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madamevirgo · 6 months ago

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Hii, can you please do Villain Agatha Harkness x Shield Agent reader?

Agatha kidnaps Reader when Reader was on a reconnaissance mission and all her teammates can hear over the radio is how Reader struggles to avoid being captured. Villain Agatha wants to have Reader's full attention

Love over Duty

PAIRING(s): Agatha Harkness x ShieldAgent!Reader

SUMMARY: Thrown in a mission to stop an evil witch with a supposedly redeemed evil witch, what could go wrong?

WARNING(s): Dark Themes

A/N: I don't think this is what anon was really asking for and i'll probably write a new one that fits with anons request, but for now, the reader being a shield agent inspired me to write this. So, thank you muchly!

The Quinjet hummed low, the vibration a constant backdrop to the murmur of your team’s preparations. Sitting across the cramped cabin, Agatha Harkness leaned back in her seat like she belonged there, a sly, knowing smile curling her lips. She was out of place among you and your team, her cool composure and midnight gaze contrasting sharply with your tight-knit unit’s precision and control. Fury had sworn that she was your best weapon against the dark witch wreaking havoc across the globe, but trusting her didn’t come easily.

Not to you.

Her lavender eyes followed you constantly, every movement observed with a smugness that crawled under your skin. You were the team’s second-in-command, always focused, always sharp. But the way she looked at you, like she’d peeled back every layer you kept hidden from the world—it made you feel exposed in a way you hated.

“Keep staring, darling,” she said finally, breaking the silence, her voice cutting through the dull murmur like silk over steel. “I don’t mind.”

“I wasn’t,” you shot back flatly, tightening the straps of your tactical vest.

“Sure you weren’t.” She crossed her legs, the fabric of her black coat falling away to reveal the sleek boots beneath. “It’s cute how you try so hard to ignore me. But I can feel it, you know.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, jaw clenching. “Feel what?”

Her smirk deepened. “How much you already want me.”

“Focus,” your captain growled from across the cabin, breaking the tension. You felt your face heat as Agatha’s throaty laugh followed you to your station.

The mission hadn’t even started yet, and she was already making it unbearable.

The dark witch’s magic spread like a sickness across the globe, destabilizing entire governments and reducing cities to rubble. No one had yet survived an encounter with her to tell the story, and all magical traces only left more questions—odd pulses of energy, erratic weather, nightmares rippling across entire regions.

When Fury brought Agatha in, he’d admitted it was desperate. She was one of the few people powerful enough to even begin to understand the dark witch's methods. Agatha’s "redemption," as she called it, was still murky territory. No one was sure what compelled her to switch sides—or if she truly had.

Days into the mission, the weight of Agatha’s presence became inescapable. She seemed to slide effortlessly into the gaps in your team. She always had the answers—spotting hidden traps, deciphering magical signatures, dismissing your concerns with that infuriating smirk.

But she was particularly persistent with you.

“You’re tense,” she said one evening, watching you clean your weapon. You were alone at camp; the others had retired, leaving you on watch.

“Don’t start,” you warned without looking up.

“You should let me help with that,” she said, ignoring your tone. She crouched beside you, her hand brushing yours as she picked up a spare magazine. The warmth of her skin sent a spark up your arm, and you jerked away.

“I don’t need your help.”

“But you do.” Her voice softened, the playfulness slipping away to reveal something heavier, darker. She leaned in, her lips almost brushing your ear as she murmured, “You’re wound so tight, darling. It must be exhausting to fight me every second of the day.”

Your breath hitched, but you kept your focus on the rifle in your lap. “I’m not fighting anything.”

Her chuckle was low and dark. “If you say so. But I’ll wait. I’m very patient when it comes to things I want.”

The following weeks were chaos.

Your team fell apart piece by piece, and though there was no concrete evidence to tie her to it, you couldn’t shake the suspicion that Agatha was at the center of it. Disagreements turned into fights. Perfectly calibrated tech malfunctioned at the worst moments. Some of your teammates grew paranoid, plagued by vivid nightmares they swore weren’t natural.

When you woke from a dream of your family—burning alive while you were forced to watch—the sound of your screams sent your team rushing into your tent. Agatha followed them in, moving as if she had no reason to be alarmed.

“Nightmare?” she asked softly, her voice strangely gentle as she knelt beside you.

Your skin felt clammy, and your hands shook as you grabbed the edge of the cot. “I’m fine.”

She tilted her head, dark curls framing her face. “No, you’re not. But you will be.”

Her hand brushed against yours as she stood, and for once, you didn’t flinch.

You’d never wanted to believe it, but she was undeniable. A cold night by the campfire became the turning point. Agatha sat beside you, uninvited, as the others slept. She spoke little that night, her gaze flicking between the fire and you. The usual teasing remarks were absent, replaced by a thoughtful quietness you hadn’t seen before.

“I don’t believe in second chances,” you muttered, surprising even yourself. The words slipped out before you could stop them.

“I know.” Her voice was low, barely above a whisper. “That’s what I like about you. You have your rules, your righteousness. And you’d burn yourself alive to keep them.”

“You don’t know me.”

“But I do.” She looked at you then, her lavender eyes almost mournful. “That’s why you terrify me. And why I adore you.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Adore me? You don’t even—”

“I do.” She leaned closer, her lips brushing the curve of your jaw as she whispered, “I know every stubborn inch of you. Every layer you try to hide. And I love every single one.”

Heat shot through you, your resolve fraying with every word. When she finally pulled back, her eyes boring into yours, you were left breathless.

You couldn’t deny it anymore: she’d wormed her way into your heart. The mission had become more about surviving Agatha than surviving the dark witch. You should have known how dangerous it was to let your guard down around her, but it was too late.

It all came crashing down in that cursed castle.

When the dark witch stepped from the shadows and her hood fell, your knees almost gave out.

“Agatha?”

She tilted her head, smiling—not with warmth but with something predatory. “Surprise, darling.”

The truth hit you like a truck. Every strange event, every bit of chaos that ripped through your team—it had been her all along.

