queerocfandomer

[queerocfandomer]

Writing isn't the hobby. Being insane about little fake people is the hobby. Writing is just the only outlet i have for that

[queerocfandomer]

"Mission First Kiss"

The Story of the undercover mission that resulted in you and Natasha's first kiss. Set in 2011 around 6 months prior to Avengers.

One Shot - 4909 Words - NatashaxReader/OC - Reader is SHIELD Agent with Enhanced Hearing and Sight (L/N=Jensen)

READ ON A03 HERE :)

"your attention shifted to the main doors as a group of about a dozen young women entered. Not an uncommon sight, of course; however, it was the bright red hair that had immediately caught your attention. A smirk spread across your face as you wondered what kind of trouble Natasha Romanoff was inevitably bringing with her."

As you returned to the second floor, the music reverberated through your entire body, and you took a brief moment to steady yourself, straightening out your suit jacket. Even after almost six months, it still took a fair amount of concentration to keep control of your abilities in this atmosphere. This mission had ended up being quite helpful for practice; it did feel as though you had made significant progress in controlling your ability to differentiate between sounds and block out unnecessary ones. 

You were currently running the club and the drug operation it was a cover for while Klein was away on business. You were usually placed in less desirable positions, often the target of capture—the exact opposite of your current mission—and you had to admit you found yourself enjoying the power. 

You were here because, even the drug operation was somewhat of a front, Klein was working with someone you knew only as ‘The Pedlar,’ funneling top-secret information to criminal organizations across the globe. Although Klein had not yet brought you fully into that aspect of the work, your abilities had allowed you to gather a fair amount of information, and you were sure that this was a kind of test that would result in your being brought further in upon his return. 

Everything had been going well so far; the most important part of the weekend, a large cocaine delivery, had progressed without issue last night, and now you just had the evening to relax until his return tomorrow. Marcus, the club manager, approached as you walked along the rail of the balcony. He was young, barely out of high school, and honestly too innocent to be taking up this kind of life, but he did what he was told. 

“Jeremiah is here again. He’s insisting on speaking with you.”

“Couldn't handle it yourself, Marcus?” 

you tilted your head in return, and as he replied, your attention shifted to the main doors as a group of about a dozen young women entered. Not an uncommon sight, of course; however, it was the bright red hair that had immediately caught your attention. A smirk spread across your face as you wondered what kind of trouble Natasha Romanoff was inevitably bringing with her. 

“It’s fine, Marcus. You can bring him up, and while you're down there, find out about this group of women that just came in for me, would you?” 

“Yes, boss, of course.” 

You kept your eyes on the women as they made their way to a set of tables in the corner, and Natasha positioned herself in the booth between the tables, an easy exit and good vantage point for the room as she conversed with the others, her eyes subtly taking in the surroundings. She was wearing a simple black asymmetric dress, with her left shoulder fully exposed and the hem falling just below the knee, a reasonable length aside from the drastic slit running nearly the full length of her right thigh. 

Whatever the issue was, it must be serious; otherwise, they would have simply waited until your weekly check-in. Yet of all the agents they could have sent, it just had to be her. At least you could take advantage of your abilities; you just hoped that the benefit would outweigh the distraction she always managed to cause within you.

Marcus returned with Jerimiah following closely behind. He was in his early 40s with a disheveled appearance. 

“If you are hoping to get any special treatment because Klein is away, you are very, very mistaken.” 

“No, no, of course not, Jayce. I, ah, I know you run a tight ship. I, ah, I’m just here to, like, apologize. I know I messed up, but I can make it up. I can, if you just give me a chance.” 

“Ahhh, you want MORE,” 

you respond as you walk closer to the man. 

“We are not in the business of supplying to people who like to sample the product, and by the looks of you right now, that is still a problem.”

“No, no. Jayce, I swear I’ll pay full. I will. I just can’t survive off 200; I need to bring in more. Please, I can do it. I can.” 

Reaching out, you grab him by the shirt and move him against the nearby wall before continuing, 

“Clean yourself up, and you'll make more by actually selling what you’re taking for yourself. Three months at 2, and then I’ll consider it. But if you show up here again asking for more before then, it will be the last time you get anything. You hear me?” 

He only nodded as you released him, and he made his way back down the nearby stairs. You turn to Marcus. 

“You don't have to do much, you know, Marcus, just be firm and always follow through.” 

“Right, got it, boss. Also, those women you asked about? They are from the local sorority—semi-regulars—but have a couple of new members with them, apparently. No red flags, though.” 

“Good. Send a round to their table from me.” 

“I’ll get right on it.”

Grabbing your drink from the table, you returned to the railing. You knew it wouldn't take Natasha long to spot you, yet you figured it would be better to make it as easy as possible. Marcus approached the table, and after divvying up the drinks among the women, he gestured to you above, and they all cheered in your direction. 

You and Natasha locked eyes as you shared a small smile and raised your glasses before you rested your forearms on the railing, holding your drink in front of you. She raised her glass to her lips, pretending to drink as she spoke, 

“Long time no see, Jensen. You good to hear me from up there?” 

You nodded and tugged at your ear to signal her to go ahead. 

“Sorry to intrude, but we have a problem that they wanted relayed ASAP. Klein was taken in by the FBI yesterday, and it sounds like he’s making a deal. Fury wants to know if you are able to access the record system so we can get the data out before they take this place down.” 

You stretched your neck out and downed the rest of your drink, pointing at the dance floor before turning around. Heading down the stairs, you stopped at the edge of the bar and advised the VIP waitress to send some champagne up and to be ready to supply full service. 

Natasha is easily spotted on the dance floor as you approach, offering her a hand and immediately pulling her in close. Her arms wrap around your neck as you take hold of her hips and move your head above her shoulder to speak into her ear.

“Aren't you getting a little old to be taking the role of a college student?” 

You find yourself overly aware of just how close your bodies are as you move to the music. You both pull away slightly to face each other, a smirk on her face as she raises an eyebrow and responds, 

“Maybe. But it sure caught your attention pretty quick.” 

You raise a hand and run it through the hair flowing over her shoulder as it runs halfway down her bicep. 

“Your hair is longer.” 

“It does that. But I have been thinking about cutting it short.” 

“Well, either way, you always look stunning.” 

“You clean up pretty well yourself.” 

Her hand moves down the lapel of your suit jacket slowly before she turns, pressing her back to your front as you continue to dance. 

“We can do it, but it has to be tonight, and it will break my cover.” 

“We suspected it might. We have the go-ahead to break if you're sure we can get it, but Fury says we can have four days.” 

“I'm head of the house until Klein gets back tomorrow, and once he does, it will be much harder. Do you have a USB on you?” 

“I do.” 

“Good. Then let's party. Introduce me to your new friends.”

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

You spend the next hour or so back up on the second floor with the dozen college students as they continue to drink and dance. Settled into the corner of one of the couches with your arm around Natasha, your fingers running along her bare arm while hers rest on your thigh, playing your parts. 

She continues to play up her intoxication, switching between conversations with the others and whispering in your ear. With anyone else, you're sure you would have had to actively remember to keep up with the ruse even to simply look relaxed in this position. However, with Natasha, it wasn't even really a ruse; the positioning, the physical closeness, the movements just felt natural. 

The thought of which causes you pause, you had hoped that perhaps some more significant time away from her would have diminished some of these feelings, but it seemed as though they were as prevalent as ever. Shifting slightly, Natasha moves her hand up to the base of your neck, drawing your attention back to her. 

“So when are we gonna get out of here?” 

“Soon,” 

you reply, moving your own hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear and slowly pulling it back across her face. Staring into each other's eyes, you can't help but find yourself drawn to her. Unsure if it was on purpose or not, her gaze quickly jumps to your lips and back. Causing your breath to hitch slightly as you both look away, and you bite your lip. 

Considering the play you were trying to put on, it would have made sense for you to have kissed her by now, probably more than once, and yet you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. As you try to sort through the thoughts of why you are holding back, the announcement for the last call rings out. You shift to get up, seeing Marcus against the wall nearby. 

“Come on, Marcus, let loose a bit! You did well this weekend, so have a bit of fun to celebrate. I know I'm going to.”

You wink at him as you turn to Natasha, holding out your hand. She takes it and rises to her feet, adding a slight stumble for dramatic flair. You lead her to the elevator doors and make your way up to the third floor. It’s slightly more narrow and runs around the perimeter of the building, similar to the second; however, it is fully enclosed with one-way glass, the sound of the music greatly diminished. 

You head down the hallway, stopping briefly at the security room. You open the door, and multiple screens fill the wall with two people seated inside. The older of the two has already turned to face you. 

“James, I'm going to the office for a while, and I DO NOT want to be disturbed, got it?” 

His eyes flicker between the two of you with a satisfied grin. 

“You got it, boss.” 

Closing the door behind you, you continue on to the final room, reaching your hand up to glide your ring over the access panel light, which turns green before you enter the code and it clicks open. Once inside, you release Natasha and direct her to the desk at the center.

“This is the only room in the building not monitored. Everything is in there. I only have access to the primary system; however, it shouldn't be hard to break into the rest, so have at it.” 

You finish entering your login information and gesture to Natasha toward the computer as she pulls a USB drive out from her clutch.

“Admitting that I'm better than you, Jensen?” 

“Maybe. But then again, faster isn't the same as better.” 

“I suppose that depends on who you ask.” 

As she works her way through the computer, you take off your suit jacket and toss it onto one of the chairs, then swipe your arm along the edge of the desk, causing some papers and office supplies to fall to the floor. Natasha shoots you an amused look while you untuck your shirt. 

“Might as well make it look convincing,” 

you muse as you remove your ring and toss it in the garbage can.

“Okay, I'm in, but it's a lot. It could take up to 15 minutes to download. Think we have that?” 

“Should be fine. Just one wildcard.” 

She moves to the front of the desk and leans against it as you look on from the window. 

“Certainly not the kind of place I usually find myself extricating you from.” 

“It certainly is not. It has been an interesting change of pace.” 

“The power looks good on you.” 

“Careful, Romanoff; I might start to think you actually like me.” 

You share a look before you turn your attention back to the window.

“We will be able to walk away from here with no issue. They won't even notice anything, not until Klein gets back, and we are hopefully long gone so we can stop at my apartment and collect the relay supplies before we head out. It will also be good for the car tracker.”

“Sounds good. I'm set up at a hotel downtown and can contact HQ when we arrive to arrange travel.” 

“When did you get in?” 

“About this time yesterday.” 

“And still took you this long to come visit?” 

“Well, I did expect to have a few more days to plan after contact, but I also didn't expect it to be quite this easy.” 

“Yeah, me too. I mean, they will mess you up, but if you're in, you're in. Honestly, I think the Pedlar might have picked them as an access point because the operation is just so- average none would expect big things from them”

Then you see Allison talking with Marcus on the second floor, her typical irritating self, asking where you are. 

“Well, of course there's the wild card. How much time do we have left?” 

Natasha leans back to look at the screen as you walk towards her, listening to the pair reach the top of the elevator. 

“87%. Should only be a couple of minutes, max.” 

“Okay, we should be able to handle that then,” 

you finish as you approach her space, smirking as you lift her onto the desk to sit just in front of the computer, positioning yourself between her legs. She subtly places her left hand at your waist, within easy reach of your holster. 

“Don’t get trigger happy; it’s just the second in command. I had her taking care of distribution downstairs. She's annoying but won't cause issues unless we do. Trust me, Natalie , I can talk us out.” 

“Don't worry, Jayce , I’ll follow your lead.” 

You look into each other's eyes again, bodies against each other, face so close you can feel her breath on your lips. You find yourself having to focus on controlling your breathing as she raises her right hand to your face. You can hear James arguing with them as they approach the door, and you brace yourself to move. 

Hesitating for a moment, you begin; however, instead of a forward motion, you move drastically to her left and lay your lips on her neck. She stretches away from you, looking at the ceiling as she moves her hand past your ear to grip the back of your head. You find yourself a little lost in the taste of her skin as you slowly move, then hearing the security panel activate, you move your right hand to her exposed thigh. 

As your fingers slide under the fabric of the slit, you notice her breath catch, causing you to tighten your grip. The sudden hum that escapes her throat immediately elicits the same effect in yours, taking you by surprise as the door opens. You glance at the USB, still glowing red, before you turn your head to the right, remaining in the same position and speaking towards the wall. 

“I recall specifically telling you that I did not want to be disturbed, James.”

It’s Allison who responds, irritation lacing her voice. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be fucking around on the job.” 

“I’ll fuck around when and wherever I want.” 

You turn your head back towards Natasha’s shoulder, taking a glance at the computer just as you see the glow turn green. You plant another kiss on her shoulder, continuing to speak as you move your right hand from her thigh to her hip and lean forward slightly so that you can remove the USB from the computer. 

“But there is no need to be jealous, Allison.” 

As you turn to face the trio, you run your hand up Natasha’s back and tuck the USB into the band of her bra before running your fingers along her hair. 

“Excuse me for a moment here, darling.” 

You walk across the room towards the three standing at the door. Marcus and James have slight concern etched on their faces while Allison continues to look at Natasha. 

“James, I find myself disappointed in you, and trust me, you will not like what happens if you do that a second time. Get back to your post.”

“Yes, boss. Won't happen again.” 

He turns and leaves the room as you turn to the others. 

“Might you please remind me who Klein left in charge?” 

“That would be you, Jayce,” 

Marcus responds with a clearing of his throat as Allison turns her gaze back to you. You move to stand in front of her, only a step away. 

“But of course, you think it should have been you.” 

“I've been here for over a year; I should have been next in line when Alaris left.” 

She raises her arm, and you quickly catch her wrist in a firm grip. 

“Perhaps you should have done a better job of proving yourself then, mmm?” 

She moves to pull away from your grip while attempting to strike you with her free arm, and you easily block her. Quickly, you strike an elbow into her jaw and spin her in your grip before pinning her to the wall, one arm behind her back, with your knife now pulled from your belt and pressed into the wall beside her head. 

“You really need to learn to keep your attitude in check.” 

Moving the knife down to her shoulder, you slowly press in until drawing blood and slide back, leaving an inch-long cut. 

“Truly Allison. You should think about how to better prove yourself, because when Klein returns and finds out that you gave Jerimiah another 200 after I specifically told him no, well, let’s just say he’s not going to be very happy with you.” 

“How did you…” 

Before she finishes, you pull her back from the wall a couple of inches before pushing her back into it with force and kicking out her knee, letting her fall to the ground. 

“I, unlike some of us here, am actually good at my job.” 

You turn around, sheathing your knife, and throwing Natasha a roll of the eyes as you walk back towards her. 

“It was, ahhh, Niomi?” 

She stands from the desk. 

“Natalie.” 

“Right, Natalie, sorry. What do you say we take this back to my place, where we won’t get so rudely interrupted?” 

She simply nods coyly and takes your hand, both turning to leave as Allison stands from the floor.

“You think you can do better? Have at it. Close up for the night, and if I find anything out of place come morning, I'll show you what a real scar looks like.” 

Walking back out of the club and heading down toward the garage, you notice Marcus coming down behind you. 

“Just close up and head home as usual, Marcus. She shouldn't give you any trouble.” 

“I was just wondering, was there anything I could — I mean, should — have done differently, Jayce? I know I shouldn't really ask. I'm just really trying, and I want to do better. Be more like you.” 

You share a quick glance with Natasha as you approach the car. 

“Honestly, if you want to be more like me, then you're in the wrong place.” 

You open the passenger door for Natasha and close it behind her before turning to the young man. 

“Why do you even want to be in this business, Marcus?” 

“Well, I mean, you know I'm good with the books, and it's lucrative, so why not?” 

“Look, kid, I'm going to be straight with you for a minute, okay? You have some good skills and potential, but those can be put to good use in a lot of different areas, and you could do some good out there. So I'm just saying, if an opportunity presents itself, you should seriously consider it.” 

You placed a hand on his shoulder briefly before heading over to the driver's side and opening the door. 

“Oh, and Marcus?” 

“Yeah, boss?” 

“This conversation never happened.” 

He nodded, and you entered the car and drove away.

“Getting soft spots for criminals now, Jensen?” 

Natasha smirked as you drove. 

“I wouldn't call it that. But I would be lying if I said I didn't see a bit of myself in him.” 

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

It didn't take long to get to your nearby apartment. Upon entry, you began to strip down, tossing articles of clothing onto the floor as you walked to the bedroom and removed the blanket. You pulled off and reset the sheet in a more disorganized position, and before removing your pants, now only in your underwear, Natasha spoke from her position leaning against the doorframe. 

“Always putting on a show.” 

You shrugged as you made your way to the closet, noting her gaze lingering on you. 

“Why not? They will look here eventually; might as well keep up the act as much as possible. You know, you could take that off and add to the ploy.” 

You sent a wink her way as you donned more casual attire. 

“I could. But I think you would enjoy it too much; best to keep free of distractions.” 

“You say that as if just being here isn't a distraction.” 

You purposefully avoid looking at her during the exchange. This style of banter is not out of the ordinary, but it was getting more difficult to keep a straight face. She simply watched as you finished your task, collecting the relay equipment from its hiding place inside the vent before emptying the gun magazine and leaving it on the counter with the knife, phone, and keys. You left through the fire escape in order to avoid the front door security cameras and walked a couple of blocks before hailing a cab and heading to the hotel.

Once you arrived, Natasha went to change and called to arrange transport back to DC while you made some tea. She exited the washroom wearing jeans and a simple red tank top, her hair tied up in a ponytail and cell phone tucked against her shoulder. You handed her a mug, and she nodded with a smile as you passed by, heading to the balcony with your own in hand. 

The early morning stillness was always something you enjoyed, as long as it was the end of a day and not the start of one. You realized you must have gotten quite used to standing on a balcony from your time at the club, as you naturally leaned against the rail. 

After a few minutes, Natasha joined you, advising that they had been able to reroute a nearby Quinjet, which would arrive in just a couple of hours. She stood a few steps away from you, leaning her back against the rail as she drank. You stood in silence for several minutes, simply breathing the fresh air before she spoke. 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“You know you can, but whether or not I answer is another story.”

You turned your head to look at her as you replied with curiosity, wondering what it would be, as you could tell her tone was more serious in nature. She broke eye contact, looking up at the sky briefly before continuing to look forward. 

“I was just curious. Earlier in the office. Why didn’t you kiss me?” 

