drghostwrite

[drghostwrite]

Bro! Your fic, Echoes of Our Magic is a masterpiece! Holy shit!!

Thank youuuu!!

… pretty sure it’s the longest one I’ve written so far so I was nervous, but thank you!!

[drghostwrite]

Hey I just wanted to see if you would like to read one of my stories I just made. It's my first ever real story to write, if you like it enough I'm right now working on part two but it's not finished yet. I just want to know if you'll like part one.

Omg yessss… I would love to!… you can either drop it here… or feel free to dm me!!

[drghostwrite]

Echoes of Our Magic

My loves after my little writing break I have returned... this story is a long one so you might want to get cozy.

Pairing: preg!Agatha Harkness x fem!wife!reader, Agatha x reader x Rio

Summary: Agatha is pregnant with your first baby together, and stubborn as ever she goes into labor one night while your both at home. Agatha goes into labor and you call Rio Vidal, Agatha's ex-wife and your best friend, for a little help.

Warnings: slight mentions of death, child loss, birth

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You sighed as you walked into the kitchen and let the safe feeling of your home flood your senses.

You owned an apothecary shop and typically you spent your days with customers, but with Agatha's due date approaching you let Lilia and Jen handle the shop operations so you can spend more time at home with your wife. Today was an exception and you had spent most of the day in your office, and you'd had enough, wanting nothing more than to find your very pregnant wife and curl up with her.

You leaned on the kitchen counter, letting out another sigh, magic pulsed faintly in the air, a comforting reminder of the life you and Agatha had built together. The house was unusually calm considering the chaos and power that defined your life together. You turned to face the living room when you heard the padding of footsteps.

Agatha waddled slowly into the room, her hand pressed against her lower back, grumbling under her breath. The pregnancy hadn’t been easy for her. Her body ached in ways she hadn’t expected, and the weight of her past lingered heavily.

“Agatha,” you said softly, watching her settle into the chair by the fire, shifting uncomfortably. She let out a sharp exhale, one hand rubbing her swollen belly while the other drummed impatiently on the armrest. “Why don’t you let me help you? You’ve been on your feet all day.”

“I’m not fragile, darling,” she replied dryly, narrowing her eyes at you. “I’ve survived centuries of persecution, wars, and betrayal. I think I can handle a bit of discomfort.”

You smirked, used to her sarcasm, but you caught the exhaustion in her eyes. Agatha might have been one of the most powerful witches to ever live, but even she had limits, and this pregnancy was testing every one of them.

“I know you can handle it,” you said, stepping closer. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

She looked up at you, her lips twitching into a faint smile. “Stubborn as ever,” she muttered, leaning back in her chair.

You knelt beside her, your hands coming to rest on her thighs.

“You love me for it,” you teased letting your hands settle on her hips, placing a kiss to her belly. “Now, let me get you settled on the couch. You need to rest.”

She rolled her eyes but allowed you to help her up, her movements slow and careful. The weight of the pregnancy, both physical and emotional, was noticeable as you guided her to the couch. Once she was settled with a blanket tucked around her, you pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Better?”

“Mmm, much” she said, her voice softening as she leaned into your touch.

You kissed her softly before turning back to clean up the room, your magic weaving through the air as you organized books and straightened up the scattered remnants of your day. Every so often, you glanced back at Agatha, as she rubbed her belly absently, lost in thought.

Her groan snapped you out of your focus, and you quickly turned to see her shifting uncomfortably again. “Agatha?”

“I’m fine,” she said sharply, though her hand gripped the armrest of the couch. “The baby’s just… enthusiastic tonight.”

“Do you want me to...”

“No,” she interrupted, waving you off. “Sit down. You’re hovering.”

You hesitated but obeyed, settling behind her on the couch. Your arm draped around her shoulders, and she leaned into you with a sigh. “You’re too good to me,” she murmured softly.

“You deserve it,” you replied, pressing a kiss to her temple. “After everything you’ve been through… you deserve this. All of it.”

Her hand tightened around yours, and you felt her tremble ever so slightly.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s too good to be true,” she admitted quietly. “After Nicholas… after everything… it feels like I’m tempting fate.”

“You’re not,” you said firmly, pulling her closer. “You’ve fought for this, Agatha. For us. For this family. You’re not tempting fate... you’re rewriting it.”

Her eyes held unshed tears as she looked at you, and for a moment, the walls she so carefully kept around herself came crashing down. She pressed a hand to her belly and whispered, “I just want this baby to know love. Real love. Not fear… not loss.”

You covered her hand with yours, your magic mingling in a soft glow of reassurance.

“They will,” you promised. “Because they have you, and me... and we can't forget Rio, and the rest of the coven, that will probably spoil our baby rotten.”

The mention of her ex-wife brought a faint smile to her lips. Despite the complex history between the three of you, Rio had become one of your best friends and you trusted her with your life, her presence in your lives had been a grounding force in the whirlwind of magic and emotion. Agatha nodded, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly as she let out a deep breath.

For a while, you sat in silence, the weight of the moment settling between you. The baby shifted again, and Agatha let out another groan, though this one was softer, almost amused. “I think they’re already taking after you,” she muttered.

You chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “That’s not a bad thing.”

“No,” she agreed, her voice warm despite the fatigue in her eyes. “It’s not,” she said settling back into you and letting her eyes drift closed.

You stayed like that for awhile Agatha leaned back against you on the couch sleeping, your hands intertwined on her belly feeling your baby move, though eventually you found yourself back in your office cleaning up spell books and various other apothecary things.

Your thoughts often drifted back to Agatha. You couldn’t help but worry, her restlessness and sharp retorts lingering in your mind, the way her bump seemed to hand lower, and her groans grew more labored.

Suddenly, a familiar presence filled the doorway. Agatha stood there, her figure framed by the dim hallway light. She was clad in an oversized, lavender sweater that stretched comfortably over her swollen belly, paired with a pair black leggings. The sweater’s neckline slipped off one shoulder, revealing a hint of her porcelain skin, and her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders in, unkempt waves. She looked simultaneously radiant and utterly exhausted.

"My love, I thought I left you resting on the couch?" you smirked at her.

"That is where you left me, and I was finally comfortable until you got up."

"Agatha, my love... I was keeping an eye on you, I just needed to finish some things up, and then I was coming right back to curl up with you."

“Mrs. Harkness,” she teased, one hand resting on her hip while the other supported her lower back. “You think I haven't noticed the way you've been watching my every move?”

You smirked and leaned back in your chair, gesturing for her to come in. “I can't help it, my gorgeous wife has been pacing all day, and I’m worried you’re about to go into labor.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, her lips curling into that familiar, sardonic smile. “And here I thought I married someone who’d let me handle things on my own.”

You chuckled softly. “Oh yeah?... well I'm not sure who you married then, because I don't let you handle anything on your own... I’m not about to miss a single moment of this, especially if our baby decides to make an early entrance.”

She stepped closer, her movements slow and deliberate, and perched herself on your lap. Her belly brushed against you, and you couldn’t help but reach out instinctively, resting a hand there. She rested a hand on yours and raised an eyebrow.

“You do realize I’ve done this before, right? Centuries ago, but still.”

“That’s exactly why I’m worried,” you countered, your voice calm but firm. “You’ve been restless, shifting around, and now you’re in my office. Feels like someone might be in denial.”

“Braxton Hicks,” she shot back without hesitation. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, darling.”

Your lips twitched at her casual dismissal, but you didn’t press further. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when the contractions kick into high gear.”

She scoffed and stood, smoothing her sweater down over her bump. “I’ll be upstairs. Try not to hover too much, Mrs. Harkness.” She emphasized the name with a smirk, clearly enjoying the way you’d taken her last name.

You watched her waddle out of the room, shaking your head before placing a few more books back on the shelf. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that her discomfort was more than she wanted to admit.

Upstairs, Agatha paced the bedroom slowly, her movements filled with tension as a low groan escaped her lips. She paused by the window, gripping the windowsill as another contraction surged through her. It was stronger this time, and she knew you were right.

She was in labor.

But stubborn as ever, she wasn’t ready to admit it. Not yet. She’d done this before, alone in the woods, with no one to hold her hand or soothe her fears.

She could handle it now. Couldn’t she?

Back downstairs, the house fell quiet, and you grew uneasy. Agatha wasn’t exactly one for silence. You moved quietly upstairs, pushing the bedroom door open, you froze at the sight before you.

Agatha’s back was to you, her dark hair falling in wild waves over her shoulders. She swayed her hips slowly, her hands braced against the foot of the bed as another low groan slipped past her lips. The sound was filled with pain and frustration, and it made your heart clench.

“Agatha,” you murmured, her name slipping from your lips like a curse and a prayer.

She startled slightly, turning her head just enough to glare at you. “I’m fine,” she snapped, though the tension in her voice betrayed her.

You approached her slowly, your hands softly falling on her hips. “You’re not fine,” you said gently but firmly. “You’re in labor.”

“I’m not actively laboring yet,” she argued, her tone sharp as she straightened herself. “We have time.”

“Agatha,” you pressed, your voice laced with both concern. “You don’t have to do this alone. You’re not hiding your pain from me to protect me. Let me help you.”

Her glare softened for a moment, but she shook her head. “I’ve done this before...”

“And this time, your not doing it alone,” you interrupted. “I’m your wife. Your support system. I’m not letting you shut me out.”

Agatha opened her mouth to retort, but a sudden sharp contraction cut her off. She gasped, clutching the edge of the bed as her knees buckled slightly. You moved to her side, guiding her to lean on you, her head falling against your neck.

"Y/N..." she started, one hand under her bump, her other hand slipped under your shirt and grasped at your warm skin.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered.

Before she could protest further, her body stiffened she let out a small moan, and a warm gush of liquid soaked through her leggings. She froze, then lifted her head slowly, her lips pulling into a disgruntled frown. “I think my water just broke... you were right.”

You couldn’t help the satisfied smirk that spread across your face. “Told you so.”

“Don’t you dare,” she grumbled, but the fight was leaving her as exhaustion took over.

You gently guided her to lean on the bed, your hands steady and comforting. “Let me help, Agatha. It’s my baby, too. I'm not letting you go through this alone.”

"Y/N," her blue eyes searched yours and she nodded slowly. She leaned into you, her head resting against your shoulder. Her breath was shaky, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m scared.”

You held her tightly, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I know. But you’re not alone. We’ve got this... together.”

The dimly lit bedroom felt charged with magic and anticipation as Agatha’s labor progressed. You helped her out of her soaked leggings and grabbed one of your oversized flannel shirts... a deep navy and black plaid that hung loosely over her frame. As you helped her slip into it, buttoning it carefully over her swollen belly, she took a deep inhale.