“No.” You staggered back, disbelief clouding your senses. “You…you lied to us. To me.”

Her laugh echoed in the hall, sharp and mocking. “Lied? No, darling. Everything I said was true. My feelings for you? Completely real. But I did say I’d win this war by any means necessary.”

Her magic surged, disarming your team, binding them in glowing tendrils of energy. When she turned back to you, her gaze softened, that false tenderness piercing through the chaos.

“But you, my love,” she murmured, stepping closer. “You’re different. You’ll see why this is right. Why we’re right.”

Your heart shattered. Her words felt like poison, weaving through the love you still couldn’t destroy.

“Agatha…” Your voice cracked as you aimed your weapon at her.

She didn’t flinch. “You won’t hurt me.” She cupped your cheek with one gloved hand. “Because you love me. Even if you won’t admit it yet.”

Her lips ghosted over yours, and when the tears began to fall, they burned like fire.

Your finger hovered over the trigger, trembling as her face stayed inches from yours. The rest of your team struggled against their bindings, shouting your name, pleading for you to come to your senses, but their voices sounded distant—muffled by the rapid pounding of your heart.

“You lied to me,” you said again, your voice breaking as the truth choked the words.

“Maybe,” she admitted softly, tilting her head as if weighing her confession. “But I wasn’t lying when I said you’re the only thing I truly desire.” Her hand slid along the barrel of your gun until her fingers gently circled your wrist, coaxing your aim away. “You don’t belong with them, darling. You belong with me.”

Her touch sent a jolt through you, a mix of rage and longing that left you breathless. Every instinct told you to pull away, to fight, to resist—but your body betrayed you. Your weapon slipped from your hand, clattering to the cold stone floor.

A wicked grin tugged at her lips as she leaned in closer, her magic swirling like a storm behind her. “I knew you couldn’t hurt me,” she purred, her thumb brushing away the tear streaking down your cheek. “Even after everything. That’s what makes you so precious.”

“You’re wrong,” you whispered, barely recognizing your own voice.

“Am I?” Her free hand settled against your waist, pulling you closer, and her lips hovered just over yours, agonizingly close. “You were made for this—made for me. You’ve been fighting it, fighting me, but it’s pointless now, isn’t it?”

She kissed you then.

It wasn’t soft or tender; it was a claiming, a searing collision of lips that left you drowning in her. Heat and darkness curled around you like chains, and you felt yourself sinking deeper and deeper.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a voice screamed at you to fight, to push her away, to remember everything she’d done—but her kiss silenced that voice, snuffing it out like a dying flame.

When she finally pulled back, her lips curled into a satisfied smile as you stood there, dazed and trembling.

“See?” she murmured. “I was right all along.”

Your legs buckled, but she caught you effortlessly, cradling you against her chest as if you were fragile, as if she hadn’t just shattered you in ways you didn’t think possible. Her magic swirled around the two of you, cutting you off from everything else—your team, the mission, the world.

“Let’s leave them behind,” she whispered into your ear. “They never really understood you, not like I do. They’d betray you the moment you slipped up. But me?” Her fingers tilted your chin up to meet her gaze, her lavender eyes burning with an intensity that both terrified and enthralled you. “I would burn the world down for you.”

The days that followed were a haze.

She whisked you away to some hidden realm—a dark, sprawling fortress carved from stone and shadow. There were no windows, no clocks, no sense of time. You couldn’t even tell if it was day or night, only that every moment was hers.

Agatha didn’t need chains to keep you; her magic made sure of that. The castle itself obeyed her commands, the walls shifting to keep you from finding a way out. She didn’t keep you locked in a cell, though—no, she wanted you to feel at home.

You hated her for it. And yet, her care was insidious. She’d appear at odd hours, bringing warm food, soft blankets, or whispered reassurances that you couldn’t help but latch onto in your confusion. Her magic was everywhere, dulling your mind and wrapping you in a sense of safety so false it made your skin crawl.

Still, there were moments when her cruelty slipped through, sharp and cutting like shards of glass.

“You’re thinking of them again, aren’t you?” she’d ask one evening, her voice as calm as ever while you stared out at nothing, lost in thought.

You stiffened. “I’m not.”

“Oh, but you are.” She appeared behind you, her hands sliding around your waist as she rested her chin on your shoulder. Her touch sent shivers down your spine, and you hated how easily your body responded to her. “Your little team. The ones you think will come save you.”

“They will.”

Her laugh was dark, amused. “I’d like to see them try. Do you really think they care? After you hesitated back there? After they saw you drop the weapon?”

Her words dug into you like claws, pulling apart the fabric of your resolve. She turned you to face her, and the way she looked at you—possessive, hungry, almost reverent—made your chest tighten.

“You’re mine now,” she said, her voice low and final. “The sooner you accept that, the sooner you’ll see how much better it is here with me.”

Her lips found yours again, and this time you didn’t resist.

She wanted to break you. That much was clear.

But in some twisted, horrifying way, she loved you. Not just as a prize or a possession, but with a depth that bordered on obsession. It was in the way she touched you—her hands lingering as if memorizing every inch of your skin. In the way her eyes softened when you finally let yourself cry, her fingers carding through your hair as she murmured, “There, there, my love. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

She knew exactly when to push and when to pull, when to smother you with love and when to strip you bare with her words.

“You’re the only thing that matters,” she told you one night, lying beside you in the massive, canopied bed she’d conjured for you both. Her fingers traced lazy circles along your arm, her magic humming faintly against your skin. “The world can burn for all I care, as long as I have you.”

And as the days turned to weeks, your resistance crumbled piece by piece.

You hated yourself for it.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

When the time came to fully join her—to stand by her side as she unveiled her plans to the world—you didn’t hesitate.

Agatha’s smile when you took her hand was brighter than the sun. “You’ve made me so happy, my love.”

Your heart clenched, the shadows of your betrayal pressing down on you, but you pushed them away. You couldn’t go back now. Not after everything.

Not when her hand felt so warm in yours.