You couldn't help but release a small huff of amusement as you looked down. 

“It ah, certainly would have made sense.” 

“It would have. Probably even before the office.” 

“Maybe I wanted to minimize distractions.” 

“So my lips are a distraction, but my neck isn't?” 

She smirked as she looked at you this time, and you turned to face her, leaning a hip against the railing as you returned the look with a shrug of your shoulder. 

“Well, I guess you've got me there.” 

You paused for a moment as you considered your thoughts and took a breath. 

“I was going to, and then I, ah, I had a thought, and so then I didn't.” 

“What was the thought?” 

“Natasha…” You took another deep breath as you shook your head. “Why do you want to know so badly?” 

She crossed her arms and turned to face you, mirroring your position, hip against the rail. 

“I, ah, had a thought too. When it seemed like you were going to.” 

“Ah, I see, so you'll tell me if I tell you.” 

You gestured with your hands as she shrugged. 

“Only seems fair.” 

You continued to shake your head and turned again to face the room, leaning your back against the rail and taking a drink, looking up at the sky for a moment as you thought. 

“Because it was just a mission. An act we were putting on; something that had to be done. And I knew we needed to do something, but I couldn't shake the thought that I just... I didn't want our first kiss to be that—to be just a part of a mission.” 

“Our first kiss?” 

You tilted your head to look at her again. 

“I said what I said.” 

You watched her chest rise as she took a deep breath and then spoke, barely above a whisper. 

“I wanted you to.” 

She looked up at you, and you locked eyes as she continued more clearly. 

“The thought that I had when it seemed like you were going to—it was that I wanted you too.” 

“mmm, in the moment or in general?” 

She didn't respond at first; you just looked at each other for a couple of seconds before she pushed away from the rail, putting her cup on the table beside you and moving to stand in front of you. 

“Is this just a part of the mission?” 

she asked, her face stern as a flash of confusion crossed over yours.

“What?” 

Her demeanor broke as she scrunched her features slightly. 

“Right now. Here. Do you consider this a part of the mission?” 

You felt your heart beating as you realized what you thought she was implying, and as she ran her tongue along her lips, you found yourself having to swallow before you responded. 

“No. It isn't.” 

You only managed to stand up from your lean before she closed the distance between you, running her hand across your cheek as she leaned forward, pausing for only a second before making contact.

Her lips moved slowly against yours in the moment before you reacted, your free hand reaching for her hip and pushing harder against her. Tender yet fierce you moved firmly against each other, the tension of the last few years finally released. 

Lost in the heat of the moment for only a minute before the need to touch her overtook you, you pushed your body forward a step, causing her to stumble back slightly, gripping your hip to stabilize herself. You pulled away for air and leaned to place your cup onto the table, finding yourself distracted enough that it tipped to its side rather loudly, causing you both to smile and huff. 

Your attention turned back to her as you raised your now free hand to her face, running your thumb along her jawline. Silent for a moment, you simply took in her features in a way that you had stopped yourself from doing since you first met. As your hand completed its trip across her face, you moved it to the back of her neck and lightly pulled her back towards you. 

You wouldn't even be able to estimate the number of times you had thought about this moment. Yet it was like nothing you could have imagined—the feeling of her body against yours, her lips smooth and full, the softness of her skin and hair in your hand, her grip as her hand slid up your back. You found yourself completely lost in the moment, hearing only the rapid thumping of your hearts. 

Unsure how many minutes passed before the sudden ringing of the phone startled you. Pulling apart, your foreheads leaned against each other to breathe, she was the first to speak. 

“That's probably the notice that our car has arrived.” 

“Yeah. We should. probably get it.” 

“Yeah. We probably. should.” 

You pulled away enough to look into each other's eyes again as you moved a stray hair behind her ear and softly declared, 

“First kiss?” 

She smiled and nodded. 

“Yeah. Just the first one.”

[queerocfandomer]

*MASTERLIST*

Read Via - A03 = "Title" or Tumblr = READ HERE

X Agatha Harkness

"First Sparks" - 1960's Relationship Origin - Oak Saga

Chapters = 7/7 ~ Words= 31,362 ~ READ HERE

"Reunited on the Road" - AAA Retelling - Oak Saga

Chapters= 12/? ~ Words= 11,700 ~ READ HERE

X Natasha Romanoff

"ExWidow Russian G/F Problems" - One Shot w/ Kate/Yelena

Chapters= 1/1 ~ Words= 1786 ~ READ HERE

"Love Settles as SHIELD Falls"- CAWS Retelling

Chapters= 8/8 ~ Words= 12, 529 ~ READ HERE

(Prologue only on A03)

"Mission First Kiss" - One Shot

Chapters= 1/1 ~ Words= 4,909 ~ READ HERE

X Carol Danvers

COMING SOON

Thank you so much for all the support! Every like, Kudo and Comment is so very appreciated! <3

[queerocfandomer]

Love Settles as SHIELD Falls

Chapter 8 / Epilogue "My Love"

Find on A03 HERE :)

Within two weeks, you had your affairs in order. The suitcases were already loaded in the vehicle as you parted ways with Fury, Rogers, and Wilson at the graveyard. Although you now only had to contend with a walking boot, Natasha still insisted on driving. You had decided to take your time and spread the trip across two days.

Transitioning your conversations from their base in coyness to honesty was proving about as difficult as you had expected. Natasha truly was trying; she had told you more about her past in the last week than in all the years before.

It was hard to describe how different it felt; you had never had a hard time speaking to each other, conversation always flowed easily. Yet, this was different—it was deeper, more serious. The worry of being too upfront or revealing something too personal was diminished, and it felt as though that small change was already bringing you closer together. Actually, talking about your relationship and your feelings, however, was still the most difficult topic to broach for both of you.

It was early afternoon, and you were just finishing pumping gas, with Natasha inside paying when your phone lit up with a notification for a new text group labeled “Home Invaders.”

Clint- You going to make it here for dinner or what?-

Nat- Depends on when dinner is for you old man-

Rip- and on who’s cooking said dinner-

Nat- definitely that.-

Clint- I forgot how extra annoying the two of your are together-

Laura- all of you are annoying-

Rip- hey now he started it! ETA is 4 hours. -

Natasha rejoined you in the car, passing you a drink as she started back on the road. You processed a few more texts while she drove, Laura asking you to stop and pick up a few things on the way. After sorting out the details, you put the phone down and turned your attention back to Natasha. After a few minutes, she cleared her throat slightly and spoke.

“So we haven't talked about how open we are going to be.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” She shot you a stern look as she spoke but then blushed slightly when she saw you grinning widely at her.

“You are very cute when you get a little flustered, FYI.”

“I don’t get flustered.”

“Sure, sure.”

The familiar look of lovable irritation crossed her face as you continued.

“We can continue to keep it strictly professional. We don’t have to change how we have always interacted if you don’t want to.”

“I’m not ashamed of you.”

“I don’t think you are, belle. But still... good to know.”

You smiled as you reached out toward her hand. She accepted the invitation and removed it from the steering wheel, allowing you to take it into your lap as you continued.

“I'm not ashamed either, to be clear; I didn’t mean it like that. I would certainly prefer not to pull away when someone else is around, to just touch you when I want to or hold your hand and all that cheesy stuff, but I also don’t mind putting up limits. It’s not like I don't get to be with you like this in private, and I admittedly kind of enjoy that you’re so different when we are alone. I just meant that I’m honestly fine with whatever makes you most comfortable.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure I know what I’m comfortable with.”

“And that’s okay, reasonable even. Plus, I mean, that’s why we chose to come here, right? Sure, it’s a good place to lay low for a while and work out some logistics, but they are also our best friends. They have always been a safe place to just be, and it can probably be that for this too. A good place to figure a lot of it out; without too many eyes on us.”

“Clint is going to be an absolute pain in the ass about it.”

“Oh, certainly. But don't count Laura out either. She is likely to be very smug.”

“Oh?”

“Almost guaranteed. She has been making fun of me about this for literal years. So yeah, I have no doubt that she connected the dots from the moment we contacted them.”

“Oh. I see. Kind of reasonable, I guess. I mean, you were not always the best at being subtle.”

“I’ll have you know I am a very successful undercover agent, which most would say requires much subtlety. She just knows me really well, that's all.”

“Yeah. Sure, sure.”

The remainder of the drive went fairly quickly, and you shared some of the times Laura had cornered you in the past. You had, in fact, arrived just in time for dinner. The kids were excited to see you both, and specifically, Lila had exclaimed “at the same time,” for which you realized she was correct.

Over the years, you had both visited on a fairly regular basis and yet rarely at the same time, and if you were honest, most of the time that had been on purpose. Cooper was adamant that he had greatly improved his baseball skills and was excited to show you. After a couple of hours of them updating you both about all of the intricacies of 10- and 11-year-old life, they were off to bed. You were assisting Clint with the dishes when Laura returned. Standing beside Natasha at the table, she chided,

“Okay, you two…”

You turned to face them, tea towel still in hand, and stole a quick glance at Natasha before Laura continued snidely,

“Do I need to go prepare the second guest room, or are you finally going to admit that this slow burn romance thing is happening?”

You rolled your eyes and gave her an irritated stare as you responded,

“I told you she was gunna be smug.”

Clint, now standing beside you and facing Natasha, looking at each other as she responded plainly,

“The one room will be fine, thank you.”

Clint's eyebrow raised as Natasha took a sip of water before placing her cup back on the table. You couldn't help it as the smile tugged at your lips, your eyes still on Laura as she smiled and turned to Clint.

“All the laundry for a week.”

You scoffed, and Natasha raised an eyebrow, both looking to Clint who raised his hands and responded,

“Sharing a room is not the same as admitting it's happening.”

You and Natasha’s eyes flickered to each other for just a second before speaking in unison as you threw your towel in his face,

“Fine; It's happening.”

Slowly over the week, you had become more comfortable, allowing yourselves to interact more naturally instead of constantly monitoring your closeness. The four of you discussed the details of SHIELD's fall, the congressional hearings you had attended in the days before coming, and what the future may hold for you all. You had even survived watching the kids after insisting that Laura and Clint take advantage of your presence to go on a weekend getaway. The two of you would head into town every so often for a meal or a random activity; you even attended the local chamber symphony once.

Not much had really changed when it came to your feelings about Natasha; however, there was a shift in how you allowed them to manifest. It hadn't taken you long to realize just how much you had been avoiding, trying to push down, and minimize, and you could tell Natasha was feeling the same. It was the subtle differences that you noticed the most, as the apprehension that had been almost constant in your previous interactions diminished, and you simply became comfortable existing around each other, with each other.

You had easily convinced Natasha to come out and watch the sunset with you one evening. Sitting on a blanket atop a small hill about a quarter mile from the house, she held your hand in her lap while your head rested on her shoulder. You felt your heart starting to beat faster as you moved your head, placing a small kiss on her neck before speaking softly,

"Thank you."

"For what, dorogoy?"

You turned to face each other, the sparkle in her eyes immediately lighting up your face.

"For letting me in. I know it's not easy."

She looked down for a quick second before returning her eyes to yours and moving her hand to rest at the front of your neck as she spoke.

"It's not, but you are more than worth it."

You moved your hand up, trailing your thumb across her bottom lip before settling on her cheek.

"Je ne peux pas penser à quoi que ce soit que j'aurais pu faire pour te mériter" (I can't think of anything I could possibly have ever done to deserve you).

"Je pourrais dire exactement la même chose" (I could say the exact same thing).

"You deserve the world."

You leaned towards her, and the tenderness of the kiss consumed your every thought. You both had a hand firmly gripping the other's neck, your fingers running along her scalp as she moved her other hand up your bicep. You suddenly snapped out of the moment as you heard Clint's voice,

"Are they making out over there?"

Pulling away and resting your forehead on hers, a sound of amusement escaped your mouth as you heard Laura's reply telling him to be quiet. Natasha pulled away slightly with a look of confusion, and you looked towards the house, seeing the couple standing on the porch. Clint responded,

"They probably can't hear me from over there anyways."

Upon realizing what must have happened, Natasha let out a sigh of her own and removed her hand from your arm, holding it up above her head with her finger raised, causing both you and Laura to let out a laugh as Clint responded,

"Or you can—okay, okay, I'm going."

You saw his arms raised in surrender as they turned to go back into the house.

You move in to place another brief kiss before asking her to help you up. After tucking her hair back behind her ear, you rest your hands on her hips as you bring her into another kiss. She wraps her arms around your shoulders, and as you pull apart, her wrists rest against you. Your fingers trail the hem of her shirt while hers trace circles on the back of your neck.

“Nat, I, uh, I don’t really know how to describe how it feels to finally just ... be with you; we’ve been doing this dance for a long time, and in the last few weeks, I’ve realized that I spent a lot of that time just trying to push it all down. To deny the seriousness of it, the feelings, the want, the need. And I just... I”

You take a deep breath as the thoughts swirl in your head, and she speaks before you can continue.

“I know,” she smiles. “It’s different. It, umm, it’s a lot. I’m sure you know I was avoiding, well, pretty much everything really, and I’m glad. To not be anymore.”

“Natasha,”

you begin as you move your right hand to her face, gliding it across her cheek before pulling her in for a brief kiss. You pull away just enough to look into her eyes again, smile, and find your head nodding as you bite your bottom lip slightly before continuing,

“I love you.”

Her mouth opens and closes without sound, and her head shakes slightly before she asks,

“You do?”

“I really do.”

You pull her back into you, both smiling into the firm kiss, but it’s only a couple of seconds before she pulls away suddenly, a confused look on your face as she brings both her hands up and holds your jaw.

“I love you too.”

Your confusion turns to a smile, but still, you find yourself looking down. Yet, she wastes no time pulling your chin back up to her.

“I’m not just saying it because you did, Ripley. It, ah, it kinda scares the shit out of me, but I do. I love you.”

You smile and move closer, connecting firmly again as you both pour the emotion of the moment into each other. Your hand roams up her back while she grips your hip tightly. There is no space left between you, neither physically nor emotionally. You pull apart for air and study each other's faces as the light of the sun fades over the horizon.

“Mon Amour”

“Lyubov Moya”

(my love)

[queerocfandomer]

Love Settles as SHIELD Falls

Chapter 7 - Last Part (Epilogue to Follow)

A03 = HERE :)

The first part of the plan went off without a hitch. You had intercepted the vehicle at the airport, the actually assigned escort agent now knocked out and waiting for Chang’s return. She would take them and the councilwoman to a safe house before returning to HQ and helping with the evacuation. You stood outside the vehicle, waiting and listening; it sounded like their bathroom conversation had ended up going fairly well. From what you could tell, they didn’t even have to sedate her. She chose to trust them and Fury, which wasn’t necessary for the plan, but it made things easier that way. 

Sure enough, it was no more than five minutes before you saw Natasha walking towards you, of course not looking like herself, and two men in black suits similar to yours walking with her as you opened the rear door. 

“Councilwoman, welcome to D.C. I hope you had a good flight."

"It wasn’t the worst, thank you,” 

she replied as she entered, one of the men following her and one taking the passenger seat. 

You made your way back to the Triskelion. Parking at the front entrance, you looked into the rearview mirror and shared a confident look and nod before she exited the vehicle. Once inside, you continued to head to the garage, donning the comms that were waiting in your pocket. 

“Spiders on the way up the spout; how's mission rally the troops?” 

Sam’s voice broke through. “Wow, that was cheesy.” 

“And hilarious. I'm on my way to the hangar now.” 

It was Hill who responded this time. “We are just entering the control station.”

The announcement started just as you made it aboard one of the Insight Helicarriers. Many of the agents paused to listen, resulting in a good distraction for you to make your way across the deck, planting explosives on the Phalanx guns. However, several groups of Hydra agents were already making their moves, and firefights broke out across the hangar. You managed to set six devices before the doors began to open and the ships started to launch, seeing Rogers and Wilson jumping down from the ledge above. 

Enemy agents now flooded the deck, and you managed to take out a few before the first carrier began firing on Wilson. You detonated your charges, taking out at least some of the weapons aimed his way before heading to the nearest Quinjet. Once in the air, you saw another nearly take out Wilson and headed that way, taking it out behind him. 

“Need an assist, Birdman?” 

You maneuvered and took out a few rail guns as Steve checked in on comms, advising he had made it inside; however, Wilson was still struggling to gain access with all the guns on him. You suggested a new access point and moved in front of him as you flew to the underside of the ship, firing through the glass beneath so that he could gain access.

You continued your assault on the artillery and as Steve called for an assist to move to the third carrier you see him thrown off the edge with Wilson in quick pursuit. You take out the enemy agents on the deck who had fired on Rogers and began to make your way over as you heard Sam screaming at the weight of pulling Rogers up. Watching as they begin moving upwards you catch a glint of silver from the deck of the third ship.

It draws your attention and you only have a few seconds to realize it's the Winter Soldier, you turn your fire towards him and begin to advise the others that he is moving to intercept but it's not enough time. He fires an RPG and you pull up just enough for it to hit the undercarriage at the left router. The impact from the grenade causes little personal injury however the jet is another story, as it spins downwards. You manage to have enough control to steer it into the trees across the river although not enough to avoid a fairly head on impact. 

You feel pain radiating from your leg and shoulder hearing that Wilson had landed safely himself before passing out briefly. It couldn't have been that long before you came to, the sound of the large ships impacting the building and water stirring your consciousness. You were facing towards the scene as you heard Natashas voice on comms calling out as they collected Wilson and asked where Rogers was. You scanned the area of the third ship, his last known location, as it was breaking apart and sure enough you spotted a body falling towards the water, red white and blue shortly later another followed with a silver arm. 

You must have passed out again, as when you snapped back, the former SHIELD headquarters was all but fully collapsed, with dust settling across the area. Feeling a wetness on your forehead, you reach upward, confirming that your head is bleeding, and you hear Natasha again on comms. 

“Jensen, we are en route to your location. Do you copy?” 

You're still groggy as you unbuckle your restraints and realize your leg may be broken and your right shoulder is definitely dislocated. 

“C-Copy. This is Jensen. I copy. I saw Rogers fall.” 

You begin to move out of the seat and towards the exit. 

“Fall where?” you hear Wilson respond. 

“Into the water. We, ah, we have to look downstream,” 

you manage to stumble the words out and slide down into a sitting position onto the grass, leaning against the rear of the ship.

