cheeks. 

“Mama, I wanna go home.” She says, and you nod and kiss her forehead. 

“We are Will.” You leave her, and Rio is standing there with more fear than you’ve ever seen in her. But you don’t comfort her, you simply round the car to the driver's side and Agatha opens the door for you and then holds the keys in her fingers. 

“You sure you can drive?”

“Yes.” You answer not looking at your ex fiance, she hands you the car keys and as you take it she grabs your hand in her own. 

“You promise me you will be safe with yourself and our child?” Agatha asks more sternly and serious now, not ready to see you on the nine o’clock news. 

“Yes.” You answer again, and she slowly releases you and the keys into your hold. 

“Papa?” Willow cries, and Rio is bent over her, kissing her cheeks like it might be the last time. 

“Hey, you be good for Mama, alright?” Rio’s trying so hard to not cry in front of your daughter. 

“Where are you going?” She asks innocently. 

“Hey, I have to go do some work at the greenhouse, okay?” Rio lies, like now you know she is so good at. 

“You won’t pick the string beans! You said we could.” Willow's perfect bottom lip quivers. And Rio is running her hands through the toddler's hair to settle her fears. 

“You know I wouldn’t do that. Now you take care of Mama for me while I’m gone okay?” You try to ignore the conversation but can’t. Putting the keys in the ignition. 

“But you always say we take care of her togethers?” Willow corrected not sure what all of this was. What was happening to her family? 

“Yeah, but you gotta do it for a bit for me, okay?” Rio’s attempt at nonsholants is seen through by your smart kid. 

“You still gonna make my quesadilla for dinners though?” She checks in, food on her mind. 

“We’ll get something baby.” You break into the conversation, clearly telling Rio it was time to go. 

Rio said some comforting ‘I love you’s in Spanish before leaning to the car floor to pick up Will’s stuffed spider for her to hold. Once Rio closes the car door, Agatha moves towards your ex-best friend who is crying openly now. A thing you hadn’t seen her do since Willow was born. 

“Hurts to lose everything you’ve ever wanted, doesn’t it? Welcome to my life.” Agatha doesn’t sound happy about it, just wants to put it into perspective that Rio’s not the first to lose you two. 

You roll up the windows so you don’t have to hear them anymore, any of it. 

And drive away. 

-Two Weeks Later-

You walk with Willow down the farmers' market until you reach the biggest booth. With its huge cantaloupe, tomatoes, and eggplants. You pull your tote bag Rio had bought you from two mothers ago up your shoulder. It had Demeter surrounded by plants with text that said ‘MOTHERS HEAL.’

Willow had her pigtails up and the second she saw Rio’s stand she was in search for an avacado. When Billy turned a corner and spotted you both he smiled, but you noticed he seemed a bit relieved. 

“Here for a snack?” He teased, but sounded like he wanted you to tell him everything. You hug the twenty two year old tight and then pull back and look around the stand. 

“Yeah, I am.” You make polite conversation and he reaches behind. 

“I got papayas and of course, avocados for the cutest princess ever.” Billy says getting down to Willows' level. 

“I’m not a princess uncle B! I’m a gardener!” She tells him and he nods in understanding. 

“Of course you are.” He says as though every three year old answers that way. 

“Like Papa, like daughter.” You shrug and that’s when Rio rounds the corner in her tank top, muscles out to play. She’s carrying a crate full of fennel to re-stock the display. But she see’s you, as she always does. Like Rio can’t help but hear your call for miles. 

She turns to Eddie and asks him to take the crate, he does and follows her line of vision to you. 

“So what are you in the mood for, papaya?” Billy asks not seeing where your eyes have set. 

“She hasn’t been able to eat a papaya since Willow was born. She’s more of a peach kinda girl.” Rio’s parent hearing picks up on the conversation now. As she walks towards you, hope oozing out of her. 

You had packed your bags two weeks ago, and she’d called and left messages every day. But you had been radio silent. And it hurt you both. 

Last night she sent you two dozen sunflowers while you were at work. And you had cried for an hour. 

Willow heard Rio and with an avocado in hand she ran to her Papa. Who got down to her level and picker her up easily. Hugging her close to her chest and closing her eyes like this was all she would ever need to be happy. 

“Hey, little garden gnome, you found a snack?” She asked trying not to start crying in relief at seeing Willow again. 

“Avocado!” Will shouts and Rio pulls back to see that she wants her to open it up. 

“Can you get a spoon out of my bag?” Rio asks Billy wwatchinghcing this gay family reunion, ready to sob openly. 

“Oh god yes, of course!” He slaps his cheeks and runs like it’s all too fucking cute. Will makes a grunting noise meaning she wants to get down and follow Billy for the spoon. 

“Okay, okay my lady bug, but come back as soon as he gives it to you okay. I gotta cut it open.” She tells little Will who laughs and runs after her Uncle. 

When Rio turns back to you, you smile at her. She looks good, if not a sleep deprived under her eyes. 

“You came.” Rio states. 

“Sorry, I missed the last two weekends. I figured I needed to give Lilia a thank you for letting me stay.” You say and Rio gulps and reaches under the table for a re-usable bag and walks next to you. You bite back your grin as Rio starts to pick produce knowing what your god mother liked. 

“I just got artichokes she’ll love how big I got em this year.” Rio makes conversation, and she sounds like a pining love sick teenager on her first date. And you realize how stupid you had been. Thinking Rio wasn’t in love with you this whole time. 

“Sounds great, oh before I forget.” You say like you hadn’t come here with the full intention to give it to her. But you open the tote bag and refuse to let your hands shake. You hand a orange envelope to Rio. Who hesitates before lowering the hand holding the bag of produce. 

“What’s this?” Her voice is low and quiet, like maybe it’s something really bad. You gulp and then reach out to grab a summer squash. 

“Oh, it’s a three-parent adoption agreement; it is legal in our great state of Delaware.” You say, and Rio drops the produce bag, and it all rolls out into the middle of the walkway of people. 

Rio’s one hand covers her mouth. 

And then she opens the envelope to see that it is real, and that you and Agatha had already signed it. You were just needing her signature and it was complete. 

“You were always her parent. I’m sorry it took me so long Rio.” You apologize, and hope she understands how deeply you mean it. But Rio’s barley breathing as she’s holding the paper, her thumb moves up to where Willow’s name sits at the top. 

Then she hugs the paper to her chest and looks at you. 

“Thank you.” 

It’s everything, and you sigh in relief at this moment.  

“She was always yours too. Um, I don’t want to bother you, I know weekends are busy.” You look around to see Billy and Eddie helping a line of people. And Willow comes back with a spoon and two avocados now. 

“Will where did you get the second one!” You tease and she smiles and giggles. 

“I’m like Papa!” She says proudly, and Rio’s still shocked. So when you answer the intake of breath from your best friend is audible. 

“Yes, you are. And Papa is the best person you could be like baby.” You reach out and brush a stray hair back behind her little ear. “Can you go pick up the veggie that fell and then we’ll pay and go?”

Willow nods and hands Rio the avacado and you the spoon. And you walk with her to make sure no one misses a small child bent over in the walkway. She collects them and Rio panics at the idea of you leaving. Quickly coming back to you. 

“You are going? Uh, you didn’t get your peaches yet.” Rio tries lamely and you smile at the woman. It’s clear she has no game, that this isn’t something fleeting for her. 

“Rio, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” She says and bends down to collect the bag and help Willow. Who finishes and wipes her hands on her cute bug pattern shorts. 

“If you loved me all this time why didn’t you tell me?” You say and Rio holds her breath and you wait. But Willow is a child, and has great timing. As you wait for the answer and Rio tries to make English language noises come out. Willow breaks the moment. 

“Papa my avocado!” She shouts and Rio blinks down at her daughter. 

“Right, sorry little love.” Rio’s hand falls to her utility belt where the large pocket knife you’d bought her sits. Putting the legal paperwork under her arm. The blade you know too well. It’s inscribed with Rio’s favorite poem on it. And she flicks it open before cutting into the avocado and then stabbing the pit out. She hands it back to Willow and you give her the spoon once more. She digs in and then remembers her manners. 

“Gracias!” She says and then goes back to her Papa’s stand to sit on a wooden crate and eat like you taught her. No running and eating avocado had been ongoingon going lesson. 

Rio put the knife back after wiping it off on her cargo pants. Still holding the legal paperwork under her arm. 

“You don’t have to answer that. Um, do me a favor though and sign those before Tuesday because I gotta get them to a lawyer. And then you can text me and we’ll figure out schedule for you and Willow.” You say backing up, the rejection building in your throat. 

Rio panicked again looking between Willow and you. 

“Wait, uh your peaches wait no don’t go.” She scrambled and you bite your lip and point to the line. 

“You have a line, and it’s busy. I’ll come back for the peaches. I really just needed to get that to you. Come on Will!” You call out and her hair bobs as she scoots off the makeshift seat towards you. “Say goodbye to Papa, you’ll see her soon okay?” 

Willow hugs Rio and she leans down and kisses between the two pigtails. Then you take your daughters hand and turn to leave. You get four booths before you take a ragged breath. That hurt so fucking bad, you never learned. 

“SUNFLOWER!” Rio shouts and you turn around to see Rio is running after you. 

“Rio?” But when she catches up to you she’s shaking her head. 

“I loved you the first time I saw you. Agatha brought you to the bar to meet me and Jen. And I didn’t know you were together. I told Jen I’d naw off my arms to talk to you. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I was a chicken. I love you so much. I’ve been a mess since you left. I stole your pillow because I tried to spray your perfume on me but - god - it doesn’t smell as good as you do. That like cinnamon apple thing and something just you. I miss our family, I keep playing Miss Rachel in the car. I just-” Rio pants and her gaze falls to Will who’s got avocado all over her chin. And it helps Rio continue. 

“You and Will are my everything. All I’ve ever wanted, and I was afraid I’d lose you. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I just thought if I could keep you safe…If I could keep you mine….You’d never cry like that again. And I hurt you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.” Rio rubs her cheek anxiously and you tilt your head to gaze at her. 

“Would you let me plant zinnias in the front of our house?” You ask and Rio’s smile is huge. And you realize she taught your daughter how to smile the same. 

She nods and grins unable to speak she’s so happy. 

“You’ll stop and get my chillidogs?” You step forward, and Willow laughs knowing that her Papa hated it when you ate them still. 

“Every time.” Rio promises. You take another step so you are less than a foot away from each other. Rio doesn’t move, doesn’t dream you are about to do what she never thought she’d be lucky enough to get. 

“You’ll make me sweet potato chilli when we watch hockey? And draw little flowers on my skin with a sharpie while we sit on the sofa?” You know Rio will.

“Every season, every time.” Rio agrees again. And you take a smaller step forward. 

“You’ll let me sleep next to you, even when I don’t have nightmares?” You whisper, and Rio gasps again, so you keep going. 

“You’ll let us move back in, and for good this time. Not until Will is four or something else silly. We won’t pretend anymore. You’ll speak Spanish to me when you get frustrated and English doesn’t cover it. You’ll tell me when you are hurt or sick. You’ll love me back for the rest of my days. Rio Vidal, can you do all of that?” You ask her, and Willow jumps up and down in excitement. Rio and you both look at her, gleeful at her parents finally understanding. 

 Rio closes the last bit of distance, so you're breathing the same air. As she cups your cheek. Her answer is confident again. 

“Sunflower, I’m the butch for the job.” 

You laugh and close the distance to kiss her. And she tastes like honey and citrus and peaches. Rio is the answer to your every need, and you have finally come home for good. 

Go check out Mommy and Papa's fic's!

Tip Jar💰- If you want to buy me a Witches Brew

The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun. 

Walt Whitman’s prose drips from your sleep-encased mind as you slowly wake. You feel the spot next to you is still warm. But your Aggie isn’t in her spot. Blinking a few times, you hear light music and water. Agatha is taking a shower. You slept better than you had in a month. No nightmares, neither Agatha’s nor yours, filled your head. You can really hear Agatha’s music now as you blink away your morning calm. The bathroom door is cracked open. A habit of Agatha’s after so long being with you. 

Your witch liked to hear you. You could only ever compare it to the comfort someone gets from hearing their childhood home creak and breathe. And you are forever grateful that Agatha didn’t close any doors, not emotionally or physically. Always a waiting invitation: “Ask and you shall receive.” 

The intimacy of open doors, you missed this. In the morning glow, you listen as you find yourself craving the safety of Agatha. A safety you hadn’t forgotten no matter how you’d tried. Knowing her body was home, that her barefeet made the wood creak of your house. That was a craving you couldn’t tell your coven. It sounded crazy to say - as your palm held the warm spot your lover had left. That you needed Agatha Harkness, and you felt shame for your indulgence. 

Agatha repeated the same song - she’d started listening to music while showering with you. You told her it helped your ADHD time blindness and she just quirked an eyebrow confused at your terminology. But you’d shut her up by turning up your boombox and taking off your bra. After that Agatha never questioned your methods for shower tunes again. But as Agatha repeated the song, you felt it must have some significance -your ears perked up to listen for the lyrics now.

I like the way you touch my face

I like the way your fingers taste

In my mouth and in my heart

I like the way you shift your gaze

Pull me back when I run away

And I guess (I guess)

You were always right

I'd love you (Love you)

Until the day I die

So, go easy on me

I still love you, baby

I'd still kill for you

I would kill for you

The song carries you, as though it was written for how Agatha feels about you. You crack an eye open just enough to gaze down at your familiar, Mr. Nosferatu. The giant Irish Wolfhound’s jowls flapped as he snored lightly, good no rush to get up. His tender paw pads are twitching, and then his paw would kick against the sheet. Like your sweet boy was attempting to catch a smaller creature, ah, the chase. You roll on your side to look at the clock, it’s almost noon. Okay, so not morning light, you’d slept way later than you thought possible. Agatha must have fed your dog, because there was no way he’d sleep this long without her care. 

Tell me, what do you need?

Tell me who I should be

Who I'll kill for you

I would kill for you 

You can’t help but give a sad smile at the lyrics. Agatha always tells you she’d do things the Darkhold couldn’t dream of, sinister things, if you just crooked your finger at her - just so. And more than a few times she’d gotten into horrendous amounts of trouble in your honor. Witch hunters, vampires, ghouls, someone cutting you off in traffic. It didn’t matter - Agatha stepped in. Mortals, Witches, and  Creatures died very painful deaths in the name of her love for you. And Lilia swore she was in fifty lifetimes of debt to Agatha. You’d never had someone love you enough to commit murder; it was kinda intoxicating. 

I like the way you curse my name

Never knowing what each day will bring

I guess that you were right

And pardon my mistake

I'll never be 

The one that got away

So, go easy on me

You're still all that I see

I would kill for you

You really should get up, go make coffee, check on Senior Scratchy and Nos could use a walk.. and..and…

You fell back asleep, into a deep, deep sleep once more. You don’t feel Agatha get back into bed, you don’t hear her go into your shared closet. Or notice her on your side table looking through books you recently tried ot read - so she could pick one out. Or even call Lilia and text the coven to know that you were okay - just resting today. You don’t see the labor she puts in. But you sleep deep, because you do know in the depths of your soul - that Agatha will take care of you. 

When you wake again the curtains are drawn - as an attempt to not wake you. But the light peeks through like Helios himself wants to run his fingers through your hair and remind you that there is a gorgeous day outside if you just reach for it. 

But you rub your nose into the pillow case, and to your delight you smell Agatha. So you pat your hand out with your eyes closed to feel a familiar tummy, you scoot closer to the comforting warmth of your fiances body heat. Agatha makes a little surprised noise, but opens her arm on instinct for you to lay against her right breast and re-adjust. Tossing a leg over her own, and securely velcrowing yourself to her side. Body pressed against body like two sides of an envelope. 

Agatha’s body is tense until you rub your cheek against the delicate cotton of your shared sleep shirt. And then she can’t help but melt like  marshmallow against decadent cocoa.

How strange to find home in someone's arms. 

Agatha’s body relaxes as your thumb against her hip rubs back and forth without a rhythm to be found. 

“Are the boys okay?” Your voice cracks - dry in your throat, resembling the old paper between Agatha’s fingers. 

“Oh yes, Senior Scratchy wouldn’t stop squealing so I had to put Nos in the same room for them to snuggle by the backdoor.” Agatha’s voice is attempting a neutral - off handed - type of tone. But you clearly sense the depth of relief in the in-between gaps of her words. You move your nose closer to her collarbone and Agatha’s neck tendon flinches just a big. 

You know it’s not because she doesn’t want the touch, but she’s waiting. Like an old hound by the front door keeps it’s nose in the air - wanting - wanting for his master to return. Yet still the old dog barks anytime the wind shifts. 

Agatha wanted to devour you, but she was holding herself back by the tips of her fingernails. 

“What are you reading?” You say with your eyes still closed. The soft shuffle noise of a paperback being turned over fills the space before your human pillow responds softly:

“Ned Vizzini.” 

You don’t need her to tell you the title. ‘It’s Kind of A Funny Story.’ Was a book you’d been reading for the past three weeks. Finding it hard to put down, but also difficult to read in large chunks. Too similar to a trigger warning and yet scratching your brain with feeling seen by the author. 

“Bunny?”

“Hmm?” You move so that your face is pressed into her skin, nose down like an animal smelling where home was. Two lefts past the oak tree or more akin to - under the small freckle of Agatha’s shoulder, taking a right at the tiny scar by the swell of her breast where a thorn from a rose bush had mauled her. Or the tiny zigzag pattern by her right fourth rib, where Nicky had tripped by the river. And Agatha had caught him. Or maybe if you were contemplating this map - your loves right shoulder where two cresents could still be found. After a trip to Barcelona, where you had made love outside during Mabon. You’d apologized after - and Agatha had only pounced on you, happy to wear a mark from your teeth. 

You could find your way home with your eyes closed.  

“What do I need to do?” She asked and now, one of your eyes shoots open, blood shot and confused. Your chin lifts and then rests on her chest. You blink wearily but try to grapple at the straws she just laid at your feet. 

Agatha’s eyebrows are furrowed and she is conflicted, upset, and her jaw was set. She wasn’t reaching out to touch you - afraid you’d run. 

“What?”

“What do I need to do to…to- damn it.” Harkness's veiny hand snaps to cover her eyes. Like she’s covering the window to her soul - shielding herself from your prying gaze. Not ready to be read like yesterdays newspaper. 

You reach out to set your hand on top of her own. Keeping her hand over her eyes - like you are condoning the tiny bit of safety she’s finding in her hiding place. Not ripping her digits away - a crowbar to a menial comfort. 

And Agatha’s shoulder drop two inches, a physical relief at your deeply ingrained understanding of your partner. 

Your permission, your hand, it calmed her down to say the full thought. Evenora had really done a number, even from the grave. For Agatha’s ability to communicate in times of deep self-consciousness. 

“What do I need to do…to keep you safe.”

Your hand slowly moved off of her own, and dread pooled into your stomach equivalent to a pirate ship taking on water. Agatha had been the kraken and now you would sink. 

You moved away from her, off of her body, to the corner of the bed. Upset with yourself for being so blind, you should not have sucked comfrot from Agatha like this. Selfishly soaking her in, her presence, her music, the soft morning, her solid mass in bed next to you. The body heat, the song of her fingers turning pages. Your Agatha Harkness, you stupid bitch. 

Your eyes blur and you go to run, to jump off the bed, time to retreat. 

You would lose this war, as you lost every battle, how could you be so stupid. 

You did not deserve good, no good things. 

That’s when strong hands collided with your arms, and at first your thoughts fooled you. Believing, thanks to PTSD, that you were once again in the shadow relm, walking. That these hands meant you harm and you screamed and tried to vein to free yourself. 

Only for Agatha’s body to press tightly against your own. 