Agatha finally had what she wanted: you. And with you at her side, the world would bow—or burn.

The air in the throne room crackled with energy as Agatha stood at its center, her presence commanding and undeniable. You were at her side, the shadows dancing across her face and casting her sharp features in a sinister, ethereal light. Around the room, magical constructs—nightmarish creations of her design—moved like sentinels, guarding the space where she intended to enact the final phase of her plan.

"Are you ready?" she asked, turning to you with a look that sent a shiver down your spine. Her voice was soft, but it carried an edge that demanded loyalty.

You swallowed hard, your gaze flitting to the towering window where the sky churned unnaturally, her power distorting the very fabric of the world. You weren’t sure if you’d ever truly feel ready, but your heart and mind were no longer your own. You nodded.

"Good," she purred, her hand caressing your cheek. The touch sent a flood of warmth through your body, but it only deepened the void inside you where guilt and doubt festered. "With you at my side, there's nothing I can't accomplish."

Her fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up so your eyes met hers. That look of devotion, almost manic in its intensity, was impossible to break away from. "You’ve chosen wisely, darling," she said, her lips brushing against yours in a feather-light touch. "This world will kneel before us. No more war, no more suffering. It’ll be perfect. Don’t you want that?"

Her words stirred something in you—hope, twisted and malformed, warped by her manipulations. You wanted to believe her, to cling to her promises of a better world. But deep down, something fragile and human still screamed against the suffocating darkness.

"I do," you whispered, though your voice felt like it belonged to someone else. "I want to believe you."

Agatha’s smile widened, radiant and terrifying. She kissed you again, this time with a ferocity that left you breathless. "And you will, my love. Soon, you’ll see I’ve done all of this for you."

The day of reckoning began at sunrise—or what should have been sunrise. The sky was an unnatural shade of deep purple, fissures of light and shadow splitting the horizon as Agatha summoned her magic into a pulsating sphere high above her fortress. It crackled with dark energy, absorbing the power from every corner of the globe as her control expanded.

You stood beside her, dressed in darkened tactical armor that she had crafted for you, a blend of your old life and her domain. Your team’s absence hung like a heavy weight on your soul, but you hadn’t seen or heard from them since the castle’s takeover weeks ago.

As you watched Agatha weave her spells, you couldn’t shake the growing unease gnawing at you. The world was breaking apart under her power, and even though she looked at you with such overwhelming love, her madness was undeniable.

"Tell me something," you said softly, your voice barely cutting through the din of energy surging around the room. "Why me? Why go through all this trouble?"

Agatha froze mid-motion, her hands glowing faintly as she lowered them. Her head tilted, and for a moment, you thought she might lash out at you. Instead, she stepped closer, her expression softening with something close to vulnerability.

"You’re the only light I’ve ever known," she said simply. Her hands cupped your face, her thumb tracing your jawline as she spoke. "The world is ugly and cruel. No one can be trusted. But you… you were different. You burned so brightly, so purely. Even when you hated me, I could see the goodness in you. And I couldn’t let it go."

Her words hit something raw inside you, but they carried a disturbing undercurrent of possession. You weren’t sure if she loved you or if she simply couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. Maybe it was both.

When your team finally arrived, you felt their presence before you saw them. The tension shifted, a familiar, sharp energy cutting through Agatha’s magic. Her attention snapped to the entrance as the sound of boots echoed down the long corridor.

"You called them here," she hissed, rounding on you, suspicion flashing in her eyes.

"I didn’t!" you insisted, hands raised defensively.

She didn’t look convinced, but before she could press further, the double doors at the far end of the room burst open. Your captain stormed in first, weapon raised, followed by the rest of your battered but determined team. Their faces were gaunt, their eyes blazing with fury as they took in the sight of you standing by Agatha’s side.

"Stand down!" your captain shouted, his voice ringing through the chamber. "We’re here to bring you home. This isn’t who you are!"

Your chest tightened, your gaze flickering to Agatha, whose sneer deepened as she raised a hand to conjure a barrier between them and her.

"They don’t understand you like I do," she whispered, her tone dripping with venom. "They’d throw you away in a heartbeat. They don’t deserve you, my love."

"You’re wrong," you said, though your voice faltered.

"Am I?" she pressed, her hand gripping yours tightly. Her magic rippled through you, intoxicating and numbing all at once. "Tell me, darling. Who’s been by your side this entire time? Who understands the depths of who you are? They abandoned you. I saved you."

The weight of her words crushed down on you, but your captain’s voice cut through the haze. "You don’t have to do this. Whatever she’s done to you, we’ll undo it. You can come back to us. Please."

For a split second, you hesitated.

Agatha noticed.

Her grip on your hand tightened painfully, and her magic surged, coiling around you like chains. "Don’t listen to them!" she snarled, her voice sharper now, desperate. "You’re mine. You belong to me. And if I have to tear this world apart to prove it, I will."

The choice was suffocating, unbearable. You could feel the pull of your old life, the camaraderie, the trust you once had with your team. But then there was Agatha, her presence a blazing inferno of passion, possessiveness, and twisted love.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words that came out weren’t your own:

"I choose her."

The devastation on your team’s faces would haunt you forever. But as Agatha pulled you into her arms, her triumphant laughter echoing through the chamber, you knew there was no turning back.

You belonged to her now—utterly, irrevocably. And the world would kneel before you both.

The world did kneel.

Agatha’s conquest unfolded with a relentless, merciless precision. With you at her side, she unleashed her magic across nations, bending governments and armies to her will. The fissures she created in reality itself carved through cities, marking the end of resistance. Darkness swept the planet, but to her, it was a new dawn—your dawn.

And you were her beloved crown jewel.

You couldn’t pinpoint the moment you stopped struggling. Maybe it was during the endless nights spent at her side, wrapped in her arms as she whispered dreams of your eternal reign. Maybe it was the way she smiled so sweetly at you, like you were the only thing in the universe that mattered. Or maybe it was her power, subtle and insidious, weaving its way into your very soul until it became impossible to know where she ended and you began.