A couple of minutes later, an SUV pulls up as a helicopter hovers overhead. Natasha and Maria exit the vehicle and make their way towards you. You gesture to Fury and Wilson in the air as Natasha settles at your side, removing her blazer and using it to put pressure on your head wound. 

“He fell right over there from the underside of the third ship and into the water. Probably moving downstream. Land so I can come with you—I can see through the water, and yeah,” 

you run out of breath as you stumble through the sentence. 

“Your lower leg is broken,” Hill states plainly from your other side. 

“Yeah, but I don't need it to see stuff, now do I?” 

Both of the women roll their eyes at you, and you look at Natasha, beginning to smile before another pulse of pain shoots through your shoulder. 

“Ugh, fuck, Hill, do you want to help me with this?” 

You reach your arm out, gesturing to your dislocated shoulder. You all move with understanding, Natasha locking her arm with yours so that you are holding each other's elbows as she presses your undamaged shoulder firmly into the wall to hold you still. Maria takes a firm grasp on your left arm and starts counting down: 

“One, two…” 

Considering it was not your first time relocating a shoulder, you feel that you should have had more control over your reaction; thus, you find yourself unsure if you had allowed yourself to let out the scream or if you were simply incapable of holding it in. Then, embarrassingly, you pass out yet again.

When you come to this time, you first note that the helicopter is no longer hovering above. Maria is a few steps away talking on a phone, and Natasha is seated beside you still holding pressure on your head wound now with a gauze pad. 

“Well shit, how long was I out?” 

“About 10 minutes.” 

“Dam. what about you though Are you ok? did everything work out?” 

You reach out and take hold of her hand. 

“I'm fine and yes the mission was a success. You are pretty roughed up here though RJ, this head wound isn't deep but i'm sure you have a concussion and at least a few bruised ribs on top of the rest "

"You know you shouldn't be worrying about me.” 

“I do. And yet, you know i will anyway” 

She squeezed your hand as you shook your head lightly and shifted your weight before you replied. 

“Help me up?” 

You were able to stand fairly easily but not without releasing several groans of pain-  luckily your broken leg was also the left making it easier to support yourself with a working arm and leg on the right. 

“Has that stopped bleeding yet, I need to get in the air.” 

“You need medical attention” 

“have they found Rogers yet?” 

“No”

“then i'll get it after, just wrap it for now” 

“Jensen.”

“Romanoff.” 

You stared at each other for a moment, and you found yourself a little taken back by the genuine worry she was wearing on her face as you felt your heart beating against your chest. Finally she simply moved your hand to take over applying pressure, with a look of irritation as she turned heading to the med kit sitting on the hood of the SUV. 

You moved to catch Marias gaze and motioned tactical signals at her, ‘Regroup. Me. Up. Look.’ 

She responded with a shake of her head and a ‘Disregard’ 

However you returned the shake of head. ‘No. Me. look. Faster.’ 

with a slight shake of her head she finally responded ‘Message Received’ 

You both nodded as Natasha returned with the cravat bandage and began securing the gauze on your head. 

“You are incredibly stubborn, you know that?” 

“Takes one to know one, belle, besides you won't convince me that your not worried about him”

“That's not the point” 

“Look, I promise,i'll let you properly deal with this later, but first we make sure the whole team is safe” 

Her hand rested on your neck as she finished the final knot and you shared a caring look of understanding as you entwined your fingers with hers slightly before pulling away from each other as Maria approached. 

Within 10 minutes you were up in the air, sitting on the floor with legs hanging off the edge of the helicopter, rope from the back of the tactical vest securing you to the vehicle. Nearly an hour had passed since the initial fall before you finally spotted him on the river bank. He was unconscious, thoroughly beaten up and sporting several bullet wounds but Alive and so you were both transported to the hospital. 

As it turned out Natasha was right; the head injury was minimal; however, several bruised ribs had also caused some internal bleeding, which luckily ended up being non-threatening. Unfortunately, the broken leg was displaced enough to require surgery.

When you regained consciousness, you were admittedly a little surprised to see the bright red hair draped over the chair beside you. A smile spread across your face as you spoke softly, 

“Que fait une belle femme comme toi dans un endroit comme celui-ci?” (What's a beautiful woman like you doing in a place like this?) 

“Tu sais, on dirait vraiment que tu ne parles français que lorsque tu veux être encore plus ennuyeux” (You know, it really seems like you only ever speak French when you want to be extra annoying) 

Ennuyeux? Et là, je voulais dire adorable (Annoying? And here I was going for lovable.)

She simply smiled at you and gripped your hand on the mattress, joining your fingers together as you looked into each other’s eyes. There was a seriousness and vulnerability showing across her features that was rare. 

“Really though, Nat. I mean, I’m happy you're here, but I guess I didn’t exactly expect it.”

“You were, well are, in pretty rough shape. And ah, we did say that once we made it through, we were going to figure out what to do next together, right?” 

“Yeah, we did, and honestly, I really hoped that wasn’t just some kind of ‘we might die in a few hours’ kind of talk because I really did mean it, Natasha.” 

“Look, I know I really haven’t been super open, at least not very often, but I’d like to try and change that because in case it wasn’t obvious, I do genuinely care about you, Ripley. I didn’t even think of being anywhere else because I needed to make sure you were okay. I really do want this.” 

“Me too. I ah, just have one question.” 

“Right, yeah, of course.” 

You felt her hand hesitate slightly, pulling away from yours for a moment as she looked away, and you let out a small exhale in response as you continued, removing your hand from hers and raising it to her cheek.

“Are you sure I’m not in some drug-induced dream right now?” 

She returned your smile with a small shake of her head. 

“Yes, I am. This is real.” 

“Alors viens ici et embrasse-moi” (Then get over here and kiss me).

>>>EPILOGUE

[queerocfandomer]

"Love Settles as SHIELD Falls"

Chapter 6

You join Natasha standing in front of the full-length mirror, both dressed and ready to go: you in the classic black suit, and her in the fitted blue, just finishing placing the wig on her head. You look at each other only through the reflection as you straighten out your suit.

“Well, here we go. Last official day as a SHIELD agent.”

“Last day of the world not knowing who I really am.”

“Things you’ve done and who you are are not the same thing.”

“Sure, but still, it’s a lot. Don’t get me wrong. I have no qualms about doing it, but it still doesn’t make it feel any less like everything is about to change or whatever.”

“Yeah, that’s for sure. It’s definitely weird to have basically everything that you’ve known for so many years just literally blow up.”

“You ready for that?”

“Although we don’t have much of a choice, I am ready to do it. Yes, ready to figure out what comes after—that one I’m not so sure about.”

“Have you thought about it?”

“A little bit. Not that we’ve had much time, but have you?”

“Yeah. I, uh, I’ve spent a lot of time being the person that people want or need me to be. I guess I kind of just thought maybe I could try to figure out who I actually am.”

You turned to face her, and she does the same, bringing your hands to straighten out the lapel of her suit before placing them on her hips.

“The parts of you that I know about are pretty amazing, so I think that’s a great idea.”

You both smirk a little, and she shakes her head, returning the favor of straightening your lapel before placing her arms on your shoulders.

“And what do you think your future holds, Agent Jensen?”

“I really have absolutely no idea. I mean, surviving the next six or so hours is pretty high on my list, but after that…”

you shrug and let out a thoughtful breath.

“I guess there is one thing that I’ve had on my mind.”

“And you’re gonna keep that on lockdown or…?”

She raises her eyebrows and scrunches her face in that way that always makes your heart skip a beat. You roll your eyes slightly as she runs her fingers along the back of your neck.

“Natasha, I, uh, I really don’t know what to do after all this is done, but I do know that whatever it is, I would like the opportunity to- figure it out- with you. If, uh, that might be a possibility.”

You searched her eyes, a little surprised by your ability to keep eye contact with her in the moment as your brain screamed to look away. You expected her next words to be some kind of mildly snarky joke or even just something dismissive to return you to the task at hand. However, it was a very quick reply as a genuine smile pulled at her lips, and she responded confidently,

“I would like that.”

You realized you must have failed to hide the immediate reaction of surprise crossing your face, as her smile widened and she shook her head slightly, causing you to do the same.

“You really would?”

“Yes, RJ. I really would.”

You both tightened your grips slightly and moved into each other again, harder than usual, as if you were trying to eliminate every ounce of space between you. The kiss was laced with the heaviness of the day and yet felt like a momentary escape as you moved together in the familiar intimacy. As your hands moved along her back, your mind was racing.

Sure, it's been a long time coming, but something about these last 12 hours felt different. It had been years since your first kiss; although they were not particularly frequent during that time, you would even say you felt consistently apprehensive until Milan. Things had slowly started to settle into more of an understanding since then, yet still you never really talked about it. Things happened the way they happened, and you both let them, enjoying the moments but not allowing yourselves to get too attached, too comfortable… or so you thought.

Now in these moments, you realize you had simply been putting off the inevitable, trying to keep the seriousness of your feelings from even yourself, and it had not worked in the slightest. You had fallen hard, but at least it seemed like maybe she was falling too, or at least you hoped, because now you find yourself almost certain that this woman was going to be the death of you, and you were perfectly okay with that.

As you pulled away and rested your foreheads together while you both caught your breath, her hand cupping your face, fingers running over your cheek as yours rested on her shoulder and hip, you moved your head over and down to plant a light kiss in her palm before meeting each other's gaze again as you pulled away.

“Time to get to work,”

she said with a smile as you both moved to readjust your suits.

“And you better be careful up there because I don't plan on losing you anytime soon.”

“Right back at you,”

she replied with a smirk as you squeezed each other's hands before walking to the door and disconnecting from each other before you opened it to find Steve standing with his arm raised about to knock, causing it to fall through the air slightly. Sam standing behind him, let out a brief sound of amusement.

“Lookin' good, Rogers,”

you quipped as you took in his classic suit.

“Surprised that still fits,”

Natasha joined in as she walked past the men, and you all made your way back to the briefing room, ready for action.

>>>NEXT PART

[queerocfandomer]

"Love Settles as SHIELD Falls"

Chapter 5

ON A03 HERE

After applying the ointment and wrapping the tensor bandage, you reached for the ice pack.

“There is something else significant on your mind,”

you state plainly as you lock into her gaze and activate the pack.

“It’s just... I still can’t shake the fact that I thought I was doing good and it turns out I was just working for Hydra.”

“Natasha,”

you begin firmly as you place a hand on her neck and gently run your thumb along her jawline.

“Even if some of the things we did for SHIELD played into Hydra's plan, we were never Hydra. YOU were never Hydra. You did good, and you’ll keep doing it. Because I know that you are a good person. Natasha Romanoff. You. Are. good.”

You move your hand to rest on her collarbone over her heart as you hold eye contact, remaining for several moments before she closes her eyes and responds softly,

“You know, you keep telling me that, and it kind of feels like I might be starting to believe it.”

“Good. Because it’s true. And I’ll never stop telling you.”

You move in closer and capture her lips with yours once more, moving your hand to the back of her neck with firm pressure. She reacts quickly and almost aggressively as she grips your bicep with one hand and cups your face with the other, her fingers digging into the edge of your jaw.

A sharp knock at the door breaks you apart and you nudge the chair slightly back, placing the ice pack over her knee as she speaks.

“Come in.”

The door opens as you finish taping the ice pack in place, and Rogers speaks from the doorway,

“Sorry to interrupt; I just wanted to check in before you go to sleep.”

“Oh no, all good, Captain. We just finished, and I need to go have a shower, so talk away.”

You get up and move the chair back to the desk before heading towards the bathroom, while Natasha stands and takes a few steps toward the door. You hold up a pinky finger as you close the door behind you.

“And I promise I won’t intrude.”

As you began to run the shower, you could hear their muffled voices in the other room, but you kept the temptation to listen closer at bay, fulfilling your promise. You found yourself slightly surprised at just how relaxing the warm water felt on your skin. Compared to the others, you had gone through little today, and yet you still felt significant tension releasing from your body. As you dried yourself off, looking through what was left in your bag, you ended up donning a standard issue shield training T-shirt and black shorts.

As you re-enter the main room, Natasha is sitting up against the head of the simple bed, scrolling on the tablet. You note the empty injector on the bedside table.

“Glad to see I didn’t have to force you to take the compound.”

“Well, the earlier I take it, the earlier it wears off,” she shrugs in return as a small yawn escapes her mouth.

Noting the small display of vulnerability, showing that she feels safe with you as you walk forward and she moves to put the tablet down beside her.

“Well, looks like you have about six hours to sleep before we should start prepping, and Lord knows you need the rest, so,”

you lean down and press a brief kiss to her forehead before continuing,

“I’ll head out and get some work done.”

“Do you have work that needs to be done?”

“No,”

you reply with a small shake of your head, understanding the transaction at hand but choosing not to lie or make a joke right now.

“Then stay.”

“Nat, you need sleep.”

“I’d sleep better if you stayed. Besides, RJ, you could use some rest too.”

“Okay,”

you simply give in and nod, moving to the other side of the bed while she shifts down.

You position yourself under the covers, reaching out your left arm so that she can move over it and into you. She rests her head on your chest as you wrap your arm around her back. Tracing your fingers along her spine and side as she rests her arm across your stomach and adjusts into you, accommodating her knee and shoulder injuries as best she can. You find yourself focusing on her breath, aware that she can likely hear your heart beating in this position.

Another light yawn escapes her as she whispers into you,

“So what did you do to stay sane on your boring, boring mission?”

It was common for Natasha to ask you to talk as she faded to sleep, and the familiarity brought a smile to your face in the dark as you responded with your eyes closed.

“Oh, you know, lots and lots of mobile games. But mostly just consumed by thoughts, really.”

“What kind?”

“Well, there is this one woman... that I just can’t seem to stop thinking about.”

“Mmm, is it serious?”

“I don’t know. You see, it was kind of a long time coming, then things got a little, ahh, heated a while back, and it seemed like it was going somewhere. But it wasn’t long after that I got pulled into work, so I haven't seen her nearly as much as I would have liked over the past year. When I do, though, it’s pretty great.”

“Sounds like maybe you need to talk about it.”

“Yeah. The thing is neither of us are particularly good at that part—so I mostly just wonder.”

“Wonder what?”

“If she maybe thinks about me too, when we are apart.”

“I’m sure she does.”

“Yeah? You think so?”

“I know so.”

She moved her hand from your waist to your arm resting beside you, and your fingers slowly intertwined as you pressed a kiss to her head and leaned your temple against her as you both drifted off.

>>>NEXT PART

[queerocfandomer]

"Love Settles as SHIELD Falls"

Chapter 4

You sat between Natasha and Fury, eating a granola bar while attached to a new blood bag as the doctor finished up her stitches. He had determined it would be worth it to transfuse another pint, estimating she had lost close to three, so of course, you immediately hooked up. The initial reunion was a bit tense; in the end, they were pleased to see he was still alive, but it did not fully erase the anger over the ruse, even if they understood the reasoning behind it.

Once your collection and Natasha's stitches were complete, she was hooked up to the new blood, and you all made your way to the makeshift briefing room to discuss the plan. You can't say you were particularly surprised when Rogers stated that it would all come down, SHIELD included, but it was bittersweet in a way. You had known nothing but SHIELD really, and you still wanted to do good, but he was right; it needed to be done.

Fury looked to each of you for some kind of response. Was he hoping that you would try to fight Rogers on this? Natasha was silent, and you exchanged brief looks of care. Sam was the first to speak:

“Don't look at me; I just do what he does, but slower.”

You couldn't help but chuckle, which drew his attention back to you.

“You know I respect you, Fury, but Rogers is right; we really don't have a choice. If my estimates are even close, at 20-30%, it's way too many, and there is no time to weed through.”

You shared a nod of affirmation with Rogers as he retook the conversation and the plans took shape.

About two hours later, you are all fed, and the plans for the morning are set. Hill and Chang will take care of procuring further supplies while the remainder of the team rests. Natasha and Fury, on the doctor's orders, neither of whom are amused.

“Well, it’s not exactly a luxury hotel, so you two will have to share a room,” you gesture to Sam and Steve as you all prepare to leave the briefing room.

Steve talks with Natasha as you lead the three of them down the hallway, and Sam takes the opportunity to indulge his curiosity.

“So, like, how far can you hear though? Or is that, like, classified?”

“Well, it seems that pretty much everything is about to be unclassified, so who cares? Generally like a block or so but it depends. Like here we have full concrete, so I can hear pretty much everything inside if i want, because of the echoes, but I can’t hear anything outside. It’s also like a muscle, though; lots of training so that I can have control over it.”

“You have to admit that it's pretty cool.”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s neat, but it can also be a pain in the ass. Pros and cons, ya know?” you shrug, and you both nod as you think you could definitely see yourself being friends with the man.

After a few minutes, you reach the hallway with the rooms. “Here we are; this is Nat’s, and you are two doors down on the right. The joint showers are at the end of the hall there.”

Sam gives you a thumbs up and heads down while Steve stops beside you, reaching out to shake your hand.

“Thanks again, Jensen,” he nods as he heads down the hall, and you turn to Natasha.

Alone now and the immediate concerns handled, you find yourself slipping into a familiar sense of apprehension as you look at her.

“So, uh, this is where I'm set up, and it has a much better bed as well as a personal shower, so yeah, it’s all yours.”

You awkwardly run your hand across the back of your neck, and she shakes her head slightly before reaching for the handle with one hand and your arm with the other. Once inside, you turn to close the door, and when you turn back, she is right in front of you, her grip still on your arm and exhaustion in her eyes.

Before your mind can catch up, you reach out with your other arm and pull her into a hug. She rests her head on your shoulder and wraps her arms around you as you do the same. You can feel her relax into you, allowing the stoicism of the day to melt away, and you just stand with each other for a few moments.

“I missed you,” she says, barely above a whisper as your grips lighten.

“Going soft on me, Romanoff?” you quip playfully as you start to pull apart.

“Could just be the pain meds talking,” she retorts with a small smile as she meets your gaze.

You reach up and tuck her hair behind her ear, resting your hand on her neck.

“I missed you too.”

You take a deep breath together before you continue.

“Okay, I’ll go and get a new ice pack for your knee and supplies for your cuts while you shower. All the supplies, including my clothing bag, are in there, so help yourself.”

You share another small smile before you both turn to action.

You make your way down the halls as your mind fills with thoughts of the future. Tomorrow everything will change. What will you do now? Where will you go? You're fairly certain that Fury will have some kind of offer for you, but whether it will be worth taking is another story.