“No, no, I got you. You are here. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.” Agatha’s voice broke and reality filtered back into you, much like a coma patient comes back to the hospital bed. Panic and trauma using you, as though you were a ping pong and they were giggling with their paddles. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, you don’t have to apologize. I shouldn’t have - I mean I.” Agatha choked, perhaps she was still in the pirate ship, drowning under the weight herself. Not aware that the creature and the captain go down with the ship. 

Maybe that was something you had never entertained. That in your self-punishment, your self-loathing, this self-flagellation you’d inflicted on your skin. 

You’d strapped your lover too, sweet Agatha, in your spiral down to the depths. The ones you cared for you, you didn’t allow them in, to care. To fucking help you. And so as Agatha’s body held you tight, as her voice had cracked. You couldn’t help but contemplate in this raw space, that her body did not shake. 

Her grip was firm. 

Her purpose resolute. 

And you had tried to carry the entirety of the load for yourself. This shame the only bedfellow you’d allowed to sleep next to you. 

In your depression, your pain, you’d kicked the people who loved you out of the space you occupied. Allowing only the giant monster of your illness to sit with you for as long as it pleased. 

Tears fell because your body wouldn’t listen, only betraying you. And you gasped in horror. 

You’d helped your monster, you’d given your mental illness the knife, and lifted your shirt, with a perfect ‘carve here’ sign. 

And your Mom, your friends, and coven, your godson, your familiar…your best friends. They were all banging at the door to get in. And they knew, because they weren’t stupid, that you had locked it. 

Agatha couldn’t take it all away, but in kicking her out, in breaking up your relationship….You’d only fed the monster. And Agatha refused to let you slip quietly into the night. 

Your lip quivers, yet you recite the poem Agatha knows too. 

“Inside me lives this Beast, that makes me so strong.

It's the one that you left there, when I was so young.

I've looked in your Eyes, so vivid, so Blue.

I look in the Mirror, those Eyes I see too.

A long rocky Road travelled; one I'll never forget.

But I'd walk it again gladly, without any regret.

Along it I found Family and Friends, whom I love and adore.

And It's all thanks to that Path that began at your Door.

You were always that Beast, that made me so strong.

And you still live in my Heart, where you belong.”

It’s not for Agatha, it’s for you, it’s for your own monster. And Agatha pulls back and grips your face tight. 

“What can I do? What can I do?” She repeats, and you wonder if she begged Rio like this for Nicky. Of course she did, and now your favorite person was begging you. 

“Stay.” You whisper it so quietly, you aren’t sure you even said it. But Agatha’s heart beat faster and her entire demeanor exuded a sense of purpose, a fight for you. And it hurt to know that fight was never gone. You just hadn’t been looking closely enough. 

“You couldn’t keep me away, you already tried that. Bunny, I have you.”

Your tears flowed, rolling down your face like the piece of ice that melts in the mountain where the spring can now roll down the earth. Let there be flowers, and beauty once again. 

“I- It won’t be easy, It’s not gone I just-” You hiccup, and Agatha nods with conviction. 

“Of course it’s not.” She agrees, knowing quick fixes were never real fixes. Her once charcoal-stained fingers were proof enough of that. 

“I won’t always be nice.” You amend, wanting it to be clear, she was signing up for hard times still. 

“I won’t either.” Agatha reminds you, both of you clear that your witch was a moody bitch sometimes. 

“You could have moved on.” You gasp, your chest shaking from the weight of Agatha loving and moving onto a better future. You wished she had, had forgotten about your broken self, pushing her away day by day. And at night cuddling her pillow like it would save you, you hypocrite. But stormy blues gaze back into you, with a sort of melancholy saved for breakthroughs. 

“Not possible, it’s you and me in every universe. You were the only one who tried to believe that lie.”

“You suck.” You say but smile, and Agatha returns the hopeful turn of lips. Then she cradles the back of your head with the safety only she can give you. And engulfs you in another hug, not clinging from fear like before. But embracing every bit of you, even the parts you couldn’t yet. 

“We can’t pretend this never happened, huh?”

“No, babygirl, you taught me pretending doesn’t work. We go through, not around it.” Your fiance whispers as she keeps you secure against herself, like she’s ready to fight at your side. 

“Can we go back to bed, just today? Maybe try again tomorrow?” You whimper, and it sounds pathetic, but Agatha doesn’t judge you that way, not her style. Instead her strong hands gravitate towards your ass and swiftly lift. Like she had a million times before, but this seemed more monumental. 

Agatha was reaching out and touching you without fear of you fleeing. And you weren’t running away, or about to change your mind. 

Agatha Harkness was home, not in the house, but in you. 

So she lifted you easily off the ground and your legs wrapped around her. A content little sniffle as her hold was firm.

Your witch carried you to bed, pushed the already forgotten blanket back, before climbing onto the mattress. And collapsing ontop of you, so that at no point were to two separated. You giggled and Agatha held you like you were her world. And for a bit, you couldn’t deny that she believed that, the monster didn’t get to rewrite Agatha Harkness. 

So her weight on top of you only lulled you once again. Your legs still wrapped around your love, her face perminently sticking to your neck. You let out a long breath and closed your eyes one more time. 

________

It’s around midnight when Agatha and you slink down the stairs to the messy kitchen. You wordlessly go to the dishes and start to move the pan and Agatha snaps her fingers and the dishes are done. You turn around to cheekily glare at her. 

“So when I do quick magic with chores I’m immature and a ‘silly young witch’ but if you do them you are what?” 

Agatha opens the fridge and pretends to ponder your sentence. 

“A spirt witch who is educated in her craft.” The woman who held your heart just shrugged like it was nothing. Sifting through the groceries she’d slowly stocked up, hoping you hadn’t noticed when she came over how many things she brought into your pantry. 

You had of course, but as Agatha had stayed on the other side of the sofa for the past few weeks. You couldn’t figure out how to mind the gap. 

And now here she was, in your shared hope once more, wearing an old (shared) sleep shirt. It had the old wood cut illustrations for the famous “"The History of Witches and Wizards, 1720" illustrations. The black and white illustration had witches in a circle, doing a witches circle. And then four demons, three of them were the fates. You figured that out fast, and one demon was just a little bigger…. Your sweet local bad boy, Rio. Which meant the hand to the horned demons left was none other then the great Agatha Harkness. 

The illustration was made as cautionary tone. But when you visited Salem, before the twins were born. With your dysfunctional coven you’d seen the T’shirt at a vendor’s booth and pulled out cash on the spot. Agatha and Rio both pretended to hate the shirt. 

But you only giggled as the bottom some newer artist had put: ‘My evening plans.’ 

The shirt was old now, and had small holes in the bottom where the moths had feasted. A few bleach spots from where laundry days had taken it prisoner. And Agatha one day-about four springs ago, on a rainy day inside, she had told you to get rid of it. And Rio was half naked attempting to re-wire your ceiling fan. While Agatha was becoming an angry soft butch telling her she was going to do that next. Attempting in vain to kick her out of your home. To get Deat to leave and go to her own home. But your lady Muerta turned, flat head screw driver in one hand - calculatedly easdropping in on this argument for said shirt. And you stopped, and gasped halting your folding laundry. One hand holding a hanger meant to hang-up Agatha’s plum sweater. As your girlfriend was re-warded the top bedroom and bath. Using a bundgle to smoke cleanse.  

“It’s my family!” You had argued, and Agatha and Rio had both instantly turned cold. Realizing the truth in your words, in their situation once more. Family, like they had…. had. And now here they were again, a new kind of family. But a family none the less, on a rainy day inside. Together and domestic, and sharing a big love - you.  

You didn’t notice how you healed them. Their trauma, their shared anger at each other, their long forgotten love in each other. After Nicky…. well, neither believed love would ever warm their dead hearts again. 

Then you came into being, with your found family coven. With your sundresses and loud music. Your ice cream and big laugh warming them from the inside out. Rio and Agatha flocked to the heat of your smile. Fighting for a scrap of just a bit of you. And yet you didn’t allow it, you gave, and gave, and gave.  

And Nicky would never be forgotten, you hung the illustration Rio had done up in the house. Without ever asking Agatha, but you caught her talking to the picture every now and then, asking advice, forgiveness even. 

But it was so clear - Nicholas Scratch would get to see his parents have fun again, laugh again. Go on adventures, make magic together, fall in love with another. In the end, the boy with the river rocks and melodious voice would have wanted nothing more than that. 

So today you got lost in front of the sink, seeing the smooth, delicious skin of Agatha, as your shorts did little to curb your hunger for her. And that shirt that went just a little too far down her body, held memories. 

Because everything in this house, in this town, in your coven, in your life - held space for Agatha Harkness. 

Fuck you had it bad. 

Aggie seemed to notice your trip down memory lane, even if she couldn’t read the street signs. Your soulmate knew the bumps in the road, the stop signs, the landmarks of where your mind had traveled. 

So as she dropped some fruit onto the kitchen counter, she sauntered slowly to you, like a big predator does it’s meal. 

Before cupping your face. 

“Hello Sweetness.” Agatha coo’s and you can’t help but feel like you are falling into her arms. And you realize then that your knees did go weak and that she’s holding your waist firmly. 

“You really believe that prophecy huh?” You murmur, a topic you didn’t discuss with her. And Agatha seems momentarily discombobulated that you brought it up, before she grins in that witchy knowing way she has. 

“How could I not? You think I hand out enchanted engagement rings every few centuries pumpkin?” She teases and you blush and curl into her neck. And she’s all too happy to caress you, hold you tighter than necessary. 

“Will you relight the fire and we can eat fluffer nutters?” You plead with the love of your life, but your voice comes out a little breathy. It’s not meant to seduce Agatha, but it does none the less and she pulls back and bends a little to look into your eyes.

This murderous witch studys your irises for a long moment, like she can read the constellations there, chart a map for you, to you. Before she makes a decision. 

“You want me to make you a sugary sandwich after you ate nothing today? What’s in it for me?” She taunts and you chuckle much to Agatha’s delight. 

“I was told to never make a deal with a syphon witch.” You lick your lips and hope your eyes don’t dilate - and that Aggie doesn’t see it, but they do, and she does. 

“Mama Calderu devine that in her cards for you did she dear?” The witch taunted, holding your waist around with her arm, and then playing with the ends of your hair like it was her right. 

“No, my fiance did actually.” It’s slips out.

 Agatha holds her breath, not moving a muscle. 

And you rub your lips together, like something spicy is there and it has a heat that lingers. 

The silence stretches and you look down at your ring finger, where the engagement ring, the magically infused family airloom sits. A gorgeous twinkle hits it, like it knows. It feels powerful still, and you close your eyes and test the power of the ring. 

“Easy Bunny,” Agatha cautions feeling the magic spark between you two from the ring. 

“You think I can make you suffer the pain of my arousal without any release.” You let the words sink into Agatha, her arm tightens and brings you bone crushingly closer. 

“If you think for a second watching you all this time and not touching you isn’t pain, then I should have worshiped you better. My gorgeous girl, I see you and….and I can’t breathe.” Agatha admits low, like maybe the spirits won’t hear, won’t take you from her. 

You open your eyes, and neither of you see the enchanted ring turn colors on your finger. Instead you reach up and cup her jaw like she had you. 

“I don’t think we’ve had make up sex before.”

Agatha’s eyes turn purple without her consent but she leans her forehead against yours like she’s praying to the Devine Mother that this isn’t a dream. 

“I mean you did taste delicious in the bathroom but I don’t think that qualifies as make up sex. Oh but there was that one time you forgot my car keys at that huge Brigid Festival! Oh man I was pissed because we had to walk all the way ba-” 

Agatha couldn’t take the electricity anymore. 

She lunged forward and kissed you hard. 

Fireworks was too mortal to describe kissing Agatha. 

Your magic exploded under your skin, your hearts slowed and skipped like a kid tripping over their shoe laces. Kissing Agatha Harkness never got old, and your knees couldn’t hold you at all now. Not as she pinned you against the sink. 

Your mouth opening to gasp but she swallowed a moan, grinding her hips against yours. 

Agatha was the rain on a tent flap. 

Agatha was the oxygen that fed the fire that set the home ablaze. 

She was chaos and control, she was the calm you needed at night and the reason you woke in the morning. 

How could one witch pull you apart and click you back into the right place all over again. 

Agatha moaned as her tongue touched yours and you cried out desperately. 

Ready to wrap your arms around her neck, grab her jaw, dive deeper into her pool. 

But Agatha growled at your submissive sound, snatching your two wrists and pinning them behind you, into the sink. 

Your stomach and hips rose to get more friction, more of your Agatha. 

But she shook her head and traced the tip of her tongue against your bottom lip and you whimpered again in need. 

“Please.” Is all you manage and Agatha attacks you once more, tying your wrist with her purple, unable to not touch you more. She quickly uses a little situational bondage to lift your shirt over your head and then pull them over the purple magic. You can’t even more your shoulders now, double wrapped just for Agatha to enjoy. 

“Not fair Aggie!” You squirm and the evil magic weilder just looks satisfied with her meal. 

“Not fair was watching my wife walk around not knowing who owns her. You won’t make that mistake ever again will you? You do and you’ll have to see just how cruel I can be. In fact, I think your punishment starts now.” Your fiance looks positively delighted and you go to shout and she yanks your sweatpants down your legs. 

“Wha!” You go to argue but see Agatha whisper latin to your clit, and your eyes grow as Agatha gives you a cock now. “Oh fuck!”

Agatha didn’t do this as often, and you felt the tug deep in your belly. She made your dick grow, but you knew better than to believe this would be instant satisfaction for you. No Agatha loved her games too much for you to be cumming tonight.  

“Easy Bunny, let’s see how your hips jack hammer into me. Be a good rabbit for Mommy?” Agatha cackles like the gorgeous villain she can be. And she guides you out of your sweatpants into the living room. Food long forgotten now, as she blows against her palm and the fireplace and it roars to life, lighting you both, and keeping you warm. 

“Ag-”

“No baby, you call me Mommy. And use your damn manners quick, or I’ll make this hurt.” She taunts your sadomastic side and your hips lift, as though pulled by the magnet of her cunt. 

Agatha loses the t shirt, not wearing a bra, and throws the shorts over her shoulder like she couldn’t be bothered. 

Before climbing onto the carpet, straddling you. 

Your cock, which now you were staring at, as Agatha’s dark coarse pubic hair did little to hide her glistening lips. Clit poking out, hood twitching unable to satisfy the arousal, and excited for what was to come. 

“Please please please!” You say through clenched teeth, your body is in agony now. The need to be inside of Agatha, touching her somehow, it’s too fucking strong. 

“Ah - ah, where are your manners. My wife knows fucking better than that.” Agatha tells you and she lets her finger nail trail carefully over your girth. Once at the top where your dark pink mushroom head let out two droplets of pre-um. The light from the fireplace hitting them like spotlights. Proof you were owned. Coven two and glory shall be fucking thine. 

Agatha’s eyes never left your new member, like she was in love with every version of you. Her fingers ghosted over the new fluid you produced just for her. And you saw her hunger to taste you, to swallow you whole. But Agatha was nothing if not a century old sadist. So instead Aggie switchted to let her middle finger trail the underside of your dick - making it twitch up and down without your content. You closed your eyes, turned on by the humiliation of how obedient your body responded to Agatha’s tiniest conducting. 

“Eyes open Darling Girl. You paraded around for so long in front of me, without me. That ends right now.” Agatha promised, like she was sealing an envelope with a kiss, a promise, a contract that was soul binding. The ring comes to mind now and you attempt to reason with the witch. 

“I wore your ring the whole time Harkness!” You meant for it to soun better than that, now it sounds petulant and Agatha just gives a witchy cackle before flipping her hair to the side and leaning down to lick the length of you from base to tip. Letting her tongue swipe the indent of your appendage urethra. Collecting her prize as it were. 

Your hips pushed up too slow and Agatha was already licking her lips, eyes rolling back in an instant reaction to the taste of you. 

“You were made for Mommy. You taste so good, depriving me so long. You wore my ring, because I had to show you who owned you. But if you like my ring now, let me add another.” Agatha tells you and she bends down again and you pray she’ll suck. But instead she lets her tongue glow purple and licks around the base of your cock. 

Her purple magic works instantly - rubber banding the base of your dick - it vibrates and is warm. But it was also torture, squeezing you so that you wouldn’t cum no matter what she did. 

“Aggie no!” You shout in horror, the truth far too painful - you were in the dog house. This wasn’t make up sex - this was the first day of punishment. 

Agatha’s eyebrow arched and her fingers moved to your asshole and she rimmed it, adding pressure and your knees shook at the sensation. Tendons in your thighs thruming like Agatha was playing a harp. 

You were practically drooling for her legs opening wider and you humped her hand, but she didn’t push inside, just playing with your bud. Aware how submissive she could make you from this. Always holding your pleasure - her thumb on the pulse of you. 

“What did you call me? You call me by my name like we are merely mutuals? Coven gal pals? Is that what we are? Does my magic around your cock, stroking and pulsing around you, and my fingers brimming your ass make you feel that way baby girl? Do you need more? Can you ask for more from Mama?” Agatha’s evil tone does things to your body and more precum seeps out and rolls down your penis. Like candle wax melting, and your witch takes it as the compliment to the chef it is. 

“You are so quiet, if you are going to be this quiet I’ll have to entertain myself.” Agatha says, and you hope that means she’ll ride you. But she merely giggles manicly before her eyes turn purple and then a little more sinister- uh oh. 

The purple glowing ribbon around the base of your cock squeezes the light out of your eyes and you scream in esctisty and pain. Head thrown back as your ass tried and failed to make Agatha impale you. Your eyes closed and your stomach muscles visibly clenched as hard as you could to try to orgasm, no such luck. Just the pressure - no reward. 

“You make such pretty noises for me, you like how Mommy plays with your cock? Do you think walking away from me would mean I’d let you cum? No baby, you have a lot of time to make up for.” Agatha panted out and you felt like you were shattering from the inside out. 

“If you think you can push me away, you got another thing coming baby. You are mine, I will marry you. And I’ll breed you. But for now, I’m going to torture you, so you never think you can do this again. Do you understand?” Agatha asked and you moaned as her finger dipped just enough inside to make you lose the ability to produce the english language. Not enough to actually penetrate you. 

“You seem at a loss my sweet witch. Let me make it clear. If you so much as let Rio kiss your cheek while I’m not there, giving permission. If you think you can break up with me again. If you think you can hide away your emotions or needs from Mama. This torture you are in -  will be nothing compared to the sexual Hell I will reign down on you. So behave and you’ll be as safe as a kitten, okay?” Agatha made her point very clear by bending down and opening her mouth to underline her meaning. Her tongue turned purple again as she licked the underside of your cock, so slowly, so, so, so, slowly. You were sure this was the afterlife, you had to have died. 

Then as her tongue curled around your head you felt something burn and you hated that it made your hips jerk up and down and up and down. Like you were fucking the air and Agatha just watched in amazement. 

And that’s when the cock piercing appeared, purple of course and you felt like you were going to climax from the pain and pleasure. But nothing came out of you - only the second before as you screamed Agatha’s name over and over. But nothing came out. You closed your eyes tight to hide from the intensity, but something inside of you was healing. This possesiveness that came so easily to your partner - fuck it made you feel wanted. And you didn’t want yourself most days, so for Agatha Harkness to crave you. To demand your attention, it took you to places. So as your body was as tense, toes curled, wishing an orgasm would take you as nothing did. Agatha would speak to your soul even louder than your magical dick. You whimpered ‘Agatha,’ like she was a deity and you were a wreck. 

“That was so pretty baby, but that’s not the right name is it? Now where were we before you humped nothing like a bitch in heat. Oh! That’s right, you are MINE. My wife, my subbie girl, my cuddly bunny in our bed, my better half, my plus one to every event. My baby to care for, to nurse back to health, my girl, and mine only. So be my good soulmate - oh honey I don’t think you are gonna wanna miss this. Time to show me those eyes I dream of.” 