Your team tried one last desperate attack against her empire.

It was brutal, swift, and inevitable.

You saw them fall, one by one, as Agatha watched with a calm, satisfied smile. She let you witness the devastation, ensuring you were there to deliver the final blow that shattered their hope entirely. When the captain, battered and broken, looked up at you with disbelief and betrayal in his eyes, his final words carved into you like a brand.

"We were your family."

You hesitated for a fleeting moment—but then Agatha’s hand brushed yours, and the doubt faded like smoke on the wind. You struck the blow that ended him, the silence that followed so deafening you thought the earth had swallowed you whole.

Agatha pulled you into her arms as your knees gave way, cradling you like a child. "Hush now, my love," she cooed, her fingers threading through your hair as tears slipped silently down your face. "It had to be this way. They would never have let us be together."

You couldn’t speak.

Her lips ghosted over your ear, her voice soothing, almost tender. "This is the world I promised you—a world where we can be free. No one will ever stand between us again."

Years passed, though time in the world she’d created seemed to move differently. Her kingdom stretched far and wide, a dark utopia shaped by her vision and your unwavering place at her side. The sun rarely broke through the constant storm-churned skies, but Agatha insisted it was beautiful—a reflection of her power and devotion.

You’d become a myth among her people: the warrior who stood beside the dark queen, her chosen beloved, as much a god in their eyes as she was.

Still, late at night, when the castle was quiet, and her magic draped around you like a suffocating shroud, you couldn’t stop the ghostly echoes of the life you’d left behind from haunting you.

"What are you thinking about, darling?" Agatha’s voice would break the stillness, soft but edged with a hint of suspicion.

"Nothing," you’d reply, your voice hollow.

Her hand would tilt your face toward hers, her expression unreadable as her lavender eyes searched your own. There was always an edge to her affection, a warning that you belonged to her and her alone.

She kissed you then, as if sealing that ownership—a kiss that left you drowning in the storm of her power, drowning in her love.

It didn’t matter that a part of you still whispered of regret, still longed for something lost.

She had won.

And in the end, so had you.

A dark queen and her devoted consort, ruling a broken world, eternally bound by love, obsession, and betrayal.

_-_-_

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madamevirgo · 7 months ago

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madamevirgo · 7 months ago

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Breathe Into You; Chapter 33

Masterlist

Taglist: @setsuna1415, @ara-a-bird

You knelt at the space of land which was the same as all the rest. Her grave's ground wasn't even disturbed. The reminder of how long it had been burned in your chest.

A firm hand closed around your shoulder. You glanced up very briefly, but Moiraine was persistent. "What would you like me to do with this... usurper?"

"Still her, kill her, or bind her; I don't care," you mumbled in response. You were fixed on sensing beneath the surface soil. Once you found a body, you fearfully pulled it up. The Earth shifted and gave way to a rising corpse. Farah was filthy, but intact, thank the heavens. An involuntary, but profound cry escaped your frightened face. You dusted off her hair and face, near to tears. Her normally tan skin was pale and cool to the touch. Bugs had made homes of her clothes - salt in the wound - but thankfully not in her flesh. Worst of all, Farah didn't look like she was sleeping. She looked dead. You couldn't stand for it and laid her head on your lap. You tried to meet her mind, but there wasn't one there. There was something but you didn't know what it was; an energy not unlike the One Power. You reached out for it.

Moiraine's grip on your shoulder intensified and she shouted quite firmly, "Wait!" And she disappeared again.

Normally, you wouldn't listen. With your love literally at your fingertips, nothing could stop you from helping her except for your fear of inflicting harm, like with Alma. And now you had promised never to repeat that accident. So you seized your power and instead just stared at your beauty.

The Blue came back and sat on the opposite side of your woman. "Don't... try to bring her back. Direct resurrection will strain your body and you'll burn through. Work with me." With her skirts arranged around her knees, back in her classic garb, elegant hands took yours. Both sets hovered over Farah and you followed Moiraine's lead, casting your Power into her for a better perspective. Enigmatic blue orbs snapped open and Moiraine smirked. "I think I love your Farah too." Gingerly, she took your hands and attention again. "We don't have to resurrect her, only feed into the magic she placed." She drew one of your hands, still joined, up to Farah's heart.

You felt the drain on your power, more willingly as she took what you gave. The magic you were fueling felt cold and brittle, but, like a flower, color and energy filling up the vessel. You finally felt signs of life, like a second-hand warmth, like Farah was kissing you.

The warmth came back into her skin and some breath came back into her lungs with a large gasp. You cried with joy and broke contact with Moiraine and then again. Loose hair fell around your thighs, slowly regaining color as the owner's head laid on your lap.

Moiraine watched from above with an air of mourning.

Farah gasped your name in a rasping, hoarse voice. Her brown eyes were wide when she tried to look at the surrounding area. She relaxed minutely when her gaze found you. Her weak fingers grasped at your arms and you helped her sit up. Her knuckles went white around your arm and she looked at Moiraine and Rosalind. She called for you in alarm, trying to bring herself together.

You followed her gaze, then her thought process. Taking her hands, you held them and her close. "Farah, this is Moiraine. She's been helping me while you've been... napping." You looked at her half sadly, but with persistent optimism. You followed her eyes fixed on the Devil she knew. "And Rosalind's..." You looked up at the Sedai to find out what she'd done.

Moiraine stooped to be on the pair of you's level. She didn't come closer, considerate of Farah's disorientation, but still explained. "She can no longer use any magic."

Those chocolate eyes were stunned as she looked at the stranger. It seemed she was safe enough to carefully examine everything. She was grateful since her brain seemed to be operating at 25% efficiency. In theory, she should feel safe. You were there and you trusted the situation, yet Farah still felt uneasy.

You frowned to try to solve the problem, thinking fast. You turned to face Moiraine very seriously. "Can you take her to where you found me? And have Saul show you Farah's room."

Moiraine was calm and logical and she nodded.