Then there is Natasha; your relationship, if you can even call it that, has been complicated for years. You can’t help but wonder what would have happened had you not been pulled away so soon after the return from Milan. Yet even though you haven't seen each other much over the last 10 months, it felt like it was going somewhere. Maybe now you could figure that out without the added complication of working together. Then again, that would involve talking about it, and although improving, you were both still pretty bad at that part.

When you return to the room, the shower is still running, and you organize the medical supplies on the small desk. Tablet in hand, you continue to review the plan. It shouldn't be too difficult to overtake the councilwoman's convoy without raising suspicion. You have little doubt that everything will work out… it has to. You hear the shower turn off, and you note your heartbeat quicken slightly.

After a few minutes, she emerges, wearing a simple black tank top and grey shorts, still drying her damp hair with a towel. Scrapes and bruises are scattered along her arms and legs, yet she still looks absolutely stunning.

“If you take a picture, it will last..."

“Longer, yeah, yeah… well, I don't have a cell phone anymore, so…” you respond with a playful tone laced with a hint of embarrassment for being caught staring.

You grab a handful of supplies and move the chair to rest in front of her as she sits on the edge of the bed. Inspecting the waterproof bandages on her shoulder wound, everything looks to be in order, so you turn your attention to cleaning her minor cuts.

“You could have told me about Fury.”

“I would have, but it was only an hour, and I was directly ordered not to.”

A brief silence fills the space before she continues.

“I almost got blown up, you know. If it wasn't for Steve, I wouldn't be here.”

You look up at her face, filled with genuine worry, before you reply.

“We heard and I did have faith it would take a lot more to get Captain America and the Black Widow off the board… but honestly, I was kind of grateful to have work to focus on because I, um…”

you swallow hard and pause your work, resting your hand on her good knee and looking into her eyes for just a moment before looking away.

“When the report came in assigning the unit to a sighting of you, it was… like my heart was suddenly released from a grip that I didn’t even realize it was under.”

“Who’s going soft now?”

You shake your head as a smile crosses your face, and you look up to see the sentiment mirrored on her features.

“Wow. Yeah, I really just said that.”

“You did.”

She reached a hand to your neck and gently pulled you closer. Your lips met with a softness and vulnerability that wasn’t new but brought with it an understanding. Moving slowly but with intent, you shared your feelings of relief without the need for words.

You could feel the longing of the last two months apart, and you told yourself that you would do your best to make sure it was never that long again. Pulling apart, you leaned your foreheads together for a few breaths before running your hand down her hair and moving to stand, placing a short kiss on her cheek as you returned to the desk and gathered the supplies to wrap her damaged knee.

>>>NEXT PART

[queerocfandomer]

"Love Settles as SHIELD Falls"

Chapter 3

Finally, stripping out of the tactical vest, you also remove the jacket, leaving yourself in just the plain black t-shirt so your arms are exposed as you rummage through the rear compartment searching for the device you seek. You locate the small black case and confirm everything is accounted for before throwing the keys inside and closing the door, confirming that the screen shows a countdown of 20 minutes. You tear open an alcohol wipe as you walk to the new vehicle, running it along your right elbow joint as you open the door. Getting in and starting the vehicle, you speak,

“Sleeve up, Romanoff,”

You toss another alcohol wipe her way before connecting your seatbelt and turning to her. Her eyebrows are raised in question as you grab the black bag, placing it between you as you begin to open it, and she sighs.

“Jensen, this is unnecessary; I’ll be fine.”

“You will, and we have a half-hour drive ahead of us in which we will just be sitting here, so no point in waiting. Besides, you have lost over a pint since I arrived, so it's likely almost 2 by now, and I’ll be the one giving it to you once we arrive anyway, so as I said, sleeve up.”

You keep eye contact as you open the slim silver device and offer her an elastic strip. You can tell she's frustrated with you and probably embarrassed, although very unlikely to admit it, and you notice the men in the back seat exchanging curious looks. You simply sit for a moment before she finally lets out an irritated huff and takes the elastic from your hand, starting to tie it around her arm as she replies,

“You know, you really are very irritating.”

“I know,”

you respond with a shrug, squeezing your hand into a fist as she knots the elastic, and you rest your hand on her thigh as she pulls out one of the tubes and removes the needle safety. You let out a groan as she inserts the needle.

“You asked for it.”

“Doesn't mean I have to like it,”

you release your fist, opening and closing your hand a few times before resting it back against her and very slightly moving your pointer finger back and forth against her leg a few times while she finishes applying the bandage to secure the needle in place.

Your blood starts slowly flowing through the tube, and you move to tie the elastic onto her arm as she clicks the button on the silver case. The small bag inside starts to shift back and forth as it begins to fill. Natasha pulls out the other tube and closes the case. You secure it between you and shift the vehicle into drive before adjusting your arm to rest on top of the steering wheel so that the connected tube can curve downwards. You pause for a moment to allow Natasha to finish securing her own needle before starting to drive.

Rogers finally speaks up from the back as you pull out from the lot,

“Is that really safe to be doing while driving?”

“Well, honestly, it’s not exceptionally safe, driving or not, but the tech is pretty reliable, so nothing life-threatening,”

you smirk in reply as the device lets out a single beep, cueing Natasha to release the clamp on her side, causing the red liquid to start flowing toward her.

“How do you know you're compatible?” Wilson inquires.

“Not our first rodeo,” you reply in unison, causing you both to smile slightly and exchange an understanding glance before she adjusts herself and leans back again, closing her eyes.

“So you have also been with SHIELD for some time then?” Rodgers inquires as you drive down the interstate.

“Indeed. I joined a little under two years before Romanoff, but I didn't have combat training in my previous position, so we ended up in the same field testing group, actually.”

“And I still outranked you in almost every category,” she replies.

“Okay—MOST, but not ALL—to be clear,”

you shake your head as she smirks from her seat, eyes still closed, while Rodgers continues.

“I don't mean to pry, but I do have some questions I would like to ask you, Jensen.”

“Fire away, Cap. Honestly, given our current situation, whatever I can offer to assure you that I've got your back, I will.”

“Not something I would expect to hear from most SHIELD agents.”

“Well, I'm not a typical agent.”

“Yeah, I'm noticing… Speaking of which, when you said you could hear Rumlow, did you mean you had comms on him?”

“No. I meant that I could physically hear him.”

“From inside another vehicle?”

Wilson joined in. You couldn't help but let out a small sound of amusement.

“Yes, Wilson.”

“So you're enhanced?” Steve retorted.

“Yes. My hearing and sight are classified as ‘superhuman.’”

“I didn't realize SHIELD had other enhanced agents. Fury certainly never mentioned it,” Steve continued with slight irritation.

“Yeah, I wouldn't dwell on that one much; I'm pretty sure only about half a dozen people do, and that includes Fury, Hill, and the two scientists that do all the testing and junk. Romanoff here wasn't even supposed to know about it.”

“Not my fault I pay attention and you did a poor job - saying things that came up on comms that you were not connected to,” Natasha chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring her and continuing to speak to Rogers.

“Unlike your abilities, mine are not anything that's particularly helpful in a fight. I simply excel at reconnaissance and marksmanship.”

“Were you given a serum, then?”

“No. It just started when I was a teenager. Apparently, some sort of genetic thing they can't quite figure out yet.”

“I guess I'm kind of surprised they didn't include you in the Avengers Initiative.”

“Ha, well, I'm sure being able to hear and see the aliens better would have been a terrific help to you. I was on the helicarrier, though, just blending in with all the normies.” You let out a small laugh as the transfusion machine started to beep again, signaling that 15 minutes had passed.

Natasha moved from her relaxed position to look through the black bag as you pulled the needle from your arm and wrapped the tube around the rearview mirror so the remainder of the blood could flow down into the bag. She opened the pill packet, passing you two of the four: one iron and one vitamin C, before downing two herself and passing you the water bottle to do the same.

In another five minutes, the transfusion would be complete, and you were glad to see she was looking a little less pale now, although still actively hiding the pain. You downed the rest of the water and looked back at the rearview mirror.

“Well, we are almost there, Rogers. Anything else you want to know?”

“I am curious what this deep-cover mission for Fury was.”

“Oh, only the longest, most boring months of my life… it was about, ahh, like, eight-ish months ago?”

You turned to Natasha, who was back to leaning her head on the rest but now tilted sideways and looking at you. She replied,

“Nine and a half.”

“It definitely felt like about two years, but yeah, so Fury pulled me off general field duty and had me going out to different SHIELD bases to see if I could pick up on anything. He had suspicions that something was going on but wasn't sure what, or if he did, he didn't tell me any further details. I reported only to Fury or Hill, but there was not much to report, honestly.”

“What were you listening for?”

“That, Rogers, was what I was wondering myself. We had a little system designed to try and catch people either trying to hide something before I arrived or after I “left”, which I mean did work, just not for this whole Hydra thing. I found a fair amount of falsified reports, a large insurance fraud, and several affairs among other mundane issues. He said he had other attempts lined up, which I assume your Lemurian Star mission was. See, the thing is, as great as being able to hear things is, it only helps if things are actually being said, and they really were not.”

“Until LA?” Natasha asked, and you nodded in agreement.

“I arrived at the LA base two months ago, and it was all the same old boring stuff, but one agent caught my eye. A good suspicion, I guess, because yesterday, apparently a short while after Fury was shot, they mentioned the Winter Soldier being activated. So I called it in, and Hill told me to wait for backup communication and be ready to move. A couple of hours later, we re-established communication, and she recalled me back here. Just as we were ending the call, the same agents made their ‘Hail Hydra’ statement. Then I came here, met up with Hill, we set up a plan, and so here we are.”

“There really isn't anything else that you found out about Hydra?” Steve inquired with genuine intrigue.

“Scout's honor. I wish something, anything would have slipped before, but these folks just were not talking on site, which I did keep telling Fury would be unlikely. It would have been smarter for me to just tail random agents, I think. That's why I was extra surprised when I got back to HQ and Rumlow and his STRIKE gang were all pretty nonchalant about the whole thing. ‘Hail Hydra’ right there on the open street, and they were all talking very openly in their vehicles and even some in the hangar. I had spent time here listening too, and they were not like that before. When I left for LA, there was something different that I couldn't quite place. Now I think they were just more quiet than usual. I should have noticed before.”

“We all should have. They knew what they were doing, and they did it well. All we can do now is put an end to it,”

Steve stated firmly as you all exchanged nods.

Maria was waiting at the tunnel entrance when you pulled up. You helped Natasha along as you all made your way down the tunnel, and she conversed with Rogers and Wilson. After a few minutes, the Doctor appeared jogging towards you, and you briefed him:

“GSW through and through, probably lost about 2 pints, but we transfused one on the way.”

He was eyeing the gauze that was starting to soak through as he responded,

“Okay, I'll take her.”

You and Maria responded in unison,

“She’ll want to see him first,”

resulting in confused looks from all three, Natasha holding your gaze with what you were sure was a hint of disappointment in her eyes.

>>> NEXT PART

[queerocfandomer]

"Love Settles as SHIELD Falls"

Retelling of the last act of CA: Winter Soldier in which you have a romantic history with Natasha (established but non committed relationship) Reader/OC x Natasha in which Reader is an enhanced SHIELD Agent. (L/N: Jensen)

You had slipped into HQ and taken up the role almost three hours before the unit was dispatched downtown for a sighting of Rogers and Romanoff. You really hated these uniforms; you were not used to the bulky tactical gear, and these darn helmets were stuffy, hot, and tight as all heck. There was not much choice, however, as you needed to ensure the other agents didn't recognize that you were not an actual member of their unit. You were glad to finally be putting the plan into motion, as the discomfort was really starting to get on your nerves.

As you exited the unit and took your place in the formation, your gaze was immediately drawn to Natasha, who appeared obviously roughed up, slightly pale, with blood running from her shoulder. The men kneeling next to her looked equally disheveled, although with no visibly concerning injuries. You did not recognize the man next to Rogers, who was wearing a strange metal backpack of some sort; however, Rumlow was giving him the same treatment, so apparently, your extrication was now up to three.

For a moment, you thought you might have to alter the plan and somehow manage to fight your way out, as the second-in-command seemed ready to pull the trigger right then and there. However a news helicopter appeared overhead, snapping the Agents back to reality, and Rumlow ordered them confined.

You sat patiently, waiting for the right moment as the convoy continued down the road. Listening carefully through to the cab of the vehicle, you heard Rumlow’s orders: you were about six minutes out from where they planned to stop. You shifted slightly to prepare your move just as Wilson spoke,

“...if we don't put pressure on that wound, she’s gonna bleed out here.”

Moving swiftly, you pulled out the taser, making a fake move towards him before turning on the agent beside you, knocking him out and pulling off your helmet as you replied, “The thing is, they don’t care, because in about five minutes they are just going to execute you all anyway.”

As you tossed your helmet into the corner, Natasha let out a small huff, unable to hide a look of relief.

“Jensen, you know I'm not even going to pretend I'm not happy to see you.”

“Good, because we really don’t have the time,” you said with a smirk as you made your way towards her, kneeling and cutting off her restraints. You continued, “I have a med kit in the extraction vehicle. Can you get that jacket off and use it for now?”

She nodded as you finished cutting Wilson's restraints and turned to Rogers.

“Well, Cap, it’s been a while since we were formally introduced, and I know you’ve had a rough few days, but I hope the fact that I'm getting you out of here is enough to prove I'm on your side.”

“I do recall seeing you around the Triskelion, and my trust for SHIELD agents is on pretty thin ice right now…Romanoff?”

“They would be on my shortlist of trustworthy people, yeah, and they do have a point about the helping.”

“You know, that may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me in front of other people,” you replied with a smirk as you finished with Rogers' restraints and moved to pull out the bag you had stashed under the seat.

She rolled her eyes. “I thought you were out on some high-level Fury-only thing though.”

“Oh, I was. But I got recalled pretty quickly after...you know.”

“Hill?”

You nodded in response as you pulled out the magnetic handles from the bag.

“You two were already in the wind by the time I was anywhere close, and so wearing that god-awful helmet for the last several hours seemed to be the only way to get to you. You can hold a couple hundred pounds, right, Rogers?”

He nodded as you gestured to the handles you had attached to the floor, taking grip as you pulled out the plasma torch.

“We have about two minutes before they stop, and if I get rid of this first, the rest will be much faster when they do,” you said as you began to cut out a circle from the floor. Steve held the metal and moved it to the side, causing a loud thump.

“Well, they did hear that, but we are just pulling up to the location now, so get ready to move.”

As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, you cut through the road and descended into the metro tunnels, quickly making your way down about a block before you heard the others preparing to follow. You cut another hole in the access door nearby, took the jacket Natasha had been using for pressure, and tucked it in the corner inside before heading further west. You paused for a moment at the hatch before exiting back onto the street, hearing the agents taking the bait and heading the other way.

As you approached the SUV, you popped the trunk, grabbed a hoodie, and tossed it to Natasha as you turned to face your new companions.

“Well, here's the choice, Rogers: you can take the keys and go, or you can come with me to the safe location, rendezvous with Hill, where we can explain a few things and then sort out how to take down these Hydra bastards together.”

“How do you know they are Hydra?”

“I hear real good, and Rumlow isn't exactly being quiet about it anymore.”

The three shared some affirming looks and nods before he responded, “Okay, Jensen, lead the way.”

You picked up the keys and closed the trunk before heading towards the cab.

“Romanoff gets shotgun, the med kit is in the glove. And there should be a couple of nine millimeters under each seat if you would like to arm yourselves.”

As you start driving through the city, everyone is rather quiet as Natasha rummages through the medical kit and opens a QuikClot gauze pad with her teeth before applying it to the entrance wound at the front of her shoulder. A light turns yellow as you approach, and instead of speeding through, you slow to stop, turning to Natasha and beginning to apply another bandage to the exit wound as Wilson speaks up from behind you.

“You know you could put the pedal down a bit; we are kind of in a hurry.”

“I'd love to, Wilson, but the first rule of being on the run… you walk.”

Steve echoed your last words, and Natasha grins.

“See, Rogers, I told you so.”

Exchanging a knowing look with her, you can tell she is in more pain than she would admit, and you allow your hand to linger for a moment as you finish applying the bandage before returning your attention to the road.

You hit redial on the phone, and it rings through the speakers. The line connects, and you continue to sit in silence for a moment as the seconds count down. You can hear Wilson about to make a comment, and you and Natasha both raise your arms to hush him at the same time. It takes a full 30 seconds before the automated voice finally speaks: “Line Secured.”

“Jensen, Sierra Kilo, 3-6-4-2-1, Confirm.”

“Hill, Tango Charlie, 8-7-5-3-6, Confirmed.”

“Extrication successful, en route to alternative vehicle with 3 personnel, one GSW stable with significant blood loss, ETA 45 minutes.”

“Three?” “It seems they picked up a third wheel on their adventures.”

“Copy. 45 minutes.”

The line disconnects, and Wilson's reaction causes you all to let out a brief laugh. You notice Natasha is still holding the small autoinjector in her hand.

“Est-ce que tu vas continuer ou est-ce que je dois m'arrêter et te poignarder moi-même parce que tu sais que je le ferai ?” (Are you going to get on with it, or do I have to pull over and stab you myself because you know I will.)

Rogers lets out another sound of amusement from behind you as Natasha rolls her eyes again.

“He speaks French.” “That is not an answer to my question,” you muse back.

“I'd really rather not be hopped up on painkillers right now.”

“Well, it's just Compound 12, so there isn't much in there anyway, and I'm sure Rogers would hold you down for me if I asked. Qu'en penses-tu, capitaine? (What do you think, captain?)”

“Je suis sûr que ça n'arrivera pas. (I'm sure it won't come to that.)”

“Wow. And here I thought neither of you could get any more annoying,” she quips as she injects the liquid into her neck.

“Well, at least you know what they are saying,” Wilson chimes in.

It was only a few more minutes before you pulled up at the car park near the edge of the city.

“We are going to switch out to a less conspicuous vehicle; this one is off the grid but still SHIELD-issued, so better safe than sorry.”

“And where exactly are we going?” asked Rogers.

“A safe site about 30 minutes outside of the city. It's not the nicest, but it's somewhere to figure out a plan and rest for a few hours. Plus, there are a couple of showers which you all could really use…”

“I could say the same for you, RJ.” Natasha nudged you slightly with her elbow on the armrest and left it leaning against you, her head still resting back, eyes closed as you parked.