You knew that wasn’t merely an invitation, so your eyes opened. And fuck you didn’t wanna miss this at all. when you had the strength to look once more Agatha’s soaking pussy was just three inches above your leaking cock. 

And you were a mess, blubbering and begging like a virgin with the hopes of a nyphomaniac. 

“Please Mama - Please Mommy I’ll be so good for you!” You’d give her everything, and Agatha’s breasts swayed as she bent forward. A bit of her cum dripping against your pubes like syrup on pancakes. 

Your fiance, your future wife - she saw you. And knew better than you how much you could take - how much you craved. What Aggie needed to do to bring you back to safety. And she was going to own your mind, body, and soul. Agatha was fucking you with the intensity to understand that she wasn’t messing around. You must not have realized it before, but now there would be no question. 

Your arms hurt behind your back, but Aggie wanted that too. Your discomfort, you were in time out as it were. 

So she scratched over your nipples harder than necessary and you cried and tried to lift your hips to make contact with her molten hot cunt. Only for Agatha to slap your breast hard enough to remind you - you were hers. You were hers forever, and she was patient when it came to sexual torture. So if you wanted to be a brat - you may not cum this century. 

“Mommy’s Girl, aren’t you?” Agatha offered you and you nodded like a deranged intelligently stunted sex addict. 

“Mama’s gonna ride you - and you will be good for me. My good whore of a wife, won’t you?” Agatha helps you with answers and you nodd and are now aware you really are drooling. And Aggie doesn’t wipe it away, enjoying the depths of your desire for her, just her, only ever her. 

So Agatha used one hand to line your member, her toy - up to her entrance. And then her eyes fix on yours, and she sinks. 

Your toes curl, your mouth drops open, hot - wet - tight. 

None of those adjectives covered being inside of your witch. 

And the high pitch noises Agatha makes - well that does demonic things to you. So when your body slam up to try and reach her womb. Agatha just laughs at you and puts two hands on your stomach, sliding up to your hips and back down. 

“You wanna play with Mommy now? You not so dumb anymore? You wanna earn my forgiveness?”

“Fuck Mommy, please let me. Let me love you.” You beg - losing any sense of self - only pleasure and Agatha, Agatha, Agatha. 

Your witchs dark hair curls around her body, laying over her breasts, and flicking against her lower back and tummy. 

“Let’s see what all that pent up energy can do, you couldn’t cum for so long. What are you going to do now?” Aggie green lights you - and it’s all you need. Unable to move your arms but ready to use all the core strength you have. You bend your knees and push into Agatha like you two were trying to make Rosemerrys Baby tonight. 

Wet noises quickly fill the air, the slapping of your skin. Agatha’s mouth can’t stay shut - she’s gasping and whimpering like nothing has ever felt good until you, right here. But she won’t close her eyes, she can’t miss a moment of this look you are giving her. Like you’d fight harder and harder just to be here with her. 

Agatha’s heart swelled at the conviction - your love coming out stronger than any release. Like being inside Agatha was freeing to you - the only freedom from your own self hate. 

“I got you baby, you are everything my love.” Agatha’s admission made your groan and curl your hips hitting her G-spot and squiveling just enough to make her grab your thighs from behind to hold on for dear life. 

Your pace is brutal - that of a young witch. And Agatha’s orgasm cannot be ignored no matter how long she’d love to last. 

“Mine Mommy, you are home. I-I’m yours! Never goin anywhere withou- out you.” You speak to the fates just as much as you do your clear devotion to this witch. And Agatha’s face controrts and she breaks open with those words. 

The only thing she needed from you.

And she lurches forward against your chest, unable to hold herself up as you pump into her with abandon. Aggie’s magic works though - and as she cums the special piercing binds comfortably to her cervix. Making it so you cannot leave, cannot move. 

You are whimpering and quivering - so happy to be inside of Agatha. And so sexually pent up that you are sweating, and have rug burn at this point. Though none of that matters as your loves pussy walls flutter around you in aftershocks. Closer to her and you lean your head down and kiss her dark wild hair. 

You can’t seem to stop, you kiss her silky hair over and over and over. Like an apology and Agatha twitches and doesn’t get off of you. 

Your wrists hurt, but you don’t care, you just feel all of the hurt. Your own and Agathas, from this separation. And you feel so much guilt - you should have just asked her. ‘Ask and you shall receive.’ And you’d shut her out, your best friend. 

“Shhh Bunny.” Agatha senses your panic under her limp body. 

“I-I hurt you.” You bite your lip too hard, and your body is a live wire. Pent up sexual frustration and anger at your actions. 

That’s when Agatha slides her ass down and let out another high whine as the spell broke and she could move against your cock again. You let out puff of air - over stiumated and desperate to cum. 

Mommy moved up and down on you slowly milking you - without letting you cum. 

“My wife, you know I won’t let you cum - that is your punishment. You let me punish you - you don’t punish yourself, got it?” Agatha’s voice was strained from the stretch she was feeling from your dick. 

“Yes Mama.” You are panting now, sweat dripping down your own breasts, all thoughts gone. They belong to Agatha. 

“So good for me. Now listen to Mama baby girl.” Agatha tells you flicking her hair back. Her hands coming out to grab both sides of your jaw. Her body continues to ride you, hips angling back and then grinding down. Slick arousal dripping around you and against your pubes. You would ruin if it meant staying insde of Agatha. You want that orgasm, but more you want your wife to never stop touching you. 

“You will eat three meals a day.” Agatha gasps but keeps her slow agonizing pace up and down. Her arousal smearing against your cock as she sinks back on you, the piercing hitting the right spots - thank you magic. 

Your teeth clunch as Agatha lifts back up and air hits your cock ring that is still squeezing and pusling around you. 

“Say; ‘Yes Mommy’” Agatha growls warningly and you shudder eyes rolling back before you center again. 

“Yes, Mommy.”

“No more running away from me” Agatha tells you and slides down, the cock ring buzzes againster her clit and she lingers. Her cunt squeezes you and the ripple of her muscles around you makes you throw your head back in delicious misery. 

“Say it.” Agatha grinds out - a stern threat. 

“Yes Mommy.”

The witch lifts slowly up and stops halfway,  you swear you could die happy here. 

“You will stay where I can take care of you. No more isolating when you have intense feelings. Say- say it!” Agatha lifts almost all the way off now, your mushroom cock leaks copious amounts of precum against the purple piercing. It coats her walls and makes her shiver - your magic filling her inside. 

“Yes Mommy.” You almost can’t get the words out - your head feels like it’s being sucked through a vaccum. Every fiber of your being is lit up - buzzing and catching fire. 

Agatha’s nails dig into your jaw to remind you to listen. 

“You are going to go to coven meetings regularly. Stop pushing them away.” Agatha’s cunt made a squishing porno noise as she plumeted back down to the vibrating base ring. 

“MOMMY FUCK PLEASE FUCK YES I WILL I PROMISE WHATEVER YOU WANT!” YOU scream and Aggie grinds against you, moving your cock in 360 around her cunt walls. Like that was the right answer. 

“Anything I want?”

“ANythingGg!”

“Oooh baby what a good contract to make with a witch!” Agatha sits back up and rides you now. And you can’t stop the magic spilling out of you. It’s bright and it hits objects around you. But the ring on your finger pulses and purple fills the air like a steam. Sparkling and neither you or Agatha give a fuck. 

She rides you and chants. 

“I LOVE YOU, YOU ARE MINE, YOU ARE SO LOVED. I LOVE YOU, YOU ARE MINE, YOU ARE SO LOVED.” Over and over and the fire in the fireplace goes out and then re-ignites from your combined magic. 

And your eyes roll back - turning purple this time too and Agatha hangs on as you two slam into one anther with all the force in your magic. 

So when Rio lets herself into your house and walks into the living room with Nos and Senior Scratchy looking relieved Death has come to stop whatever their masters were doing. It was no shock that neither of you actually slowed your movements. 

And Rio’s hand unbuckled her leather belt and surged into her own cunt. Rubbing as fast as possible at the sexy sight. 

Agatha and you didn’t hear her - only moving as one now. Until Aggie screamed her hair sprawling out like when she used the darkhold magic. Purple split the fireplace wall and your bodies were glowing. 

“I love you!” Aggie screamed and then fell forward again. You still had not cum, and you continued to hump into her long after she stopped. You couldn’t help it, and just as you got embarrassed and aware of your action. Agatha flipped you ontop of her with the only bit of energy she really had. Two hands posessively falling to your bare ass checks to not let you stop. Shaking purple finger magically unclipping your wrists and splitting the shirt open. And you continued to roll your dick inside of her whimpering and kissing her neck. Hands going to her thighs to open her up more. 

And that’s when Agatha sighed happily and tilted her head back to give you more room to kiss and suck her neck only to see….Rio?

“RIO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING IN OUR HOME!? ARE YOU MASTURBATING- I WILL KILL YOU!” Aggie shouted but didn’t stop your attack inside of her walls. 

“CAN YOU BLAME ME -OH FUCK THE FATES!  YOU TWO WERE BETTER THAN ANY PORN!” Rio shouts but takes her hand out of her boxers, and they’re very wet with arousal. Nos and Scratchy are long gone, having given up on Rio and you two witches already. 

“RIO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” Agatha’s hand flailes for the blanket to cover your body - not caring about her own nudity. But when she couldn’t reach the throw her groan is murderous. And the syphon witch does the next best thing with is shooting Rio with purple blasts over and over again. And Rio tries to evade them but they scorch her favorite skinny jeans.

“HEY DON’T- HEY!”

“GET OUT!” Agatha screams and you just don’t care as you rock into her. Like you are possessed. Chasing an orgasm that will never come. But only finding any comfort inside of your fiance. 

Meanwhile the two of them were yelling and Agatha was trying to light Rio on fire. 

“I’VE SEEN YOU BOTH NAKED AND FUCKED YOU BOTH BEFOER WHY CAN’T I AHH-STOP IT DAMN IT!!”

“I’LL MAKE YOU WISH YOU COULD DIE! MOTHER FUCKER!” Agatha finally had to stop you - her anger at Rio too high now post orgasm. She didn’t share well. And you cried out the second she flipped you onto your back and threw the blanket over you just as you tried to grab her again. 

“OH MY GOD IS SHE IN SUB SPACE? CAN SHE NOT CUM? I’LL HELP HER CUM!” Rio shouted and stepped forward stupidly - thinking with the wrong head. And a naked, sweaty, cum covered Agatha came at her with full purple magic. 

So after about twenty minutes you came to and the sofa was only ash. And Rio was outside in a very different time out than you were. And Agatha had re-lit the fire and placed you ontop of her body - curled against her chest. Your fiance playing with your hair as you regained your sense. Careful to make sure you didn’t have a bad aftercare. 

“Aggie?” You finally come to and blue eyes turn to you, blanket wrapped around you. “Did i imagine that or did Rio bust into the house.”

“I’m not ready to cover that topic yet, ask Mommy something else please.” The vein in Agatha’s forehead was bulging and you were positive her headache must be coming in full blast any second now. 

“Am I going to cum tonight?”

“It’s morning now, and no baby, not for awhile.” Agatha says crypticly, and kissed your forehead and you just pouted your lip. 

“Did I…I mean-” YOu lose the words and Agatha tilts your head and kisses you so deep you forget all sense of anxiety. When she stops, her gaze is affectionate enough to make you fall all over again. 

“You were perfect, nothing is ever as delicious as you losing yourself for me. I could have cum over and over just at the sight of you.” Agatha gently cups your face and you have another thought but it’s interrupted but Rio walking in with her back towards you. 

“I’M NOT LOOKING! But Agatha I swear to fuck if you hurt her!”

Agatha’s glare at Rio’s back is enough to burn more than the sofa. And you think of the song ‘Kill For You.’ But before the witch holding you like you are more precious than anything in this universe, you answer Death. 

“I’m fine Rio! Go back to the kitchen!”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Rio folds her arms over the other and looks ahead angry. You cup Agatha’s face now so that she can’t rebuttal as much as she’d like. 

“If it’s morning does that mean…”

“Oh yeah.” Agatha’s anger mixed with sarcasm was well placed. 

“We have a coven meeting.”

“Less than two hours, yes.” Agatha answers without missing a beat. You gaze over and Rio and where your furniture was, and the crack in the wall. 

Agatha’s jealousy flares at you looking back at Rio for too long. But you turn to her and pout again. 

“I liked that sofa.”

“Rio will buy us another.”

To be continued....

You brandish a smile with blood in your teeth, as you gaze up at your killer, with spite and kisses - it’s a dare. Come towards me, come out of the shadows, let us play the most ancient of games. You and me, we will gnash our teeth as we hang on the edge of the blade. Let’s play a game of life and death. 

The witch hunter lunges and you don’t show fear, as the knife glides against your clavicle. His aim is true, as it splits open the spot where Agatha’s lipstick moments prior was still wet against your adored skin. How poetic. The image of Billy Loomis licking fake blood comes to mind. You hear your lover let out the angriest of growls, ready to retaliate, to fight for your life. Your shoulders quake without your consent, the bit of carved flesh opening from cursed metal. A witch killer was such a coward, how is it they were able to find such a weapon? Unworthy of a blade used with magic. 

 Agatha scrambled behind you, ready with a spell, purple magic bubbling up to kill for you. To fight for you, as you had fought together over the centuries. 

“CUT!” The director screamed but her grin told you everything you needed to know. “Oh my god it was so good! Can we get her a spit bucket?” Jac called, to one of the amazing practical effects guys, Barton - with his soft mowhawk. He carried himself like a set dad would. And was already next to you with fake blood in one hand and an orange spit bucket. You thanked him before trying to get all of the corn syrupy ‘Billy-Loomis-Hollywood-Magic’ blood out of your mouth. 

You gave your Billy, Billy Maximoff - sweet young queer actor who was just getting his first big movie, a thumbs up. Letting him know you were okay and he visually relaxed. Dark curls bouncing, his smile was darling as he broke character. The twenty-something-year-old boy stepped forward to talk to you. Jac was faster hugging him and spinning to you.  

“YOU GUYS, THAT WAS PERFECT! Better than I could have ever hoped!” 

Agatha rounded to Billy to peck his cheek with a kiss, leaving a bit of lipstick before getting where she really wanted. Crouching to where you were and trying to act casual as she wiped the blood off your cheek, the pads of her thumb warm in contrast to the congealed fake goo. It was a ploy to touch your skin, to get a little closer than co-stars and you didn’t mind it one bit. As she wrapped an arm around your waist to help you off the floor.  

“Need water?” Agatha’s gentle concern towards you was said under her breath. Trying to make a moment a little private, the illusion was lost quickly. Jac, who was vibrating with excitement, heard and quickly panicked at you being uncomfortable. 

“CAN WE GET WATER?” Jac’s panic made Barton with his spit bucket turn and jog towards the craft table with purpose. 

“I’m completely fine!” You call at poor Barton. But he has worked with you long enough to know you’ll just sneak off to get your own, so he goes anyway. 

“Okay, lunch first. Bloody you both up again. Then we’ll run Lilia and Alice in after. Everyone okay with that?” Jac checks in, and you nod along with the cast. 

Agatha’s arm hasn’t left it’s home around your waist. 

She’s been so affectionate on and off set. The two of you wanted to make great chemistry for this film. But sometimes you struggled to pull back, which was new. You had worked with all genders and had never felt this safe before. It didn’t help that Agatha was endlessly hilarious, brilliant, stunning, and overwhelmingly kind. You had thought meeting her would be like every hero. A complete disappointment. Amazing in front of a camera for a project or interview, but off camera, vapid as Hell. 

Not Agatha Harkness, she had old movie star effortless glamor. You could plop her on any set and she placed everyone at ease, and was notorious for effectively getting everyone to break character with non-scripted shinanginas. But it was her dry humor that you found yourself unable to stop giggling on set from. 

Yeah, Agatha Harkness had made this an unforgettable experience for you, and everyone around you. Just as you’d heard copious amounts of reviews from other people about her in the industry. And she worked hard, knowing that as a woman in her 50s in the industry, she set the way everyone treated each other. As her name was on the top of the call sheet.

  So when you two were whispered online to be the leads for this film franchise. You were honored, but overjoyed when you were sent the script. You didn’t expect to hear Agatha ask Jac to scene read with you first. That you were her pick. Now Jac and the whole cast and crew clicked with you, and you were having a great time. 

But that first scene read, the chemistry reading at the start. Well…you were still not sure if you were acting. Not when Agatha grabbed your hand. Once you signed your contract and the studio told everyone you and Agatha were filming the first movie of this beloved franchise, you were clear that this was a blessing. And you all had a responsibility.

The first film was called ‘The Witches Road.’ And it was queer characters in love in horror. This was a big deal, what you were doing, young queer kids already were sending you fanmail, edits, presents, and letters. And it wasn’t even out yet.

The book series rights had been bought by Continental Studios. And Jac Schaeffer had been a no-brainer to direct.  

Agatha and you had exchanged numbers before the big whole cast and crew table read. Sending poems, songs, and your own lore on the relationship you two were about to dive into. You’d been shocked a month before the table read as you were devouring the last of books and you got a FaceTime call. 

Shocked, but not about to ignore the famous Agatha Harkness, you answered, in your pajamas and beanie, sitting on top of your kitchen counter, eating dried mango. Not camera or co-star ready, but authentically how you spent your evenings off set. 

You had not expected to see Agatha in her raw state as well, no barriers between you now. She had innocently called to ask where you were in the book. You two gabbed, and then what had started as a work call, got personal. She knew where to step in conversation, it put you at ease. Somehow, Agatha had gotten you both to open up.  Agatha told you things, stories, facts, and memories no one else knew about her. And you observed the weight of these words, the gift that Agatha wanted you alone to have. Not for a press junket, or to feel safe in a future scene. Agatha wanted to talk to you, to know you. 

In this industry, that was rare; everyone was a business contact. A co-star who you may play a game with for Buzzfeed. But even though you spent a year or two making these films, not many people ever stayed in touch. Sort of like situationships, not relationships. 

However, on a weeknight, on FaceTime - your whole destiny changed. As your mind tried to flimsily capture the image of this woman, the one you were enraptured by. With her geeky large glasses, fingers pressing the frames up her nose, no makeup, glowing in the low light of her home. You wished your mind could snap this moment like a Polaroid. Something to tack to your wall as proof. The moment you fell for someone you never meant to. 

Agatha laughed so hard she snorted at something you said, and you hoped this feeling would pass. 

No such luck on ‘The Witches Road,’ because at no point, did Agatha ever disappoint. Your relationship only grew closer; physically, you both subconsciously reached for the other. Verbally, there wasn’t a joke or part of your day you didn’t want to tell Agatha. And the dates off set were lined under the thinly veiled lies that you two were ‘working.’ Watching classic horror movies or queer indie films to help your character study. Somehow your head fell against Agatha’s shoulder and your socked feet met every time. 

Film intimacy was supposed to be on sets. Two actors having a raw experience together. So then why could you not turn it off once the makeup and costumes were shed at the end of the day? 

Why did Agatha call you as soon as she got in her car to go home? Why did you two Facetime in the evenings? Why did she bring you coffee? How is it you were always invited to this ‘one book store’ she just found? 

How was the stunning actress Agatha Harkness, no longer who you saw. But instead, the gorgeous woman who ate all your blueberries when she came over? Where was the image on billboards, how was it so quickly replaced in your psyche with the picture you’d taken of her trying on a fan-made T-shirt? The one that had a print of her witchy fictional characters with the large letters saying ‘MOTHER’ across it. She was so confused as you giggled and rolled on the ground, as she asked what it meant.