"Meet me there once she's secure." You watched the pair leave then turned back to Farah. She was still paler than usual and she had begun to tremble. Slowly, you touched the shoulder of her coat. She was still wide-eyed, checking out the surroundings paranoidly. One hand came up to hold your writs. Her poor voice shook and cracked from months of disuse and lack of hydration as she said your name. You tried to move slowly, so as not to startle her. "I'm here, Farah. We're safe. I'm here."

Both hands shakily sought out yours. You happily warmed her cool ones with your sweaty palms. You even kissed her dirty knuckles. "Then let's move."

You brought one hand to sweep her bangs out of her face. Her hair was coming out of her bun in a very uncomfortable-looking way. "My room or yours?" you asked to give her some control and half flirting. Still you stood on straight legs with a bent back to help her stand. Shakily, she did so, still taking in the cemetery. She couldn't seem to reconcile that she was still here. Perhaps you should have taken her to her room before doing this. The clearing was empty of other people, Moiraine already having escorted the powerless ex-head to the cell she gave you.

It felt like the sun was shining just for you. Walking with your love, at her pace, you were elated to have her back, looking at you with those eyes.

In her own bed, surrounded by her own blanket, you were the perfect doting girlfriend. She wanted to bathe alone so you made her some soup and poured it into her favourite mug. So she held the handle in one hand and the spoon in the other. You sat nearby so as not to be suffocating, watching some awful reality show Farah loved.

You rose from the bed to get the odor before Moiraine knocked. You kept your hand on the inside of the door to keep Farah's anxiety from exploding. "You can sleep in my room; yes the one Bloom took you to. How does Bloom know where my room is?"

You and Moiraine answered together. "Terra."

"You know that's very unnerving."

You tilted your head with a smirk. "You aren't shutting me out."

Blue eyes sought the ground. "Well, it's hard to keep you at a distance when I want...." Moiraine wasn't the best at verbalizing her feelings, but with you, she didn't have to.

You looked away. "I need to talk to Farah about you, getting you a room- There's a lot to- I- I need to speak with Farah. And she just woke up." You stared at her with regret, wishing she could feel what you did.

Moiraine did well not to take it personally. She nodded and smiled weakly in return. She knew this would be difficult, but she was stubborn. She consoled herself that night by going through your things, taking advantage of the invitation.

You re-entered the suite to find you had all of Farah's attention, and she looked wired. The tv was straight snow, and water from the faucet floated up with the handle off. You scooped it down with a cup. "You're going to make a mess," you warned, hovering the cup just over the sink.

With a deep breath, the apartment went back to normal. "I thought you were going to leave. Who was that?"

You took the near empty mug and carried it to the trashcan, dumping the melted spoon. "She's... nothing you need to worry about. I'll tell you when you're better. And I don't plan on leaving unless you need space. Saul's in charge of the school for now." Gleeful joy lit up Farah's face and your heart broke. "Saul's fine. The Winx Suite broke him out of Andreas' custody several months ago."

Farah looked impressed. "You catch up quick."

You looked at Farah and forcibly focused the noise from the rest of the world, the school, away. You honed in on Farah, on the calm she felt with you, the trust. You knew your eyes changed color. That was kind of the point. "I feel... supercharged."

Farah smiled at you serenely, gesturing you toward her. She took your face as she knew you were too scared to touch her right now. Your lips met and you melted into sitting beside her. "My special girl."

Next Chapter

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madamevirgo · 8 months ago

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The first time Jane's not drunk enough to pass it off as a mistake. It's early into their friendship; Maura still asks for Jane's sweats instead of digging them out of a drawer. She's wearing them, her hair still wet from the shower. It's been a rough day, a gross day, one that requires multiple showers. Maura looks sad so Jane hugs her the way she'd hug anyone who'd had stomach liquid land in their hair.

Maura holds her close. Maura is awkward to hug; she stiffens but doesn't pull away. She waits to make sure Jane's not making some sort of mistake, and then she pushes forward too hard, her breath all raggedy like she's trying not to cry, her hands holding Jane too hard, as though Jane will push her away if she lets go too soon, like she's scared it's not real - like she's scared Jane's not real.

And that night, the first time, Maura's wet hair against Jane's chin, her hands finally learning how to relax on Jane's body so she doesn't leave her bruised, Jane feels Maura's pelvis press against her. It's not on purpose, but Jane's breath catches and she pushes back and Maura's breath comes all thin and thready, the warmth of her against Jane's thigh promising worlds Jane can't even imagine and then they're dry humping up against Jane's ancient refrigerator that came with her apartment and Jane comes with Maura with an irritated hum from the overworked appliance, gasping for breath.

Jane has only had two beers. She glances at them wistfully, looking for an excuse, then looks down to Maura's flushed, embarassed face.

Maura's her best friend. Maura's the best friend she's ever had.

"It's okay," Jane says when she can talk, and she feels Maura relax against her. They're still hugging. "It's been a long day. We're probably just frustrated."

They haven't kissed. That would make it something it's not.

+++

The next time Jane is too drunk. Maura finds her between her pain meds and a bottle of whiskey. Jane growls at her when she takes both bottles. Maura sits and pulls Jane against her, holding her. There is a bucket discreetly placed on the floor next to the couch.

"You're poisoning yourself."

"I put you in danger," Jane finally confesses. It's been weighing on her so long.

"You saved my life. Mine and Frankie's too."

"I should have known he was dirty. He should have never gotten near you." Jane's voice is low and raspy and she feels Maura's stomach clench as she speaks. She pulls away to look down at Maura. "I failed you."

Maura's crying. Jane touches her cheek and licks at the moisture on her fingers. She's dehydrated, and she lets Maura hold water to her mouth, lets Maura wipe her lips clear.

"You have never failed me."

Jane wants to kiss her, but they're not like that. She pushes herself on top of Maura and grinds down against her, gasping when Maura's pelvis rises to meet her, watching Maura's face beneath her. She brushes hair and tears away from Maura's face, with her fingers, with her lips.