“Okay boys, it's the green minivan there on the right; the keys are tucked above the exhaust. I just have to wipe the system and set the self-destruct.” You reach for the display and process through a few buttons as everyone opens the doors and steps out.

You lightly grab Natasha's arm as she moves to exit the vehicle.

“Really, Nat, how are you feeling?”

She turned back towards you, and you could see her features relax for a moment, striking blue eyes always causing your heart to soften.

“Hurts like hell but I'll survive, and you know you shouldn't be worrying about me.”

“I do. And yet you know I will anyway.”

You share a soft smile and move to exit the vehicle. She heads towards the van, following the others while you stop at the trunk to gather some further supplies.

---------------------------------------------

Prologue available on A03

>>>NEXT PART

[queerocfandomer]

First Sparks - Part 7

"Aftermath" Final Part!

More death and murder in this part (MC) and a stabbing (no blood)

1961

It was certainly awkward when Eloise arrived. Agatha had suggested she leave for the day, yet you stood your ground, refusing to hide her away or pretend she didn’t matter. You refused to let her feel like something to be ashamed of—a struggle she had yet to fully accept, though you could see the flicker of appreciation in her eyes. 

You had hoped that maybe Eloise wouldn’t even know of her, but somehow you seemed to be one of the only witches in existence who was unaware of who Agatha Harkness was. There were four of them there to collect a fair amount of goods, and despite the tension, you found yourselves gathered around the table, sharing tea before they departed. 

It was clear that Eloise and at least some of the others were aware of the whispers, yet they chose not to address the elephant in the room as the conversation flowed, discussing how your year had been. Agatha wore her typical public persona, but you noticed, as you had with the Arwood Coven before, that she appeared slightly more guarded and flamboyant around other witches—a completely understandable reaction now that you were aware of her past.

As they finished loading the vehicle, Eloise asked to speak with you privately. After exchanging a knowing nod with Agatha, you walked off with her to the greenhouse. Eloise spoke with genuine concern, wanting to know if you were aware of the rumors surrounding the woman who was now living under your roof. 

Having known Eloise for several decades, you were uncertain whether to classify her as a friend, but you felt no need to lie to her about anything that wouldn’t put you at risk. So, you told her that initially, you hadn’t been aware, but you had learned of the rumors, understanding that gossip often holds a grain of truth, though things are not always as they seem. 

She expressed her concerns, mentioning that the Arwoods were not at their home, which appeared abandoned, yet not in a state that suggested its occupants intended never to return. You simply affirmed that you had no knowledge of them after they left the property, just like any other year.

It was a struggle for witches to look out for one another in general. The authorities, especially in these times, were rarely helpful and often led to genuine hunters getting wind of vital information. Such hunters were few and far between, but the risk was never worth taking. Eloise confirmed that they now had to decide how to proceed with the information, and that it would be a discussion for the entire coven upon their return. You expressed your genuine worry over the matter, advising her that you would greatly appreciate being kept in the loop. You could tell she wasn't entirely convinced of your truthfulness, yet it seemed sufficient for her not to take any negative action for now.

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

It was several months before the whispers began to circulate around town, leaving you uncertain of when the authorities were even informed, given that it was beyond local jurisdiction. Yet, by the time the connection to the abandoned vehicles emerged, the missing individuals had been gone for a year, and the locals had begun to lend their assistance. 

The vehicles had been discovered just a few months after the incident, and while you had heard whispers, it was not enough to warrant concern at that time. You felt prepared; there was no evidence to uncover, and so you remained undeterred, though the officers themselves were another matter. In the current climate, their aggression could be an issue, yet you had faith that the two of you could navigate any situation that arose—preferably without resorting to violence.

You hadn’t practiced much in the realm of manipulation magic in the past, dabbling only in small spells when the need arose, but Agatha was quite skilled. The past few months spent studying with her had turned into a delight, a welcome change from your usual routine, igniting a newfound eagerness in you to learn and practice together in the days ahead. 

She had finally agreed to enter your den after much hesitation—understandable, considering the runes that adorned the space were not something one wandered into lightly without substantial trust in the caster. You could tell she felt a lingering discomfort within those walls, yet the fact that she had even considered trusting you enough to breach that barrier erased any lingering doubts you had about her feelings for you.

One afternoon, the officers arrived to pose questions, revealing that their investigation had found witnesses claiming to have seen the vehicles on your property at various times. While this didn’t seem to pose much of a problem, they soon turned their attention to Agatha. 

Being locals, they knew she had come to town around the same time you had last seen the women, and a year since your explanation of her needing to get back on her feet surely felt long overdue to them. Had you been an average citizen, their probing might have raised your concerns, easily avoided upon vacating the area, but you didn’t want them gaining any extra ammunition for a potential case against you involving the Arwood issue.

So, you played along, almost as if it were a game. The exchange of looks with Agatha, as she skillfully played her role, brought a smile to your face. 

Just as they prepared to leave, you made your move, captivated by Agatha’s grace as she cast a spell to freeze them momentarily. After teasing you about staring once again, she offered a few encouraging words. Taking hold of the younger officer, you channeled your focus, breathing deeply, locking onto the task at hand. A swell of pride surged within you as the spell took root, allowing you to weave gentle but firm suggestions into his mind before you both released them from the spells, and you escorted them out with a sense of triumph.

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

After closing the door, you caught sight of Agatha already settled comfortably on the couch. You glided over to her, laying down across her legs, and paused to plant a kiss on her cheek before resting your head on the armrest. You looked up at her as she gently shifted her hand into your hair, her fingers moving along your scalp.

 “I do believe they were under the impression we might be a couple.”

“Well, if they did, they certainly don’t anymore; your spell looked perfect.” 

“Thank you! I’m quite proud of how it turned out, actually.” 

“As you should be.” 

“But are we, though?” 

“Are we what?” 

“Well, are we in a relationship?” 

“I don’t shack up with just anyone, you know.” 

“Oh, I see. So, no then?” you quipped, smirking as she rolled her eyes in that irresistibly attractive way that made you want to provoke her further.

She leaned down towards you, and the kiss that followed was unexpectedly firm, leaving you to let out an unintentional sound of disappointment when she pulled away far sooner than you’d hoped. A smug grin spread across her face, igniting a blush on yours as you lightly punched her shoulder in playful protest.

After a moment of silence, you gather your thoughts and decide it's time to delve into a topic you've been mulling over for days.

“You know, there is one thing we haven’t really touched on…” 

“Oh? And what would that be?” 

“Past relationships.” 

“Oh. I see. And why would you want to discuss that?” There’s genuine curiosity in her voice, but it’s tinged with a hint of something deeper that you can't quite pin down. 

“Well, it’s not like I don’t know you’ve been with other people, Agatha. You’ve been around for quite some time… like a long time… like a really long…” 

“You are really pushing it today,” she interrupts, a playful warning in her eyes. 

“Meh, you love it; anyways. What I mean is, of course, there have been people over the decades who drift in and out—some for just days or weeks, and maybe there are some fun stories there. But the ones that are significant become a part of you, just like grief or trauma. We, as in the collective ‘we,’ but also literally us, tend to focus a lot on the trauma that shaped us. I don’t want to feel like we can’t share the love that’s shaped us, simply because it feels awkward. We have agreed that nothing about our past changes what we have now.” 

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide anything from me, and I don’t WANT to hide anything from you, to be clear. It’s just… some things are, yeah, awkward and also painful…” 

“Yeah… I know. Me too. It’s going to be weird, but it really did shape my life. And besides, you're in MY bed now, so why would I care who has been there before or where else you’ve been? It's just history; the choice now is what truly matters. I mean, unless there’s a bed you plan on getting back into, because then we should probably have a talk about it. But aside from that…” 

“Isn't it kind of OUR bed at this point?” 

“Technically speaking, that is MY bed. But I suppose once we move and get a new one, it will technically be OURS, yes.”

“I truly do want to know about you. I suppose I can handle some awkward and uncomfortable; I assume this topic will involve quite a few “ahh” things?" 

"It's really just one, actually." 

"Just one?" 

“Yeah. I mean, there was this potions witch near the end of the First World War, and that went on for a while, but it felt more like comfort and convenience than anything else. There’s really only one relationship, aside from this one, that I would say had any substantial impact on my life... that scar on my side, the one I mentioned wasn’t the right time to discuss? That’s because it was for her — Kaskawan.” 

She was studying your face with such intensity. As you made occasional eye contact, it didn’t feel as strange as you’d expected to talk about it, though you could feel a pang of concern as memories surged through your mind. You found your hand drifting to your left side under your shirt, just a couple of inches above your waistline, tracing the burn mark with your thumb. 

You didn’t want Agatha to feel jealous or doubt your feelings for her due to that obvious care you held for Kask. You knew you wouldn’t be who you are now without those past experiences, and you just wanted Agatha to understand the lingering sorrow you still carried from that time. Yet, the look on her face wasn’t one of judgment or worry; it seemed she could genuinely see your struggle and simply wanted to listen. She started to run her fingers softly through your hair, speaking with quiet confidence. 

“Was she a witch?” 

“She had a spark, so yes, but it was just access to magik, not enough for the life, unfortunately.” 

“You loved her.” 

“Yes. I did... I mean, I do, I guess. I don’t think when you truly love someone, that feeling ever really just disappears, you know? It’s not the same at all; it’s different, more like a residual feeling, but it’s always just a little bit there.” 

“Tell me about her.” 

“Kaskawanipestaw… a misty rain within the fog… she was quite a bit older than me, actually. I guess it turns out I do have a thing for that, but I was young — I mean, truly young…”

And so you find yourself sharing the tale of your very first love, your only love really (at least until now, but you’re not about to reveal that to Agatha just yet). You remember the reserve you frequented with your mother as a child, returning to it shortly after losing your father and meeting her there. She was a decade older, bold and earnest in her desires. 

Your time together spanned nearly a decade, until the Wounded Knee Massacre, which irreversibly changed everything. Your greatest regret was not fighting harder for her to allow you to go with her in the first place. The moment you felt her call, you sensed disaster had already struck; you arrived amidst chaos—hundreds dead, dozens injured. She had protected as many children as she could, emerging with injuries that were far from trivial. Together, you poured your hearts into the frantic effort to save as many as possible. Some survived; too many did not. 

As the painful memories you desperately tried to keep at bay flooded back, you felt the wetness on your cheeks, with Agatha gently wiping them as you spoke. You had witnessed the aftermath, but it paled in comparison to the raw agony of the experience itself—no one could ever emerge unchanged from something so horrific, and Kask certainly hadn’t. 

You told her the way five of those so-called soldiers became the only people you ever sought out with the intent to end—it left an indelible mark on you. Though you wrestled with what that rage had turned you into, in the depths of your heart, you could not say you regretted it. 

Another decade of so-called domesticity unfolded before you, filled with nightmares and endless tears, as the questions of why you still looked the same after such time began to echo around you with increasing frequency. She knew everything, yet together you chose to share only a little with the others. 

You tried to journey together for a time, but it just didn’t quite fit—she needed her people, her family, while you understood you couldn’t stay; they were already burdened with so much, and your presence only drew unwanted attention to them. 

She fought against the mark, asserting that if your face wasn’t going to change, she would always remember it. But what she didn’t realize was that you were more worried about her belief in you. Marking yourself with fire so that each return would reaffirm your existence, as her mind started to falter. 

Years slipped by as you traveled, much like Agatha had, only to return for fleeting days a few times each year, each visit breaking your heart a little more as you silently watched her age—unable to heal her, unable to remain. 

Nearly a decade slipped by, and the disease tightened its grip on her. So you chose to remain regardless—most days she wouldn’t remember, but those moments when she did shimmered with beauty. You had two more years before she departed from this world. 

Almost half your life had been anchored around her, and the weight of grief was suffocating. It had already begun cycling since you had to leave, but at least she had always been a constant you could return to. Now, with nothing left but emptiness, it felt as though you had lost everything too. The war raged, and so with nothing to lose, you let your grief guide you into danger, unsatisfied with a life that continued while hers ceased to be.

You found yourself momentarily anxious as your stream of thought wound down, and you attempted to apologize for speaking at length, but Agatha wouldn’t hear of it. She was genuinely warm and caring when she chose to be, and in these poignant moments, you almost wished that more people could witness this beautiful side of her as she sat beside you, allowing the memories to settle softly between you. 

After a stretch of silence, your thoughts naturally wandered back to her, and it dawned on you why sharing your feelings felt so crucial. It wasn't merely a desire to lay bare the hidden truths of your past—the enduring impact those years had on you and the way you navigated life—but also because you had experienced the gut-wrenching loss of a profound love before. Now, as reluctant as you were to admit it to yourself, you found a nagging worry creeping in: if you lost her too, could you ever truly recover? That thought weighed heavily on your heart as you gazed into her eyes, a realization that would take time to fully process; admitting to fear was never easy for you.

She had thanked you for sharing a sentiment that had become a comfortable part of your exchanges; there was an understanding that such displays of vulnerability were not easy. Words could hardly change or comfort the pain, yet there was a deep-seated gratitude and appreciation for the way you were weaving your lives together. 

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you slipped into playful banter, feeling a wave of light embarrassment as you confessed to having only one so-called significant relationship in a century, particularly when she must have had countless admirers vying for her heart. 

You were taken aback when she revealed that the truth was far from that; she too had known only one love, and it made a strange sort of sense. Despite having lived almost two centuries longer, she remained closed off and private, and the thought of her opening her heart to many others was not something you would have expected. 

As she began to share her story, it became clear that it bore striking similarities to your own. They had met when she was still young, and together they had navigated many decades. It took her a moment to choose her words carefully as she walked through her memories before finally unveiling the piece that connected it all together.

‘Wait, seriously? You're telling me you dated Death?’

‘Well, I mean, I don’t think we ever really went on any actual dates.’ 

‘The actual embodiment of THE cosmic entity?’  

‘Yes, Oakley, I don’t think I could possibly make this kind of thing up.’

‘I mean, I have to admit, the fact that Death is a woman is, like, pretty... you know.’  

‘You're ridiculous.’  

‘Well, it’s true, but anyway, sorry for interrupting.’ 

‘It was just us for a long time, and then... well, something happened. She did something that I just could not forgive—something I can never forgive her for. It’s complicated, but yeah. Then everything changed; she couldn’t accept it and became... well, obsessive, aggressive really, I guess toxic. I mean, basically, she’s like a violent stalker that I can’t escape. It’s honestly incredibly tiring. I would give anything to never see her face again, but she won’t accept that, and it makes everything even harder.’ 

‘I think I get it. You love her. It’s just that you also hate her.’

‘I don’t want to love her.’

‘Yeah, it kinda sucks how life doesn’t really give us a choice about that.’

‘It’s not the same, though, you know? I don’t, like, with you... it’s not.’

‘Hey, Agatha, it’s okay. Really. I understand. Like I said, I don’t think it ever really goes away. I still love Kask, always will. It’s just different because she’s gone and Rios isn’t, and I guess she won’t ever be.’

‘Probably good to know sooner rather than later, because I seriously doubt we won’t end up seeing her at some point. Like I said, stalker.’ 

‘How often does she, ahh, show up?’  

‘Depends. Usually a year or two, maybe, but sometimes months. I mean, the wars were kind of a nice break, honestly, since I assume she was busy with that, so I never really know.’  

‘When was the last time you saw her?’  

‘Oh, ahhhh... yeah... last May?’  

‘OH. May as in like, May?’  

‘Yeah, ah, she was in the woods when I was getting those branches for you. All snippy about how I don’t usually leave survivors... or bury bodies.’  

‘Okay, well that’s... ah, interesting.’  

‘Yeah, sorry, I didn’t really know how to tell you about that.’  

‘No, I mean, yeah, totally reasonable.’  

‘I was kind of completely focused on you and everything that had happened, so I basically ignored her and just told her to go away.’  

‘You still stayed.’  

‘Huh? What’s that smile for?’  

‘You saw her. That same night. And yet you still chose to stay here. To stay with me.’  

‘I did. And I'd do it again... probably a lot quicker, though.’

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

Summer was winding down, and you had not heard anything more from the authorities. Seemingly in the clear, you started to make solid plans for when you would leave. Completing this year's harvest, as usual, felt like the right thing to do, as it would be the last. You both agreed that sticking around through the winter and embarking on your new adventure come spring was the best course of action. Agatha had proposed Nashville as a possible destination, and while you were intrigued—having never set foot there yourself—your heart was drawn to the escalating movement in New York, compelling you to consider aiding there first. You had all the time in the world to go wherever you wanted, staying however long you wanted. Even Agatha couldn't fully contain her expressions of excitement over the possibilities ahead as you discussed the start of your new chapter together.

But, as fate would have it, things seldom unfolded as planned. It began with the unsettling presence of a peculiar pair in town—two young men, perhaps in their early 30s, who looked strikingly out of place. You first noticed them at the diner while grabbing lunch; they seemed ordinary enough, yet their gaze lingered on you both longer than felt comfortable. It wasn't shocking, of course, with each trip; Agatha was being pursued by local admirers, and the attention she received was to be expected. 

However, after you finished at the supermarket, Agatha spotted those same men sitting in a truck at the edge of the parking lot. An unsettling feeling crept in as you both sensed something was off. Yet, they made no move to approach and didn't follow you when you left. 

Agatha had urged you to fortify your defenses long ago, so you felt a measure of safety; if anything were to occur, you would be more than ready. Days passed without incident, and you found yourself joking about how you were likely overreacting to a couple of tourists passing through. 

But then, just as your instincts had warned, you were abruptly jolted awake in bed by the alert from your perimeter protection, the clock reading 4 AM. A silent, understanding look exchanged between you was all that was needed before you sprang into action.

Agatha ascended through the roof to get a clearer view as you activated the additional protections. When she returned, her expression was confident as she confirmed that two vehicles—each with at least two occupants—had just crossed the perimeter, making their way down the drive. 

“They have a rune painted on the hood,” 

she said, her eyebrows raising playfully and a smirk dancing on her lips—a smirk you mirrored as you replied, 

“Oh, so this is going to be fun.” 

With a shared sense of determination, you both summoned your powers, stretching slightly as you slipped into your more traditional looks. While not completely assured, you did feel a surge of confidence—especially with Agatha poised at your side. You shook your head in amusement as you caught her tilting hers, looking you up and down with a teasing glimmer. 