Agatha Harkness had gone from being on your Hollywood idol list, a pedestal that dehumanized her. To your best friend in the whole world. The first person you talked to in the day, and the last person you spoke to before bed. 

It wasn’t fair, no one should love someone this much.

So when Agatha rounded Billy’s body to get to you, no one else was under any illusion. That love had blossomed on set. Maybe people saw you two as the newest versions of Freddie Prinze Jr. and Sarah Michelle Gellar, no, that was too straight. Maybe more like Stephanie Allynne and Tig Notaro? Whatever it didn’t matter, because as much as your fans hoped for the two of you to get together in real life. It wasn’t true. Agatha was just lovely; she was just being kind, right?

“You sure you are okay?” Agatha whispers lower this time, and you nod and hope she doesn’t notice how your knees go just a tad weak being this close to the actress. 

People wizz by you, and Billy is even swept up as a Pa assist in the taking off of his prosthetics and blood. Agatha’s arm sticks to your side still, as she guides you offset. Before Barton can even come back to hand you water. 

The two of you lazily walk back to your trailer, and Agatha open the mini fridge, surveying for a second before pulling out a cold glass bottle of black cherry soda. Easily swiping your bottle opening and cracking the top off. Then, walking over to where you’d plopped onto the trailer sofa. You wanted to watch her, to study her, but instead you closed your eyes and let your head fall back. The taste of fake blood making your tongue feel bloated and numb in your mouth. 

The sofa cushion dips next to you, and you wonder if Agatha will reach out and touch you, like two lovers reconnecting after a long day. But she waits instead, and you give up, opening your eyes to see her admiring your face. 

“You should keep more than soda in your trailer.” It’s not said with any kind of malice, it is stated as a fact. And you want to ask if she means for you, or for her. But the metal door is banged on, and you whimper, closing your eyes,  Agatha tells the intruder to come in. Which you wish didn’t make you feel domestic with your co-star. 

But Dottie walks in with two plastic bags full of catering, and you open your eyes and gush at her. 

“Dottie, you are the best!” 

Agatha opens her hand to receive the food, and Dottie blows you an air kiss before leaving to go to the next person on her list. Agatha dispensed both of your lunches, and you couldn’t stop the urge to openly stare at your costar. 

“You’ll get a nosebleed trying that hard to read my mind.” Agatha teases without looking at you. Cracking open her plastic clamshell to-go container with the huge Greek salad she had every afternoon. 

“You can’t quote movie lines to me - offset!” You laugh through the outrage. “That’s plagiarism!” 

Agatha twirls a plastic fork and hums as if she’s pretending to placate you, and you both smirk now. This flirting was coming too easily. 

“You have-” Agatha stops, and you wonder why she suddenly seems bashful. 

“Fake blood and open wounds just now bothering you for lunch?” You make fun of Agatha, knowing she had a pretty strong stomach as you’d forced her to screen an unholy amount of 80’s slashers. It assisted her in the long-term, as your characters ran on this practical movie set with fictional magic, making stunt doubles excrete copious amounts of blood and guts. Earning it’s R rating and bending towards NC-17 discussions. 

Agatha reached out a hand to your skin to wipe her thumb over your collarbone. Right where the fake blood didn’t reach, but her dark red lipstick stain was tattooed onto you. It was in an important scene in the script, and Agatha had kissed this spot enough; you found it funny how shy she suddenly was touching the place her lips had scorched you. Where no other would ever be able to kiss again. 

“You can’t wipe that off! It’s my lipstick stain!” You jerked away from her touch. 

“I didn’t realize it belonged to you!” Agatha chuckles, rubbing her fingers together from her lipstick. Her overall demeanor appeared gratified by your words. 

“Lipstick stains are earned and you can’t take them away!” You play it up, but the sincerity in your words rings true to you all the same. 

Agatha takes a moment to really digest what you said, and you wish you could hide from her gaze. So when you reach for a napkin to rub off the blood from your own fingers. You make yourself busy, as Agatha doesn’t move, like she’s goin through thoughts about you. Ones you aren’t privy to, but also don’t know how to interrupt. Agatha’s face resembles that of a main character in a fundamental moment of the plot. 

So you try not to shrink from the intensity of her stare. Your hands deliberately move with too much effort as you take your lunch of melty, steaming quesabirrias. You can’t stand this one more moment; blame it on the way you were raised. But your broken home created an excessive need to fill in the gap with conversation. So you broke Agatha’s authentic moment, as she was getting lost in the curve of your cheek.       

“You know, you don’t have to babysit me, I’m okay after that scene.” You want to defend yourself as an established actor. Agatha didn’t just do this on the bad scene days though, not just as you pretended to fight for your life. Agatha had been on you like a magnet, more so than all the other cast. Though she didn’t let them feel left out, always being conscious of the call sheet of people. 

“What makes you think I’m not just here to soak up your company before I have to see you covered in blood, again?” Agatha tries to frame it in a way that would make you laugh. But it’s a little too forced. You scrunch your nose up, a habit you’d picked up from her. Before answering in a way that would not be forgotten by either of you. 

“I think you gotta learn to act better.” 

It sat there for a moment, you saying this to an actress of her caliber, with her awards, and large fan base. Before you couldn’t stop the laughter, and Agatha snorted along with your infectious laugh. Putting a hand to cover her mouth, trying to stop the fit. 

“I’ll just have to get on that, thanks for the advice, Superstar.” Agatha’s nicknames for you sticks. Though it only ever sounds genuine and affectionate when the leading lady Harkness, says it. 

“Yeah, you gotta fix it, or you’ll be the next Madame Web.” You kid and Agatha nod like this is very serious. 

“Did you ever consider that I’m a bad actress around you because I don’t want to lie to you. That I can’t lie to you?” Agatha didn’t mean to say it like that, but as her eyes avoid yours, you hear something new in the in-between of it all. And a million different answers flood you.  

But a pounding on your trailer stops any hope you have for understanding more. Your lunches were short this last few weeks because of the amount of blood and prosthetics you needed to have applied. 

Agatha tries to give you a reassuring smile, and you don’t know how to comfort her now. 

“I guess we’ll have to act for a while longer,” Agatha says it, and it stings instead of her intention to cool the disappointment you are both feeling. 

The special effects team floods in your trailer two seconds later, and Jac comes in to tell you both there is a party tonight, a work event with booze. That the studio wants a photo opportunity and a chance to shmooze with some investors. And that the film franchise you were entering into was such a big money grab, that they wanted the chance to suck you at the source. 

Agatha stayed and stabbed her salad passively, as blood was re-applied to your neck. You didn’t eat, and tried to limit the number of times your eyes would fall on your co-star. Jac was digging into Agatha’s thoughts on the next scene, how she felt the character needed to portray her intentions. 

You wished you could have the powers of your characters now, to talk to her privately in your mind. You wondered why Agatha couldn’t look at you, no matter how many times you tried to steal her gaze, wow. Agatha Harkness was an amazing actress in this moment. 

After shooting, you tried your best to avoid Agatha. Leaving the set to go home and change,  your people had already sent over a gorgeous dress and heels. With a sticky note for makeup to come over in an hour. So no nap for you, okay that was fine. You’d go to your kitchen, build an Italian sub, pound it down. Crack open a blue can of Monster mango energy drink, and take the fastest shower ever. It would all be fine. Your phone vibrated three times and you ignored the text from Agatha and Billy. Instead opening Twitter to see new fanart made with you on your knees licking Agatha’s character. Your cheeks became hot and you pocketed the phone, no time for that. Time to get battle-ready. 

_________

The first hour of the party had been fine, photos taken on the mini carpet outside with big wigs. Patti, Sal, and Matt gushed and you all cheesed as sixty photographers blinded you. You got your photo op with Jac, you gave a real grin when she hugged you close and kissed your cheek affectionately. Like a mother or an aunt would their child going to prom. You couldn’t help but love Jac for all she was doing for you, with you. 

When Agatha wasn’t outside for pictures, you ignored the pull in your gut to go find her. To crawl into her embrace, like you two did so often on the sofa with a scary movie. Platonicly though, yeah completely platonicly…You got inside and B-lined it for the bar. Knowing that the Monster and half of sandwich wasn’t the best for the amount of alcohol you’d drink tonight. But it was better than nothing. 

The bartender seemed momentarily starstruck by you, his dark curls and freckles reminding you a little of Billy. But there was something way more Harrison Ford about him. A younger you would have let him fuck you in the bathroom, knowing he’d never call. Or worse he could and you’d date for a few months and have to pretend you liked red hot chilli peppers while he attempted to eat you out. Or let him man splain Yeats to you from his college class. As though he hadn’t read more than one of Yeats poems. This white boy would look at you through his hipster glasses and say ““There are no strangers, only friends you have not met yet.” Being proud of his quote, and you’d open your legs for this failed playright, or actor, or author, or whatever he was aspiring to be. Because he was in love with aspiring. Thank god you’d killed that version of you, that girl long gone. With enough failed romance and well-timed Paris Paloma albums. You’d found you couldn’t take another three-month romp with a guy who was convinced he’d been the first to ever listen to Bon Iver. No thanks, so you smiled casually and ordered your drink. And after he made it, his perfect lips opened to shoot his shot. And you were all too relieved when  Hilary Swank cut him off - ordereding her vodka and cranberry juice. Eyeing you and giving you a small nod, like she could see where that was going. You returned the look, and she smirked in enjoyment of your camaraderie for washed-up poets who were allergic to condoms. 

You swiped your drink and lifted it to say thanks and goodbye and she laughed as the bartender set down her drink and you made your great escape. 

The image of Steve McQueen in ‘The Great Escape’ played in your cinematicly committed mind, like the films were on reels in your brain. Stacked up against the walls, ready to be pulled out and slapped into a projector. It was your job, but it was also your biggest love. The love of your life. 

You weren’t completely ready for more people or cameras, so as you scouted actors and producers rubbing shoulders, finding potential business deals, you needed to find a happy, quiet, isolated corner.  

You eased out to the half outdoor patio and squeezed past Karyn Kusama and Jennifer Kent. As the two debated wildly about Krampus folklore to Coralie Fargeat. You couldn’t help but smile at the powerhouse of women horror directors you were slipping by. Coralie clocked you, and nodded as the two other directors were arguing on Krampus's queer coded origins. You nodded back, hoping one day to be lucky enough to work with any of the three. But tonight was about surviving, you paused at a small, tall table overlooking a large pool and a buffet. Inside, they had been playing Kendrick Lamar’s DAMN album loudly. As people talked and got drunk. It seemed outside was a more relaxed party. As they were playing Albert Hammond Jr and The Smiths songs here, like this was the less rowdy crowd. Or perhaps they just knew people would come outside to smoke weed, and inside in the bathroom to do cocaine? You catch a glimpse of Kathryn Newton heading towards the food arm and arm with Winona Ryder. That’s when you realize, this was for sure more your crowd. 

That was until your calm was broken with heads turning in your direction, or not your direction, but behind you. You took a long gulp of your Moscow mule, ready for something bad to happen. Calculatedly turning to see the one person who would definitely make this crowd of stars part like the Red Sea. Or maybe like; Catherine Tramell from Basic Instinct

Maya Mason, head of Continental Studio’s Marketing department, one of the biggest pulls in the whole town of Hollywood, really. 

And her sights were locked in on you, the predator noises played in your head, heat signature jokes coming too quickly to your sarcastic palate. 

Maya smiled widely at you, like you were exactly the tall glass of water she’d been looking for. In her 5’5 glory, with a little help from designer heels, in an outfit that could only be worn by her. Nails long enough to shred any man who interrupted you two, like motherfucking Wolverine. Maya Mason was an enigma to you. You just couldn’t figure out why she seemed to enjoy singling you out, finding you at parties, picking at you. Like a child pulling the legs off of a spider. 

Maya seemed to enjoy tugging at the ends of your threads, and she’d been doing it since you worked on your first film, so it had nothing to do with your stardom. Maya Mason just liked you, if you could call it like? As the force to be reckoned with got closer she called to you.  

“Macbeth, you look positively wicked this evening.” Maya’s outfit cost more than you made from your first two movies combined. So she was really one to talk. You wouldn’t ignore that Maya was gorgeous, that she held power, that it was nice to receive compliments from her. Just because you didn’t wanna suck off Mr. Chillipeppers didn’t mean you couldn’t get wet from Maya Mason’s flirtatious nature, even if you wouldn’t do anything about it. 

As her heels echoed on the fancy patio, you wonder why she gives such little distance, why the Studio’s head of marketing desires being in your personal space. But it felt incredibly intimate as you both were now standing closer than two people who worked together, than even two close friends. This was the space and body language you gave to someone you shared sexual fluids with. 

“I figured you would have forgotten that nickname by now.” You try to be friendly, and Maya tilts her head to the side just a little. Like a dog would it’s owner. Her left hand held an expensive drink in it, and she uses her free hand to take a pack of smokes out of her back pocket. 

“You don’t lie so well, Macbeth. I sent you a dinner invite, you declined.” Maya states with more ease than you’d given her credit for. As though it did hurt, but she wasn’t angry about it, just disappointed. 

“I don’t think - I mean I’m not sure I’m your type. Besides, the movie has been-”

“Kind excuses are still excuses. You really do look beautiful tonight.” Maya’s eyes don’t leave yours, and you see she’s being earnest. Which is even more unsettling, as she is able to mouth the cig, holding it between her teeth, pocketing the pack, and bring forth a golden lighter. 

Your eyes catch an inscription. 

“What does your lighter say?” You ask, hoping she’ll forget the date that never was. Maya smirks and then hands it to you, and you hesitate before taking it between your fingers. It’s heavier than you expected, and you flip it over. 

“Screw your courage to the sticking place and we will not fail.”

You repeat the writing of Shakespeare out loud, and your fingers trace over the deep texture. 

“I just thought you were teasing me.” It sounds stupid as it rolls out of your mouth. What did this fucking mean? Macbeth jokes, a lighter with the play quote transcribed, Maya’s continuous tugging on your pigtails like she was in elementary school. The fuck was Marketing getting at here?

“You did, huh?” Maya’s question doesn’t seem like it’s just conversational, but deeper. 

“I didn’t realize, I mean I-” You ponder too long, you haven’t given the lighter back, and it’s silly but Maya leans forward. As if it were a film noir moment, the girl gets her cigarette lit by her paramour. Her warm gaze lidded, blue eyes looking up at you through long lashes. 

You waver, and being off kilter seems to bring a small bit of satisfaction to Maya’s demeanor. 

Maya Mason, in this moment, appears to you like a prince does in a fairytale, bowing in respect to a princess, excitement in his eyes for a dance that he may ask for later in the night. 

And you stumble, but flip the light, a tiny blue and orange flame springs to life, contrasting with the one in your belly now. You light the end of her cigarette before handing her back the lighter, but Maya is too smooth for you. And she cups your hand. 

“You are something else, ya know that?” Maya’s voice carrys nothing but admiration, and it kicks the oxygen out of your lungs. 

“She’s a Superstar.” Agatha’s voice breaks the trance, and you take your hand out of Maya’s, who doesn’t let go like you did. Lingering in your warm palm as long as she can. She holds the lighter like it’s a memento of something real you two shared. 

“Macbeth has a long, fruitful career ahead of her, this studio will make sure of that.” Maya’s eyes flicker to Agatha, but return to stare at you. And Aagatha crosses the space to lean against your side now, and you wonder if this is what people mean when they talk about food aggression in dogs. 

“Maya Mason.” Agatha lets the name sit, like one does after saying a serial killer's name in casual conversation.

“Agatha Harkness, the MILF of witches. How are you enjoying the party?” Maya asks her, taking a drag of the cigarette and then flicking ash a little to pointedly in her direction. Agatha laughs, but you don’t recognize that sound, as it is the first fake thing you’ve heard from your co-star. 

“The Masacre of Marketing and you really are gonna use the word MILF? What are we twelve?” Agatha shows her teeth in this smile, but looks like she’s baring down just a bit too hard. Her hand finds the middle of your back and it is claiming - like a game of Battleship. And Maya isn’t about to lose. 

“I think some of us may be more youthful than others, but whatever. Ya know, some of us are just more in touch with what’s happening.” Maya’s glance towards you was like a politician trying to get you to agree with her message but you can’t believe how rude this conversation has gotten. And you open your mouth to defend Agatha, only for it to get worse. “Macbeth, here, now she’s exactly what the people want.”

“What the people want, or what you want?” Agatha calls her out, and you can’t believe either of them now, as you look between the two. A unfriendly hand of verbal warfare - of wit, only with a scalpel. 

“I do want her, can you say the same, Harkness? I hope that dull bulb in your closet is still keeping you warm.” Maya takes a stab, and now you are pissed. You hiss lowly, so that others can’t hear. 

“Maya, don’t.” Your voice is angry, and the studio head looks momentarily at a loss, like perhaps she should not have gone to that level. Not because of Agatha, but because of your reaction. 

“No, it’s okay. You think I’d be bad for her brand?” Agatha isn’t stupid, and you see she’s making conversationaly handing Maya a rope and waiting for her to tie the noose. Your best friend should not be underestimated, Maya’s downfall is her inability to back down from a good old fashion bloodsheding. But she’s unable to see that Agatha isn’t like other opponents. 

“Let’s just say, she’s Sarah Paulson, and you ain’t Holland, honey.” Maya’s jaw is tense and Agatha bends a little forward, her long dark hair moves like the tendrils of Medusa with her, as she goes to bite. 

“All you can think about his how we ‘look’. You couldn’t ever imagine a love without analysing how it would look with an Instagram filter. If all your relationship goals are centered around going viral. It’s no wonder she turned your advances down.” Agatha pin points the very real reason you had said no. Not wanting to be someone’s photo op, you wanted romance without the need to send out a press release. Agatha was good, damn. 

“At least I’ve made advances towards Macbeth, what are you doing, Harkness? You two gal pals? You what? FaceTime goodnight and share your favorite books, how second grade. Maybe she wants more than a BFF? Maybe she needs something a little…thicker?” Maya lets the last innuendo sting before smiling at her strap-on joke. 

“You are vile, and disgusting.” Agatha snarls before adding. “And you don’t deserve her.”

“Macbeth should decide, maybe she doesn’t wanna play in the shadows with you anymore? I can push her career, open doors, I can love her in the daytime. Something you’ll never do for her.” Maya spits truth and you hate every moment of this. A photographer comes over and Maya flicks her cigarette into a planter, then throws her arm over your shoulder. But Agatha is bolder, she wraps her arm around your middle, letting her hand securely grab your hip bone. Fingers dangerously sprawled against your dress, centimeters next to the line of your thong. 

He thanks you both taking too many pictures and you all fake smiles of enjoyment. With clenched teeth Agatha gives a blow that you can’t smile at anymore.  

“You have no idea what I would do for her.”

You drop your cocktail and yelp as it splashes everywhere, the photographer even panics, but three waiters come over as you crouch down to grab the broken glass. It’s a non-famous person move, and Maya grabs your left hand to stop you from getting on the floor. 

“No don’t - too many cameras.” Maya thanks them as you do too, apologizing, but Mrs. Mason is far more relaxed. Taking out a fifty and handing it to one of them. You go to help one more time but this time Agatha grabs your right hand. 

“Maya’s right, pictures of you on the floor will spread so fast, and you’ll be the story. Just let them do it, sweetheart.”

You were flushed, embarrassed, and aware of the party's eyes on you. Two gorgeous women grabbing you, controlling your movement, it should be hot. Yet, you just want to catch on fire and melt into the floor. 

“Continental Studios and their strong drinks!” Someone yells in the crowd and you feel even worse. Stealing your hands back out of theirs and smiling falsely before heading towards the bathroom. 

“Macbeth!” Maya shouts but Agatha isn’t going to let you run away. You throw open the bathroom door and look down at the bottom of your dress, which is soaked in your drink. 