Maura comes first, gloriously hard against Jane, arching up into her, a stifled little moan that sounds like Jane's name. It's enough to push Jane over the precipice she's been hovering over too long, and she joins Maura in pleasure, noting she's pushed Maura's dress up, her scarred palms brushing over Maura's bare thighs.

Jane collapses atop Maura, too tired and content to move.

"You have never failed me," Maura says again, and Jane feels those soft, strong fingers brushing through her messy hair, feels them on her back as Maura holds her tight enough that Jane wonders if Maura will ever let her go.

+++

The next time they're not drunk. They're at Maura's, and Jane doesn't know why she's not more freaked out about this. It's not technically sex, but it's close enough that she should be questioning herself, trying to figure out if she likes women.

Instead her hand is sliding up the hem of Maura's dress in her spare bedroom; they've avoided bedrooms so far, but here they are. Maura's hands are in Jane's shirt and she whimpers as Jane's fingers make contact with her satin underpants.

They're still not kissing because that would make it something else. Something like commitment, like Jane's heart doesn't break every time Maura has a date. This is new; Jane's never touched a woman like this before, but Maura's hips tilt and Jane can't withhold anything Maura needs. She can figure out the landmarks from here and she uses less pressure than she would for herself because she figures Maura's precious and delicate and whatever and she's right because she feels the pulse as it happens, Maura's hands holding her so tight that it's an effort to breathe, and then Maura's hand is on her, and she's never been so wet; she's almost embarrassed until Maura's eyes meet hers in awe and it's all Jane can do to keep from kissing her for being so sweet and understanding and so, so good at making Jane come.

Maura's hand cups her until she's sure Jane is done. "Sweet dreams," Maura says, and extracts herself. Jane collapses on the bed and wonders if she wants more or less from whatever they're doing.

+++

The next time they're in a shower. Jane fell into a river and Maura went in after her. They got hosed down at the precinct, but there is pond weed and an ickiness that remains. They shower together because they both need a shower and Jane's place is small. Maura touches the bullet wound on Jane's stomach and then gives Jane a knowing look as she slides her fingers lower, where the wet heat of Jane has been waiting for her touch. Jane's legs shake and she has to lean against the shower wall for balance, pulling Maura close and returning the favour. She's so wet - not from the shower, from touching Jane, and that's when Jane starts to wonder what they're doing. She's happy enough to be having mind-blowing sex with the most attractive person she's ever met, but she's not ready to talk about it. Not even with Maura.

She watches with satisfaction as Maura thrusts down against her fingers, grunts with pleasure as Maura bites down on her shoulder to muffle the noise she makes when she comes.

+++

And then Dean is in town. It's so, so awkward. Ma is pushing her. Maura is pushing her. Everyone wants her to be straight. Jane badly wants to be straight and Dean is there.

Jane doesn't even come. Doesn't even come close. She fakes it so he'll stop touching her so wrong. He falls asleep and Jane thinks of Maura's soft, gentle fingers, her fierce determination. The way she looks so pretty when Jane's inside her. Jane cries the way she should have when she put a bullet in herself to buy the woman she loved enough time to save her.

Jane cries because Maura doesn't love her, and Jane's just realised she does.

+++

Maura's mad at her. She throws Dean in her face. They bicker, but when Jane finally gets home, Maura is there.

"Your parents are in the hospital," Jane snipes, but there's no real ire left in her.

"I'm not... I'm not.... not mad. And I don't forgive you. I might never."

"Then why are you here?"

Jane knows; she can almost smell her from here. The air is thick and filled with everything left unsaid.

Maura crosses the room and shuts the door behind Jane, then slams her against it, sliding the deadbolt.

"How many?"

"What?"

"How many orgasms did he give you, Jane? What did he give you that I couldn't?"

"You told me... you chose the dress..."

"And you came when I called." Maura's anger leaves her and she slumps.

"I'll always come for you," Jane admits.

"You've never let me down," Maura agrees.

"You can shoot my dad if you want. It'll make us even."

Maura laughs bitterly and Jane wants to fix this. She takes Maura's chin in her palm and lifts Maura's face to hers. She lets her fingers stroke Maura's soft cheek as she looks into those deeply hurt hazel eyes, glittering gold with tears. She lowers her head so slowly that Maura has plenty of time to move away.

She doesn't. She meets Maura in the middle. They kiss, finally, after three years of not getting around to it. After three years of the most tender, loving sex Jane has ever had.

Maura's lips are so soft that Jane finds herself moaning into Maura's mouth. Maura grasps her like she used to; scared Jane isn't real, scared Jane doesn't mean it. Her tongue should be illegal because Jane's knees buckle when it brushes her own.

Then Maura's sharp teeth are dugging into her bottom lip and Maura pulls away, her eyes flashing angrily.

"On your knees," Maura says, and her lips are swollen from Jane kissing them and Jane drops like a rock at the order, her hands already pushing the dress up out of the way, already pulling down what remains between them. She devours Maura utterly; she's drenched and running down Jane's chin, over her lips and tongue. It's better than anything she did with Dean; Jane hasn't been touched and she is throbbing and soaked.

Maura's fingers curl in her hair and she thrusts shallowly against Jane's open mouth. Jane licks her clean, waiting patiently. Maura just retrieves her underwear and leaves without another word. Jane makes herself come quickly once the door closes, tears down her cheeks and Maura on her lips. She slumps and leans against the closed door, holding herself since nobody else will.

+++

Maura forgives Jane. She kind of has to; Jane saved her life and her leg. And Maura saved them both with the coordinates. They forgive each other but what lies between them remains fractured. They make sure they're not alone. They seek out other company.

And then Jane gets a new mattress and Maura is the only person in her life helping her.

"Can I come?" Maura asks, when Jane talks about her dream wedding. Jane rolls onto her side and looks at her. It's okay, being alone with her now. It doesn't hurt like it used to. She knows now she broke them up, knows now there's nothing she can say that will fix things.

"You always do," Jane says without thinking. Maura put her drink down and looks Jane over with a hunger Jane recognises.

"I left you hanging. I owe you one."