“Your perfume,” she murmured, her voice softer now, almost distracted. “It clings to your clothes.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that,” she replied quickly, her lips quirking into a faint smile. “I love it. It's my wife. It’s… calming.”

You smirked but didn’t say anything, knowing she’d accuse you of being insufferable if you teased her. Instead, you kissed her temple before stepping back to let her pace again.

As the minutes stretched on, you suggested taking her to the hospital, but Agatha immediately dismissed the idea with a sharp wave of her hand.

“We’re not going anywhere,” she snapped, bracing herself against the bed. “The baby’s too low already. I can feel it.”

“Agatha,” you began, your voice steady but concerned.

“No,” she interrupted firmly, straightening up with great effort. “This baby isn’t waiting for a hospital gown and fluorescent lights. It’s happening here. Now.”

You moved about the room calmly, collecting everything you’d need... towels, scissors, and a clamp for the cord... keeping one eye on her at all times. Occasionally, she would pace back to your side, leaning heavily against you for support as another contraction rolled through her body.

The pressure in her pelvis seemed to build rapidly, her moans becoming deeper and you could see the determination etched into her face. She continued pacing the room, her movements slower pausing every now and then, her breaths shallow and focused. You stayed close, ready to catch her if she stumbled or needed support.

Eventually, she returned to you, her steps unsteady as she leaned heavily into your chest. You wrapped your arms around her, holding her close as her head rested against your neck. Her breath was hot against your skin, punctuated by soft grunts as her body worked through another contraction, you had a feeling that she was already pushing, she just didn't want to let you know yet.

During one contraction you felt her tense against you, a low groan escaping her lips, you kissed her temple and felt the muscles in her jaw clench.

“Agatha,” you murmured, your lips close to her ear, “are you pushing?”

She nodded weakly, her voice strained. “Pretty sure… the baby’s crowning.”

Your heart raced, but you kept your tone calm and steady. “Okay. Let’s get you settled, my love. We’re almost there.”

Agatha groaned, a mix of frustration and pain. “Don’t you dare smirk. I swear if you...”

“I know, I know,” you interrupted gently, guiding her toward the bed. “You’ll hex me. Later. Right now, we need to focus on meeting our baby.”

She gave a faint laugh, "We're going to meet our baby..."

"Yes my love, but you've got to get through this part first." you said kissing her temple again.

"ugh... easier said than done... nnghhh." She moaned clinging to you as the next contraction began to surge, her head still pressed against your neck as you gently rubbed soothing circles on her back.

She was trembling now, and when she whispered, “Check me,” there was no trace of her usual snark. Her voice was firm and raw, laced with both urgency and trust.

You eased her away from your neck, brushing her hair back so you could see her flushed face.

“Alright,” you murmured, gently lowering yourself to check her. With one glance and a careful hand, you confirmed what you already suspected... the baby was crowning.

"Okay my love, baby is crowning, you're doing so well." you stood up in front of her, your hands supporting her hips as her hands grasped your arms.

"I told you darling, our baby is as impatient as you." she grimaced.

You exhaled softly, muttering, “You’re so stubborn, Agatha.”

She scoffed, a smirk tugging at her lips even through the discomfort. “Takes one to marry one, darling.”

You rolled your eyes your laugh cut short by Agatha letting out another low groan, “Okay, just breathe, I'm right here Agatha... What do you need, love?”

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "I need to move, let gravity do the work.”

At first, she stood with your arms wrapped tightly around her, her body trembling as she leaned heavily into you. Her head nestled back against your neck, and you murmured soft words of encouragement as she bore down with another push. But as the pressure increased, her knees buckled beneath her, and you instinctively steadied her.

“Agatha, my love, you’re going to drop us both to the floor if you don’t lean on me properly,” you said, voice light but firm.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” she rasped between breaths. “You love when I’m on top of you.”

“Not exactly what I meant,” you chuckled, guiding her back a step before sitting on the edge of the bed.

Agatha followed your lead, letting you support her as she squatted between your legs, her back leaning against your chest. Her hands gripped your arms for balance, her nails digging into your skin as another contraction took hold.

“Mmm you owe me big time after this,” she groaned. “you’ll remind me of this moment forever, won’t you?”

You kissed the side of her temple, your lips lingering there as she strained through another push. “Not forever. Just for the next few centuries.”

Her laugh was weak, more air than sound. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know,” you whispered, your voice soft and full of affection.

Agatha gritted her teeth, her breathing labored. “Mmnnughh... the baby… It’s so low.” Her voice cracked as her head fell back against your shoulder. “The crowning... fuck, it’s so intense.”

You tightened your arms around her protectively. “I need to see, love. Just to make sure everything’s okay.”

“No,” she growled, shaking her head even as she trembled in your arms. “I’m not moving.”

You sighed, brushing strands of damp hair away from her face. “Okay, okay... Then let me feel, okay?”

Her lips curled into a faint, mischievous smirk despite the sweat glistening on her brow. “Your hands between my legs… isn’t that how we ended up here in the first place?”

“Not exactly the time for jokes,” you muttered, though your lips twitched with amusement as you reached down carefully.

The moment your hand reached down, you felt it... the firm, soft curve of your baby’s head emerging. Your breath caught as Agatha let out a low, guttural moan, her nails biting into your arms as she bore down.

“You’re incredible,” you whispered, pressing another kiss to her temple. “You’ve got this, Agatha. You’re so close.”

She grumbled under her breath, her body shaking with effort. “Still not moving.”

“Of course not,” you murmured, though you tapped into your magic, summoning a mirror into your hand. You positioned it just right, giving you a clear view of your baby’s head as it slowly emerged.

Agatha let out a strained groan when she realized what you’d done. “Using magic? Really?”

“You love me for it,” you teased, brushing a kiss over her damp hair. “Now, hold on. I’m calling Rio.”

Her head whipped around, her glare sharp despite the pain. “No. I don’t need her. I have you.”

“You do have me,” you assured her, dialing Rio’s number anyway. “But we could use an extra set of hands. Someone we trust.”

Agatha groaned, muttering curses under her breath, but didn’t argue further as you quickly explained the situation to Rio. Within minutes, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house, and Rio’s familiar voice called up from below.

You kissed Agatha’s shoulder as Rio climbed the stairs and entered the room, her sharp eyes immediately assessing the scene... you seated on the edge of the bed, your arms wrapped securely around Agatha as she squatted between your legs, her body trembling with exertion. She glanced at you, then at Agatha, arching a brow.

“Well,” Rio said with a smirk, shrugging off her coat. “What’s the saying?... ‘It takes a village’?”

“More like two stubborn witches and a very patient ex-wife,” Agatha grumbled, though her voice softened as Rio approached, her presence instantly grounding the room.

“Then it looks like I got here just in time,” Rio said with her usual calmness, though a faint smile tugged at her lips. She slipped off her coat, tossing it aside.

"How's she doing?" Rio directed her attention to you.

"Contractions are coming hard and fast, baby is crowning..." you filled her in, your voice steady.

Agatha let out a guttural groan that silenced both you and Rio. Your attention snapped back to your wife as she gritted out,

“The head… mother of... it hurts.”

You nodded to Rio, who moved carefully to kneel in front of Agatha, her hands gently running over your wife’s trembling thighs. Rio’s gaze flicked to yours, searching your face, and you gave her a slight nod.

When Agatha’s blue eyes met Rio’s espresso-brown ones, a wave of emotion washed over her face. Centuries of history passed between the three of you, unspoken but palpable in the room. Agatha’s lips trembled, and you leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Rio needs to check, love,” you whispered softly, your voice grounding her.

Rio’s expression softened as she looked between the two of you. “Is that okay, Agatha?” she asked gently, her voice soft and soothing.

Agatha hesitated for a moment before giving a slow nod. Rio carefully shifted, her movements gentle and respectful as she glanced down. The baby’s head was fully crowning now, and Rio looked back up at Agatha with a warm, reassuring smile.

“You’re doing beautifully,” Rio said softly, her hands resting lightly on Agatha’s thighs.

Another contraction overtook Agatha, and she let out a strained cry, pushing with everything she had. Rio’s voice was calm and steady as she murmured, “Good girl, Agatha. That’s it. Keep going.”

You joined in, your lips brushing against Agatha’s damp hair. “You’ve got this, my love. You’re incredible.”

Agatha let out a strangled moan as the contraction finally eased, and her body leaned heavily against you. Her breathing ragged, as she shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes as she began to ramble.

“I did this before… alone,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Nicholas… I was alone, and Rio left, and…”

Your heart clenched, and as you glanced at Rio. The haunted look in Agatha’s eyes wasn’t just pain... it was memory, memory of the child she had birthed centuries ago, alone in the cold, unyielding woods. The memory of Rio leaving to protect her and Nicholas from forces too dark to fight.

Before you could speak, Rio’s hands moved to Agatha’s trembling legs, grounding her. “This is nothing like before,” Rio said firmly, her voice a soothing balm. “Your baby is safe. You’re safe. You have her, ,” she nodded toward you, “your badass wife that would kill to keep you both safe, and you have me. Nothing will harm you or your child, Agatha. Not this time.”

You pressed your lips to Agatha’s temple, your voice low and steady. “You’re not alone, love. You can cry, scream, yell... whatever you need. You are loved, and you are safe. And you’re not doing this by yourself. I promise you, everything will be okay.”

Tears spilled down Agatha’s cheeks as she nodded weakly, her grip on you tightening. “I just…” Her voice cracked, and she looked between the two of you. “I’m scared.”

Rio’s gaze softened as she reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from Agatha’s face. “It’s okay to be scared,” she said gently. “But you’re stronger than your fear. You’ve got this, and we’ve got you.”

You felt Agatha take a deep, shuddering breath, her trembling beginning to subside. She nodded again, her tears falling freely now, and you kissed her softly, murmuring against her skin, “You’re safe. I’ve got you, Agatha. We’ve got you.”

Agatha leaned into you heavily, her back pressing against your chest her nails dug into your thighs, the sharp sting barely registering, you held her steady, your arms wrapped protectively around her swollen frame, and your gaze flicked to Rio, who knelt calmly before you both.

Agatha’s labored breathing filled the room, each moan growing louder, more strained. Then came the threats.

“If this child doesn’t come out soon,” Agatha growled through clenched teeth, “I swear, I’ll hex both of you.”

You and Rio exchanged a quick, amused glance. “And here I thought you liked the attention,” you teased lightly, earning a sharp glare from your wife.

“This is your fault,” she panted, her voice shaking as another contraction took hold, her words cut off with a sharp cry, and her nails bit deeper into your thighs.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rio chuckled, her tone calm and soothing as she glanced up. “Blame her later, Agatha. Right now, keep pushing.”