“Damn it,” you hiss, going over to the cloth towels, thank you fucking fancy party. You try to figure out how to blot at your wet dress. Agatha pushes the door open and then locks it behind you.

“Sweet girl, you are okay. It wasn’t as big as it seemed. Let me see.” Agatha cooed at you, and you felt tears threatening to form. 

“I’m fine, please go enjoy the party.” You panic and you try to hold your breath to stop the embarrassment. But Agatha is already bending down to help you, which seems impossible in her gorgeous suit. But she does, blotting with the gentleness saved only for Nonna doing laundry. 

“It’s a silly work thing. I’d rather be curled up on the sofa with you watching - what was the next movie on our list, Beowulf?” Agatha pretends and smiles at you as she puts a cloth against your dress, looking up at you. Knowing that distracting you was the best way to stop a panic attack, and you chuckle wetly. 

“It was 2017’s ‘Life’ and you know that.” You fake chastise.

“Maybe I did,” Agatha whispers intimately, and she quickly wipes the tear you didn’t know fell away, before pulling back to get another hand towel.

“And you said you didn’t want to watch that one.”

“Well, maybe I was just acting poorly again.” 

You don’t play along to your inside joke. 

“I told you I had a crush on Rebecca Ferguson,” Agatha scoffs like that’s stupid and you continue your sentence. “- and you told me you didn’t like space movies. Which was not true, because you love Space Odyssey.” You reason, no longer helping as Agatha cleans your dress, bending over so you can’t see her face. 

“If you are going to walk down the red carpet with anyone, it’s not gonna be the ‘Reverend Mother’ in Dune.” Agatha mumbles, irritated, and you grab her arm to stop her. She seems confused, and you feel like something in you is breaking. 

“Agatha, what Maya said…What..Do you - I mean…” The knock on the bathroom door startles you both. 

“Out in a minute!” Agatha shouts before she stands and grabs your face with so much certainty it shakes your fragile heart. 

“I want to have this conversation. But I will not have it with you in a public bathroom. Please be patient?” Agatha asks you, and you can’t find it in yourself to tell her no. And she looks for a moment ready to kiss you but decides last minute to kiss your cheek, right under your right eye. Lipsticks stains were earned afterall. 

And you aren’t sure if you are holding your breath as Agathat lingers a little longer than necessary. When she steps back, she noticed you have some alchol splatter on your hip. So Agatha problem solves as you fell the wet lipstick on your cheek and it makes you dizzy. So many screen kisses, and yet it still stopped your heart like it was the first kiss.  Agatha doesn’t make time to indulge in teasing you about your reaction to a mere kiss on the cheek.

She’s busy  taking her suit jacket off, guiding your shaking arms through the holes.  And it looks like you two planned it. The jacket matches your dress and seems trendy. Agatha’s button-down is low and your eyes can’t help but try to follow the rabbit hole down her breasts. 

Agatha notices and seems to drink in your clear desire for her. You bite your bottom lip and Agatha licks hers like she wishes it was you. 

The knock on the door happens again and this time Agatha breaks the secret bathroom reality you two were living. Going to the door and flipping the lock as you turn with a fake smile, and the two of you leave the room. 

As Agatha is quickly grabbed by Lilia and four gay men who are trying to get her to tell them about a film from a decade ago. You see the instant regret as they pull her away from you.

But you attempt to give her a comforting smile, something reassuring that doesn’t meet your eyes, and she doestn’ buy it. Guess you two needed to work on your acting game in front of each other. 

But you head towards the bar and ask for another cocktail. 

“Don’t give it to her! She just wants to wear em this evening anyway!” Billy jokes, and you turn to glare at him good naturely, and he gives you a real hug. Not a fake L.A side hug, his skinny frame pressed against yours, gives you comfort now. “You okay back there? Two lesbians fighting over you looked a little intense even for my gay ass.” He giggles, and you laugh along.

It all was a tad absurd, and felt more like fiction than fact, Maya and Agatha playing for your favor. Far too close to Nora Ephron, and you could never be Meg Ryan no matter how much you’d love to wear the frumpy jumpers. Fuck, movies were really so much better than reality. 

Billy’s outfit was leather and little chains like a baby goth. And he looked like he could be a model, his perfectly sharp cheekbones and light lipglosss made him practically aetherial, not of this world. 

Billy hands you a small napkin that was a makeshift coaster.

“You have dark red lipstick on your cheek.” He tells you and you take the napkin out of his hand and you hesitate, not ready to be rid of your brand. 

“Thanks,” you said it because you are supposed to. 

“You okay though?” Your fellow cast member seemed to really mean it, chewing on his lip absent mindedly, a trait that appeared so distinctly adolescent. He’d lose this habit, this town would skin him, and he’d lose his sweetness, his fragility. The things that make a young soft gentlemen into a detached actor with a codeine problem. And you didn’t want to see Billy lose this, fuck if you could bottle it for him you would. 

But you long ago stopped chewing on your straw tips, overly thanking everyone in emails, and seeking validation in the wrong people. The image of Agatha’s character slapping the floor and saying ‘Time to Grow Up’ rings true here as well. 

“Oh that, that was nothing.” You shrug your shoulder and try to play it off and you must be a better actor than you thought, or Billy is afraid of awkward moments. Because he just nods and smiles. 

“You wanna dance?”

“Fuck yeah I do.” You can’t believe how relieved you are as he grabs your hand, drinks forgotten, and yanks you down into the party where the young queer people are dancing to some remixed Cher  Dark Lady. You try not to feel old, as you wish they hadn’t put all this techno and new age base drops, but you dance with Billy. Not caring about the eyes watching you, and Billy made sure to twirl you. You gently grind on him and Alice comes over to grind on his other side and Billy’s ears turn red. Two actresses touching the queer man was enough for him to blush, but not enough for him not to twirk against you and giggle. You wondered what it was like to be twenty one with this much limelight. 

After the fifth song you were a little sweaty and for sure convinced you didn’t have the stamina you once did. They were blaring a remix of ‘I Lied to You’ from the film Sinners. And it was making people dance a little more intimate than before, Patrick Swayze would have been proud. And Alice and Billy try to capture you back onto the floor you laugh but decline. Already too exhausted. So when you pull ourself to the bar and one of the heads of Paramount starts to walk over to you. Your heart sinks but your white knight comes in a strange package. 

“You looked good out there. Hope there’s dancing in the movie.” Maya’s voice hits you like a steam room and you flinch. 

“Please don’t do this again.”

Maya’s palms opened towards you. As the bartender slides what he already knew she’d been drinking that night. 

“I come in peace Macbeth. ”

“Stop it.” You close your eyes and wish that Mr. Paramount would come back. Anything but this again. Maya’s voice dropped an octave and the room started to spin, were you in Vertigo now?

“Hey, I’m not a bad guy.” It was more whiney then defensive, and Maya’s shoulder twitched just enough to confirm that. 

“What do you want?” Your voice was strained, all sense of respect for a studio head leaving. 

“I want what Agatha Harkness got freely.” It sounds transactional, but remains egotistical like a teenage boy with his first spout of jealousy. 

“What are you talking about?”

“You won’t give me the time of day. You heard the rumors about me, you made up your mind. But all I’m asking for is the same thing you gave your leading lady. Hey, if you don’t want to date me fine. Well, not fine really. I’m not a great loser, so I’ll win you over through friendhsip and excessive gifts.”

The image of Margot Robbie in Wolf of Wall Street play against your eyelids and it makes you angry.

“I don’t want anything from you.” The idea that Maya could buy your affection, your time, your body. It was a slap in the face. You acted in Hollywood for a living -  you weren’t Maya’s personal cam girl. You didn’t need a Sugar Mama. You could make your own money, and fame without Mrs. Mason. 

“Neither do I, I just want to get to know you.” This stopped your tirade, but still - it felt performative from the woman who rocked Burberry like it was a religion.  

“You don’t know me, and I’m not worth your trouble.” You wondered if that was your trauma talking or you. But you meant it either way. Maya’s eyes narrowed as she looked at you like you were wounded in a way she wasn’t expecting, before she changed tactics. 

“Macbeth, I’m not here for PR. I came here tonight to try to be your friend.” You blink at her and give her a pathetic smile and she nods, seeing she’s been caught. Or perhaps having a change of heart. “Okay, I came for you to fall in love with me, but if that’s the long game then so be it. Let me take you out.”

“Maya-” Your voice softens now, seeing the cracks in her Gucci war gear, all of this was armor. Maya was broken, just like you. And now that she was human to you, it was harder to villainize her. 

“Let me take you somewhere.” Maya’s voice resembles Leo in Romeo and Juliet. Fuck who hurt Maya Mason. She inches closer to you sitting on the barstool next to you. The low light of the evening, sun having gone down only made this more romantic, harder to hide away from her rawness. 

“Maya-” You try, and it sounds like ‘no.’

“Let me take you to a movie, come on. Let me be your friend.” It’s a little Tom Hanks in You’ve Got Mail. But you see she’s not gonna let this go. Maya’s conviction lacked it’s previous courage. Her ego long gone, this unguarded woman seeming to beg - ‘Love me, please let me be wrong about myself.’

“Friends?” You question and it doesn’t even seem honest as you say it but Maya’s face lights up. Maya wouldn’t stop at friends, but you also found it impossible to ignore the pull to her. 

“We are going to be good friends.” Miss Marketing sounds very sure of herself. Like a Disney cartoon type of optimistic. 

You snort at how excited this adult was at the idea of your meanial friendship. 

“You and me like; Thelma and Louise!” 

Now you glare at her as she sips her whiskey sour. Of course Maya would pick the gayest straight friendship of all time. Suprising she didn’t say ‘Friend Green Tomatoes.’

“More like Freddie and Jason.” You correct - keeping the humor but not allowing such romance to bud. And Maya cackles in delight at the power couple you compare them too. 

“That’s cute, but I’d say we’re more like Bogart and Bergman or Morticia and Gomez.” Agatha steps in once again and it hits you like a record scratch. But you turn to the gorgeous woman who’s jacket you are wearing. She had been mucking it up, doing her homework assignment. But was tired of playing nice in the sandbox, while people picked at you. Her demeanor screamed ‘she’s mine.’ And you gas lit yourself to believe that Agatha didn’t care, and you were imaging this. 

“Nice outfit swap, but Gomez I’ll tell you right now that you didn’t wear it best.” Maya rolls her eyes but taps her glass for another drink. Like she was going to need it for round two. Agatha rolls her white silk blouse sleeves up, like she was ready to get into the muck and scoop you out again. 

You order whiskey now, and Agatha puts up two fingers to signal she wants the same. 

Agatha moves to your left, so that the two of them are on either side. Whiskey splashes against the one ice cube and the bartender serves Agatha first but she pushes the drink to you. Before taking the second glass. And you want to thank her for the chivalry, but your tongue has forgotten how to roll in your mouth correctly. Instead you took a large gulp of your drink, letting it burn down your throat and warm your chest. 

“Can you two maybe come in peace for the rest of the night? I don’t want to wear anymore drinks.” And it takes a beat and then Maya opens her mouth to say something, probably snarky, but Agatha stops her with a hand. 

“Listen, we both don’t want to make a scene for her. Truce for now?” Agatha asked, but didn’t look at Miss Marketing, blue eyes trained ahead to the mirror. Reflecting behind where people were pointing and whispering at the three powerful women in Hollywood speaking to one another at the bar.  Maya laughed dejectedly taking a long sip of the drink. 

The night draws to an end, you get a photo with more people you won’t remember, and you wish you had eaten more. As someone sorta creepy from Hulu tells you he’s interested in making a mini series with you about a lesbian retelling of Horai. You tune him out at one point when he starts mansplaing greek mythology and telling you how much of your naked body needed to be in it. That’s when you wondered if he really worked for Hulu. 

So when Lilia interrupted you two -  he gasped and said what a fan he was of Miss Oscar winning Calderu. You were grateful Lilia had a good poker face, she thanked him and said you were needed. Lila chaperoned you outside, and you asked once out of earshot. 

“Jac needs me for more photos?”

“Heavens no, but you just met Loki and he’s disgruntled and hungry to turn Hulu into Showtime or HBO with his crusade for sex in films. And you my dear, need to leave this party. All the good oxgyden is leaving the room.” Lilia used the phrase and you really caught on to her meaning. It was like the hyenas stayed to get the scraps off the floor of fame. 

Lilia stopped outside where valets and limos were congesting the front of the building. Lilia kissed your cheeks, noticing the lipstick stain that Agatha wore still stuck to you. The famous woman tilted her head to the side to study you. Her grin grew like flowers blooming and she whispered how gorgeous you looked. 

“You know, Agatha and I may bring our names to this film. But you are it’s star. Doll, you are gonna be the next Janet Leigh.” Lilia meant it too, as she squeezed you on last time and walked off towards a nineteen year old with her and a rather handsome gentlemens car. He looked around twenty years younger than her, and giddy at the possibility of getting lucky. You smiled at her, good for Lilia. 

But it seemed your babysitting was only being changed from one to another, as  Jac and Agatha flocked to your sides from behind. 

“Wow, Leigh is iconic.” Jac murmured sticking her hands in her suit jacket pockets and Agatha shrugged. Her hair dancing at the ends from the breeze, but she had to add:

“Think bigger, you’ll put Ingrid Bergman and Jane Fonda to shame, Superstar.” Agatha’s confidence in you made you blush and you turned to her just as she put her hand on the back of your bare neck. It isn’t subtle; it is an intimate placement and you wonder if she’s sober enough to think it through. But Jac wraps her arm around your arm, and you hope if they take a photo it won’t be as incriminating this way. 

“We have seven more movies, with how much the fans are responding already. This is gonna make Hitchcock stir from the grave.” The three of you walk towards the every moving line of limos to get home. And you bite your lip not wanting to leave Agatha yet. “Enjoy the quiet before the storm, once this movie premieres, you won’t get to so much as go to Barns and Noble without a whole secret service team.” 

Jac snorts before releasing you and kissing your cheek, something it seemed everyone was doing to you. You returned the gesture, like one does to a family member out love admiration and respect.  And Jac appreciates it as she squeezes Agatha’s free hand. The one not still holding you, like she could ground you. Which you realize her warm hand was the only thing that was doing such an act tonight. 

Jac went to the next limo and opened the door before turning to tell you. 

“Hollywood is a place where they'll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul. ” 

Jac stopped in the middle of the quote, seeming to let this weight hit you. You couldn’t help but be bewildered at her words, finding that Marilyn Monroe fell from your fearless leaders lips so easily. But Agatha’s hand stayed firm, and she finished the lesson. 

“-I know, because I turned down the first offer often enough and held out for the fifty cents.” Agatha answered it seamlessly and Jac nodded like it calmed her, this secret code answered back.  

The exchange made it unquestionable to you, standing in the warm night of L.A. With the Santa Ana winds flicking the corners of Agatha’s suit jacket, the one that wrapped you in her safety. 

Jac, Lilia, Agatha Harkness and fuck even Maya Mason, were in your corner. They were women in Hollywood, in this industry, making art. Women who have fought to get to these positions. To tell the stories they wanted, queer stories, women-empowered stories.  And they were changing the game, making history with their work. And they were shielding you, protecting you, and teaching you. They paved the way and fought for Hollywood to be a better place for young people like you in this business. Queer yes, women in hollywood in general, of course. You hadn’t needed to give any sexual favors to get this part. These women were moving this industry forward, and the way they treated you would change how you treated the next generation as well. 

You were their legacy, and they would fight for your right to enjoy the limelight. 

It wasn’t that they were sucking the fame from your fingertips as you rode the success up and up and up. It was that this group of strong women, were making sure you were going to be okay. Get your awards, the money, the fame of course. But at the end of the day, they wouldn’t let you slip. Would catch you long before you felt the pain. 

So you wouldn’t be found dead, naked, like Marilyn. 

It made you feel safer than you ever had before. Jac winked at you, as if she saw the light turn on in your attic. Before gazing at Agatha one last time. 

“Take care of each other.” She mouthed, and you both inched closer to one another as she sat in the car. 

You went home alone that night, much to you and Agatha’s dismay. As she seemed weary of leaving you alone, not sure if it was the fear of you being alone after such a night. The underlying unease at the idea of you going into the arms of Maya. Or because she wanted to have that conversation, the one that started in a restroom. 

But either way you went home alone, and changed into comfy sweats. Crawling into your bed you don’t notice your phone blowing up with notifications. Twitter and Instagram coming into the 100’s of retweets and comments. Still you don’t see it. Not even the ones from Jac and the cast. Or of Maya’s repeated DM’s or Agatha’s frenzy of calls. You melt into your bed - pulling the comforter up to your chin - and flipping on your TV. Finding the 1960’s black and white ‘Psycho’ playing just as Leigh checks into the Bates Motel. 

Alfred Hitchcok wasn’t a good person - that was clear. Yet you couldn’t ignore the Bergman and Leigh comments on the night. The screen calmed you down, as your phone vibrated on repeat lost in the sheets. The TV screen was the light -  the only one in your bedroom. Cascading over the lumpy comforter and pillows. 

Chewing on your cheek you reflect on the night, on Monroe and Harkness. On the idea of Agatha as either Mortica or Gomez, pondering which was more likely. Damn, she would be delicious in that dress. Your eyes close just as the bathroom liner is pulled back and Leigh shrieks in horror. 

How quick everything could change, just as the curtain was pulled back for all to see.

To be continued...

Like my work? Buy me a Witchs Brew - Tip Jar

Green was the color of your mother's irises; you still saw the dead stare she gave that day. Her pupils no longer registered you or your father with his smoking shotgun. Your mother’s blood pooled out of her stomach, like butter melting in a dish, oozing and falling. The fat separating and the flies collecting over it.

 The emerald glass potion glistened in her palm, her last attempt at magic. The final thing she clung to, before her story ended. And you are glad you don’t remember the smell of the gun going off, or the mist of blood splatter. Not even your father’s cologne, the really expensive one he saved for dates. No, none of those memories were reachable anymore. 

You came from a long line of witches, your ancestors were with the witches who didn’t burn in the south. Your mama was a witch, by tradition but also by profession. And your father had killed her once he found out what she’d done to keep him. The potions she slipped into his morning coffee, his grits, his greasy catfish, and his nighttime whiskey. Your mother had caught herself a wealthy businessman, but it wasn’t the money. It was the confidence he exuded. His presents helped, yes, but your Mama was smart; she was cunning. She knew that love took work, a little push. 

So when the businessman with the nice things, and all that inflated ego fell for a witch from the south. Well, it was only a matter of time before it all went to horse shit.  All this was ancient history though. No use in tears today. 

The point was, you were no stranger to the dangers of a love spell. The morality and ethical conversation of it all.

Yet you brew it anyway. Like stepping on the crack even after you knew it would break your mother's back. 

You held no shame for this; you reasoned with yourself that you were in love. It was sick, it was wrong, a one-sided romance. Agatha Harkness was everything you’d ever wanted. So you knew you’d do absolutely anything to be hers, even if you had to break the rules to get her. So yeah, you’d brewed the potion with Damiana, wanting the ultimate closeness. You’d used yarrow, cinnamon, and patchouli. Hoping to create a deep sense of passion and desire. A need that would never be satiated in Agatha. You added too much clove to amplify it, to enhance the intensity of Agatha’s need for you. Because over the last nine months, you had felt obsessed with Agatha Harkness. 

And all you wanted, you coveted, was for her to love you in return. 

But you should have known better, because you had not heeded your mother's advice, her warning, the end of her story. You did not think to read the measurements of the potion, going with too little of that, and a dash to much of this. 

If you had paid attention in your frenzied state. You would have added rose petals; it would have added some tenderness, fragility that comes with new love. But no, you did not add any softness; you forgo the honey. Not finding any in your pantry, and you wanted the spell done. You’d brewed it after finishing a bottle of wine, having masturbated to her LinkedIn profile pic. You were so far gone, you even dipped your fingers in your own cunt and smeared it onto the wooden spoon. Dunking it into the potion. That could have been the silver bullet. 