Unable to resist, you stepped forward, pulling her into a passionate kiss that was slightly more intense than intended. Her hands swiftly wrapped around your neck, drawing you closer. Maybe it wasn't the right time for this, but honestly, it was her fault for looking so enticing. The vibrant purple and green of your power simmered around you, weaving together like an electric current.

Then, the secondary trigger hit, indicating they were half a mile out, snapping you back to the moment. You reluctantly pulled away and headed to the window, your focus sharpening on the approaching vehicles. Pulling your green into focus, you concentrated on the earth as you cast the spell. As your hands parted, a section of the driveway lifted upwards, and the truck’s wheels hit it hard, sending the vehicle lurching to its side. You felt Agatha’s arms wrap around your waist, planting a soft kiss on your neck. 

“Careful, it seems I quite enjoy seeing you like this. Don’t want to distract you too much.” 

“Or maybe I do,” you shot her a playful smile, your eyes glued to the scene unfolding outside. 

There were only two occupants, and one appeared to be nursing a leg injury. A third person climbed out from the back of the second truck to assist, and the three jumped into the truck bed, continuing down the road. 

“Five? Hmm, that doesn’t sound like much of a challenge now, does it?” Agatha teased. 

“Wasn’t there only three that time you almost broke your knee?” 

“Well, I didn’t have you then, did I?” she quipped back, and you made your way down the stairs to meet them.

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

The truck pulled up to the front of the house just as you stepped outside. The strangers emerged—one of them striding toward the garden while the others loitered at the edge of the rune circle. The injured man lit what appeared to be a torch and hurled it over the garden wall, flames beginning to dance among the plants. 

“Well, that was just plain rude,” you remarked, reaching the bottom of the steps. 

You stood side by side with Agatha, a mere five feet from the circle, against four men—two of whom you recognized from town—and a slightly older woman marred by a large scar across her face. Agatha cast a quick incantation behind her back, causing the rocks to glow a vibrant purple as she addressed them. 

“You know, it’s not very polite to just show up at someone’s house at this hour.” 

The woman stepped forward, her voice cutting through the tension. “Though it seems you are more than prepared for visitors.” 

“If you wanted to find someone to catch off guard, we are certainly the wrong people,” Agatha replied, her confidence radiating. 

You didn’t mind letting her take the lead; honestly, you were relishing the unfolding drama.

"I think we have the exact people we’re looking for, actually," the woman declared, waving her hand to signal the men. 

They then swiftly drew knives from their belts and hurled them toward you. You easily deflected the attacks, rolling your eyes as the green and purple hues faded from the air around you as you spoke. 

"If you think you can waltz into my home and threaten me, you’ll need to try a lot harder than that, dear." 

"Oh, we are prepared to," she replied, and with that, the men began to advance. 

The runes you had inscribed long ago kept magik users at bay, but Agatha's enhancements added an amusing twist. They seemed ready but hesitated, stopping just shy of your barrier, with only the injured one daring to step over. Doing so caused him to immediately stumble and fall to the ground. You summoned vines from the house, wrapping them around him and anchoring him firmly to the earth. 

The woman uttered a number, and you realized just how prepared they truly were; perhaps this would be more challenging than you had anticipated. In a bizarre turn of events, they dropped to their knees and rolled sideways over the barrier. You couldn't help but laugh—it was both ridiculous and strangely effective. Sharing a shrug with Agatha, she turned to you, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. 

"Well, I guess that settles it. You ready, hun?" 

"Can we at least try to avoid being, you know, overly final about it if we can?" 

"For you, I’ll do my best," she replied, and with that, you launched yourself into the night air, positioning yourself on the deck roof. 

Agatha summoned her purple energy from the ground as the men rose to face her. It quickly became clear that they possessed some kind of protection; any magic Agatha aimed at them bounced harmlessly away. However, you realized that this seemed to only apply to direct attacks—a situation that fit perfectly within your skill set.

Focusing all your energy, you began to soften the ground beneath their feet, turning it into thick mud that ensnared their legs. They sank deeper, straining to move, their groans echoing in the stillness. But as you concentrated on your spell, you didn’t notice one man had veered off to the left, heading for you while the others remained fixated on Agatha.

The mud rose to their waists as you finished your spell when a flash of purple grabbed your attention just a few feet in front of you. The rogue had hurled another knife in your direction, only for Agatha to expertly stop it midair, redirecting it so it struck him in the stomach. She gestured dramatically, rolling her eyes, and you merely shrugged in response. 

The man grimaced as he yanked the knife from his gut, but undeterred, he continued his advance. With a swift movement, you pulled the deck railing toward him, knocking it across the yard. The remaining men complained loudly, stuck in the mud, as Agatha moved closer to the woman, the flickering flames from the garden casting a warm glow over the yard.

"I would love to know why a witch would ally herself with such vile company," she said, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity mixed with disdain.

For a brief moment, confusion washed over you until you grasped what Agatha had already deduced—she was deliberately avoiding crossing the barrier. 

"They may not be the most desirable of companions, but their willingness to risk their lives to attempt to end yours does make them useful; however, it seems they are even weaker than I had anticipated." 

With the tension thickening in the air, Agatha replied, 

"And now that it’s just you, are you prepared to risk your life?" 

"I have been searching for you for a long time, Agatha Harkness, and you have finally paused long enough for me to succeed." 

"So it seems," 

The woman's fists then ignited with yellow energy as she hurled a spell towards the barrier, causing it to tremble. Turning to you, Agatha offered a fleeting look of apology alongside a slight shrug of defeat before she advanced over the jagged rocks. 

The two engaged in a fiercely charged battle; watching Agatha was almost intoxicating, a blend of elegance and ferocity. You noticed that the woman was deliberately steering clear of targeting Agatha directly; she must have understood the stakes. Yet, you could sense the futility in her struggle; her strength was but a mere grain of sand against Agatha's might. You felt certain that Agatha could have ended it at any moment; however, she seemed to be savoring the fight while also searching for a way to subdue her opponent without delivering a fatal blow. 

The groans of the men drew your attention as they began to free themselves from the grip of the mud. Still laboring to move, they stumbled forward, prompting you to approach them as flickers of purple and yellow light danced across the yard. Just as you completed a slumber spell on the two men before you, a presence loomed behind you, and you narrowly dodged as the knife whizzed past, wielded by the man you believed was unconscious. 

You both regained your footing simultaneously, instinctively reacting as he raised the knife once more. You seized his hands, feeling his raw strength pushing against you. Yet, his aim was wavering, the blade veering towards your right shoulder. Agatha won’t approve of this reckless choice, you thought, as you relinquished your grip, allowing him to lunge forward. 

The knife sliced through you, yet his momentum caused him to stumble off balance as he began to withdraw the weapon. You seized the opportunity, utilizing your now-free hands to summon the knives from the pockets of the sleeping men and drive them into his ribs. The impact forced him to relinquish the knife embedded in your shoulder, and he stepped back, breath ragged and shocked. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw Agatha approaching, her expression fierce as you yanked the knife from your shoulder and plunged it into him at the same spot, watching him sink to his knees.

‘What the hell was that?!?’ she exclaimed, placing a hand on your shoulder, her eyes wide with disbelief. 

‘Tactical move.’ 

‘Well, it was a stupid tactical move if you ask me!’ 

‘I didn’t ask you, though,’ 

you said with a playful smile, earning an eye roll that only made your heart race a little faster. 

‘It’s superficial; I’ll be fine. I just need a little…’ you assured her, but before you could finish, you grabbed Agatha's shoulders and pulled both of you to the side as a blast of yellow hurtled past you. 

Turning to confront the other witch, you saw her push her way through the weakened barrier with fierce determination. 

‘I thought you took care of that?’ 

‘Guess I kind of got distracted when I saw you getting stabbed!!!’ 

You stepped forward, hands raised in a gesture to diffuse the tension.

‘Look, I don’t know who you are, but we don’t have to do this. Just walk away, and we can all move on with our lives.’ 

‘You think I’m the villain here, but do you even know who SHE IS?’ 

‘I do.’ 

‘And yet you stand there, ready to defend her.’ 

‘Obviously. But really, it doesn’t have to be like this; we can all just go.’

‘No. She killed my sister. This is exactly how it has to be.’ 

Energy crackled around her, and you braced yourself to deflect the impending attack. Then you felt Agatha’s gentle touch on your hips from behind, causing you to let out a deep sigh as you accepted the situation. As the torrent of yellow energy surged from the witch’s body, you shifted aside, allowing it to collide with Agatha instead.

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

Over the next several hours, you worked side by side to clean up the chaos that had been left behind. You tended to your wound while Agatha extinguished the fire and righted the overturned vehicle. You administered a potion to the three surviving hunters, skillfully erasing their memories of the past 48 hours, and then Agatha cast her spell on each of them, gently clouding their minds with only the instinct to drive south. 

Packing your belongings didn’t take long, a bittersweet realization dawning on you that you really didn’t have much to hold onto after all. You moved anything of significance to your den and then cast the spells readying it for relocation. 

As the sun began to rise, you stood in quiet reflection, watching the house burn, its destruction almost a poetic farewell. You had cast spells to ensure the fire wouldn’t be seen or spread beyond its set boundaries as it blazed on fiercely. Sometime in the coming weeks, someone would pass by, perhaps searching for you, only to find the remnants of what once was. A brief investigation would reveal two bodies inside, and without much more to delve into, it would likely be a closed case. Yet, standing there, you were surprised by the wave of emotion that washed over you at the thought of leaving it behind. 

It wasn’t just the rapid unfolding of your plans or the turmoil of the night before; it was the realization of everything that had happened over the years. You found yourself connected to this place, memories, and moments that would forever linger in your heart.

Agatha finished loading the last of the items into the truck and came to stand beside you, her hand slipping into yours as you both watched. With gentle concern in her voice, she asked, 

"You okay?" 

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. It just feels more… final than I thought it would.” 

“I’m sorry it all had to happen so fast. It’s my fault.” 

“No, Agatha, it’s not your fault, and it’s not that. I would have felt the same way in the spring. It’s just that I haven’t felt this connected to a place in a long time. It’s not even because I was here for so long; that’s not really new for me. It’s just the last… ahhh… four-ish years, I guess.”

“Oh.”

You turned to face her, wrapping your arms around her waist just as she draped hers around your neck, careful to avoid your wound. Looking into her eyes, the electric pull between you brought a smile to your face.

"This is the place where we met. Where I fell for you. I know it sounds kind of ridiculous, but we had a lot of firsts here, you know? And don’t get me wrong, I'm excited for this next chapter in our lives, but it also means that this one is closing, and it feels a little bittersweet to think I'll never see this place again." 

"I think I understand that, actually. Being here, with you, for so long—it does mean a lot to me." 

You moved closer together, sharing a strong kiss—firm yet gentle as an aura of acceptance enveloped you. Several minutes passed before you rested your foreheads together, standing in silence for a moment until she spoke again. 

"I was thinking, though..." 

“That is always very dangerous,” 

you teased, nudging her playfully with your hips as you smirked, leaning back to catch her gaze again. 

She moved a hand to your face, her thumb gliding across your cheek, and you instinctively placed your hand on her neck, noticing the seriousness in her features, that rare vulnerability flickering in her eyes. 

"I was thinking that maybe, before we go, we could... ahh, close this chapter with another first." 

"That sounds quite romantic, but I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"See, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do, well, say—for a while now." 

"Okay." 

You couldn’t help but smile at her earnestness, feeling a warmth spread through you as she tightened her grip just slightly. 

“Oakley… I love you.” 

Your heart raced, and you were sure your entire body must have turned bright pink as her words hung in the air, yet you noticed a flush on her cheeks too as you replied, 

"I love you too, Agatha... more than anything.

[queerocfandomer]

First Sparks - Part 6

-Now on A03 - HERE :)

1960

The next morning, you awaken a little earlier than usual, the enticing aroma of food from downstairs catching you by surprise. You hurriedly dress and brush your teeth, making your way down to find Agatha in the kitchen, just finishing up breakfast. Leaning against the counter, she glances over as you walk in and, with a hint of shyness, softly says, “Good morning.” 

“You made breakfast?” 

“Yeah, seems like I did. Ahh, I couldn't sleep very well and thought it might be nice.” 

“It is,” you reply, stepping toward her, your heart racing as a decision forms. 

You place your hand on her hip, pulling her close as your lips meet. You sense the surprise in her, but before long, she reciprocates, her hand finding the back of your neck, sending a delightful shiver coursing up your spine. You both move together in perfect harmony until the need for air gently pulls you apart. You leave her with one last quick peck before breaking your hold and grabbing a plate to settle at the table. 

She remains stationary, looking at you with a smile on her face and curiosity in her eyes. “What was that for?” 

“Well, you stayed, right? I mean, unless that was just because you were too tired to fly, and not because you wanted to... you know, be together or whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes with a playful smirk. 

She mirrors your expression, takes a plate, and settles across from you. “I stayed because…” she takes a deep breath, her smile widening, “it was pretty late and I was tired, but mostly because I, um, do want you too, Oakley. I just don’t really know how.” 

You place your hand palm up on the table, inviting her to lace her fingers with yours as you gently run your thumb along her knuckles. “Well, good then. We’ll move along as such.” 

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

And so you did. Over the next few days, you carried on with a semblance of normalcy, yet something deeper was brewing beneath the surface. General daily activities faded into the background, making way for more sincere and heartfelt discussions. 

Talking about your pasts wasn’t easy; you were apprehensive, yes, but decidedly open. Agatha, on the other hand, still struggled immensely. Although the conversations were no longer a fight, they were still fraught with difficulty and length, requiring a great deal of time and patience as she navigated the challenges of speaking honestly. Yet, you admired her resolve. You could see how hard it was for her and how deeply it clashed with her instincts. 

You found yourself alternating the stories of your own past, recounting moments when you'd acted out of anger or spite and the years spent immersed in poisons instead of herbs, using your skills to remain undetected in a world that lacked detailed medical understanding. 

She countered, asserting that using those skills to help others confront the aggressors in their lives—removing violent and dangerous people from the world—was ultimately a positive act. Yet, you gently reminded her that she was essentially endorsing self-defense with your clients while struggling to apply the same logic to herself. 

After a few light arguments over these facts, you reached an agreement to refrain from specific rebuttals on the subject, acknowledging that the reasoning behind the actions taken mattered little in the end, focusing instead on the truth and feelings that emerged from them. Frequently, you would reaffirm to each other, through each display of vulnerability, that it had changed nothing between you.

You also shared so many lighter conversations, exchanging laughter and playful, snarky banter that felt comforting. You spoke of your favorite spells, recounted the most embarrassing missteps, wandered through the garden, and even found yourselves in comically heated debates over minor magik cornerstones. 

It felt reminiscent of her past visits, yet there was an unmistakable shift; the boundaries of physical contact lacked the same restraint. Still, an aura of uncertainty lingered in the air as the hours unfolded, emotions swirling around you as you both revealed some of the most challenging parts of your lives. 

While stories of the past flowed freely, the present felt more elusive, and discussing what the future might hold was daunting. It was a struggle to decode the passion building inside you, hard to untangle your feelings, knowing only that they were undeniable and intensifying. For decades, you had both relied solely on yourselves, and allowing someone else into that space was a challenge. It wasn't merely about trust; it was about the willingness to let someone in, to acknowledge that you no longer wanted to face the world alone—not because you lacked the ability, but because you longed to embrace a different path forward. 

Your decision to shed your previous restraint regarding physical contact certainly did not go unnoticed. You had let go of that distance, allowing yourself to flow through the day without deliberately avoiding her path, your hand finding its way to her arm or waist as you moved around her, lounging at night with a warmth that once felt foreign. It wasn’t like you were throwing yourself at her; that first morning kiss was the most dramatic display, yet it didn’t take long for Agatha to bring it up. 

In the kitchen again, as you strolled to the fridge and found yourself walking behind her at the sink, the gesture came without a second thought. You laid a hand on her waist, pausing just long enough to plant a soft kiss on her cheek as you moved past. The warmth of her smile lingered in your mind as you shut the fridge door, only to turn around and meet her questioning gaze. 

"What?" 

“You’ve been quite… ahhhh affectionate these last few days.” 

“Ahh...” You sipped your drink, letting a playful smirk spread across your face as you leaned on the table opposite her, adopting a teasing pose. “And you don’t like it?” 

“I didn’t say that,” she replied, unable to suppress a roll of her eyes. “It’s just that before, you weren’t so… well, forward.” 

“Neither were you.” 

In you many moments of conversation, you'd discovered how adorably exasperated Agatha became when you chose to answer more coyly; you guessed it was because you were usually the one who laid everything out on the table, thus making it seem like you were holding back on purpose. You also realized how much you enjoyed watching her squirm, especially when she was fishing for a serious response, only for you to deny her that satisfaction. Of course, you thought, it was often her own fault for not simply asking the direct question she wanted answered. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“Do I?” 

“What changed?” 

“What didn’t?” 

“You’re being purposefully annoying.” 

“Maybe, but I think you kind of like it.” 

You stepped closer, leaving your glass on the table, your arms resting on her shoulders as you leaned in, feeling her arms wrap around your hips. Speaking softly, your lips nearly brushing against hers, you inquired, “I ask you, Agatha, why did you just put your arms there? Huh?”

Pulling back and leaning into her grasp, you take in her face, now slightly flustered with confusion. She shakes her head and pushes off the counter, causing you both to take a step back as she tightens her grip around you. “Here?” 

you respond with only a tilt of your head. 

“I suppose because I wanted to.” 

“Ahh, and therein lies the answer to your inquiry—I just started doing the things I wanted to do when I wanted to do them. Aaaaand I’m fairly certain you once told me that you do what you want when you want.” 

“I have been known to say that.” 

“So what is it that you want, Agatha?” 

You move your hands to rest at the back of her neck, stroking the base of her skull with your thumbs, a gentle smile on your face as seriousness settles on hers. 

She sighs, “No one has really asked me that, you know... You keep doing it and looking at me like that, and it makes me rethink everything.” 

“In what way?” 

“Just like maybe I could do, not just because I can or because that's what people expect of me, but because it is actually what I want to do. And it’s honestly very annoying that you make me feel like that’s possible.” 

“You know, if you keep calling me annoying, I might start to think you don’t like me.” 

“I think the actual problem is that I like you too much.” 