It happened suddenly... Agatha groaned and then let out a panicked, frantic cry, her breathing growing erratic. “The head... it’s out! The head's out, help me!”

You tightened your arms around her protectively, whispering, “You’re okay, love. We’ve got you... Rio?”

Rio leaned forward, her hands steady as she confirmed what Agatha had said. “The head’s out,” she said with calm authority. “You’re almost there, Agatha. Just a little more.”

“I can’t!” Agatha gasped, trembling against you.

“Yes, you can,” you whispered firmly, brushing damp strands of hair away from her face. “You’re almost there, my love. You’re doing so good.”

Agatha bore down again with another strained cry, and you could feel her body trembling with the effort. She fell back into you, exhausted, and you adjusted slightly, pulling her closer into your arms so that your thighs bracketed hers.

At first, she resisted, her voice laced with her signature sarcasm. “Are you trying to smother me?!”

“Let me help you,” you murmured firmly, your hands steady on her hips. “Trust me, Agatha.”

For a moment, she hesitated, but as the next contraction rolled through her, she finally gave in, leaning fully into you with a soft, broken groan.

She pushed again, a guttural scream ripping through her as Rio’s eyes suddenly widened. “Stop!” Rio commanded sharply, her voice slicing through the tension.

You froze, the air leaving your lungs as dread gripped you. “What’s wrong?” you demanded, your voice tight with fear.

Agatha’s panic was immediate, her breathing erratic as she gasped, “What... what is it?... What’s wrong with her?!”

Rio hesitated, her usually calm demeanor slipping for just a second before she spoke. “The cord. It’s wrapped around her neck.”

A sinking feeling settled in your chest as Agatha’s body stiffened against you. “No,” Agatha whispered, her voice breaking. “No, no, no. Rio... please, please not my baby! Don’t take her. Don’t take my baby.”

“Agatha,” Rio said firmly, “I’m not taking anyone. I need to unhook the cord. You both need to stay calm.”

But calm wasn’t an option. Your magic flared instinctively, crackling around the room as a protective wave surged from your chest. “Help her,” you growled, your voice low and dangerous.

Rio glanced up, her sharp eyes locking on yours, green magic flaring against your silver magic. “Control yourself,” she said evenly, her hands still steady. “I’ve got this.”

Agatha sobbed, her head dropping back against your shoulder as another contraction came. “I can’t... Y/N, I can't...” she gasped, her body trembling violently. “I have to push!”

“No,” Rio said firmly. “You can’t push yet, Agatha... I need to help your baby.”

Agatha’s cries grew louder, her panic palpable, and you pressed your lips to her ear, whispering softly, “You’re okay, my love. I’m here. Rio’s here. You’re not alone. Breathe for me.”

Her grip on your thighs tightened painfully as she sobbed, but she tried to match your steady breathing, her body slowly relaxing against you.

Rio worked quickly, her hands gentle but precise. “I need to ease the head back just slightly,” she explained, her tone calm but focused, “...to loosen the cord and get it unstuck.”

“Do it,” you said, tightening your arms around Agatha as she let out another agonized scream.

The sound tore through you, and you whispered in her ear, your voice full of emotion. “You’re okay, Agatha. You’re strong. You’re safe. She’s safe.”

Rio worked meticulously, her movements precise as Agatha’s screams echoed in the room. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Rio’s voice cut through the chaos.

“Got it,” she said, her expression softening as she carefully unhooked the cord and looked up at both of you. “She’s okay. You’re okay. Just a few more pushes and you bring her into the world.”

Agatha sobbed, relief flooding her as she clung to you. And with your combined strength, she found the resolve to push again, this time ready to meet the little girl she’d fought so fiercely to protect.

Agatha’s sobs softened as she leaned fully into you, her back trembling against your chest. You whispered reassurances into her ear, brushing your lips against her temple. Her tears dampened your skin as you held her tightly, grounding her with your strength.

Rio stayed in front of her, calm and steady, a sharp contrast to the storm of emotions swirling in the room. “Alright, Agatha,” Rio said softly, her hands poised to catch the baby. “She’s ready. You’re ready. Just one more push. You can do this.”

Agatha whimpered, shaking her head. “I can’t—” she panted, her breath hitching as another contraction built. “It hurts. I’m so tired—”

“You can,” you whispered firmly, your arms tightening around her. “You’ve come so far, Agatha. You’re the strongest woman I know. She’s almost here, and I’m right here with you.”

“And so am I,” Rio added, her voice full of encouragement. “You’ve got us both. You’re not alone.”

With those words, Agatha let out a trembling breath and bore down, a scream tearing from her throat. You felt her entire body strain with the effort as her nails dug into your thighs again. You winced but stayed steady, murmuring praises into her ear.

“That’s it,” Rio encouraged, her voice firm but gentle. “Good girl, Agatha. Keep going. She’s almost here.”

Agatha let out another guttural cry, her body trembling violently as she pushed again. Her hands flew to yours, clinging to your arms like a lifeline as she leaned against you.

"Y/N... It hurts..."

You pressed your cheek to hers, whispering, “I know my love, but you’ve got this. Just one more and we meet our baby girl.”

Agatha nodded, let out a deep scream and then a high-pitched cry pierced the room as Rio carefully guided your daughter into the world. Agatha sobbed, her entire body sagging against you in exhaustion and relief.

“She’s here,” Rio said, her voice thick with emotion as she held up the baby, red, wriggling, and alive. “You did it, Agatha. She’s perfect.”

You looked over Agatha’s shoulder, tears blurring your vision as you caught your first glimpse of your daughter. Rio quickly cut the cord, her hands steady. Then she reached for a towel, carefully wrapping the tiny, squirming form before handing her over.

“Here,” Rio murmured, her voice soft as she placed the baby in Agatha’s trembling arms.

Agatha let out a broken sob as she looked down at the tiny bundle, her fingers brushing over the baby’s flushed cheek. “She’s... she’s beautiful,” Agatha whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

You kissed her temple, tears streaming down your face as you gazed at your daughter. “She’s perfect,” you murmured, your voice choked.

Agatha looked up at you, her blue eyes shimmering with tears. “We did it,” she whispered, her voice full of awe. “She’s ours.”

You smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. “We did it, my love. You did it.”

Rio stood silently, her expression soft as she watched the three of you. There was no jealousy, no bitterness... only love and understanding as centuries of pain melted away in the warmth of this new life.

“She’s strong,” Rio said finally, her voice full of pride. “Just like her mothers.”

Agatha let out a shaky laugh, her tears spilling freely as she cradled the baby closer. “Welcome to the chaos,” she whispered to your daughter, her voice soft and full of love.

And as you held your wife and child in your arms, surrounded by the warmth of Rio’s presence, you knew this was just the beginning of a new, beautiful chapter for all of you.

********************************************************

@lover12345abcde this is for youuu!!

~ xoxo

[drghostwrite]

Would you write for bones?? Tv show 2005-2017.

yes yes yes and yessss!!

I’m always down for writing for new characters/shows and tbh Bones is one of my favorites!

[drghostwrite]

You seem to be loving my blog since you found it dear. Glad you’re enjoying yourself.

Not sure who this is butttt I’m sure I am🤭…

if you don’t reveal yourself, at least claim an anon, pleaseeeee

[drghostwrite]

New fic timeeee!!!

Okay I’m currently working on three different asks, so if you submitted one don’t worry your pretty little head I’m just slowly working on it…

But once I get them posted I need to know what you want to read next… so pick your poison 😏

[drghostwrite]

So my new anon lovelies have an idea of where to start… ask me whatever you want loves

ASK ME STUFF

1: Full name

2: Age

3: 3 Fears

4: 3 things I love

5: 4 turns on

6: 4 turns off

7: My best friend

8: Sexual orientation

9: My best first date

10: How tall am I

11: What do I miss

12: What time were I born

13: Favourite color

14: Do I have a crush

15: Favourite quote

16: Favourite place

17: Favourite food

18: Do I use sarcasm

19: What am I listening to right now

20: First thing I notice in new person

21: Shoe size

22: Eye color

23: Hair color

24: Favourite style of clothing

25: Ever done a prank call?

27: Meaning behind my URL

28: Favourite movie

29: Favourite song

30: Favourite band

31: How I feel right now

32: Someone I love

33: My current relationship status

34: My relationship with my parents

35: Favourite holiday

36: Tattoos and piercing i have

37: Tattoos and piercing i want

38: The reason I joined Tumblr

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other?

40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?

42: When did I last hold hands?

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?

44: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days?

45: Where am I right now?

46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?

48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad?

49: Am I excited for anything?

50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?

51: How often do I wear a fake smile?

52: When was the last time I hugged someone?

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?

54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?

55: What is something I disliked about today?

56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

57: What do I think about most?

58: What’s my strangest talent?

59: Do I have any strange phobias?

60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

61: What was the last lie I told?

62: Do I perfer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

64: Do I believe in magic?

65: Do I believe in luck?

66: What’s the weather like right now?

67: What was the last book I’ve read?

68: Do I like the smell of gasoline?

69: Do I have any nicknames?

70: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had?

71: Do I spend money or save it?

72: Can I touch my nose with a tounge?

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feets from me?

74: Favourite animal?

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?

76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is?

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?

78: How can you win my heart?

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?

80: What is my favorite word?

81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr

82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?

83: Do I have any relatives in jail?

84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

86: What is my current desktop picture?

87: Had sex?

88: Bought condoms?

89: Gotten pregnant?

90: Failed a class?

91: Kissed a boy?

92: Kissed a girl?

93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?

94: Had job?

95: Left the house without my wallet?

96: Bullied someone on the internet?

97: Had sex in public?

98: Played on a sports team?

99: Smoked weed?

100: Did drugs?

101: Smoked cigarettes?

102: Drank alcohol?

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?

104: Been overweight?

105: Been underweight?

106: Been to a wedding?

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?

108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight?

109: Been outside my home country?

110: Gotten my heart broken?

111: Been to a professional sports game?

112: Broken a bone?

113: Cut myself?

114: Been to prom?

115: Been in airplane?

116: Fly by helicopter?

117: What concerts have I been to?

118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex?

119: Learned another language?

120: Wore make up?

121: Lost my virginity before I was 18?

122: Had oral sex?

123: Dyed my hair?

124: Voted in a presidential election?

125: Rode in an ambulance?

126: Had a surgery?

127: Met someone famous?

128: Stalked someone on a social network?

129: Peed outside?

130: Been fishing?

131: Helped with charity?

132: Been rejected by a crush?

133: Broken a mirror?

134: What do I want for birthday?

135: How many kids do I want and what will be their names?

136: Was I named after anyone?

137: Do I like my handwriting?