Had you stopped, remembered your mother's teaching, her legacy. If you had read the instructions, the grimoire in your shaking hands. 

You would have known that honey would have made your love sweet. That Agatha would have been sweeter to you, kinder. That dropping your own nectar into the pot would only bring trouble your way. This potion was one fatal mistake after another. Potions were never your strong suit; dabbling in them without proper study was a terrible idea. And now you would pay the price. 

Why, why, why had you not read your mother's grimoire all the way through? Her death really should have been warning enough. Generational trauma did not translate to you in your selfish endeavor. 

Agatha Christie, a smart witch of her own right, once said, “Good advice is always certain to be ignored, but that's no reason not to give it.” So maybe someone one day would look at your story and learn what you didn’t learn from your mothers. But let’s not jump ahead. 

The day you gave your boss the potion, you almost wondered how it had taken you this long to do it. Why didn’t more witches do this?

You slipped the potion easily into Agatha’s iced oatmilk shaken espresso. No one saw a thing. It was the hottest day this summer, reaching a new high. In the south, it always felt undeniably hot. Though there were different levels of being uncomfortable from this type of weather. Today was a level of humidity, was only meant for Hell. The torturous heat was the type that stuck your clothes to your wet skin. Like everyone was a sinner in a wooden church pew.  The mildew was thick on things, the bugs were loud, and the willow trees looked ready to take someone's soul prisoner. 

As Agatha drank the cool drink, you did your best not to gawk in the middle of the staff meeting at how quickly your boss gulped it all down.

 Mrs. Harkness was thirsty, of course she was, even with the pitiful window AC, the room was at least 92 degrees inside. The wooden conference table had a bit of condensation to the top of it. Like a snake's second skin. 

The building you all were occupying was built within the last ten years. Agatha Harkness ran Maximoff’s Maximum Security. Wanda Maximoff, a billionaire businesswoman, had been very smart. She’d started many great companies that made a large profit.

Oh, that was different, wasn’t it? The distinction, a great company, not great values or people. Or even the way it treated people, no, not people - employees, that was the better legal word. Employees weren’t people; people had responsibilities. Kids and loved ones, homes and medical needs. No, employees was a better word, a tax  form, a social security number. One more faceless name on a roster. Replaceable was a better word than employee, honestly. 

Well, Maximoff, how to describe her? Well, let’s say it this way. She and Bezo’s got brunch every second Wednesday. That feels as deep as anyone needs to go. 

You’d gone to college, you liked sales, and you thrived in manipulation. Perhaps it was because you could pull magic. Their souls were on strings, and you just needed to pluck them just so, and they’d do anything you said. 

Which is why you were number two in the entire company. The only reason you were allowed in these stupid meetings, to see Agatha Harkness. To be this close. 

Agatha had at one point been ready to buy out Wanda, but something had happened. Something sinister, an undercut, a move that reeked of blackmail and payoffs. No one knew what, though. So Agatha took over the CEO slot and seemed to be the gator in this southern swamp, waiting to snatch the company once more. 

And why the South? This story should take place in New York, the city that never sleeps. With it’s Wall Street and cocaine addicted business types with their golf games and upstate homes. The pinky ring and speedboat men. Because what New York Barbie toy isn’t complete without these added accessories? 

Well, Harkness had that life, a house in L.A, a penthouse in Manhattan overlooking Central Park. Fuck she had enough money to make Bezos lie down on a plastic mat and wrestle Mark Zuckerberg, naked, covered in Jello. She was smart, too, though, not just cruel and rich. Agatha must have memorized the ‘Art of War.’ Because she was vicious in business transactions. Yale and Brown business schools did that you supposed. Or perhaps she was from such a high pedigree that she was born with that shit. 

None of it was fair; and it all made you so wet. You just wanted her to be that mean to your aching cunt. To slap your mouth, to leave you humping her shoe until rug burn took over your knees. And then you wanted her to spit into your raw burns. 

You had it bad. 

But whatever shady deal had been made, Wanda had buried Agatha Harkness. Making her set up this building in the middle of the south. This was Agatha’s punishment, and one that Wanda no doubt laughed about weekly on the big calls. As she smirked and asked Agatha ‘How hot is it today in the Bible belt?’Which was incorrect, technically, New Orleans was not the bible belt. But the New Yorker either didn’t know that, or didn’t care. She just wanted Agatha to feel two inches tall. 

So, as Bruce spoke about the new IT app launching for maximum security, you traced the visual outline of Agatha chugging her spiked drink. Like it was the only thing saving her. 

Did she like the taste of the potion?

Could she taste your blood in it? Could she taste your cum? Was that why she was guzzling the whole thing down? Did she like the taste of you in your most raw form? Was the copper the thing her tongue had been missing this whole time? Hungry for someone she didn’t know she needed. 

This was wishful thinking, and yet the ice in her drink made noise as Bruce rambled, unable to look at anyone else. Agatha popped the top off and attempted to get every drop, good. You hoped it hit her bloodstream fast. 

“Alright, well, that’s been great, Bruce. I think that concludes this meeting; it’ll all be in your email. So not sure why it was a meeting at all.” Yelena’s cold tone stopped the poor IT man from choking on his own spit. 

Yelena was young, and you weren’t sure where they found her. But she was ready to fire everyone, not enjoying you lowly employees. It seemed she didn’t like the South either. Her hair and tailored pantsuit said L.A. 

But her words were tongue twisted, sounding further from these shores. Whatever, it didn’t matter. What mattered is that Agatha had chugged that drink like a freshman at a frat party. 

Now that the meeting was coming to a close, Yelena stopped everyone. 

“Damn, um, alright, so the sales team and the higher-ups are having a dinner just this location. Yes it is mandatory, no you can’t go home first. So there will be a car to take us for some music and food or whatever. It’s on Maximoff’s dime, so let’s just get the good booze.” Yelena mumbled the last bit, but the team did seem to like the idea of free booze. You trailed out with the rest of the herd of people in their suits and pencil skirts. Heading out of the building and towards the town cars. Guess no limo this time, well, that was fine, as long as Wanda was buying the alcohol, you didn’t care what you drove in.  

You stood in the back of the line of mostly men, as they piled four to a car. Then the car would close and they’d drive away. It only took about six cars before you realized it was just you left. 

Until of course, the dreaded click of Louboutin heels behind you. You don’t hear the car pull up, you hold your breath. A bit of sweat rolls down your neck, and you wait, wondering if Agatha can see your fear, your anticipation. 

“Get in, Superstar.” Agatha’s voice is deeper than normal, and you reach out to the car door, pulling the black metal handle. It stings the soft palm of your hand, but you welcome the contrast now, your body feeling cold in this heat. 

You scoot into the back of the leather car, Agatha wastes no time getting in behind you. Yelena is talking to someone over her shoulder but starts to panic as Agatha grabs the inside of the door to close it. 

“Wait-” Yelena snaps, seeing Agatha not allowing her and the other suits into the car. 

“Aw damn, all full, I’m afraid. Nepo babies can get the next car.” Agatha’s tone is sickly kind, and the nickname drops out with precision. Yelena glares, but it’s short lived, as Harkness slams the car door in her face. 

The man driving the car gets the message as your boss slaps the partition twice for him to speed away. Then she slides the flimsy plastic close before turning to you. 

“You did so well this quarter. Do you enjoy working for this company?” Mrs. Harkness asked you, it sounded like a review; it sounded like you were being promoted. 

But as Agatha spoke, keeping her eyes firmly on you, she unbuttoned the top button of her white blouse. Your mouth went dry all at once, cotton mouth, unable to speak. Unable to fucking believe what was happening in real time. 

Mrs. Harkness didn’t seem to mind one bit, though, like she could do this all on her own. 

Her eyes didn’t seem the same. Something was different. 

The potion must be taking effect, her irises, once brown, were now a piercing blue. You momentarily panicked; perhaps you’d given her too much. 

Agatha got to the last button and took off her blouse completely. 

“Mrs. Harkness?” You waiver, unsure of what you were questioning. You didn’t want her to stop, but you were also curious how lucid she was for this. The magic snapped under her skin like a hornet's nest ready to be unleashed. But her hands didn’t shake as she slid the zipper down her pencil skirt. 

The garter belt, black lacey thong, and sinful bra that was holding your boss's breasts in like it couldn’t handle the job, was enough for you to cream on the spot. 

The devilish black and green set was more of a present to you than any birthday you’d ever celebrated.  

“No bonus though, and you want a bonus, don’t you, Superstar?” Agatha’s mouth stays open, and her tongue looks sinful. Not forked like a snake, though you weren’t sure if she couldn’t make it split on command. “That’s what we call you, Wanda and I. Our little Superstar, but she doesn’t know you aren’t hers. Does she baby?”

“Um, Mrs. Harkness, are you feeling alright?” Your voice sounded younger than you were now. And her long eyelashes bat playing coy for a moment as if she’s making fun of you. 

“Oh, you were doing so well in sales. Do you want to assist me now instead? Is that it, you want to be used by me?” 

You want to be offended, but you can’t find it in yourself to be. Your legs part just enough, and it’s not an invite. But Agatha Harkness doesn’t seem to give a fuck. 

Your boss moves like you were something to be conquered, not romanced. Like she was going to own you, burn her name into your skin. Let all of the rest go to hell, you were Agatha Harkness’s personal cum rag. 

She grabbed you by the throat and yanked you off of the seat and onto the uncomfortable cloth car floor. 

Your head slammed hard against the plastic of the door and you heard it crack. At least you hoped it was the door and not your head. 

Agatha’s hand squeezed your throat, harder than any lover should. And you tried to pull breaths but it was getting difficult. 

“Can you be good for me, can you behave for your boss sweetheart? Maybe I’ll even give you a raise!” Mrs. Harkness' voice sounded like a villain in a film now, high and excited. Like she enjoyed your pain, like she had no problem with your fear. 

You tried to choke out words but they all died on your throat when you saw Mrs. Harkness grab your hand and pull your fingers into her mouth. 

Your Ivy League, rich boss,  licked your digits like she was trying to earn a meal. You felt Agatha take your hand as far to the back of her throat as she could go. Before gagging around your fingers and taking them out, a string of spit sticks from her bottom lip to your hand. The saliva glistening from the low lighting in the back of the car.  

Mrs. Harkness let go of your throat and you coughed and gasped and almost curled against your stomach, but Agatha was quick. 

She used her wet fingers to move her thong, that tiny ruined fabric to the side. You saw her wax job, her gorgeous clit, it was pink and puffy and all you’d dreamed of. 

But you didn’t get to kiss it and adore it like you thought your first time with your crush would be. 

Instead, Agatha moved her knees forward and sat her full weight on your face. You gasped once again for air, but Agatha’s perfectly manicured dark black fingernails were sharp in your hair, forcing you to stay in place as she rode your face with gusto. Hips bucking wildly, your nose and chin nothing but her playground. 

“My good little office whore, you wanted this didn’t? I saw you look at me. I know you need this baby. Is that why you work so hard for me?”

Wet noises fill the car, as your boss rides your face like she’s possessed. You don’t have time to think about how she tastes on your tongue. You don’t have time to use your mouth at all in fact. Agatha does not care if you could breathe, at this point you wondered if she would fuck your corpse. 

Your legs shake and you try to calm down, remember this isn’t her, this is the potion. You attempt to match her rythme, so you can at the very least breathe out of your nose. But her cum is filling even your nostrils, and you realize you might die here. 

And you never even put the spell in her grits. 

“You are so lucky I didn’t fuck you on that conference table,” Agatha says to you, though you wonder if she knows you too busy for dirty talk. As you are going to asphyxiate. 

“I’d have split your stupid cheap shirt open, and licked up your stomach right in front of Yelena. That fucking bitch can’t have you. No one can have you. You’ll be good for me won’t you, dear? You’ll stay under my desk and lick my pussy, you’ll behave now. Now you are mine. If I want to take you in front of Maximoff, I will; no one will ever have you again. You are mine, and I’ll never let you breathe without my cum on your tongue again.” Agatha screamed at the end, and you blacked out. 

At one point, you wake, head splitting in two to see Agatha’s ass in your face as your own clothes are ripped and shredded. And she’s licking your pussy, it would feel good if you could stay awake. 

But you blink once, and then fall back to sleep. 

When you wake again, fighting for consciousness, Agatha’s hair is tickling you and she’s got three fingers in your pussy, and she’s slamming into you like she has got something to prove. 

“There’s my girl, hi baby! Just in time, I was about to see if I could wake you with double penetration!”

Your face must show the fear, but her eyes gleam with the new blues, and you are sure that the woman is too far gone to even see you. 

“Fuck Mrs. Harkness I- I can’t take anymore!” Tears actually start to cascade down your hot cheeks.  Half embarrassment and half mortification, making your mascara run. 

The car stopped, and you couldn’t believe the panicked enraged look on your boss’s once orgasmed out of her mind face. The driver didn’t dare speak again, only waiting outside of the company event for you two to finish. You prayed he didn’t record you both. 

“You aren’t going anywhere, no. You think I’ll let you walk into this party, this company party, with a ripped cum soaked outfit looking like a sex worker? Think again.” The woman's dark curls fall into your face. And you can smell her expensive shampoo mixed with the intense aroma of cum and sweat. Agatha’s eyeliner was smudged down her cheek, her dark red-stained lipstick has now in fact stained your neck and breasts. 

Like she’s branded you, like you’ll never be bare again. 

Your boss grinds her teeth as she thinks fast. And you don’t know what her solution is, but you have a feeling it’ll be bad. 

“Mrs. Harkness, uh, I can’t miss this party. It’s mandatory, Yelena said so!” You try, but Agatha looks downright disappointed that you aren’t well-trained by now. In the back of this company car. 

“You don’t want to listen? Fine, let me make it more clear for you. Here I thought you were smarter than this, suppose I was wrong.” Agatha grabbed your throat again and squeezed agonizingly tight, and you arched into her, the wrong response. 

The well-adjusted person may have fought, kicked, and screamed, even? Your throat is already sore from being used as her personal stress toy. Your boss liked this, but she ignored you, sighing, and you heard the sound before you recognized the sensation. 

Piss.

Urine. 

Pee, a golden shower, you’d seen it in porn. But never ever let anyone do it to you, it was demeaning. It was humiliating, and you should be humiliated. Horrified that your boss, whom you were in love with (one-sided love but still), was willing to do this. Had thought of this after using you. She was telling you exactly what she thought of you, the sound echoed in the back of a car. In front of a driver, before going to a work event. 

Red flags all over the place, the spell was wrong, you fucked up. Love spells were wrong; you shouldn’t ever have gone this far. 

But your legs opened so that the stream of yellow liquid, scoldingly hot, could hit your clit. Not just your stomach and thighs. 

And her aim was gorgeous, as the hot piss bounced off your clit and splattered around you. Like those Roman fountains, Greek Gods and Goddesses splashing, sprinkling, and squirting. 

Well, Agatha was your goddess as she gave you the potion right back, only this was far more intimate than you ever wanted. You shuddered under her and orgasmed, you couldn’t believe it, you orgasmed from the feeling of humiliation. 

Your mouth opened, you wished it was shock, but your tongue stuck out. You panted and sighed as your body quaked with aftershocks, horrified by what you’d done.  

“Look at you, you wanted to be marked. I own you, not simply the paycheck. You aren’t just my star employee. No, you are my property. The sooner you obey, the more this company will favor you. The less painful I’ll make your life.”  That shattered the last bit of your sanity. 

Agatha got off your war-torn body. She fixed her makeup and got dressed, and you tried to take breaths of any kind but you were sore, and your heart was broken. Agatha pulled the partition back to speak to the driver. 

“Don’t drive away, keep the engine running. I’m just going to give my regards and then you’ll drive us home.” She slipped him money, and you hiccuped as she left the car, without a word to you. 

And you hated that you wanted her to come back, that you missed her. The smell of her perfume, shampoo….her cum. 

Fuck you were fucked up. But as upset as you were, you licked your top lip to taste her one more time. The smell of piss permeated the car and you sat up as quietly as you could. Before grabbing your wet, now yellow shirt and wrapping it around your shoulders. Your bra was completely ruined, no attempt to fix it. Your skirt was shredded but you quickly pulled the wet fabric up your hips and opened the driver side door and sprinted out. 

You got home that night from sprinting, nothing could stop your body, you ran until it burned, until the acid filled your muscles and lungs. 

By the time you got home, inside, and showered the disgusting act you’d just been in off of your body. You were no closer to feeling clean, or okay. 

But you needed to make a plan, anykind of plan, you needed to figure out how to undo it. This was not what you wanted, fuck not at all. 

Yes, your body responded to her, but you had wanted it to respond from the throes of passion and romance, not what happened in that car. Fuck you couldn’t believe how quickly that had gone to shit. 

You couldn’t go back to work, right? But you had to go back, you had to turn her back. To make this right! You had to fix this spell, whatever it took. 

You walked across your apartment in your towel. Wet feet leaving tracks on the floor and opened the grimoires, you’d have to fix this. Whatever it took. 

That’s when the sound of your front window breaking through you from your thoughts. 

Quickly, you tried to remember the warding spell, how had you never sprinkled brick dust? How had you been such a dumb naive witch? Not listening to your Mama’s words! 

You threw your family grimoire down and scrambled over your sofa, to grab the salt. If you made a circle, maybe it would be enough, maybe? You tore open the pantry and reached for the Morton salt. 

The image of your dead mother flashed in your mind before purple magic invaded your senses. 

You shriekd as purple tendrils of magic stretched your arms over your head and strung you in the middle of the living room. Your futon and coffee table moved without your say, to the edges of the room. Agatha was wearing exactly what you’d seen her last in, though her makeup was perfect, and a new layer of sweat formed on her brow. Her heels clicked on your cheap wood floor,s and her arms were crossed. 

Your towel dropped as you hung with purple magic from the ceiling, and you closed your eyes in horror at what would happen next. 

“That wasn’t very smart of you, Superstar.” Agatha’s eyes are glowing blue now, practically luminescent, shining out of her. The only thing out of 

“Mrs. Harkness, you- you are really sick. And I can make it better.” You whimper, looking across the room at the monster you created. 

“You didn’t know I was a witch, too, I know. It took me a minute to realize what you did, first sip  I tasted you.” Agatha cackled as she walked over to your kitchen floor, where the grimoire was flipped upside down, pages bent like your morals. 

“Mrs. Harkness, please.” You once again beg, not sure on what you want. 

“You thought I didn’t see you. With your drug store lipsticks and big eyes watching my every step.”

You shivered as Agatha bent down and picked up your family grimoire, a big no- no. You didn’t open anothers ancestral grimoire, but it seemed your boss, your monster, wasn’t like other witches. 

“If you knew it was a love potion - why did you drink it?” You ask the most obvious question, even though you are still in a state of shock. You hadn’t known Agatha was a witch; you were in deep now. Not skilled enough for a witch fight. 

Agatha stopped, as she was flipping through the pages of the book to look at you with ease now. Before she giggled like you’d told the funniest of jokes. 

“You tasted good, Superstar.” Agatha says, keeping the book open as she walks towards your naked hanging form. You wish you could cry, could shout, could call on your ancestors' magic to get you out. But you felt your clit stiffen and Agatha gazed at you like you were her favorite plaything. 

“In the car?”

“Oh that wasn’t just your potion, baby. You did fuck up the brew pretty good, though. And it’s still in me, I found your address from HR. I slit her throat to get it,but  you wrecked my plans. You have no idea how much trouble you’ve gotten the two of us in. But don’t worry, your Agatha will fix it all for you.” The witch lifted one hand to touch your cheek, and you tried to jerk away from her. But she just smirked,  pleased at the whole thing. 