She leans in, and as you meld together, there’s a deep sincerity, as if you are releasing the immense emotional weight of the past few days into each other, sharing in an almost profound understanding. There’s no gasping for air, no urgency, no concern of losing anything as you cycle between kisses, your hands gently running along each other as the minutes drift by. 

Eventually, you find yourselves simply swaying in each other's embrace, heads resting in each other's necks, feeling her warm breath on your skin. You’re sure you must have spent an hour wrapped in that moment before finally pulling away and retreating to your own spaces to sleep.

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

There was an undeniable shift in you after that night, as if an unspoken weight of worry had finally lifted from your shoulders. No more lingering hesitation kept you apart; instead, you found yourselves lounging in each other's presence with a newfound ease, at times so close that you could even hear the other's heartbeat. 

As the days unfolded, the warmth between you began to feel less like a gentle glow and more like an invigorating fire, one that you often struggled to contain. There were certainly moments when you craved to pursue the unspoken desires bubbling within you, yet you still held yourself back—though that restraint was clearly beginning to wane.

It had been barely over a week since the night she chose to stay, and yet it felt as if so much had changed, as though your life was now on an entirely different path. Still, you found yourself uncertain about what that meant. In a general sense, you were ready to simply move through time and see where it led you; but a tiny spark in the back of your mind lingered, yearning to catch at least a glimpse of what the future held. 

The full moon shone in the sky as you wrapped up your tasks in the greenhouse while Agatha immersed herself in some spell work in the yard. As you strolled back to the house, you paused to lean against the garden wall, your gaze fixed on her, silently cherishing the moment until she concluded her work and approached you. 

“You’re staring.” 

“Just stating facts now, are we? Besides, I thought you’d be used to it by now.” 

“Valid point, but it had me wondering if I should grab a penny from the truck.” 

“You can’t just use my own tricks against me.” 

“Can’t I? Here I thought that’s what this getting to know each other thing was all about.” 

Both of you shared a grin as she settled beside you, leaning her shoulder against you and intertwining her hand with yours. You allowed yourself to bask in the warmth of the moment before continuing. 

“I was thinking about how this is the longest you’ve ever been here for.” 

“Well, I did choose to stay, and I'm pretty sure physically being here is part of that.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I guess I was just wondering what that really means. Like, obviously we have this,” you lifted your interlocked hands teasingly, “this whole thing acknowledged and all, but is it still going to be just an every couple of months kind of concept or what?” 

“Ah, I see.” 

"Ugh, sorry, I know it’s only been a week, it’s not a now problem. I guess my mind is swirling with thoughts, and I don’t really want to sort out any plans; it just feels like it’s all floating around in there and..." 

“Hey, no, it’s okay. I’ve been thinking about it too.”

“You have?”  

“Of course. I mean, I’ve been moving from place to place for what feels like forever, and it’s hard not to feel like it’s a bit dangerous, especially after everything that’s happened. I can’t say I want to stay in this area forever, but right now, I have no intention of going anywhere, and I promise to let you know if that changes.” 

She shifted away from the wall to face you, her hand still entwined with yours. Reaching for your chin, she pulled you into a firm yet tender kiss, resting your foreheads together as you both savored the moment. Agatha Harkness making you promises—now, that was something you could definitely get used to.

A yawn escaped your lips, interrupting the moment, and you hurriedly covered your mouth, both of you exchanging playful shakes of your heads. 

“Getting bored of me already?" 

“Never,” you asserted with conviction, placing another tender kiss on her lips, your arms wrapping around her shoulders as you gazed deeply into her eyes. 

“But I was really putting in a lot of work in there, you know—it’s quite draining and it is late.” 

“It is,” she acknowledged, a hint of weariness in her tone. “I’ll admit I’m quite tired myself.” 

“Then I suppose we should just head up to bed and get some sleep,” you suggested softly. 

She nodded, and you both retreated inside. Agatha moved toward the small dresser in the living room, and you paused at the foot of the stairs.

“Agatha… are you coming?” 

“Sorry?” 

“I said are you coming? You know, like WE should head UP to bed.” 

A shy smile danced on her lips, a blush warming her cheeks to match yours as she responded, “Ah, yeah, I’ll just grab my um pajamas.” 

You were almost at the top of the stairs when you heard her begin the ascent. Stopping at the door, you ran your hand down the protective runes, causing them to glow a soft, warm green before you opened it. Crossing the room to your dresser, you stood facing the wall, removing your shirt as you heard her close the door behind her. 

“Do you have any preference for which side?” 

“Ah, no, no—whatever you usually do is fine,” she replied, clearing her throat lightly, which brought a smile to your face as you pulled the new shirt over your head and gestured toward the shelf on the opposite wall. 

“Might as well take that spot then. I’m used to sleeping in the middle, but that shelf is cleared off for you to put your things.” 

You finally turned to face her as she nodded, averting her gaze shyly while you began to remove your pants. Once finished, you turned toward the bed and couldn’t help but steal a glance, your breath hitching at the sight of her bare back. 

Crawling into bed, you watched her don her new top—she paused for just a moment, taking a deep breath before turning around. You lay on your side, propping your head on your hand as she slipped under the covers beside you, mirroring your position. You both briefly diverted your gazes, shaking your heads and letting out soft huffs of amusement. 

Then, with a gentle touch, you ran your thumb along her cheek before pulling her into a gentle kiss. “Goodnight, Agatha,” you said softly, turning around and laying your head on the pillow. 

“Goodnight, Oakley,” she replied, and after a moment, she shifted closer, slowly moving her arm over your side. 

You entwined your fingers with hers, tucking her hand under your chin and holding your arms close to your body as you closed your eyes. The closeness brought a comforting heat, and you could sense her resting her head against the back of your neck, finding solace in the rhythm of her breath as you surrendered to sleep.

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

Waking up next to her instantly became your new favorite thing, though it was always a toss-up as to which of you would stir first. Today, it was you, as the sweet scent of her hair gently nudged you into consciousness. Opening your eyes, you found her curled into you, her head resting peacefully on your shoulder. You ran your fingers through her hair, trailing down to her back, slowly tracing tender patterns along the fabric as thoughts danced in your mind. 

Sharing a bed together had intensified the bond between you, making it harder to resist the magnetic pull toward each other. Over the last few days, your hands explored each other with an almost feverish hunger while your kisses grew more passionate and unrestrained. Yet, every time you retreated to the sanctuary of the bedroom, a careful restraint lingered, both of you seeming to crave more but still hesitant to fully surrender. 

Taking a deep breath, you stretched your neck, causing her to stir slightly beneath you. Leaning down, you pressed a soft kiss on her forehead, whispering sweetly, “Good morning, beautiful.” 

She groaned lightly, tightening her grip on your side, and, eyes still closed, she leaned up to place a gentle kiss on your neck near your jaw, lighting up your smile. 

“Not time for mourning yet.” 

“Well, technically, it's closer to afternoon, and remember we do have to go to town today, so we should probably get to it.” 

“Meh, I say we should just stay right here.” 

“I must admit, that’s incredibly tempting, but we do need food, and ah I just had another thought.” 

“Too early for thoughts.” 

“Well, I mean, I guess we don't have to pick up a new dresser, so you actually have a proper place for your things up here.” 

“Okay, I concede... I do like that thought.” 

“Agatha Harkness... conceding to me? Well, well, what would the people say?” 

You both shared a smile as she rolled her eyes, moving in to capture you in a long, tender kiss. 

Although you didn't spend an immense amount of time in public, it was just enough—paired with the more than a decade you had been living here—so that many of the residents recognized you and would stop to engage in conversation. 

Naturally, people enjoyed their drama, so newcomers always garnered attention, especially someone as distinctive as Agatha. Together, you crafted a rather farcical (at least to you) and woeful story, hoping to minimize questions about her and your relationship in the future. Your close friend from before moving here, whose husband passed away suddenly, had come to stay with you until she could find her footing. The day was filled with heartfelt words of comfort for Agatha and admiration for you, which you both found quite amusing as you struggled to maintain a serious front for the sake of your ruse. 

Watching Agatha interact with others was endlessly entertaining, as she navigated the conversations with an almost measurable charm. It also filled you with a warm sense of affirmation; witnessing her changed demeanor confirmed, without a doubt, that she was genuine with you. The many intimate conversations you shared seemed to reflect the real her, and it felt as though that authenticity was reserved just for you.

That evening, you settled back in bed, a wave of anticipation washing over you as Agatha entered, exchanging tender smiles and an adoring gaze as she made her way to the new dresser beside the bed. You watched her intently, a flicker of excitement in your heart as you chose to soften your boundaries and offer her a choice. 

You shifted to the edge of the bed, watching as her shirt slid down her back, unsure whether she was aware of your movement. As her hands moved to lay the fabric down, you gently placed yours at the base of her spine, slowly maneuvering them flat against her warm skin. She leaned into your touch as you slid your hands up to her shoulder blades, standing behind her and feeling the electric connection between you both. 

Your fingers trailed down her arms, now resting at her sides, and with a soft sigh, she tilted her neck back, causing your breath to catch in your throat. Your hand glided back up her spine, and you gathered the hair from her left side, sweeping it across her back to the right. Leaning in, you placed an enticing kiss on her shoulder, slowly leaving a trail toward her neck while one hand found its way around to her abdomen and the other rested on the back of her hip, your thumb tracing gently along her waistline. 

When you finally reached her neck, you laid a soft, deep pressure on her pulse point, tasting her skin with your tongue; an intoxicating moan escaped her, sending a rush of warmth through you and prompting you to place another kiss just below her ear. Your bodies naturally leaned into each other, and as you began to trace the curve of her chest, you pressed your head against hers, finding yourself needing to swallow before whispering softly in her ear, 

“I’m ready to do what I want. Agatha, what do YOU want?” 

She turned swiftly in your arms, facing you, placing a hand on either side of your face as she pulled you closer—one hand at her waist and the other now resting on her collarbone. The connection between you sparked with fervor, just a breath away, locked in each other's gaze with a look of question and need lingering in the air. She nodded firmly and said, “I want you.” 

Moving your hand to her neck, you ran your thumb across the base of her throat and replied, “I’m yours.” 

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

The next couple of days were nothing short of intense; having finally shed the last remnants of your obstinacy, it felt nearly impossible to rein it back in. You found yourselves reveling in each other's presence, barely managing to keep your hands to yourselves long enough to tackle the daily necessities of life. 

As evenings fell, you tangled together, sharing those fleeting moments and discussing how utterly absurd the entire situation felt. You playfully bantered about embracing your seemingly newfound mantra of simply doing what you want. Conversations shifted to the various scars you had unveiled to each other, with the small burn mark on your left side lingering unmentioned, only offering a vague hint that it was deliberate and that the time wasn’t right to delve deeper. 

The initial fervor gradually calmed, and any worry that this might dilute the strength of your bond swiftly faded into insignificance. Crossing that boundary had not weakened what you shared; instead, your connection deepened, and your love flourished more richly with each passing week.

You had delved deep into so many layers of your past in those first few months. And while you understood that she had yet to share everything, it hardly troubled you. You felt certain her hesitance stemmed not from a place of malice but rather from her own internal struggle to fully unveil herself to anyone. You believed she would share her truths when she felt ready, and that assurance was all you truly needed. 

One evening, as you lounged comfortably on the couch, immersed in one of Agatha's spell books, she sat on the floor next to the coffee table, absorbed in her wood carving. 

There was something heavy on her heart that day; she didn’t deny it when you inquired. Instead, she simply mentioned she was lost in thought, and you respected her need to process whatever it was. 

She returned from the kitchen placing her glass of water on the table before sitting beside you. Gently, she placed her hand on your knee, intertwined in a moment that felt charged with unspoken words. You lowered the book, took her hand in yours, and brushed your lips against it before letting it rest between you as you waited, patient and hopeful. 

"I think I’m ready to… I want to tell you about my mother… I’m just… it’s different from the other things, and the thought of you watching me… for some reason, it just feels…" 

“Hey, it’s okay. I understand. I have an idea we can try if you’d like?" 

She looked up at you, nodding as you squeezed her hand softly before letting go. You adjusted yourself on the couch, leaning back into the corner, lifting one leg against the back, and patting the cushion between your legs, beckoning her to join you. 

She settled in, leaning her back against you, resting her head on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around her waist, your other leg finding a comfortable spot beneath hers, pressing a tender kiss to the side of her forehead. 

“Now, we can’t see each other’s faces, but I’m right here. And if my touch ever feels like too much, just say so, and I’ll back off. We can adjust whenever you need.” 

She tilted her head to lean against yours, her forehead gently meeting your chin. As she took your left hand in hers and your other settled on her knee, you both took a few moments to breathe, gathering courage for the conversation that lay ahead.

She spoke softly of her teenage years, weaving small tales of various interactions, her mother, at best, indifferent, more invested in maintaining a façade of perfection and adhering to a stoic and strict leadership than truly nurturing her child. It turned to cruelty when she was caught with one of the other girls, and so they had sought refuge in practicing their skills and learning further in secret, leading to a heart-wrenching incident. 

The cruelty extended beyond their home, leaving her publicly shunned, stripped of further education, and deeply isolated. Then came the time they confined her, leading to their attempt to end her, which only resulted in sealing their own fate. 

You could feel the weight of her story, a heavy burden she had carried, slowly dissipating as her body relaxed against yours. A gentle squeeze of your hand, a soft lean of her head as you traced comforting patterns on her knee, while she nervously danced her fingers along yours in her lap. Amidst it all, she didn't push you away or seek distance; it was the first time you witnessed tears streaming down her face, a powerful release as she shared her truth. You pulled her close into a tight embrace, savoring a moment of silence together. 

“Thank you for telling me… can I look at you now, just for a minute?” you asked softly. 

You both shifted as she turned to face you, her gaze downcast, her eyes fixed on her hands. You tenderly cradled her face, wiping away her tears. A light pressure beneath her chin was not a demand but an invitation, and she accepted, raising her eyes to meet yours, a genuine smile softening your features, your heart filling with warmth at the beauty of her vulnerability. 

“You are NOT difficult to love,” you assured her, watching a spark ignite in her eye as surprise and tenderness washed over her face. 

You brushed the hair clinging to her cheeks back before resting your hands on her neck and cheek, your voice unwavering. 

“I promise you, Agatha, she may have made you feel that way, but I can assure you, without any doubt, you are not at all difficult to love.” 

With that, you pressed a light, quick kiss to her lips, a gentle expression of your care.

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

It was nearing the winter solstice when you received a call from Eloise, a long-time acquaintance from a small coven a full day’s travel away. This wasn’t unusual, as they often looked to stop by in the new year, but the conversation that followed the usual pleasantries and their list of needs was far from typical. 

“I was also wondering if you’d heard from the Arwood coven recently. As you know, we usually visit them when we travel out to you, but we haven't been able to get in touch.” 

“Oh, I see. They were just here in May, but I haven’t heard from them since.” 

You noticed Agatha stir in the living room, setting aside her book to listen intently as you stood at the edge of the kitchen. 

“It’s not completely out of the ordinary; I don’t usually hear from them for several months. Still, I know they were working on their own supplies since I won’t be here much longer, so I just assumed they hadn’t needed me yet.” 

“That makes sense. Yes, I think we should stop by and check on them on the way out instead of waiting until we return.” 

“That’s very wise; I would be glad to hear of their safety.” 

You concluded your conversation, confirming their pick-up, and as soon as you set the phone down, Agatha spoke up. 

“We shouldn’t have stayed this long; someone is going to find out.”

“Maybe, but WE huh? Not just you?” you replied with a teasing smirk as you moved toward her and perched on the arm of the couch, feeling her playful elbow against you and the light roll of her eyes. 

“You know far too much not to be stuck with me now.” 

“Always glad to hear it… but we can’t now, anyway; it’s too late.” 

“What do you mean? You basically just told whoever that was that you were planning on leaving soon.” 

“Well, yes, I've been here long enough that anyone would realize I only have a few years left before it gets too risky. But if they discover that they’re missing in three weeks and we leave in a hurry, it will only seem suspicious.” 

“And you don't think them seeing I’m here wouldn’t make them suspicious anyway?” 

“Touché, it could, I suppose, for witches. But I’m also talking about the authorities. If they start investigating and we make a quick getaway, it might put us on their radar—and people do know me here. We don’t need our faces plastered all over the news.” 

“Technology is becoming very annoying.” 

“It really is. But yes, I think we should start making plans to tie things up and decide what to do next.” 

“Are you really sure you want to do this? Build a life with me?” 

“Yes, Agatha,” you let out a small laugh and rolled yourself onto her, straddling her hips, locking eyes.“I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again every day if I have to… I want you, Agatha Harkness. I choose you, and that’s not going to change.” 

She responded only by capturing your lips with hers, inviting you to feel the surging emotions coursing through her. Your heart raced, melting into her embrace as the sounds she coaxed from your throat reverberated deeply within you, blending with the taste of her tongue. Her hands wandered from the hem of your shirt, gliding up across your back until she grew tired of the fabric and tossed it aside, laughing with you as it landed on the TV. 

With a fierce grip under you, she lifted you effortlessly, and you wrapped your arms around her neck, lost in the warmth of her presence, as she began to carry you up the stairs, her lips never trailing far from your skin.

-----Everything I had planned for this part ended up being ALOT so I have split it into one more section however I'm almost done with it and so should be up soon! thanks for the support :)

>>>NEXT PART

[queerocfandomer]

First Sparks - Part 5

--Minor Character Death & Talk of Murder in this part--

So glad to finally get to this part of the story -The 'crossroads' that started it all! - one part remaining for this one - thank you all for your support :)

Now on A03 - HERE :)

1960

You were preparing a welcoming space for them at the edge of your property, west of the house, about half a mile away. You carefully cleared the area, ensuring the grass was consistent and the circle bloomed with vibrant flowers, leaving enough space for their tents. They stay for close to a week every couple of years, running their rituals and embracing the freedom to practice their magic openly. After all, there isn't much of a public presence on your property; visitors are rare—at least, they were until Agatha arrived. 

In the late afternoon, just as you finish up, you spot the vehicles approaching; two of them park just west of the driveway before their occupants unload and make their way towards you, supplies in hand. Six of them greet you warmly, confirming that the space is to their liking. They begin to set up their tents while you step back, giving them the evening to settle in. You remind them to reach out if they need anything more, and you'll check back in a couple of days.