138: What was my favourite toy as a child?

139: Favourite Tv Show?

140: Where do I want to live when older?

141: Play any musical instrument?

142: One of my scars, how did I get it?

143: Favourite pizza toping?

144: Am I afraid of the dark?

145: Am I afraid of heights?

146: Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad?

147: Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?

148: What I’m really bad at

149: What my greatest achievments are

150: The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me

151: What I’d do if I won in a lottery

152: What do I like about myself

153: My closest Tumblr friend

154: Something I fantasise about

155: Any question you’d like?

[drghostwrite]

“I could be a better boyfriend than him…” 💃🏻

chivalry is not dead!!!!! just look for a lesbian

[drghostwrite]

Okay my loves it has been almost two years since I started writing on here and I want to switch things up a little…

I’m still going to write and take requests but I want to open my inbox up to emoji anons…

Ask me questions, flirt, ask advice… whatever you want

… I want to know more about my readers, and I want you to know more about me!

[drghostwrite]

🫢

Every now and then falling for a dark haired powerful witch with parent issues who is just misunderstood and deeply hurt by the world because she actually loves very deep but no one knows.

[drghostwrite]

This Christmas…

This is a long one so buckle up, it’s also a little late but considering today is Christmas… well I did my best lol.

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x wife!reader

Summary: it’s your first married Christmas together and you have a mischievous plan in the works to brighten your wife’s holiday.

Warnings: smut… Minors DNI!

********************************************************

The scent of cinnamon and nutmeg lingered in the air as you stood at the stove, a cover of ‘This Christmas’ softly playing in the background. You glanced over at the beautifully decorated Christmas tree standing proudly in the corner of the room. Each ornament reflected tiny sparks of firelight, and the star atop glimmered with enchantments Agatha had whispered into existence.

The soft glow of twinkling lights illuminated the kitchen, casting golden hues across your wedding ring as you stirred the pot of mulled cider. 

Its was your first Christmas married to Agatha and it felt like a dream, each small moment filled with warmth and anticipation.

Over the last week, you and Agatha had taken to sneaking little gifts into each other’s stockings early. She had gifted you an antique gold necklace with a small onyx gem that hummed faintly with protective enchantments, and in return, you’d slipped a handwritten poem about the love you shared along with a very expensive cashmere sweater in her signature purple. Yesterday, she had surprised you with a leather-bound spellbook from the 17th century, its pages imbued with whispers of witches long past. And in her stocking today, you’d placed a bottle of her favorite vintage wine with a cheeky note: Save this for dessert, my love.

You heard her before you saw her—the familiar sound of her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. Agatha appeared in the doorway, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, lips painted a rich wine-red that matched the sweater. She smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she approached.

“You’re spoiling me, darling,” she murmured, sliding in beside you at the counter. Her hand found yours, fingers curling around your wrist as she pressed a kiss to your temple. Her other hand toyed with your wedding ring that glinted against the kitchen lights, turning it idly as though marveling at the commitment it symbolized.

“Just making sure you’re as spoiled as I feel,” you teased, leaning into her touch.

“You’re too good to me.” she purred as she continued playing with your ring.

The sight of it made her pause, her fingers curling around yours as her thumb traced the smooth, silver band. Your ring was a marquise diamond surrounded by an elegant twist of platinum and deep sapphires that Agatha said reminded her of starlight. In contrast, her own ring was bold: black diamond surrounded by tiny, white diamonds, a design you chose to reflect her darker mystique.

“I still love seeing this on your finger,” she murmured, her voice softer than usual as she raised your hand to her lips.

“Good,” you replied, leaning back into her warmth. “Because it’s staying there.”

Her chuckle vibrated against you as she nuzzled into your hair. “Of course it is, darling.”

You bit your lip, fighting the grin threatening to spread across your face as your plan began to form. “Actually… I just realized we’re missing something important.”

She arched a perfectly sculpted brow, her hand pausing mid-caress. “Missing something? We have wine, presents, cookies, magic-infused cider, and each other. What could possibly be missing?”

“Candy canes,” you said with an exaggerated sigh. “From that little shop downtown, the one with the nice owners that makes them by hand.”

Agatha blinked in disbelief. “Candy canes? It’s Christmas Eve! The stores will be a madhouse, and besides, I can just conjure—”

You shook your head, slipping into your best dramatic pout. “No magic. It won’t taste the same. I need those candy canes to make Christmas perfect.”

She gave you a long, dramatic sigh, “You’re lucky I love you.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider her words. “You’re right, I am. Now, go on. The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back, and I can finish up here.”

Agatha grumbled under her breath but pulled you close, her lips brushing yours in a lingering kiss before she finally relented. “Fine. But you owe me for this, and I’m cashing in tonight.” With a wink, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the night.

As soon as the door shut, you sprang into action. The lingerie you’d hidden away for this moment was a deep shade of burgundy, edged with delicate lace that left little to the imagination as it hugged your curves perfectly, paired with sheer stockings and heels, the Santa hat you wore tying the whole outfit together.

You slipped it on quickly, adding a spritz of your favorite perfume before draping yourself under the tree. The glow of the lights danced over your skin, and you arranged yourself with care, legs stretched out, arms resting above your head, the picture of temptation.

Minutes passed, and then you heard the telltale sound of the front door creaking open.

“Darling, the things I do for you…” Agatha’s voice carried through the house as she kicked off her boots.

“I got the damn candy canes, but if one more person bumps into me—” She stopped mid-sentence as her gaze fell on you. Her sharp blue eyes darkened, a slow smirk spreading across her face.

“Why, Mrs. Harkness,” she drawled, tossing the bag of candy canes onto the couch without a second thought. “What do we have here?” A low sultry laughed slipped past her perfectly painted lips.

You grinned, tilting your head to meet her gaze. “Christmas came a little early this year.”

Agatha’s lips curved into a wicked smirk as she stalked toward you. “My, my. You’re the best gift I’ve ever unwrapped.”

You leaned back on your elbows, letting your legs shift just enough to catch her attention. “I figured it was time to unwrap the real present.”

Her eyes trailed your body, “You’ve been a very naughty girl, haven’t you?”

“Maybe,” you teased, “You going to punish me?”

“Punish you?” she echoed, her lips brushing against yours as her fingers found the hem of your lingerie. “Oh, darling… I’m going to make sure you don’t leave this spot until morning.”

You leaned up, capturing her lips in a kiss that made her sigh against you. “Merry Christmas, my love,” you whispered, your voice laced with anticipation.

Agatha’s reply was a low, teasing growl as she trailed kisses down your neck. “Oh, darling, Christmas isn’t over yet. Let’s see how many times we can unwrap this present tonight.”

Agatha’s words sent a shiver down your spine, her sultry tone lighting a fire in your chest. Her hands were firm yet tender as they slid over the lace framing your body, her fingers expertly tracing every curve with maddening precision. She paused, her lips hovering over the hollow of your throat as she chuckled softly.

“And to think you pretended to need candy canes of all things…”

You tilted your head, pretending to look thoughtful. “Well, I did need those candy canes for the perfect Christmas…”

“Forget the candy canes,” she interrupted, her voice a low growl, “The only thing I want tonight is right here.”

Your laughter was cut short as she leaned in again, her lips finding the sensitive spot just beneath your jaw. She kissed a path down your neck, her teeth grazing your skin just enough to leave you gasping. You let out a small groan your hips grinding down into her lap. She undid your bra quickly tossing it aside and pulling an erect nipple into her mouth.

“You’re absolutely sinful, you know that?” she murmured, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. The way her dark blue eyes burned into yours made your cheeks flush, your breath catching as she smirked. “If this is how you’re starting Christmas, I can’t wait to see what you’ve got planned for our anniversary.”

You reached up, threading your fingers through her hair, tugging gently to draw her closer, her lips connecting with the bare skin between your boobs. “Oh, don’t worry. There’s plenty more where this came from.”

Her laughter was low and wicked, the sound sending another wave of heat through you as she leaned in. “Then let’s make this Christmas one to remember, shall we?”

Her grip was firm as she laid you back onto the plush rug beneath the tree. You couldn’t help but marvel at her strength, the way she carried herself with such confidence and control. The twinkling lights of the tree cast shifting patterns over her face as she trailed heatedly kisses all down your body.

Her thigh was pressed to your core and you tried your best to grind up against her, searching for any kind of friction. She grinned against you at your silent pleas but decided she would be generous with the teasing, sliding her long delicate fingers beneath the waistband of your panties.

“Mm… so wet for me already, waiting all day really did a number on you.” She whispered as her fingers stroked through your dripping folds.

“Agathaaa…” you whined against her soft lips.

“Careful darling, I wouldn’t want to rush unwrapping my gift…”

Her fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear and peeled them off, seeing the wet spot already forming. She tossed them over her shoulder and they ended up hanging from your tree, you chuckled but it was cut short by your wife forcing your legs open.

One hand dug into your bare inner thigh while she watched her fingers slowly drag through your slick, she let out a low possessive groan and she watched you clench around nothing.

She slowly bent down, and stuck out her tongue flatly running it against your pussy tasting you, she gently pulled your clit into her mouth, swirling her tongue.

“Agatha, baby?” You pleaded.

“What does my darling wife need… hmm?” She hummed, mesmerized by the effect she had on you. She continued to tease you, her fingers sliding into you as she moved to bite into your thigh.

You bucked against her at the feeling of her fingers inside you, curling against you but you needed more, you needed to feel more of her inside you.

“Please my love…”

“Words, use your words pretty girl.”

She leaned up kissing your breasts but her fingers roughly pressed against your clit, she felt your buck against her. Her hand on your thigh came up to brush against your swollen lips and you quickly sucked her thumb into your mouth, the action snapping her blue eyes to meet yours. You moaned against her and she roughly brushed your clit again making you gasp and release her finger, her hand coming to wrap around your throat.

“I need you… I need you to fill me up, I need to feel you inside me…” you gasped out, your wife’s breath hot against your skin.

“Does my gorgeous wife need me to fill her with my cock… is that what you need darling?” She asked you and you quickly nodded as you clenched around nothing but air, her fingers still lightly brushing your sensitive clit.

She bent down to kiss you and you whined into her mouth, you bucked your hips and she took the hint. She quickly sat back and fumbled with the button on her jeans, unzipping them and sliding them down her thighs, your mouth watered at the sight of her sliding her pants and underwear over her toned thighs and the effortless way she tossed her sweater and bra aside.

But the moment she waved her hand and a deep red strap appears your mouth ran dry, “Agatha…” you trailed taking in the sight, this one was bigger than the others.

“Cat got your tongue darling?”