Agatha studied the book again, walking into the kitchen and lifting the ingredients you’d used on the counter. 

“Mrs. Harkness I’m so-”

“-sorry?” Agatha’s hair whipped as she looked over her shoulder at you. Then she dropped the book onto the counter, with a loud thud, and snorted at you. “Yeah, that’s cute.” 

Agatha moved around your kitchen with ease, bringing your biggest stock pot out from the dirty sink. She used her finger to trace the inside and lick it. Rubbing her pointer finger and thumb back and forth, deep in thought. 

“Mrs Harkness-” You started, your arms beginning to hurt from being strung over your head. 

“You might as well start calling me Agatha, Darling. You and I are going to have a long, sinfully beautiful life together. But first, I’m gonna give you some medicine. And then, I’m going to build you into exactly who you need to be.” The click of tiny ingredient glass bottles makes the hair on your neck stand up. 

Oh no. 

“Listen, I’m sure we can fix wh-”

“Oh my Sweet Superstar, I don’t want to be fixed. I drank your potion, remember? Now I crave you, and I’ll have you. But it’s only fair if we are on level playing field, don’t you think, Buttercup?” Agatha’s voice is filthy and she doesn’t even turn to look at you as she fills the pot with water and sets it to boil. 

“Mrs. Harkness-”

“Agatha, it’s Agatha, Pet.” The witch reminds you, and you sigh. Your back feels like it’s on fire. Dangling like a yo-you on a string. 

“Agatha, I don’t think you under-” Agatha cuts you off, yanking a drawer open to riffle through it.

“No honey, I got it summed up real nice.”

“Why would you want my shitty potion it didn’t even work right! You don’t love me!”

“Oh baby’s mad i didn’t write you a Valentine? What was your spell's intention little witch? You wanted me to actually-“ Agatha throws her bed back to lack. “F-fall in love with you?” 

You bristled, not enjoying how hilarious she found all of this. But once Agatha cooled down her laughing fit she smiled big and proudly at you.

“Listen, you accidentally made something much better than a love spell. Pet, you made an obsession spell. I don’t want a cure. I’m going to use you, I’m going to fuck you so many different ways. You will do every dirty thought I’ve ever had, just because I can. And you and I have a long witchy life, plenty of time to make new things up Pet. So I’m brewing this potion. Then I’m gonna see what’s in my sweethearts family book about creatively ending Maximoff.” Agatha shared and your panic skyrocketed. This felt like the insane part of the plot where the evil doctor tells all.

“No, no you can’t!” You knew it was futile, but it was your first reaction. 

“Oh don’t tell me your ethics are starting now, Darling?” Agatha feigned interest in you, but she started to sprinkle in ingredients like you had. 

“You’ll never get it right! I didn’t follow the recipie!”

Agatha stopped now, then turned and glared at you.

“Excuse me?” Her voice is scarier now, much scarier than the back of the car. You weren’t sure if you’d ever seen this version of Agatha Harkness. You licked your bottom, bruised, busted lip from her bites, and you tried to say it stronger now. But she didn’t let you.

Slowly sauntering over to you with the book and your legs were spread and purple held your legs wide open like a starfish now, arms and legs open and waiting for Agatha Harkness, the wicked witch she was. She held open the grimoire to you, to show you the page you’d ignored. Her black nail pointed to the potion, like you were dumb as a rock. 

“The ingredients are right here. How many love potions does your family have?” Your boss's irritation was clear as the windowpane she broke to get into your home. You didn’t say a word, just let the silence stretch like the tendons in your bodies. 

Agatha rolled her eyes and shoved three fingers in your cunt, hard and fast and you shouted. She hurled your family's grimoire against the wall, like it never mattered. Her eyes focused on you, and you moaned high pitched as her thumb rubbed against your bruised clit. She’d bit it harder earlier in the back of the car. 

Agatha licker her lips at the sound and the feel of your cunt in her hand. 

“I can be really good to you, you know that. I can be really cruel too. So what’ll it be? You want to make a deal? Because I’m going to own you for centuries, and I can make it all a lot worse.” Agatha tells you and curls her fingers to your g-spot and starts to fuck you fast. 

“Agatha fuck! No! I won’t tell you the sp-spell!” You pant as she fucks you, and then she bends forward and kisses you slowly and gently. Her tongue flicks against yours, and you practically mewl. Agatha pulled back and whispered something against your tongue, and you couldn’t stop the words coming out.

“ I didn’t follow the recipe! BUT I WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU AND I’LL TELL YOU EVERYTHING I JUST WANT SOMEONE TO OWN ME! MY MOTHER NEVER LOVED ME AND MY DAD KILLED HER AND ALL I WANT IS TO BE LOVED.” You bit the tip of your tongue, and the spell broke. Agatha’s thumb slowed, but she didn’t stop touching you. 

Your boss tilted her head to the side and bat her eyelashes at you. And for the first time you wished you could hit her. Which was crazy considering how your day had gone together. Your thighs shook, maybe from being tied this long, maybe from the talented, unforgiving touching of your pussy. 

“Oh that’s precious, baby.”

Blood filled your mouth, and Agatha tisked and reached forward and her thumb brushed against the corners of your lips. Where blood had come out just a bit, she licked it. Humming in satisfaction at the taste. You wondered for a moment if that was from the potion or Agatha’s own fetish. 

“Tell me the ingredients, Darling. Tell me the ingredients, and then I’ll be your Mommy.”

Your heart broke open, you didn’t realize you wanted her to say it. And something in Agatha’s face looked more at peace by the idea than you’d seen her all day. 

“I’ll be your Mommy til the end of my days.”

Your lip quivered, she read too much between the lines. A master businesswoman, but further than that, Agatha was a manipulative bitch. And you already longed for her to make good on her words. It must be a lie, she couldn’t ever love you. You shook her head and spit the blood onto Agatha’s face. Your boss just rolled her eyes, before gripping your jaw too hard. 

“I can be a nice Mommy, or I can show you exactly what being punished really looks like.” Agatha sighs as she speaks so close to your face you share a breath.  Something about her is kinder than before, though.  

“I-I didn’t even write it down!” You say with Agatha’s nails piercing into your face like she was holding an object, not a person. 

“That’s okay baby, just open up for Mommy.” The witch whispers, and you hate yourself, but you do. You open your mouth, and this vile woman kissses you with fever. And she slinked into your very being and leafed through your memories until she found the things she needed. 

You don’t know how long it took but when you regained consciousness, it was to humming, a sweet song. For a second, you thought you might be a child again, from the memories and dreams you just had. You heard a gentle voice singing;

“I took my troubles down to Madame Ruth

You know that gypsy with the gold-capped tooth

She's got a pad down on Thirty-Fourth and Vine

Sellin' little bottles of Love Potion Number Nine”

Blinking, you started to remember, as the pain in your throat, your body, your cunt, it all too became overwhelming. The bit of blood still in your mouth from biting your own tongue. You groan and lift your head, your neck killing you. 

“Mommy didn’t wanna put you to asleep, but some of those memories…well, it was better this way, baby.” Agatha’s voice woke you now, as you felt a bit of drool at the side of your mouth. You look to the windows, blinds were drawn, glass on the floor from where your boss had broken in. But light coming through, it was morning already it seemed.  

Agatha had changed out of her heels and into one of your floral robes. Make-up gone, she looked gentler now. Her eyes were still blue, as it seemed they would stay. But Agatha did look more at peace than before. 

“I took some of your blood and cum while you slept, that’s why I look like this, Buttercup. I drank both, and only then could I think. I finished the potion, though.” She told you, walking over to the bubbling potion on the stove, taking a ladle, and pulling out a small green bottle. You recognized it immediately, the same one in your Mama’s hand the day she died. You let out a shaky breath, not realizing she would find it. But of course she did, Agatha had been deep in your mind. 

She filled the antique glass vile and then sauntered over to you, looking at you like a lover, and also like a black widow spider does a fly. 

Pushing the vile to your lips, and you jerk away. Agatha takes a long breath out of your nose. 

“Tell me this Superstar, why wouldn’t you take it? What do you have here? This disgusting apartment, with it’s late rent bill on your kitchen table? You like being number two in sales? Using your magic to pull people to buy? You wanted to be mine. Why do you care how I do it?” Agatha tries to sell you now; her voice is soft and you consider her for a minute. 

“I wanted you to love me. You used my body and pissed on me in a company car. You broke into my apartment and bound me, snuck into my mind, all so you could what, cum? Fuck over Wanda?. I just wanted you…I just wanted you.” You repeat and close your eyes, and then Agatha cups your face tenderly, and your eyes shoot open in shock. 

“I can’t love, I can’t give you that. I couldn’t before either, not the way you would have wanted. But obsession, devotion, I’ll own you. I’m hungry for you, dear. Isn’t that so much better? To crave each other, to get lost in each other's skin? Don’t you want to see how far you’ll bend for me?” Agatha’s blue eyes are gorgeous, and you get lost in them now. Like a kid looking into the sky, watching the swirl of clouds dissipate against the baby blues. 

“But…” You try lamely, and Agatha shakes her head, but she is more empathetic than she’s been this whole time. And you consider it could be from the blood and cum she ingested from you. 

“It’s not what you thought it would. Life never really is. But this could be so much better. I’ll take you to islands and countries you’ve never even heard of. You’ll be mine. Not my girlfriend or partner, nothing so small or trivial. You’ll be mine, and I’ll drink from you like a vampire, yes. And you’ll do the same, you’ll beg for it. But you and I, fuck baby. Taking Maximoff’s empire will just be the beginning. We’ll bring this world to its knees. And at the end of the day, you’ll lay against my bare breast. And you’ll never wonder if Mommy wants you again, isn’t that so much better?” Agatha finishes her own daydream, and you are too caught in it to breathe. You forgot how. 

So when Agatha brings the green bottle, the one your mother held in her dying hand, back to your mouth. You forget why you shouldn’t drink it. And you cough at the taste of it at first, and your captor laughs. 

“Don’t break my cute little bottle of love potion! Ha, love potion number nine, how funny. You will be very naughty if you break my love potion, baby. Sip it good for me.”  She coo’s and your bottom lip chases the bottle now. 

“You like how Mommy tastes too, I knew you would. My blood and cum in this potion is too good to ignore huh, baby?” She tells you, petting your hair like you are her greatest creation. 

You drink the whole thing and try to lick inside the bottle and Agatha releases you from your binding. And you fall to your hands and knees, and the bottle breaks against the floor, and you go to lick the broken glass, but Agatha grabs your hair. 

“Easy pet!”Her voice actually sounds concerned. Your mind is bending and breaking over and over, all you see is Agatha’s life and your memories colliding and exploding behind your eyes. It burns over and over again and you wonder if you have lost your mind. 

“Breathe Superstar, Mommy’s got you.” Agatha tells you, grabbing your face in her hands. She’s on the floor with you now, and you blink slowly, she smiles proudly and you notice her left eye. 

It’s green now, one blue, one green. But that green is the same as your mother's was. Agatha’s thumbs brush under your bottom lashes, and you wonder if yours match. That’s when you inhale her and realize. That day, where your mother died, and your father stood with the smoking shotgun barrel still hot. 

That smell, the smell of his cologne. Dark and spicy, chilli, cinnamon, cloves, and red cedar. It was your father's scent; it was Agatha’s natural scent. 

One green eye, one blue, and as you tried to stop your panic, you were sure you could smell the gun smoke.

I held my nose, I closed my eyes, I took a drink

I didn't know if it was day or night

I started kissin' everything in sight

“You really aren’t hungry?” Billy spoke with his mouth open, ground beef visible. You grimaced at the sight and smell of his adolescent cheeseburger eating habits. You lifted your lip and gave an animalistic, deep, menacing growl. And he grew paler than even before. 

Your cold feet on the metal floor was overstimulating on it’s own, without the teenager here. Grease running down his chin. 

“Hey, don’t growl at him just because you are hangry! We’ve tried feeding you!” Jen defended throwing a helping of fries on the cheap table in front of you and Billy. 

Your eyes snapped aggressively to the witch, and your stare was enough to make her take an unconscious step back. 

Your arms were bound behind your back. Rio had used a mixture of roots and herbs. So you couldn’t move. You were still trying to figure out exactly the combo. The smells was foreign to you, not of this world, perhaps. 

Rio and Agatha and their merry coven of dysfunction had kidnapped you. Moved you somewhere far away from the comfy woods you had planned to grow old in. Your retirement plan, really, to be all alone until madness took you. Only the smell of the dead animal you’d eaten, forgetting what it was to be human, to be a witch. 

Just another filthy animal with no home, no hope, and nothing but dirt under your fingernails and dawn. To remind you of what you truly are. A monster of this world. A world that had forgotten you long ago. 

Well, except for two witches, it seemed. 

Karma wasn’t a bitch, she was a fucking menace. And her relentless sense of humor was as cruel as a drunk. 

Jen eyed you and reached into the brown bag to set a burger in front of you and you just sneered, disgusted by the sight of it. America at it’s finest it seemed. 

“What, too good for a cheeseburger? I’m sorry, do you remember where we took you from?”

“Where you drugged and kidnapped me from, no, my memory works alright. I’m bewitched, not a dementia patient. And I’ll remember you, Jennifer Kale. Don’t you worry, when I get out of here. I’ll show you, being bound wasn’t the worst fate for you.” You threaten it, and the room grows cold. Jen actually thinks for a second. Reflecting on how eerily calm you are, as your eyes don’t twitch, and your lip doesn’t lift. You have the demeanor of one who has killed for sport. 

Because you have, and because you will. 

And you want that to be very clear. 

As you sit in this enchanted basement, wherever on the globe Rio and Agatha have dropped you. 

You were sick and tired of these two as babysitters. 

You missed the wolf form now, the ability to shift, the ability to run. 

Closing your eyes, you listened, not with the fluffy ear that would tell you everything.

But you were no longer a witch, with simple ears. 

You were in league with the small sounds that go bump in the night. A friend to the crack of a stick under a child of the moon's paw. 

As your eyes closed, you could slow your heart rate, and you could make your temperature drop. 

Witchcraft was wild, and centuries of it was a gift you hadn’t wasted. 

So even as your body twisted into that of an animal. You respected the wolf form, and you’d learned from it. 

You could hear Jen’s heartbeat now, even though you were trying to see if you could hear upstairs, to no avail. 

But Jen’s heart was pounding now, you could smell the potions she took this morning too. Understood her fruity floral perfume was synthetic, fabric softeners, body wash, and nail polish. Hell you knew she’d ordered the chicken sandwich, her blood smelled low of iron, though, so perhaps not the best decision. 

Your eyes were tight now, as you focused, a type of meditation. 

You were looking for blackmail, but you found something else instead. 

You stopped and smirked before opening your eyes to see them both not eating, just staring at you. 

“Does the rest of the coven know you and Alice are fucking?” You say, and Billy’s eyes bulge,d and Jen’s chin turned to the side, ready to attack. But you shake your head and make a tisking noise, like you are telling her not to fuss, a child of lust. 

“Don’t fret, the last spell didn’t take, but you should know. You are ovulating now.” The grin you give the witch is malevolent. 

And it has its desired effect. Jen stalks forward to slap you, and Billy grabs her arm to stop her. 

Tension achieved, good. You’d mentally break them, and they’d claw at each other first. You just needed a small window to escape. 

“Don’t, if you hit her, Agatha and Rio will lose their minds.” Billy reasoned, and he was correct. Agatha once killed a teenager for throwing a firecracker near your tail. Agatha split his chest open and took out his beating heart. 

And Rio noticed a poacher talking about a large wolf he was tracking. It wasn’t necessarily even you, but Rio pushed into his mind. 

And the man who was casually drinking his coffee reached into his own pocket and took out his hunting knife. Everyone was stunned as he started with his eyes before cutting off each finger tip. Screaming and begging for death, before gutting himself like an elk. 

Rio watched, she chewed on a handful of blackberries you two had picked. 

You weren’t frightened; this was a strange love language you three shared. Safety was only created by the rich flow of an opponent's blood. Rio and Agatha wouldn’t stand by, wouldn’t sleep a wink, if someone out there meant you even a momentary bit of discomfort. 

And you shared this. Wiping out more souls than any plague for people merely speaking of Agatha. Rio was never really in danger, but you still had killed for her, not liking people ogling at her too long. 

So even if these witches were Aggie and Rio’s new besties, Jen had a good chance of losing one of her ears for touching you. Striking you, well, she’d be lucky if she got the ability to use both her arms. 

“No, don’t stop now. It was getting good. I like it rough, hit me potions. Make it count, make me need it.” You antagonize, figuring if you flirted a little, it would really rile her up. 

It works as she gasps in horror and Billy whispers ‘don’ts’ and ‘stops’. Jen eventually pushes him off of her and leaves up the stairs, slamming the door. 

Billy was standing watching where she’d left before turning to you, disappointed. 

That was ok, he’d have to do a lot more than be upset with your behavior. 

He wasn’t Nicky. 

You didn’t care if he was scared of you, if he liked you, if he wanted to pet you. 

You’d bite his neck right off his body the first chance you got. 

Fuck being polite, these witches kidnapped you. 

And your people didn’t love being held in chains. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” Billy added, you could see it now. His half bit, you figured his other mother must have used this voice. The upset Jewish mother, the guilt, the attempt to steer a wayward child into the right direction. A healthy lesson, a soft emotional spanking, it would work on the young. 

Too bad you were long gone, and this boy meant nothing to you. 

But you were not a dumb monster. And you knew better than to burn a possible escape option. So it was time to change tactics, make him feel special. You bet his biggest fear was being alone. Okay, time to manipulate. If only you could get your resting ‘fuck you’ face to settle a bit. 

“Kid, I’ll make you a deal. You let me go, and I’ll teach you some real magic.” You phrase, reading his frustrated mind. Young witches were never really good at grounding. Being older than all the witches (besides Rio) had its advantages. 

“What makes you think Agatha isn’t teaching me?” Billy’s defensiveness was that of a first-time poker player. It was too easy, it confirmed that he was frustrated by her teachings. Which you knew wasn’t even Agatha’s fault. Young witches wanted to learn everything, be everything, and consume all energy, and it took practice. It took devotion and skill. 

Knowledge in the craft was more powerful than having an army at your fingertips or complete control over a lover's climax. Magic was ritualistic and so ingrained in a witch's very being. You weren’t sure if they sawed your bone, if they wouldn’t find the rings in the marrow. Like the rings of a tree stub. The traces of the light, of something no one man could explain. 

The mystic as it were. 

And he was so young. So in love with the idea of experiences, he had no idea what the world even was yet. Fresh-faced and open-armed, not knowing what the twist of the knife in the ribs felt like up until this point. And you sat there, choking on the words to explain it, not wanting to be the one to tell the secret. 

Billy misread your momentary reflection, mistaking it for some vague misunderstanding. 

“You’ve been a beast in the woods too long.” His words were meant to defend himself, to throw something back at you. Like he had studied Agatha’s wit and knew when to jab and perry. 

Though he was a poor student, and you didn’t react how he’d like. 

“A beast you say? Hmm, “Fancy thinking the Beast was something you could hunt and kill! You knew, didn’t you? I’m part of you? Close, close, close! I’m the reason why it’s no go? Why things are what they are?” You quote Lord of the Flies and he flinches at your spiral of snarling and loud performative speech. 

“Stop it.” He says like you think this is funny. Being kidnapped like this, being held against your will. So if Billy wouldn’t free you, you’d antagonize him. 

“No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity but I know none and therefore am no beast?”” You quote Shakespeare now. But you are answering him. He’s just too stubborn or afraid to decipher it.  

“Why are you like this?”

“I suppose you should ask your teacher.” Your voice doesn’t shake, yet you wish you could say more. 