"It's okay," Jane says, even though it's not, even though she'd cried on the floor for well over an hour, hoping to hear Maura's footsteps outside, hoping she'd changed her mind. "I always let you down."

"You have never," Maura says, rolling onto her side to face Jane, "and I mean never let me down."

"Never even run around and hurt you."

Maura doesn't recognise the lyrics. Jane has never been able to RickRoll her because Maura never knows when she's being RickRolled.

"I was mad about Dean. But we weren't exclusive, and I was seeing people too. We never talked about it, did we?"

Jane's hands are shaking. She nods slowly, looking over at Maura. Her voice is low and sexy, and Jane loves when she speaks foreign languages. It's so hot. Maura is so hot, but she's at her hottest when she's underneath Jane.

Jane rolls on top of her so easily that Maura's already thrusting up at her. But this time Jane is leaning down and kissing her. Jane is holding her tenderly. Jane is pulling off her tank top and sliding Maura's buttons undone, she is pressing her bare skin against Maura like she's one of those animals that breathe through their skin and Maura is oxygen to her. Jane checks in with her as her hand crawls down Maura's strong abdomen.

"You know I love you?" Jane says, then shakes her head. "I mean, I do. I love you. I've missed you. I'm really, really into you."

"Not quite," Maura says, and tilts herself up against Jane's questing fingers until they slide home, Maura as always wet enough to take as much of Jane as she can. Jane's palm rubs the little circles that drive Maura wild and her fingertips brush slowly against the wet warmth of her, against the softness that makes Maura sob as she comes in Jane's arms, Jane kissing her gently, brushing her tears away holding her as she moves against Jane until she stills and pulls Jane closer. "I owe you two."

"You owe me a new mattress; we've ruined this one."

Maura chuckles, and Jane knows everything is going to be okay.

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madamevirgo · 8 months ago

Text

Jane went to Maura's after, because of course she did. That's just where she went after she closed a case, or got out of hospital, or at the end of a day. It was where she was welcome.

"I could kill a beer," Jane said, closing the door behind her. A moment later she was shoved up against it by a tiny but furious Maura.

"You went in without backup," Maura hissed, and Jane knew that wasn't supposed to be hot but by god the fire in her eyes was burning her alive. Maura's hands frisked her, tickling Jane a little where they pushed up her shirt, where they brushed against the nape of her neck, where they grazed her throat to lift Jane's head, then tugged at her jaw to scan Jane's face.

Something in Jane's eyes stopped Maura, made her step away, walking backwards to the kitchen and leaning back against the counter. Jane came towards her, then veered over the fridge where she hoped a Blue Moon was calling her name.

A moment later she was shoved against it, one arm pulled behind her like she was a perp, her face jammed against the cool glass door.

Anyone else she would fight. But she felt Maura taking her cuffs and gun, effectively disarming her, and she let it happen, let Maura's hands wander her hips and pull up her shirt at the back, running over Jane's skin and leaving a trail of fire in the wake of her fingers. Her arm wasn't uncomfortably ratched behind her, and she was pitifully damp at this minor display of aggression.

She loved Maura. She loved kind Maura, who tended her wounds with soft eyes. She liked sad Maura, who clung to Jane as she wept. She loved smart Maura, who had an encyclopaedia for a brain. She loved professional Maura, who was impeccable in every way. She loved elegant Maura, dressed to impress. She loved casual Maura, wearing Jane's clothes and drinking one of Jane's beers in Jane's dinky little condo after a long day. She loved sleepy Maura, who fell asleep in Jane's bed like she felt safe there. And she loved fierce, angry Maura, with her flashing eyes and harsh tone.

So she let Maura do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted. It was never anything like this, although the results were interesting. Jane loved Maura, but she hadn't wanted to consider what the warmth heating her chest and underwear might mean.

"Show me," Maura growled. Jane's knees buckled and Maura let go of her then.

"I'm okay," Jane said, using the opportunity to snag the beer she craved. She popped it and drank thirstily, seeing how Maura followed the trail of the amber liquid down Jane's throat exposed to her. She almost choked; the look in Maura's eyes was so fierce and and... distraught. "I'm fine," Jane said quickly, too quickly, dribbling beer down the front of her shirt. She put the beer on the counter, seeing how Maura moved away from her now with wary eyes, expecting retribution. It made Jane sad, that Maura thought Jane would try to hurt or restrain her in any way. Maura should spank Jane and Jane would simply thank her for the pleasure of the touch of her hand. Maura could cuff Jane and Jane would simply melt. Maura could frisk her and restrain her and Jane would simply comfort her.

Like she was trying to now. Jane sighed and lifted her shirt over her head. Blood had started to seep through it anyway, and it mingled with the beer.

"I was wearing my vest, like you asked me to when I don't have backup."

Maura's hand was on her instantly, moving the edge of Jane's undershirt out of the way to inspect the bandage, to peel back a corner of it and examine the wound. Bruised and a butterfly stitch. Right over her heart.

Maura leaned into Jane's sore chest. "I'm so sick of you getting shot." Maura's voice was so low and small that Jane barely heard her.

"It's not like I enjoy it either," Jane bluffed; the only moments she felt alive were when someone tried to take her life. Or moments like this, where Maura was so soft and vulnerable, speaking about what was between them carefully so Jane wouldn't pull away from her. Jane wrapped her arms around Maura instead, pulling her closer despite her lack of shirt. She rubbed Maura's back and felt her shoulder shake as she started to cry. She'd been so mad, so upset. And she was still upset. Maura never got mad at anyone the way she got mad at Jane, and Jane figured it was because she could take it. Maura wasn't worried about their relationship the way she was with everyone else either; she was angry with Arthur and Constance and Paddy and Hope and sometimes even Angela, but she only ever lost her temper with Jane because she knew Jane would never abandon her.

It was a blessing and a curse.

"I'm sorry," Jane said gently, pressing a kiss against Maura's head. She could do that when Maura was upset; they never talked about it afterwards, how much Maura needed from Jane, how much Jane gave her.

Maura pulled away and tried to compose herself.