“It’s… it’s…”

“Bigger?… well you didn’t think you were the only one with a few presents hidden did you?” She said grasping the silicone cock and lining it up at your entrance, you were propped on your elbows watching as she lined it up and started to push the tip in.

You fell back, the only thing stopping your head from hitting the floor was Agatha’s hand as she cradled you, you wrapped your arms around her shoulders, tears coming to your eyes.

“Agatha, it’s too big…”

“You can take it pretty girl…” she said pushing into you further, the burn and stretch intensifying.

“It hurts… Agatha I don’t know…”

“Okay love… just hold on…” she cradled you in her arms, fingers gently running up your spine as your nails dug into her shoulders. She halted her movements when she finally bottomed out, waiting to feel you relax, when you finally did she spoke up.

“Do you remember your safe word?”

“Snow?”

“Good girl…” you weren’t sure how but you clenched around her at the pet name, “are you okay?… or do you need me to pull out?” She asked.

Agatha could be ruthless but not when it came to you, even if you were being a brat she still let you know that she cared.

“I’m okay… m’okay…” you assured her and felt her start to move, slowly thrusting in and out of you.

You knew she could feel it, the way you clenched around her, the way your pussy greedily pulled her in, Agatha enchanted every single one of your straps. But tonight wasn’t about her, not yet, right now it was about you.

She started to speed up, still holding you in her arms as she thrusted harder and faster… your gasps and moans in her ear signaling that you were close.

“oh god… oh my god… don’t stop… Agatha don’t stop…” you said breathlessly and it only spurred her on.

“Agatha I’m going to…”

“Go ahead love, cum for me pretty girl…” she whispered and she felt you come completely undone, your legs quivering around her waist, your head falling back as your body went limp in her arms.

“Holy shit…” you laughed, your body warm against the rug covering the wooden floor, Agatha watched you closely still planted firmly inside you.

“Darling are you okay if…?” She trailed, motioning to the strap and you slowly nodded. She pulled out and you gasped at the loss of contact, the loss of that fullness but you could feel the ache and soreness building.

“Your turn Mrs. Harkness…” you trailed and grasped her shoulders slowly pushing her to lay in front of the tree.

“Oh, I think…” before she could say anything you ran your hands up her legs, opening her thighs and laying in front of her, you started gently, running your tongue through her dripping pussy, her head falling back as she propped on her elbows.

Your tongue swirled around her clit as her gasps and moans filled the room, you ate her out like a starved woman, one that wanted nothing more than to taste her wife forever.

Agatha’s hand tangled in your hair as you quickly brought her through her first two orgasms, but you didn’t stop there.

You snaked a hand up her thigh planting it firmly on her lower belly, your fingers easily sliding into her as you continued to suck and lick at her clit, your fingers curled inside her hitting that dangerously sweet spot. When you felt her getting close you applied a little more pressure and before you knew it she was orgasming all over again.

She squirted into your mouth, her juices covering your chin, running down your neck. You sat up with the most love drunk smirk on your lips. A little chuckle escaped you as you saw the blissed out look in her eyes, her lips slightly parted.

“Well darling, I see you’ve learned a few things… and apparently that means we’re going to need to replace the rug….” she laughed in a low sultry tone.

“You’re my wife… I’m supposed to know exactly how to make you feel this good… I can always buy another rug.” you leaned up to kiss her lips, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

She kissed you and you could taste the mixing of each other on your lips, the kisses gentle but heated as you both enjoyed each other, hands still gently roaming.

The world outside was forgotten as you lost yourself in her touch, her kisses, and the way she murmured your name like it was the only thing she needed. By the time the tree’s lights began to dim, your plans had unfolded perfectly, and Agatha made sure you knew just how much she appreciated her early Christmas gift.

As you lay together afterward, wrapped in a blanket on the floor beneath the tree, Agatha tilted her head to look at you. “You know,” she said with a teasing smile, “we still haven’t opened the rest of the presents.”

You grinned, resting your head against her chest as her fingers traced lazy circles along your arm. “Oh, I think we’ve already unwrapped the best one.”

Agatha laughed softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Merry Christmas, my perfect little temptress.”

“Merry Christmas, my wicked wife,” you murmured, your eyes fluttering shut as the warmth of her arms and the soft glow of the tree wrapped around you both like a spell.

[drghostwrite]

What Love Left Behind

Well I did it again… or at least I had some help from a special someone who knows who she is…

We found a quote that I want to use to write for everyone favorite obsession, Agatha Harkness…

“I asked her if she believed in love, and she told me it’s her most elaborate method of self-harm.”

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Warnings: smut… Minors DNI!!!!

********************************************************

The words came out so easily, it surprised even you.

“I love you.”

You and Agatha had decided on having a night in to yourselves, an intimate evening between two girlfriends. You found yourself cooking at the stove while Agatha filled you in on her latest witchy adventures.

You poured her another glass of wine and kissed her lips as she slid up onto the counter and you slid between her legs, your hands massaging into her thighs.

“Mm I could get used to this view…” she said in a sultry tone before bending to kiss you.

“Oh yeah?… me cooking for you or me trapped between these gorgeous legs?”

“Both… you belong with me darling, every part of  you.”

“I love you.” and there it was the atomic bomb that you just let slip.

Agatha froze, her sharp features momentarily softening into something unreadable. Then, just as quickly, her smirk returned, guarded and playful.

“Well, aren’t you sweet,” she teased, her voice light but distant.

She didn’t say it back. Instead, she slid off the counter and padded into the couch, taking her wine glass. You tried to ignore the sting, but the silence between you grew heavier with every passing second.

Later that night, as you lay together in bed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Agatha had been quieter than usual, her touch softer, almost hesitant. Normally, her hands would roam your body with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how to unravel you. Tonight, they rested idly, her fingers barely grazing your arm.

“Agatha,” you murmured, turning to face her. Her eyes met yours, her face unreadable in the dim light of the room.

“Yes, darling?” she replied, her voice smooth but distant.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Just tired.”

You studied her carefully, noticing the tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw tightened ever so slightly. Agatha was a master at hiding her feelings, but you’d learned to see through the cracks in her armor.

“Agatha, don’t you dare try to spare me.”

Her jaw tightened, and she looked away. “It’s not about you.”

You sat up, studying her closely. “Is it because I said I love you?”

Her breath hitched, and the mask slipped. She turned her head toward you, her expression startled, almost vulnerable. For a moment, you thought she might deny it, but then the weight of her silence answered for her.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you’ve been distant ever since,” you said softly. “Please, talk to me.”

Her hand came up to rub her forehead as she tried to look away, and when she spoke, her voice was low and guarded. “It’s not that, it’s just…” she began, but you shook your head.

“Just what?… Don’t do that,” you said gently. “Don’t dismiss it. Talk to me.”

She hesitated, her eyes searching yours before she exhaled shakily. “You really want to know?”

“Yes.” You nodded giving her the room to breathe.

Agatha sat up, her hands twisting in the sheets. “There was a woman once. Rio.” Her voice wavered, and you reached for her hand, intertwining your fingers. “I loved her. Trusted her. She was the first person who made me think… maybe I wasn’t as unlovable as my mother claimed I was... maybe I could be good… But she betrayed me. She took everything I gave her and left me hollow.”

Your heart ached as you listened, but you didn’t interrupt.

“And my mother…” Her voice cracked, and she took a moment to collect herself. “She believed I was born evil... That I would destroy everything I touched... She convinced the coven to believe it too. They tried to kill me.”

Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t stop. “Then there was Nicholas. My son.” She swallowed hard, her grip on your hand tightening. “I brought him into this world alone. Hid him, protected him,  even killed for him… I did everything I could to keep him safe. And still, I lost him. I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever…”

The words broke off, her voice choked with emotion sobs wracked her frame as she shook, her hand grasping yours, afraid to let go.

Silence hung between you as you absorbed her pain, her grief. She finally looked at you, her expression fragile, tears cascading down her cheeks. 

“Do you see now? Love destroys me.”

You reached for her face, brushing away her tears with your thumb. 

“Do you believe me?”

“What?” she whispered.

“Do you believe that I love you?”

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

You bent up so that your lips could kiss away the salty tears falling down her cheeks, your lips meeting her quickly but soft and gentle.

You shifted, straddling her lap, your hands cradling her face. “I love you, Agatha Harkness,” you said, your voice firm. “Every part of you. Your past, your pain, your scars. I see it all, and I love you.”

“Y/N…” she said breathlessly.

“Do you believe in love?… our love?” You asked against her lips.

Her hands gripped your waist tightly, her breathing uneven. “It’s my most elaborate method of self-harm,” she admitted, her voice trembling.

You leaned in, pressing your forehead to hers. “Not anymore… You don’t have to hurt anymore. Not with me…. I’ll love you, protect you, cherish you. Always.”

Her nails dug into the sensitive skin of your hips, pulling you closer as her lips found yours. The kiss was deep, raw, and filled with a need that made your heart ache.

Slowly you pushed her back, her hair falling in a halo around her, your hand pressing into the pillow beside her head, your other hand running down her side as you moved down her body.

You began to worship her body with slow, reverent kisses, murmuring against her skin. “I love this,” you said, tracing the line of her jaw.

“And this,” you whispered, kissing the hollow of her throat, then trailing to her collarbone, then you followed down her chest, kissing the valley between her breasts.

You allowed your lips to briefly meet an erect nipple, your tongue flicking over it. A small whimper pulling from her lips as her hand ran through your hair.

“I love the way when I run my hands up your side you melt…” you said kissing over her ribs, your hands gripping into the soft skin of her sides.

“I love that you once carried a beautiful baby boy…” you kissed over her bare stomach, taking her hand in yours and intertwining your fingers, “I love that one day you could carry our baby…”

You heard her breath hitch and her hand twitched against yours.

“I love your thighs and how I can mark them…” you said bending down, slowly spreading her legs and laying in between them… you nipped at them with your teeth before running your tongue over the spot and then sucking making sure to leave a few marks to be found later.

“I love the gorgeous sounds that you make for me when I do things like this…” you bent down pulling her underwear aside and placing a soft kiss to her clit, hearing a small moan slip past her lips.

“Y/N, love…” she trailed.

“Tell me what you need Agatha…”

“I need you…” she whispered almost as a final plea.

“Mm, I’m right here pretty girl…” you moaned against her, slowly puling her panties off and tossing them behind you.

you looked down to see her glistening folds, already so wet for you, but you didn’t want to tease, you wanted to let her know how much you worshipped her.

“So wet for me… god you’re fucking beautiful…” you said running your tongue flat against her, tasting her. Watching her head fall back against the pillow, but her hand stayed intertwined with yours, her fingers squeezing yours as if your hand was a lifeline.