“What happened between you two?” He questioned you instead, and you considered this. Manipulation was a dance, and you hadn’t had a partner in a while. So you left a pregnant pause, enough for Billy to grow invested in your answer. Enough to make your words hold weight, seem thought out, or sincere. 

“She left me, broke my heart. You got a first love right now, don’t you kid?” You tried to wiggle in, find an angle. 

Billy seemed conflicted but nodded, yeah of course he did. Poor guy was an oversharer. He’d do anything for a connection, mommy issues and all. Wanda must be so disappointed. 

“Sometimes, love wins kid. Sometimes, your lover kills you.” Your teeth shine in the low light, canines fierce and sharper than someone who told the truth. You giggle like you are mentally unhinged.

“You don’t mean that.” Billy’s quick response was that of a hopeless romantic, one who had never had heartbreak. It would be cute if you weren’t trying to escape. 

“You love him, huh?” You spoon-feed him his own answers. 

“Of course.” Billy looked at his shoes and then back to you. It was all so high school. You could almost see the projections of what their love story looked like from where you were bound to the chair. 

“He’s human, though, right? He’s mortal?” 

There it was, there was your way in. The glimmer of the young guppy teenager faded. Yeah heartache could do that. Some love stories had expiration dates so clear even the uninitiated in heart break could see them. 

“Yeah,” Billy’s bottom lip stuck out just a smidgen, his blood pressure changed, his heart beat faster. As though he wanted you to talk badly about this paramore. Pick a fight. You weren’t that stupid; you wanted to get Billy to untie you. 

The roots tickled your palms, remind you of the gameplan. 

“I could help make it so he never felt pain again? I could make him immortal, make him a witch too.” You offered, and you kept your tongue inside your jaw, unable to lick your top lip. To taste the lie, the sugar and space it left in traces around your gaping mouth. 

He was too young, too naive. This might actually work. 

From the momentary distrust to the possibility of it all, Billy’s mind was that of a pinball machine. He tried to read your thoughts, to find the reason to trust you. 

And you gave him a small vision, helped guide him, and showed him what he needed to. 

Much like how Agatha let Wanda read her own mind, exactly what she wanted to show Wanda. 

Well, she’d learned that little trick from you. 

Billy’s gaze went to the stairs and then back to you. Oh, it was like taking candy from a baby now. The thought was becoming action. The gunpowder seconds before the spark. 

“I untie your hands and then what?” Billy, muses but he rounds the table to your chair, and your fingers twitch again at the very mention of freedom. 

“Then I’ll teach you and-”

The door slams open just as Billy reaches to touch the rope. 

Rio comes down first, followed by Agatha, you know the smell, the traces of magic. It was all too annoying; you were so close. 

“I told you we shouldn’t have let the kid stay here; he’s not ready.” Rio chastised, coming into view with a brown paper bag herself. Your nose tried not to react, to inhale the scent. But it was intoxicating. 

And Agatha was quick, gripping Billy’s ear and pinched hard, shooting pain from the pressure point down his whole body. His knees turned to jelly and Agatha walked him away from your bound form.

“When I gave you the job to stay down here, the rule was what, teen?”

“Ow, ow, ow, don’t let her manipulate me.” His eyes didn’t fall back to yours. 

“So why are you going to untie her? Did you really think this through? God, you are just like your mother, reacting and never thinking anything through.” Agatha’s anger flares, and you can smell the slight sweat on her skin from the amount of rage and adrenaline pumping in her veins. 

Agatha was wound tighter than normal, it seemed. 

Billy was attempting an apology, but Agatha must have led him to the stairs and out of your basement. 

Rio watches you and you wonder if she even wants to hear your thoughts, or if she’s holding back. Rio pushes the cheeseburger towards Billy's and Jens abandoned pile of grease. Knowing it wasn’t what you wanted. 

“You haven’t eaten in a few days.” Rio’s voice was tinted with enough worry to make you feel guilty and humiliated at the idea of concern from your ex. So you rolled your eyes before responding now. 

“Oh no, am I a bad kidnapped victim? I hear other people are better at this, maybe bring Alice or Jen down here. I’m sure they’d look cute tied up and begging for you. Why not play with them?” Your smile doesn’t match your unblinking eyes, and Rio just cocks her head to the side. 

Two predators dancing around each other. 

Death and her Hellhound.

Aggie comes back into the fray. 

She doesn’t like your words, and her jealousy spikes at the idea of you thinking either of them is ‘cute.’ Which you honestly don’t, but you hope it burns her the same. 

Rio is less easy to rile up this way, as she married you and Agatha, she knew all the tactics and games at this point. 

She opens the brown bag and sets down on the small table a large juicy, recently killed, animal thigh. 

You sniff it, unable to help yourself. 

“You gotta eat, my sweet pup. It’s not negotiable.”

Your mouth salivated. 

“I didn’t realize there were things that were negotiable, sorta like how you drugged me and then took me out of my home.” You were too old to be susceptible to Stockholm syndrome. 

“That wasn’t your home,” Rio argued, but her tone was careful, calculated. Agatha cut her off. 

“We are your home.” The witch said like an overwhelming fountain of hurt. And you wouldn’t give that more oxygen than it needed. 

“So what’s the plan then?”

“We need you to eat first.” Rio cut Agatha off before she could even inhale to answer. 

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll wait until one of your little coven members messes up. And then I’ll go for the femoral artery.” Your tone is even, like it’s facts, just business. 

Rio smirks now but her fingers squeeze the animal leg and some of the blood oozes onto the butcher paper underneath it. 

Your pupils dilate from the smell. 

“You wanna play puppy?” Her voice is warm and syrupy like the cum that sticks between skin and cotton underwear. 

“I’m not yours anymore, Vidal. Just let me go.” Your voice doesn’t hold the conviction it did a minute ago. 

“Never.” Agatha said from behind and you sniff to smell her pheromones change with Rio’s. 

“You can eat this way, or I can play with your prey drive.”

You had hoped they’d forgotten about this. 

The flash back hits you like a mallet against your cranium. 

_____

Many decades ago. 

You had already changed from a beast to a witch for the night, and Agatha was cutting into a steak. The blood pooling around her knife and it did things to your brain. 

Heart beating a little too fast, in anticipation for you coming back to her. Your body started to reflexively react and you wanted to back up wanted to leave. 

“Stop perita,” Rio caught your attention now. You froze in your stance, blood boiling under the surface. 

Agatha stopped cutting the meat to watch you both now. 

“Agatha, it seems our dulce perro has been holding back.”

You tried so hard to slow your heart rate, to get it back in check. 

“Rio?” Agatha was confused which was a state she despised. Rio continued to study you, though. 

“She was so gentle making love to you, but Liliths hound has needs. Doesn’t she pup? You need the chase? You afraid we wouldn’t want it too? But Aggie’s flesh is so soft, she wants you so badly. You know all you have to do is ask.” Rio dangled the invitation and you hated how your body craved it. 

“Stop this.” You snarl but Agatha abandons her meal and moves and you growl deep in your throat. 

“Preditors like yourself, they tend to have prey drives. Big animal finds a smaller animal, it’s only natural you want to devour it. Isn’t that right puppy? You want to sink your canines into her thigh? Rut against her? You want to push inside your witch?”

“Stop please don’t.” The same shining in your eyes now ,and you wished on everything you could hide this again. 

“My love, there is no reason to not get what you need.” Agatha helped, and you tried to retrea,t but Aggie’s magic was getting better. Draining witches and learning from you and Death had propelled her abilities. 

Agatha made a circle of purple flames, enough to keep you near, not enough to burn you. 

“Go ahead puppy. Take what you need from Aggie. She wants you.” Rio pushed and you licked your lips but stared out into the woods, past the flames. 

Agatha was on you so fast.

And you snapped. 

You wished you could hold back, show any kind of restraint. But the second her Salem dress parted you were feral. Those creamy thighs begging for your canines. 

Bitting her flesh open with your teeth, Rio chanting words of encouragement. 

As you fucked Agatha like she was your meal.

You played a lot after that, Agatha would run in the forest, and you’d chase. 

You’d pin her.

And then you’d make her bleed and fuck her under the full moon. 

It was amazing Agatha didn’t get pregnant sooner, really. 

Consent was a curious thing, Agatha gave herself over and over. Rio pushed into your mind, and the three of you just….carnal lust was an understatement. 

Blood dripped from the butcher paper and pooled onto the floor and you blinked back to reality. 

Rio was watching, always watching you. 

You don’t know what happened, but your wrists were no longer bound and you were naked once more, only on the floor now. 

The butcher paper was all that remained. 

You’d lost your control, you’d devoured the raw meat like a mindless horde would. 

Looking down at your carnage, the blood was everywhere, not just your hands. But you were wearing it like a toddler does mushed peas or spagetti and meatballs was more accurate. You’d devoured the thing and now you felt shame, overwhelming waves of shame. 

Looking to Agatha who’s pheromones were volcanically erupting with lust next to you.

It made you feel exponentially worse, and you backed up further, only for Rio to grab your arm and stop you. 

“The only person who fears you, is you. You belong to us, little black shuck.” Rio nicknamed you from folklore and tried to cup your bloody face, but you pushed away from her. 

You were meant to stay in the shadows, not to be loved, not to be touched tenderly after doing something so foul. 

You didn’t even remember eating the raw meat, and now you were crazed with sinu in your teeth and blood on your chest. 

Yet these two looked at you like a lover, someone to be saved. 

No, you were far beyond saving. 

Rio and Agatha tried to rouse you multiple times that night, but you became rather catatonic. 

When morning rose, you transformed back into fur and muscle. This time, though, no one bound you. The coven was no longer given morning watches, it seemed. 

Instead, Rio lay on the floor a few feet away from you. She pretended to read a paperback. But you knew it was a lie, her eyes didn’t trace over the inky letters. She wasn’t paying attention, and often forgot to turn a page. 

Night slammed against your cursed body and your witchly human bones cracked and reshaped. No longer a dog, but still no closer to humane. 

You lay panting softly, stressed, alert. 

You were sprawled on the dirty metallic floor, cheek pressed against it, your ear starting to numb from the cold. Hair disheveled, nude and blood stained, feeling disgusting all around. 

Rio on the other hand, is unbothered by your filth. She lays on her back, black nails cutting into the soft bite of cotton yellowed pages. Her dark hair fanned against the flat surface of the floor. She’s wearing plain clothes, black and simple; she’s clean in contrast to you. Her eyeliner is crisp like the edge of a knife. 

Rio’s lips beg to be kissed and the veins in her hands are louder than ever. As though you both ache to cling to one another. 

Rio is exactly how you remember her, yet there is a sorrow behind those eyelids. One for your son yes, but one for you as well it seems. 

And you just aren’t sure what to do with that. 

Rio chews on her bottom lip, and flips a page, one you know she didn’t retain. 

You break the silence, finding that taunting her is far better than the quiet. 

“Black Shuck, Fenrir, Argos, Cerberus, you know what they all have in common Lady Muerta?” Your voice breaks apart in your throat, yet Rio is careful not to respond too fast in her own excitement at a conversation with you. 

“They’re all beasts of mythology, gorgeous and anamalistic, horrendously misunderstood,” Rio answers like she was waiting for you to ask her such a question her whole existence. 

You disagree wickedly. 

“They kill innocents; they have no self-control. And the folklore around them makes them far more interesting than what they truly are. Animals meant to be forgotten.” You linger on the last word. Hoping that you could fall in love with the idea yourself again.

Rio’s eyes squint at you, like she doesn’t agree, like she’s disappointed by your retort. But she places the prop of a book down, and you don’t move an inch. But she does, curling onto her side now to face you. 

Rio moves slower than she would for others, knowing you are the embodiment of a frightened animal. Not simply symbolic, but what people meant when they used the term. 

Rio wouldn’t hurt you, not again, never again. 

So she put her right hand flat onto the floor and slowly scoots it towards you. But stops about five inches before your own hand. 

“Your self-indulgent hatred was never safe from your wives. It seems in our absence you’ve only become more melodramatic.” Rio smirks to try to get you to laugh, but you flinch instead, and you can see the instant regret splashed on your ex. 

You move a centimeter away from Death. She holds herself back from reaching out, closer to your bloody form. Closer to soothing you. 

“You should not have brought me here.” 

“Agatha summoned me that day to mend a curse. Falling in love with you was an added bonus. Both of us just want to make good on our promise.” Rio doesn’t get to let the half truth sit. You are quick to cut her niceties away. 

“You owe me nothing.” You hope the sentence is enough. But Rio just blinks twice and then calmly handles you like one would with someone throwing a tauntrum. She speaks as though you don’t understand.  

“Nothing could be further from the truth.”

How stupid, how untrue you find that. 

“Our son is dead.” You remind her. As if she went a milisecond without the weight of your dead child. Your mouth hangs open, unable to intake oxygen after the sentence. 

Rio didn’t speak now. No quick witted words for this. No jokes, no light at the end of the sorrow. Even Death couldn’t still the ache. The hurt, your child no longer giggling next to the river. The end, no curtain call for any of you.

Therefore, you had no marriage, no adoring wives to mend your hurt paw on the summer burns. 

Your child was gone, your wives were gone. Now all that’s left was your pain and solitude.

“You are not,” Rio whispered, breaking your thoughts.

You lick your bottom lip, an attempt to collect yourself before you speak. 

“You wouldn’t let me.” The memories flap against the hurt in Rio’s ribs like bat wigs against a cage for a circus. 

“Your time is not close.” She reasons, like she didn’t ignore her duty. 

“You are cruel.” You hope it hurts her, but Rio only looks upon you with adoration and devotion. And it only fuels this pain. 

“My love, please,” Rio ,begs quietly, and her fingers creased as she pressed them closer into the ground. Fighting her urge to reach for you, like once she was always allowed. 

Because there was a time, she wouldn’t have had to ever ask. 

But that was not now.  

“You ask for a lover, but I killed them. Who I am is long gone. All that I have left is this. I can’t be what you need. You should have left me to my beast form alone.” 

You aren’t sure if you mean the animal curse as you say beast. 

Perhaps beast was always a state of mind, and the crude ways in which your body formed into that of a hound was just a joke. The fates idea of knock-knock joke. 

Rio bites her lip out of habit from watching you before answering again. 

“I won’t ever stop, and neither will our witch.” Rios' voice was strong and sure. And you knew she was right. 

“I will end up hurting people. I can’t be around this many people. You know better…” Your memories floor into your mind and sting as cleaning fluid against skin. 

It wasn’t only the social anxiety, you were a killer. Liliths hound, you’d devour without thought. And given the chance, you weren’t sure if you could stop it. The screams were so close in your mind. 

“We won’t let anything happen to you.” Rio’s attempt only makes you further concerned. Rio would end society before she’d hurt you. She’d let you slaughter if it meant she could selfishly keep you. Her false words were no comfort here. 

“It’s not me you have to worry about.” You eye the direction of the stairs.

“You are all Agatha and I are concerned about. And as for them, well..we will make sure you don’t do something you will regret.”

“You cannot domesticate me.”

“Worked the first time.” Rio teased, and this time, you glare openly at her, but she smiles seeing a gentler side now of you once more. 

Your gorgeous love, the one that ignited your bones. The memories that kept you warm in winter. Rio and Agatha and the promise of eternity in your marriage. 

These things, these foolish things, how easy it was to suckle at the joy of what was. 

“Rio.” You warn.

“They’re infinitely annoying; you’d be doing me and Ags a favor really.” Rio only half joked. 

This time you can’t help but snort at the levity she’s bringing and Rio lights up. Happy your humor didn’t die in the woods of Alaska.

Her hand stays pressed near you.

You eye it but wait, and she doesn’t move an inch. 

Like a dog sniffing a human before getting pet. 

“What is your plan?”

“Change you back, have you fall in love with us again. You and Agatha grow old, it’s not such a bad plan.” There’s a twinkle in Deaths eyes, one you hadn’t seen in so long.

You couldn’t pretend that look, dreamy and romantic didn’t make you long to weap. To tell her yes, and let her hold you again. Shelter you both from the storm of reality. 

Damn, that twinkle was so earnest too. Not one of a child who didn’t understand who you were or what you’d done. Not like Billy’s first love, the naivety of it. 

Fuck that, no, Rio had stood next to you at your darkest hour. 

And here she was once more, ready to fight along side you, in a war against magic and fate. 

How on brand with Rio Vidal. 

“I can’t be changed back. Remember the dark hold. Remember what that did to her?” You snap at her too quickly, and it is too telling. You have shown your own cards now. 

But you gaze towards stairs again. To the other love, the one you’d stolen by a fire. 

“Agatha Harkness is all grown up. You don’t need to protect her the same way you did. And you might just find, that she loves you. And would do anything for you. And so would I. So we are going to change you back. And then I want a real marriage ceremony.”

You didn’t feel the tear, but you watched Rio follow it as it moved the crusty blood around your cheek. 

“I can’t..this will never work.”

“Haven’t you ever heard happy wife happy life?” Rio joked, and you closed your eyes.

Feeling a new sickness, one you swore to never catch again. 

Hope.

—————

After spending the rest of the night on the floor with Rio. 

You weren’t completely surprised when morning came, and you turned into a beast once more. 

That Agatha couldn’t take one more minute of being separated from you.  

Rio let her black nail gently scratch the soft spot right before your wet dog nose. 

Agatha took off her shoes and walked slowly to where you two were lying on the floor. 

Your eyes were closed, but they all knew you were awake when your right ear twitched toward her direction, unable to deny the natural pull of her sounds. 

She gently sat crisscrossed and your eyes opened as she was mid-reached to touch your furry face. 

You move away from them both now, uninterested in being stroked like some common house pet. 

“You always let her touch you first.”

Rio scoffs at this. 

“Oh, please, Agatha. You had your very own Build-A-Bear, she killed for you, watched you sleep. You cannot tell me now, after all this time, you are still jealous I got to pet her first? You do remember she bit me, right?” Rio tried to reason, but Agatha just looked down at her own palm. Like it wasn’t enough for you. 

“I know you are mad at me, at us. But you have to know…I regretted it. The second I didn’t let you mourn with me…” Agatha’s face turned away, to the side where she tried to collect herself. 

Rio didn’t reach out to touch her, knowing that Agatha still didn’t forgive Death. Agatha wiped at her face and then turned back to your animal body. You could hear her, she knew that. And she knew this conversation would be better without your ability to talk back. 

But the dark witch looked like she longed for you to, all the same. 

“Please, I promised you. I did, that day by the fire….I know I…I wasn’t witch enough back then. But I am now. I couldn’t save Nicky, and I wasn’t strong enough to- But I promised our son I would never give up on breaking your curse. And even if after all this time -” Agatha gasped and wiped her nose on the back of her hand as she tried and failed to not cry in front of you. 

“-after all this time. You don’t want us, our broken family…our whatever you and Rio and I are. Then after I break the curse, I’ll accept that.” Agatha takes a deep ragged breath, like the lie burns like hot coals against her tongue. But she wants to believe she would be strong enough to walk away. 

“Aggie-” Rio’s confliction was evident, but Agatha pushed on. 

“Let us make good on a promise for our son. And then you can go back to hating me. Because it is my fault. But my heart still beats for you, and it won’t stop.” Agatha reasoned and bit the inside of her cheek. 

“I can be good.” Agatha closed her eyes and whispered the last part so softly no human ear could ever hear it.

You three sat there in the morning light, not complete. Not feeling any kind of absolution. 

Not a thing resolved, and yet. 

Hope crept bigger in your chest, this sickness in your lungs was spreading to vital organs now.  

Agatha didn’t reach out to touch you, her tears fell onto the ground and you breathed deep. Rio’s touch stilled, but she didn’t pull away. 

The three of you sat in the wreckage of your love, and admired the broken pieces for a moment. 

TO BE CONTINUED...