"And I'm sorry for the uncouth way I greeted you."

Jane brushed a tear away from Maura's cheek, then cupped her face and kissed her forehead.

"I'm hard to love," Jane joked, recalling an old conversation they'd once had.

"It's the easiest thing I've ever done." Maura wouldn't meet Jane's eyes until Jane tilted her chin up. Even then she tried to evade Jane's gaze, closing her eyes tight until Jane's lips slowly brushed hers for the first time. She didn't pull away or gasp or yell or scream like Jane had imagined it so many times. She just accepted Jane's lips against hers and pressed back, just as gently, just as insecure in their affection.

She tasted like the cotton candy lip balm she used when she was sad and trying to cheer herself up. She felt so good in Jane's arms, so warm and perfectly soft and short enough to hold all of her at once. And she kissed Jane like she'd never been kissed before. She kissed like she knew Jane was as scared as she was but was being brave, her hands clasping Jane at the hips, her thumb beneath Jane's belt and burning a hole into Jane's skin beneath it. She kissed Jane like it was the most interesting, important thing she'd ever done.

She kissed Jane like she knew everything about her and loved her anyway. She kissed Jane like it was easy, like it was inevitable, and Jane supposed it was.

Jane pulled away slowly and reluctantly. Although she was responding to the kiss, it wasn't the sort of kiss that had them tearing each other's clothes off. It was built from tension and anxiety and concern and love, not from desire or lust.

"I'm sorry," Jane said again, aware suddenly that the kiss might have been unwelcome, unwilling to think why she'd been so bold as to take something that hadn't been offered. Not wanting to address the elephant in the room - not the literal elephant ornament Maura had imported from Africa, one she knew a large amount about - but Jane's ever-present crush on Maura, Jane's big gay crush on her best friend, the crush that was crushing her.

"The only reason to be sorry is if you didn't mean it." Maura's eyes finally met hers, still wet and sad but also focused and fierce. "Did you mean it?"

Jane hesitated; she wasn't ready to admit how much she'd meant it, how much Maura meant to her. Maura shoved her back against the fridge again and Jane's knees buckled from the growl that came from Maura's throat as she awaited an answer, not a single ounce of patience left in her body.

"I asked you a question." Maura's eyes were dark and angry, but beneath that was the insecurity Jane had always seen in them, the fear Maura had that she wasn't good enough.

Unable to speak, Jane nodded quickly. "Yes," she managed to rasp out. "More than anything, yes."

Maura's fingers crept to the wound on Jane's chest and covered it again, apparently satisfied with the job the medics had done. She pressed a little kiss atop the bandage once she replaced it, over Jane's heart.

"Good." Maura picked up Jane's beer and swigged from it in a very unladylike manner. "You're filthy. You should shower. Keep the bandage dry."

Maura had gone from a feral, possessive creature to a stoic housewife in a moment. Her eyes had flashed gold, her teeth sharp, her fingers digging deliciously into Jane's skin, and now she had finished off Jane's beer - a beer she had very much been looking forward to - as though nothing had happened.

Perhaps she was doing this for Jane's sake; perhaps she was giving Jane a chance to regroup and take it back.

But it was out there now. Jane couldn't take it back. She didn't want to, either. She'd just stared down the barrel of thirty-odd years of sexual repression and she couldn't stand a moment more. She rounded on Maura the way a wolf bore down on prey: her hackles raised and her mouth watering. Maura stared at her so unimpressed that Jane gave up before her hand could reach for Maura.

"I - I could use some medical supervision."

"In the shower?" Maura's eyebrows quirked up and Jane leaned in and kissed one quickly.

"To prevent infection," Jane said, half-remembering the medic's instructions.

Maura's eyes roamed over Jane again, her eyebrows the only things to give her away. Maura's breath rushed out of her and her shoulders crumbled.

"Did you really - did you really just kiss me?"

Jane nodded shyly, and Maura deflated again.

"I thought so, but I've imagined it so many times I couldn't tell if it was real."

It was Jane's eyebrow's turn to raise in surprise. Maura blushed deeply.

"Why now? After all this time? I'd given up."

Jane took a deep breath. "Something to do with the way you treated me like a perp." She blushed as Maura considered her words, the implication that Jane found a forceful Maura in control so hot that she hadn't been able to resist a moment longer. "It felt like you were already angry so I might as well risk it."

"I'm sorry I was so rough with you."

"Don't be. I'm a big girl. I won't break."

Jane saw Maura's eyes darken then, saw Maura's stomach clench beneath her skin-tight dress.

"We need a safe word," Maura cautioned her, and Jane sighed with relief. They'd talk more, later. Jane's eyes caught sight of the fruit bowl.

"Orange."

Maura's eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.

"Knock knock," Jane said.

"Who's there?"

"Banana. Knock knock."

"Banana who?"

"No, I said knock knock."

"Who's there?"

"Banana. Knock knock."

"You already said banana."

Jane sighed, filled with long-suffering regret.

"Knock knock."

"Jane if you-" Maura cut herself off and sighed too. "Who's there?"

"Orange."

Maura paused, unimpressed. Jane grabbed herself another beer and gestured for Maura to take the cue.

"Orange who?"

"Orange you glad I didn't say banana?"

Maura huffed in frustration, took Jane's beer and downed it with one long pull before pushing Jane against the fridge again.

"You'll regret that," Maura said, her voice low and husky.

"Promise?" Jane rasped out, her knees weak again as Maura kissed her. Maura chuckled lowly, and Jane wondered if she would survive the night. She'd faced an armed perp a few hours ago, but the feel of Maura's body against her was what was slowly killing her.

---

"I notice you didn't invoke any fruit," Maura said a few hours later, her fingers tracing a delicious pattern over Jane's bare back. Maura had taken charge in every single way and Jane couldn't be happier.

"Orange you glad I didn't say banana?" Jane asked, then laughed as Maura pinned her to the bed beneath her, her teeth already scraping across Jane's throat again.

It turned out pissing off the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts paid off with dividends.

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