You swirled your tongue around her sensitive clit before dipping back down to collect more of her on your tongue. You could hear her breaths getting shorter and more on even.

“such a goddess…” you moaned against her. Her hips bucking up into you for more, you could tell she was getting close.

“darling, I-I…” she started, usually you would make her wait… make her hold out for as long as possible, but not this time, no you wanted her to take everything she needed. You didn’t care that her hips rocked unsteadily against your mouth, or how she ground hard against your tongue, but you loved the way she sat up her face contorted in pleasure only to let her piercing blue eyes meet yours.

“Y/N…” she panted breathlessly, trying to keep eye contact.

“Cum for me Agatha…” with that she finally reached her high, her back arching slightly as her orgasm took over, her thighs snapping closed around you aside from your arm stopping her as you still held her hand.

you stayed like that for awhile, waiting for her body to relax before you crawled back up to lay next to her. She leaned in her forehead finding the crook of your neck as your fingers lazily traced patterns on her back and arms.

“Agatha Harkness…” you whispered her full name, pulling her attention as she leaned to look into your eyes, you reached brushing a stray piece hair out of her face.

“Hmm?” She hummed studying your eyes.

“I love you.”

She moved to face you more but this time her piercing blue eyes were hopeful.

“I love you too.”

“All of you, Agatha. Every single piece… your heart is mine to protect and that what I’m going to do… Loving you has never been easier… you deserve to be loved like this, and I intend to prove that to you.”

Tears slid down her cheeks, but this time, they weren’t just from pain. They were from the hope she thought she’d lost, the love she never believed she deserved.

And as you held her that night, as you loved her with every fiber of your being, she let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, love didn’t have to destroy her after all.

After all maybe she was good, and she found the one person that saw that good no matter what.

[drghostwrite]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 1)

@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress

You are a profiler for the FBI when you get called to help catch a serial killer in Westview. (Killing Eve/Hannibal AU)

Word count: 4200

Warnings: descriptions of violence, fear

The phone rings at 7:30 in the morning on your day off and you want to throw it against the wall. 

You had been sleeping – having a very good dream, actually – when the harsh ringtone roughly jolts you out of your slumber. 

“Hello?” you answer groggily, rubbing your face with your hand. If it’s a spam call, you think you might lose your mind. 

“Is this Agent Y/L/N?” A gruff voice asks and you shoot up out of bed into the sitting position. 

You clear your throat and try to sound professional. “Um, yes, this is she. Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Director Hayward,” the man says, and your eyes widen. The head of the FBI is calling you. “Have you heard of the town of Westview?” 

Your forehead wrinkles while you rack your brain for anything that sounds familiar. “No, sir, I don’t think so.” 

There’s muffled sounds from the other side of the phone and then you can hear Director Hayward clearly. “It’s a small town in New Jersey. Nothing special, nothing too out of the ordinary.” He pauses like you’re supposed to recognize it, but after a moment of silence he sighs and continues. “About seven months ago, we believe a pair of serial killers moved into town. Bodies started piling up, seemingly no rhyme or reason to who was killed, only that the victims were all female.” 

“Okay,” you say slowly, trying to wrap your head around all this. If it’s been going on for this long, why haven’t you heard about it? “Are we sure they’re connected if there’s no pattern of victim? Usually men have a type when they do this kind of thing; the women usually look like an ex-lover who broke their heart, or their mom.” 

You can practically hear him roll his eyes through the phone. “They were all killed the same way: poison to sedate them and then their hearts were carved out. And there was a purple azalea left in every single one of the victims’ chest cavities. So we’re pretty sure they’re connected.” Sarcasm drips copiously from his tone and you wince. Way to make a good first impression on the director of the FBI. “And it’s not a man. It’s a woman.” 

This makes you perk up with interest. “Oh?” As a profiler for a branch of the FBI in Miami, you’ve handled your fair share of serial killers. It may make you sound insensitive, but you were only really interested in the female ones. Men were so boring and predictable. Women knew how to make it a challenge, and there was always some deep, underlying motive for why they did it. There was nothing you enjoyed more than piecing together that puzzle. 

“They’re calling her The Witch. The poison used on the victims is like nothing we’ve ever seen before, so we think she must be making it herself. But since female serial killers are kind of your thing–” 

You cut him off before you can think twice, thoughts whirling through your head. “How do you know it’s a woman? Cutting out a heart, that takes a lot of strength. Most female serial killers tend to use gentler methods, like poison, so it makes sense that there’s at least one woman involved. Are you sure she isn’t working with someone though? Lavinia Fisher would poison her victims and then her husband would finish the job.” 

“How quickly can you get to Westview?” He asks, completely ignoring your question. 

“Oh, you want me to go there?” 

He scoffs. “Yes, Agent, we want you to go there. I’ve already informed your boss and he’s given his approval. No one has been better at catching the female killers than you, so we really need you on this. You can take the Miami jet as soon as you’re ready, but they want you there as soon as possible.” 

“Will I be working with the Trenton branch?” 

“Just the Westview PD for now. They’ve assured us that they have their best detectives on the case. But if you need backup, let us know and we can send in some more profilers. Whatever it takes to bring this woman to justice.” He hangs up without another word and you grab your to-go suitcase that you keep packed for times like these. You throw in a few extra sets of clothes just in case it takes longer than expected, and then you’re out the door, driving to Headquarters. 

You walk into your boss’s office and knock on the door. The director of the Miami branch, Tony Stark, looks up at you. “Hope you packed some warm clothes,” he says and you chuckle. You definitely did not.

“Hayward said I could take the jet?”

Tony nods. “It’s out back and already fueled up. Good luck, kid. Be careful, okay?” 

You scoff. “Careful? I’m always careful.” He fixes you with a stern look and you acquiesce. “I promise.” 

“I don’t need to remind you what happened last time you worked on a case like this, do I?” 

It hits you like a punch to the gut and you shake your head. “No, sir, I do not.” But you know he’s going to tell you anyway. 

“That woman destroyed you,” he hisses. “You got so focused on finding her that you stopped eating and sleeping. The obsession completely consumed you.” 

“I caught her, didn’t I?” You mutter, knowing full well that isn’t his point. He slams his hands down on his desk and you jump. 

“She almost killed you,” he almost yells and your face twists at the memory. 

The Scarlet Killer terrorized Miami about three years ago before you finally brought her down. At first, she would sneak into houses of families with twins and slit the parents’ throats and kidnap the kids, but the twins would always resist so she would end up killing them too. 

After a while, she stopped caring about the twin aspect and started killing anyone with children. 

You had spent days in the office, pacing and pouring over the evidence board, trying to make sense of it. There was no DNA anywhere, but there was also no sign of forced entry, so you figured that she was invited into the house somehow. The hunt for children made you think she had lost her own, or had some sort of abusive childhood that made her want to protect kids. She was possibly a twin as well, and very amicable if people were having her over willingly. 

It took two months before you figured out the perimeter of her murders. She was making a hexagon shape with the houses of the victims. Hexagons can represent balance, so you figured she felt as if she was balancing out some score with the universe for something that had happened to her. 

And then one fateful night, you realized where her next target was. A family had just moved into a house perfectly on the border of the hex, as people around the office started calling it, and they had twins. 

You spent almost an entire week camped out in front of their house waiting for the Scarlet Killer to strike. You think during that time, you slept a total of ten hours. Hallucinations plagued you and you would doze off and then wake up babbling something about catching her. Agents would bring food by your car and beg you to take a break, but you kept your eyes strained on the house, determined that you wouldn’t let her get away with it again, determined to prove that you were right about where she’d be.

And you were. 

Except the knocking that should’ve been on the front door of the house, the knocking that would inevitably lead to more death, was on your car window. 

You had jolted awake to find a redheaded woman standing there, looking worried. You opened the door and got out to help her when she had pulled a knife out and stabbed you in the stomach. 

Thank god she didn’t go for her usual M.O. of slitting throats. 

You were able to weakly unholster your gun and take a shot at her as she was running away and by the yelp, you knew you had hit her. A consolation prize as your vision faded to black. 

Somehow, you woke up two days later in a hospital room, Director Tony Stark by your bedside. They had caught the killer a block away thanks to the appendix your bullet had ruptured that rendered her unconscious, a woman named Wanda Maximoff, who had lost her twins in a horrible house fire, and made it a mission to try and replace them.

And her knife had missed anything important, and all you had was a nasty scar and the weariness from everyone else whenever there was a new female serial killer to catch. 

“She didn’t kill me though,” you tell Tony, who rolls his eyes. “I’ll be careful. I won’t get too involved this time.”

He slides open a drawer and takes out a file and a business card that he holds out to you. You reach across the desk to grab the two and you scan the card. 

Rio Vidal, Therapist, Westview. With an email and phone number. 

You hold it up and raise an eyebrow. “You want me to see a shrink?” You already completed your mandated fifteen hours of therapy after the Maximoff incident and you weren’t eager to go back. 

“You don’t have to, it’s just so you have an option. In case you feel yourself becoming too ‘involved.’” 

You purse your lips but you slip it into your pocket and tighten your grip on the file. “Guess I’ll see you whenever we catch her.” 

He salutes you and you make your way to the jet out back. 

It’s a three hour flight and you spend your entire time pouring over the case file. You know there’s still some information that you’ll have to get from the Westview PD, like witness statements and exclusive photos that haven’t been released yet, but what you do have is brutal. 

Photos of shriveled up bodies with barely any skin still on their bones, their cheeks hollowed out, like something sucked the life out of them. Not to be sexist, but you can tell why Director Hayward thought it was a woman. 

Although there’s a gaping hole in their chests where a heart used to be, the cuts are neat, precise. And the blood has been completely cleaned up. What should be the bloodiest crime scene you’ve ever seen is void of any fluid, like the killer methodically mopped and bleached and cleansed the scene of everything. But this also means that the victims are dead before the heart is cut out, from the poison. 

The most chilling thing is the singular, perfect flower placed in the cavity of their chest.

You flip through the toxicology reports but can’t really make sense of anything. One report says one chemical was the cause of death, another report says another. The levels of chemicals in the bloodstream are also different from victim to victim. 

It reminds you of Jolly Jane Toppan, who would experiment with different medicines and chemicals to murder patients at hospitals. 

Is the killer a nurse? A chemist? You’re able to figure out why she’s called The Witch, because it’s like she’s brewing up potions of sorts, but you have no idea why she would bother cutting their hearts out if she’s killing them with poison. 

The precision of the blade also means that her hands are steady. Another reason she could be a nurse. 

You flip through the pictures of all the victims – eleven, so far – and the first victim’s cut is just as accurate as the last victim. This woman is either a natural, or this isn’t the first time she’s killed. 

Pulling out your computer, you search the database for any serial killer cases that match this same type of crime, male or female. You’re still not entirely convinced she’s working alone. 

But there’s nothing. No cold cases, no open cases. She has truly shown up out of nowhere. 

You tap your fingers to the tray table, your mind trying to make sense of the details for the rest of the flight. 

When the plane lands, you’re ushered into an uber and taken to the motel where you’ll be staying. Your rental car is already in the parking lot. Even though Westview is a small town, it means a lot that they’re giving you all these accommodations. 

Your room is complete with a kitchenette, a queen sized bed, and a good sized bathroom. You drop the files on the table, throw your suitcase in the bedroom, and grab your work bag before locking the door behind you. 

The rental car is a small sedan that has a strange smell, but it does the job and you drive through the quaint twisting roads to get to the police station. You park up front, take a deep breath, and walk in. 

No one stops you or asks what you’re doing here (no wonder this case hasn’t been solved yet) so you make your way to the back where you find the Chief’s office. 

He’s a skinny man with a mustache, spots of something that looks like mustard on his shirt, talking to a woman with her back to you. All you can tell is that she has long, dark hair that flows down your back.

“Hi, excuse me?” You say, knocking on the glass door. The Chief stops and the woman turns around to face you and you’re momentarily struck by how attractive she is. “I’m Agent Y/N? The, uh, criminal profiler from Miami? The FBI sent me to help with The Witch case.” 

“Oh, shoot, that’s right,” the man says, wiping his hands on his jacket before standing up. “Chief Phil Jones. This is Detective Agatha Harkness–” He motions to the woman standing there who smiles knowingly, raking her eyes up and down your body. “– our best. She’s been working this case day and night.” 

“Any leads so far?” You ask her. 

“Why don’t I show you what we have so far?” She offers and you nod, following her out of the office and trying not to look at her ass. She takes you into  a different room with a bulletin board filled with pictures and string and post-it notes. You squint at it, trying to take everything in, while you hear more people enter the room behind you. 

“So, Miami, what do you think?” A man taunts and a few others snicker at him. You ignore him, you’ve been used to this your entire career. 

You’re still scanning the board when something catches your eye. The witness statements. They don’t corroborate with each other. From the six people that have seen something, they all agree that the killer had dark hair. But some say it was long, others say just past her shoulders. Some think she was taller and lean, others say shorter and just a little more filled out. There’s a detail from two witnesses that gives you pause though: they say the woman had a mask of sorts on the bottom of her face, almost like a skeleton. The other witnesses make no mention of not being able to see the killer’s entire face. 

You tap the papers. “Why don’t the statements line up?” 

“Surely you know how unreliable eyewitness testimony is,” Agatha drawls, and when you turn around, she’s watching you carefully. 

You frown. “I do know, but it seems like there’s two different people here. So either we have a copycat, which would be unlikely due to there being no change in the level of detailedness from murder to murder, or–” You trail off, chewing on your lip. You’re waiting for someone, Agatha maybe, to finish the sentence, or to tell you you’re being crazy. 

“Or?” She prompts like she’s daring you to go on. There’s a look in her eyes, a look you don’t quite recognize. 

You give the men in the room a glance. Will they laugh? “I really think we’re dealing with two killers here. Working together. One poisons the victims, the other cuts out the heart. I thought it was a man and a woman, but it seems like two women. They’re obviously very close to each other, and they’ve got it down to an easy routine.” 

“Why hasn’t anyone seen two women then?” Agatha asks, but you feel like she’s just guiding you to a realization, rather than criticizing your theory. 

You hum, tossing the question around in your head. “Maybe…maybe because they want us to think there’s only one killer? They’ve fooled everyone, even the FBI. Easy to chalk it up to faulty witness statements.” 

“Why wouldn’t they try to look alike then?” Agatha presses, and your brow furrows. It’s a good point. 

The pictures of the mutilated victims on the board stare back at you while you look for anything you could’ve missed. “Are they toying with us? Do they want us confused? The poison, the cut-out heart, the flower left behind, the different descriptions, it’s like this is a game to them. They’re cocky, they feel confident that they can’t get caught. Maybe both of them are narcissists, but definitely are on the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum.” 

“Why do you think they do it?” Agatha says in a hushed voice. You can’t help but notice that she seems excited. 

Is that because she finally might be getting a break in her case? 

“I don’t know,” you admit and she looks disappointed. You spin to face the board again. “There’s no obvious connection or pattern between the victims, so it doesn’t seem like there’s a personal vendetta against them. Nothing stands out about the locations either. It seems like they’re just killing for fun, right now.” 

“That’s pretty dangerous,” she says, and you can feel the front of her body brush against your back. You’ve been so entranced that you didn’t even hear her notice her coming over. “That means anyone could be next.” 

Goosebumps spread over your body at her hot breath on your neck, but her words sober you up. She’s right. You’re not able to rule out potential victims based on how many kids they have or don’t have, like with Wanda, or what they look like or don’t look like. 

“Okay,” you say, nodding your head. “We need to send out a BOLO for two women with dark hair now. Put these descriptions out, tell them to keep an eye out for a skeleton mask? Hopefully we can get some tips and put a stop to this before anyone else gets hurt.” 

“What should we call the other woman?” One of the male officers speaks up and you’re surprised that it’s an actual question. 

Agatha watches you with interest while you think about it. “How about…Lady Death?” You offer and she gives a nod of approval. “But a BOLO out for Lady Death and The Witch.” 

You make copies of everything that’s on the board and paper clip them together to put in your bag. As you’re packing everything up to go back and leave to the motel (Tony would be proud of you for leaving the station at an acceptable time), Agatha comes over and leans on the table. 

“What do you think their relationship is? Lady Death and The Witch,” she says, amusement lacing her tone when she says their nicknames. 

You shrug. “Sisters, friends, wives? Maybe they’re just two crazy people who met each other and want to kill people.” She chuckles and studies you curiously. 

“You know, we’ve had some other profilers come in, but none of them have been like you. You know your stuff.” 

“Female serial killers are kind of my thing,” you say. “There’s just something about untangling the mystery that’s so much sweeter. Makes me feel…alive. Which I know sounds bad, because so many people have died, and I’m sorry.” 

Agatha looks like she knows exactly what you’re talking about. “No, don’t apologize. It’s exciting, isn’t it? The exhilaration, the moment when you finally get what you want, what you’ve been working toward.” Her voice is low and you nod, leaning in before you can realize what you’re doing. Your gaze drops down to her smirk and then back to her blown-out pupils. “Do you think you’ll be able to find them?” 

“Yeah, I do,” you breathe, and she looks positively delighted. Out of nowhere, the scar on your stomach stings and you grimace. Agatha looks at you, concerned but you brush it off. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You ask, standing up and slinging your bag onto your shoulder. 

“See you then, superstar,” she says with a grin and watches you leave. 

When you get back to the motel, you spread all the pictures and notes out, trying to connect some dots. You scribble down Friends? Sisters? Lovers? on a sticky note and press it to the wall. 

Why do you think they do it? Agatha’s question still haunts you. You don’t want to believe that it’s just for fun, there has to be some meaning, some motive for poisoning and then physically removing hearts. There has to be some significance to the flower left behind. 

But what is it? 

Your stomach grumbles so you decide to take a step back and go pick up food from a restaurant in town. As you’re pulling out of the parking lot to come back to the motel with wings and french fries, you get a call from Tony Stark. You accept it, taking a sip from your cup quickly. 

“Hey, Director,” you say. 

“There she is! How’s it going?” 

You shrug even though he can’t see you. “Not too bad. Just went and got dinner. See, I’m taking care of myself.” 

He laughs like it’s the funniest joke he’s heard. “Glad to hear it. Any new leads in the case?” 

“There’s two women, not one. They’re working together.” There’s silence on his end of the line for a second and you wonder if he heard you. “Did you–?

“Yeah, I got that. Shit, so you think you’re looking for partners? I don’t like this,” he says. 

“I’m okay, I promise. What happened with Wanda won’t happen this time,” you reassure him as you turn back into the motel lot. “I’ll check in with you whenever you want. I’ll go see that shrink. I’ll be careful.” You’re worried that he’ll pull you off the case if he thinks you’re too obsessed. Your hyperfixation tendencies almost cost you your life, and you know Tony doesn’t want that to happen to you again. He’s become somewhat of a father figure to you since you started working there, and it’s touching how much he cares.

He hums in satisfaction. “I expect you to eat three meals a day and get at least five hours of sleep.” Before you can protest, he continues. “And I want you to make an appointment with that therapist. Just get ahead of your spiral, maybe talking about the case with someone removed will help you be more level-headed.” 

“I will,” you vow. “Okay, just got back to the motel, I’ll talk to you later.” He says goodbye and hangs up. When you get out of the car with your food, the hair on the back of your neck stands up and your scar tingles. 

Something feels off. 

You get to your door to find it slightly ajar and you frown. You remember locking it. Maybe room service cleans at night? 

“Hello?” You call, pushing it open. Taking a few cautious steps into the room, you scan from wall to wall looking for anything or anyone.

There’s no one there, nothing seems out of place except for your suitcase that is now on your bed. You tentatively walk over to it and unzip it, jumping back like you’re expecting something to pop out. Inside, you find all the clothes you packed gone, and entirely replaced by a new wardrobe. Pulling them out, you gasp when you find cashmere sweaters and silky blouses and comfortable but professional looking pants. There’s a bottle of perfume with the word “Thanatos” printed in perfect calligraphy and you take a whiff. It smells like flowers and wood at the same time and it makes you think of a forest. 

So someone broke into your motel room just to give you some new clothes and perfume? You rustle through the rest of the suitcase and a piece of paper flutters to the floor. 

Heart pounding, you lean down to pick it up. It’s the same sticky note that you put on your wall before you left to get food. 

Friends? Sisters? Lovers? 

Only now, the word ‘lovers’ is circled, with a small heart drawn. You drop the paper like you’ve been burned and run over to where all your case information is and you feel nauseous. 

Nothing has been touched. Nothing is out of place. 

Except for the single purple azalea resting on the middle of the table. 

They were here. 

[drghostwrite]

hey! are your requests open for arizona robbins still??¿ 💙

always!!!

I know I’m working on a few Agatha requests right now… but my requests are always open for you guys, no matter who you want me to write for ;)

💙.

[drghostwrite]

‘brb’ 😈

Agathario Text Posts 1/?

[drghostwrite]

‘And Death wept for Agatha Harkness,

Done done done done!!! thank you for the nice response on previous post love u silly people on my phone

[drghostwrite]

Hey! Your works are amazing. Can we have more of protective Agatha with reader? Maybe in the same universe of the last one. Thank you!

yesss!!… honestly I’m just going to make this story a multi-part so there will be at least one more chapter.

p.s. this title is inspired by the song ‘Hold my hand’ by the Fray… because titles are hard and music tbh helps.

So I’m going very fluffy, angst for these stories… though this one does have some implied smut(ish).

Summary: Rio makes a return but does she have the best intentions? And is Agatha willing to lay down her pride in protection of you, her wife, and your unborn child?

Hold my hand… pt. 2

*********************************************************

One evening, Agatha was in the kitchen preparing tea while you sat on the couch, trying to get comfortable. A particularly strong kick made you wince, your hands flying to your belly.

“Okay my little love…” you let out a small gasp.

“You alright, darling?” Agatha’s voice came from the kitchen, laced with concern.

“Your child,” you called back with a teasing groan, “is trying to rearrange my insides.”

Agatha appeared in the doorway a moment later, holding a steaming mug in her hands. She smirked, but her eyes softened as they settled on you.

“Well, they did inherit your fiery personality. It’s only fair they cause a little trouble.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled as she came to sit beside you, placing the mug on the table. Her hand rested on your belly, her thumb stroking over the stretched skin.

“Let me guess, they’re aiming for your ribs again?” Her other hand moved up your belly until it met the bottom of your ribs, where she could feel a small foot.

“Feels like they’re trying to kick their way out,” you grumbled, though the irritation in your voice was mostly for show.

Agatha chuckled, leaning down so her lips were close to your belly. “Now, now, little one,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing. “Give your mama a break, will you?… She’s working hard keeping you safe in there.”

Almost immediately, the kicking slowed, and you sighed in relief.

“You know, sometimes it annoys me that you can do that.” you sighed, your head lolling back against the couch.

“Hmm… it’s because I’m magic,” she said simply, her smirk returning.

You rolled your eyes again but leaned into her as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it,” she teased, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Before you could let out a snarky response, a shift in the air made you stiffen. Magic. Dark and familiar.

Agatha’s eyes narrowed as Rio strolled into the living room as though she owned the place.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Agatha snapped, standing protectively in front of you without hesitation.

Rio’s smirk widened, her dark eyes darting between you and Agatha.

“Relax, darling. I didn’t come here to fight.” Her gaze flicked to your rounded belly, and she raised an eyebrow. “I only came to check on the mama to be...”

“Careful, Rio,” Agatha warned, her voice dangerously low.

Rio tilted her head, pretending to look innocent. “Oh, come now, Agatha. I’m here to make a truce, nothing more. For your sake and hers.” She gestured lazily in your direction.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Agatha shot you a look so sharp that you immediately clamped your lips shut. “She has nothing to do with you,” Agatha said firmly.

Rio crossed her arms, her smirk never faltering. “That’s where you’re wrong. This little family of yours? It’s a weakness, Agatha. And weaknesses have consequences.”

“Say one more word, and I’ll show you just how wrong you are,” Agatha snarled, a violet hue emitting from her palms.

“Agatha, I can handle this…” you tried to interject, but she turned her sharp gaze on you again.

“Stay out of this,” she ordered, her voice firm but not unkind. “I won’t risk you.”

You huffed, sinking back against the couch, frustrated but knowing better than to push.

Rio chuckled, clearly amused. “Always the protector. How sweet.” She stepped closer, but Agatha moved to block her, her magic sparking between her fingers.

“You’re so serious these days, love. Where’s the witch I used to know? The one who didn’t let a little sentiment get in the way of her power?”

“That witch is still here,” Agatha said coldly. “But she’s also a wife. And a mother. And I don’t waste my time on ghosts from the past.”

Rio’s smile faltered for a split second, but then she recovered, her tone sharp. “Careful, Agatha. You might regret those words one day.”

Agatha didn’t flinch, her glare unwavering. “The only thing I’ll regret is not killing you when I had the chance.”

“Hmm…”, Rio hummed almost amused, “There’s the Agatha I know and love…”

You couldn’t help yourself this time. “Alright, enough! Rio, if you’re here for a truce, just say what you need to say and leave.”

Both witches turned to look at you, but it was Agatha who spoke first. “I told you to stay out of this.”

“Yeah, and I told you I can handle it,” you shot back, meeting her stern gaze with your own. “I’m pregnant, not powerless.”

Rio laughed lightly. “She’s got fire. I like her.”

“Don’t test me,” you said sharply, surprising even yourself with the edge in your tone.

Agatha’s lips twitched as though she wanted to smile, but her protective instincts won out. She turned back to Rio, her voice icy. “This is your last warning. Say what you came to say, or I’ll end this conversation for you.”

Rio sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up. “Fine. Truce. For now. But don’t think this is over, Agatha. You and I?… We have unfinished business.”

“There’s no business between us,” Agatha said firmly. “Stay away from me. And stay away from my family.”

Rio’s smirk returned as she gave you one last lingering look. “Enjoy your little domestic paradise while it lasts.” With a flick of her wrist, she vanished into the air.

The room was silent for a long moment, the tension crackling like static. Agatha stood rooted in place, her shoulders rigid, her hands still glowing faintly with magic.

You pushed yourself up from the couch, waddling over to her. Your fingers ghosted over the back of her neck, then down her spine tracing the tension there.

“Agatha,” you said softly, “she’s gone. It’s okay.”

She didn’t turn to face you right away, her body still vibrating with protective energy.

“I hate that she came here,” she said, her voice low but thick with emotion. “That she dared to even look at you, to stand in the same space as you.”

“Hey,” you interrupted gently, moving in front of her. “Look at me.”

Finally, she did. Her dark eyes met yours, and the fury in them softened almost immediately. Her hands came to cradle the curve of your baby bump.

“Are you okay? Did she—”

“She didn’t have a chance,” you assured her, placing your hands over hers. “You made sure of that.”

Agatha’s jaw tightened, but there was a flicker of relief in her expression. “I’ll destroy her if she comes near you again.”

You smiled, reaching up to cup her cheek. “I know. And I love you for it. But you can’t fight all my battles for me.”

She scoffed, though the corner of her mouth twitched in amusement. “Someone has to. You’re stubborn.”

“Takes one to know one,” you teased, leaning up to kiss her.

Her lips curved against yours as she murmured, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Her hands slid down to your sides, her thumbs brushing just under the curve of your belly. Her eyes roamed over you, lingering on the way your body had changed with the pregnancy, the prominent curve of your belly, the swell of your breasts, the way your skin glowed, the way you carried the life you’d created together.

“You’re irresistible, you know that?” she murmured, her voice dropping into a low, seductive tone.

You laughed softly, but the sound turned into a gasp as her hands moved with purpose, sliding under the hem of your shirt to trace over your sides. “Agatha…”

She didn’t answer, not with words.

Instead, she guided you gently to the bedroom, her hands never leaving you, always there to support you, to steady you. Once inside, she helped you sit on the edge of the bed, her hands brushing over your arms, your shoulders, your face, as though memorizing every inch of you. Her lips were glued to yours before following the edge of your jaw and down your neck. She tapped your hip for you to shirt and slid your shorts off, the next to go was your shirt, leaving you sitting there in a deep purple maternity bra and underwear set picked out by your wife.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice hushed and reverent. She knelt in front of you, her hands resting on your knees. “I don’t think I tell you enough.”

You let out a soft laugh, though it came out shaky under the intensity of her gaze. “You tell me all the time.”

“Not enough,” she insisted, her hands sliding up to cradle your belly again. “Look at you.” Her voice was filled with awe as her thumbs stroked over the swell of your bump. “You’re carrying our baby. You’re… radiant.”

Her words made your heart flutter, and your hands instinctively rested over hers. “You’re going to make me cry,” you teased softly, though you weren’t entirely joking.

Agatha smiled, a rare, genuine smile that melted her usual sharpness. “Good. You deserve to hear how much I love you.”

She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your belly, her lips soft and lingering. Then another. And another. Her hands kneading into your thighs and hips as she steadied you.

“You’ve given me something I never thought I’d have,” she murmured against your skin. “A family. A future. I’ll spend the rest of my life protecting you both.”

Agatha bent lower her lips meeting the skin of your knee as she trailed kisses up your inner thigh.

You reached down, running your fingers through her dark hair, the strands soft beneath your touch. “You don’t have to prove anything, Agatha. I already know how much you love me.”

Her head lifted, and her eyes locked with yours, filled with a vulnerability she rarely let anyone see. “I don’t think you do,” she said softly, her hands sliding up your sides, her touch reverent. “But I’ll show you.”

Agatha stood then, her movements slow and deliberate as she eased you back against the pillows. Her hands never left you, gliding over your arms, your shoulders, your neck. She looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, her piercing blue eyes tracing every curve of your body.

“Agatha…” you whispered, your voice trembling under the weight of her gaze.

She shushed you gently, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, slow and deep and full of love. “Let me take care of you,” she murmured against your mouth, her voice low and steady.

Her lips moved to your jaw, your neck, trailing kisses that made your breath hitch. Her hands followed, exploring the curve of your belly, the swell of your hips, the softness of your thighs. Every touch, every kiss, was careful, deliberate, worshipful.

“You’re everything to me,” she whispered, her lips brushing over your collarbone. “You and this baby. I’ll protect you both with everything I have.”

You felt your heart swell, your body responding to her touch as she made you feel adored, cherished, loved.

You let out a small whine just needing to be worshiped by her, your drop dead gorgeous but extremely protective wife.

Instead your baby had other plans, landing a very precise kick to your ribs, causing you to let out a sharp gasp as tears actually came to your eyes.

“What’s the matter darling?” Immediately Agatha stopped her movements, searching your face for any sign of distress.

“It appears our child has other ideas for tonight…” you grumbled out as another rough kick was placed to your ribs.

Her hands slid back up to your belly, her thumbs tracing gentle circles over the taut skin where your baby’s foot was currently lodged. “Hey little one, how about we lay off on using mama’s ribs as a jungle gym?” she murmured, her tone softening, but she smirked as another softer kick was placed in the palm of her hand.

You laughed lazily, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “They’re stubborn, like their mama,” you teased, your voice trembling with emotion.

Agatha chuckled, leaning down to press another kiss to your belly. “They get that from you,” she said, her tone playful but full of affection.

She kissed you again, slower this time, almost reverently. “I protect what’s mine,” she whispered against your lips, her voice filled with both love and possessiveness. “You and this baby? You’re everything.”

Her lips curved into a smile against yours before she kissed you again, a promise in every touch, every movement, every word. You had never felt safer, more loved, more adored than you did in that moment.

Your laughter dissolved into soft moans as her hands found exactly where you needed her, her touch leaving you breathless. And as you melted into her arms, you realized you didn’t mind her overprotectiveness—not when it came with love this fierce.