There’s a slight irritation when they come to stay; you could deactivate the wards at the edge of the property, but that feels like a mountain of work just to reactivate them in a week. As they linger at the boundary, they drift back and forth from the nearby forest, which unsettles you somewhat. The wards trigger randomly at any time of day, and so you start to tune them out, thus you do not truly notice her return.

With morning tea in hand, you take a stroll around the house, glancing over at the coven down the way. It’s at the back of the house when you suddenly spot her figure just a few dozen feet away, making her way towards you. She looks different—almost disheveled. Her pants are splattered with mud up to her waist, and her arms are caked to her elbows. Agatha is usually impeccably put together, and seeing her in such a state makes you laugh out loud. 

You can’t help but feel a joyful flutter in your heart at her return, hoping it's not solely because she needs assistance with whatever may have transpired. She strides forward, now recognizing that you've spotted her, raising her arms in a playful, dramatic gesture. You stand at the edge of the deck, anticipation building as she approaches.

“Well, you look like you just crawled out of a bog."

"You know, that makes a lot of sense because I did, in fact, just crawl out of a bog." 

You both share a genuine laugh in that moment, a quick glance filled with mutual understanding. 

"And so, I presume you've come to clean yourself up?" 

"I mean, I would really appreciate the opportunity. If… of course, I'm still welcome here." Her voice carries a hint of vulnerability as you notice the genuine softness etched in her features. 

"You'll always be welcome here, Agatha, but I can't help but wonder what took you so long to come back this time." 

"I thought it would be best if I stayed away, honestly... but then I just didn't want to anymore. Then this happened, and well, here I am." 

"Okay, well, you know where the shower is and where the spare towels are, but you're definitely not walking through my house like that," you say with a playful smirk as she gestures dramatically again, and with a flick of your wrist, you cast a quick spell that pulls the earth away from her dirty form and toward you, gathering it together and setting it aside. 

She's still a bit messy, but at least the worst of it is gone. You both make your way back into the house. Agatha goes to the bathroom while you head to the kitchen to prepare some food. 

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

You sit at the table with your plate, another one across from you when Agatha returns from the shower—and wow. There's not much more to say as she walks over, her hair still damp, your heart racing as it skips a beat at her beauty. It confirms in your mind that no matter what these feelings might be, there's no way they could ever be buried. Now, how to move forward? You're not quite sure. 

"So, are you going to tell me about this bog?" 

"Always with the questions."

 "At least you should expect it by now." 

You both share a warm smile as you enjoy dinner while she unfolds the story. Your imagination ignites as you picture Agatha stumbling through a spell and finding herself in that curious predicament—you wish you could've been there to witness it. 

You also mention that the coven is around, of course. She's already sensed them, even if their sparks are minimal—there are still a lot of witches in one place. You tell her they'll keep to themselves and typically don't approach the house unless they really need something. You only interact with them every couple of days, but she's more than welcome to reach out if she wishes, especially since Marie mentioned wanting to talk with her.

‘She mentioned that they found some information about you and were eager to discuss it.’

‘Did they say what?’

‘Not particularly, to be honest, but they did ask if your last name was Harkness.’

‘Oh,’ she says, locking eyes with you again, her expression reflecting a mix of curiosity and perhaps a hint of the worry you had sensed earlier.  

‘And why was that of interest?’

‘To them, I’m not sure. They mentioned they had come across some whispers—tales, I suppose, from who knows where—about one Agatha Harkness, who seems to fit your description.’ 

‘And what did you have to say about that?’ 

‘Well, first off, I didn’t know if it was you because I never asked; I’ve never been one to care much for such things. But secondly, I’m not someone who puts stock in rumors and hearsay, especially not when it comes to witches—there’s always been a poor history associated with that. But based on your reaction, am I to assume that you are, indeed, this Agatha Harkness?’

‘That is my name, yes. And what if there is some truth to these rumors, then what?’ 

‘What do you mean, then what? Agatha, it doesn’t change anything.’ 

‘It doesn’t?’  

‘Um, no, I think I’d rather judge someone’s character based on what they show me, not what anyone else claims. So, are you planning to stick around for a while, or were you just here to use my shower?’ 

‘If you’re serious about me being welcome, I… I wouldn’t mind staying for a while.’ 

‘Well, I guess that’s settled then. I generally don’t like to do much magic when they’re around, so I’ll mostly stay in the house if that’s alright with you.’  

‘That sounds quite preferable, honestly.’

Somewhat awkwardly, you find yourself spending what little remains of the day inside, tidying up the house while Agatha immerses herself in her reading. It’s much like any of your other visits, with less time outdoors, but there’s an unmistakable aura of tension in the air, something different from how it used to be—a shift from “Is there something?” to “How are we going to proceed with knowing there is?” 

Neither of you mention it for the rest of the day as you sit on the couch, keeping your distance, confined to your separate corners, until you finally announce that you're going to bed. You pause to grab a glass of water, and as you return to the living room, you find Agatha leaning against the back of the couch. She confronts you before you head up the stairs. 

‘So, um, about that attempt to bury things…’

‘What about it?’ 

‘I mean, did you?’ 

‘No.’

‘Oh, I see.’ 

‘Yeah, well, it turns out I just didn’t want to.’ 

Your gaze meets her striking blue eyes, always catching you off guard.

‘What about you, Agatha? Did you bury it?’ 

‘I tried.’

‘And… did it work?’

‘Well, I am here, aren’t I?’  

‘Mmm, I see. Well, good night.’ 

‘Right, yeah. See you in the morning.’

‘Yeah, I better.’ 

You share a small smile, an unspoken understanding lingering between you, before you both turn away, each retreating to your own space.

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

The next evening, you gathered for dinner with the coven, and Agatha joined you. You reintroduced her, and just like on the day you spent in town, she’s different around the others. There was absolutely no trace of the doubt, concern, or apprehension that often clouded your time together when it was just the two of you. As you went to return to the house, Marie asked to speak with Agatha, so she stayed behind. 

When you arrived back home, you found yourself torn—should you confront the situation now or retreat to bed and see what the morning might bring? It was late, and after some inner deliberation, you chose the latter option, curious if Agatha would voluntarily bring it up herself. 

To your surprise, she did. The following afternoon, as you sat on the porch, she spoke up. 

“They asked me about the Witches' Road.” 

“Oh? And why exactly did they ask you about that?” 

“I guess you were telling the truth about not knowing those rumors… I am, ahh, the only one who has survived the Witches’ Road.”

 “Mmm, well, I honestly always thought that was some sort of folk tale. It kind of seemed like a load of drivel to me, to be honest.”

“Yeah, well, it kind of is.” 

It was an odd exchange, and she didn’t offer much more, but you didn’t pry, honestly because it didn’t particularly stir your interest. Another day went by, just like the others. You didn’t push, but you didn’t stay away either. 

The following morning, as you woke up and made your way downstairs, you noticed Agatha wasn’t there. A sense of worry flickered within you, fearing she had left, but then you spotted her cloak hanging by the door. The day was warm enough that she didn’t really need it out at all, and yet it remained—a symbol of her presence. Had she left it behind to signal that she was still around, or to assure you she would be back? 

You went about your usual routine, and when you walked outside, there she was, halfway between the house and the camp, engaged in conversation with three of the coven members. They lingered there for a while before she finally returned to the house. Hours passed, and as you sat on the couch, she finally spoke of the meeting.

“They want me to take them to the Witches’ Road.”

“Take them? You can just do that?” 

“Well, there’s a ballad, and you conjured the door, and umm, yeah.” 

“OK, and are you going to do it then?” 

“I think so. I really don’t have a reason not to, truly. I am... ahh, I think it’s best if I just do it, I guess.” 

“And when is that happening?” 

“Tomorrow afternoon. We need to go out into the forest several miles—preferably, so we’ll drive for a while before we walk.” 

“OK then. I’ll come with you.” 

The look she gives in return is confusing at best. What prompted her to be so honest with you? You’re not sure; she could’ve simply left. She could’ve said nothing, but there’s something in her gaze, an undertone that suggests her decision to take them isn’t only about them—it feels intertwined with something related to you as well. 

“No, I don’t want you to come.” 

“Well, that’s bold. I mean, I’m nearly 100 years old, I can do what I want. You can’t really stop me.” 

“No, you’re right, I can’t, but I can ask you not to.” 

“Well, I’ll think about it, I guess.” 

The air thickened with an undeniable tension for the rest of the evening, a sense of unspoken words swirling around you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant was about to change, and you were ready to uncover what it might be.

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

They seemed to have come up with a plan, and you simply went along with it. You drove all the vehicles about 20 minutes down the road, parking at a nearby campground. The coven then jumped into the back of the truck, and you set off for another 20 minutes down a dusty dirt road. It was then that Agatha chose to confront you again after a quiet day filled with mostly trivial conversation. 

Your arm rested comfortably between you, as it usually did while driving, when she suddenly moved hers, intertwining her fingers with yours. The sudden gesture of purposeful contact took you by surprise. 

“I’m going to ask you again,” 

her tone was serious, as you found yourself wishing you weren’t driving so you could truly look at her. 

“I’m asking you not to come with us. Just wait in the truck, and I’ll come back when it’s done. I… It’s dangerous, and I don’t… I just—I’m asking you again. Please, don’t come.”

“You know that wasn’t really a question, but I’ll answer you with one. Are you going to tell me why you don’t want me to come?” 

“I… I want to. Honestly, I do. I just can’t, especially not now. There’s not enough time. But I won’t stop you. Just understand that I don’t want you to.”

At this point, you’re at a loss for words, so you remain silent, holding her hand and trying to make sense of it all until you pull up at the edge of the forest. You reluctantly release her to put the car in park, turning to fully face her. You can hear the coven beginning to leave the bed of the truck. 

“Look, I don’t know what all this is about, but I can sense that whatever it is, it’s significant. I just don’t know how. But it’s happening.” 

“It’s going to change everything, you know.”

“Well, I guess we’re going to find out if that’s in a good way or a bad one,” you shrug, and together, you both exit the vehicle. 

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

Agatha resumes, her dramatic portrayal of herself almost bordering on caricature. She begins to lead the coven through the woods, and you follow closely behind. After walking about a mile, you finally arrive at a clearing, and Agatha instructs everyone to stand in a circle as you sing the ballad. 

Yet, nothing happens. Hands break the circle, and Agatha starts to taunt them. It strikes you as both quite amusing and oddly intriguing, questioning why she's chosen to act so strikingly catty. 

Then it happens—one by one, they lash out at her. As Marie moves to join the fray, you instinctively throw up a block, stopping her in her tracks, and shout, 

“What are you doing?” 

“What am I doing? Look at what she’s doing!” 

You glance back toward Agatha and see their energies—orange, green, yellow—merging at her core, transforming into a deep, intense purple. Her expression is a mix of satisfaction and desperation, a thirst for power. 

Marie reignites, joining the others; their powers feed into Agatha as you realize with rising dread they seem unable to break free from this cycle, and they slowly begin to decay. When Agatha finally releases the energy, the shockwave knocks you back, causing you to collapse to the ground. As you gather yourself, you see Marie a few feet away—a husk of gray, utterly drained and empty. You can’t restrain yourself; your voice breaks the silence.

“Why would they do that!” 

Agatha murmurs from your right, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“I told you I didn’t want you to… wait. What did you say?” 

“I said, why did they do that?” 

You glance at her, noticing the confusion etched on her face. 

“They?” 

“That didn’t look like it hurt, but are you OK?” 

“Am I OK?... Oakley? Are you serious? What did THEY do? I just… I killed them.” 

“They tried to kill you first, Agatha.” 

Now standing face-to-face, the space between you charged with tension, her energy feels like the fierce warmth of a blazing fire. 

“They attacked me, sure, but look around, Oakley. There are six dead witches at my feet, and I’m the one responsible.” 

“This is an attack.” 

You shape a small orb of your energy between your hands, then send it spiraling into the woods. 

“Fully blasting like they did? That’s not an attack; that’s an attempt on your life. I thought they were good people. I never believed they would stoop so low.” 

“And what does that say about you then? You’re staring at me, the one person surrounded by dead bodies, and you’re questioning what they did wrong?” 

“Yeah, I mean sure, you were being a bit… well, excessively catty about it. No offense.”

“I mean, I was.” 

“But that doesn’t give anyone a reason to attack like that, to make that choice… I stopped Marie initially, and yet she still chose to join them again. I’m just at a loss for words, honestly.” 

“I mean, so am I—honestly, I really can’t comprehend your reaction. This isn’t what I expected to happen.”

“Did you think I would join them? That I would turn on you too?” 

“Honestly, I didn’t know what to expect, but it wouldn’t have particularly shocked me. I’m kind of used to people hating me.”

“Yeah, I think I’m starting to realize that, but here’s a news flash: I don’t hate you, Agatha. I have a lot to sort through in my head right now, but we can only tackle one thing at a time—we need to bury the bodies.” 

You begin to use your magic to gather the bodies together, then turn back to her. 

“I need some birch branches. There should be some not far. Can you get them for me?” 

You ask, watching her stand still, confusion etched on her face. 

“Ahh, yeah, I can go get some,” she finally says, turning toward the tree line.

 “And Agatha, don’t you dare run away!” 

You call after her, and she turns back, raising her arms in defeat before returning to the task. 

You take several minutes to finish preparing the spell, your feet meticulously tracing a circle around the six witches. Agatha returns, passing you an armful of birch twigs. You place them with care, stepping back ready to cast. 

It demanded far more energy than you had anticipated; as the bodies slowly sank into the Earth, reshaping the land, you stumbled back, and Agatha was there to catch you. 

“Are you okay?” 

she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper, her face almost brushing against your ear as you tried to steady yourself. 

“Yeah, it’s just… I’ve only ever done that for a couple of bodies at a time. It just took more energy than I expected—that's all.”

In silence, you make your way back to the truck, the weight of the moment pressing against you as you slowly regain your strength, each step a reminder of your fatigue, stumbling occasionally, only to find Agatha steadfastly at your side, offering support. 

You can’t shake the thought of “witch killer,” and you wonder if whatever those rumors said might hold some truth. Yet, you can’t ignore the undeniable fact that the witches had tried to harm her first. Your mind drifts back to the porch not long ago, remembering the worry etched in her eyes. This must be a significant part of what she meant when she said you wouldn’t feel the same if you truly knew her. 

Given her history, you’re honestly surprised she didn’t just walk away when you asked her to gather the branches. Now, you sense a change in the air; this might be the last time you have a chance to talk with her. If you knew her even a little, you could tell she was contemplating leaving, perhaps for good this time. 

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

As you reach the truck and start the engine, the weight of the moment settles on your shoulders. You have about 40 minutes, and it’s now or never. With that thought in mind, you waste no time, determined to gather as much information as you can from her.

“Is it conscious, or does it just happen?” 

“I’m really never going to escape your questions, am I?” 

“Got you stuck in my truck trap again, and yeah, that’s a fair assumption to make. But there’s a downside to having to drive, you know.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yes, I have to keep my eyes on the road, so I can’t look at you as much as I would honestly prefer. But I feel like this might be my only chance, so… yeah, that’s where I’m going to start.” 

You let the silence linger for a couple of minutes, pondering just how hard you’ll have to fight to get her to speak, but just as you’re about to continue, she replies. 

“It just happens. I don’t really know where it came from; it's just been there for as long as I can remember. Once someone blasts me, they can’t stop, and the conversion just flows.” 

“Can YOU stop it?” 

“You know, I really don’t want to talk about this.” 

“I know, but you don’t have much of a choice. You could choose not to answer, but let me pose this: what do you really have to lose, Agatha? What’s the worst that could happen?” 

“I mean, I guess I never really thought about that.” 

“Well, I’ll tell you: my mind is down to two options for how the rest of the day might unfold. Either we get back to the house, and you just leave—never to be seen again—so no matter what you’ve shared, who am I gonna tell? Especially if there are rumors already out there. Or, at any point during this drive, or after we get back, you could kill me, and then your secrets remain safe anyway.” 

“Do you really think I would kill you?” 

“I think you could, but I don’t believe you want to.” 

“I did just kill six other witches, so what makes you say that?” 

“You could’ve taken me out along with those six, or at any moment since then. In reality, you could’ve killed me from the very first time we met, and that tells me you don’t truly want to. But just because someone doesn’t want to do something doesn’t mean they won’t do it, especially if it’s a matter of survival.” 

You let the silence stretch again, your quick glances revealing that Agatha is deeply pondering your words, breathing deeply, and hopefully deciding what to do next. Until finally, she speaks.

“Okay, fine, the truth is I’m not entirely sure if I can stop it. In the beginning, it felt completely out of my control. Once it hits me, it just happens, and it feels... well, I don’t know, just good in a way that’s hard to explain, and it’s nearly impossible to think about anything else. But I have tried a couple of times; the first attempt didn’t go well at all. They only survived a couple of minutes, and the other time, they were alive enough, but they umm just immediately came at me again. So it didn’t seem worth it, especially since it takes so much effort, so I just didn’t try anymore.” 

“That sounds really difficult, honestly... Why has it happened so, umm, often? Like, why are there so many witches trying to kill you?” 

“Well, I mean, you kind of said it yourself—I can be a bit, well, antagonistic at best, I guess.” 

“Yeah, but you’d think people could control themselves. I just... I can’t imagine going for a death blow without someone giving you an equally powerful reason.” 

“It seems to be a lot more common than one might expect.” 

“So this is at least one of the things you meant when you said I would see you differently?” 

“Yeah, obviously. I can’t see any reason why anyone would be able to look at what I’ve done and still, I guess, want to even be around me.” 

“I haven’t been around as long as you have, sure, but I’ve done my share of pretty awful things, too, you know?” 

“But have you literally murdered dozens of people?” 

“Ahh, yeah, actually, I kind of have.” 

You notice that she seems quite surprised by this revelation. Did she really think she was the only one hiding dark secrets?

“Obviously, I was in a war, Agatha. Well, two of them. But I know that’s not what you mean. If you’re going to be honest with me, then it’s only fair that I be honest with you too. Because, yeah, I’ve killed people... by accident, on purpose, with magic, and without. Sure, most of them weren’t good people, but still.” 

“You’re… not joking.” 

“No, I’m not particularly fond of joking about murdering people. But in time, I’d have no issue sharing those stories with you, really. Did you think I was joking about the poison? Because I wasn’t joking about that either.” 

“I can’t say this is something I ever imagined about you.” 

“I don’t think people often ponder the possibility of someone they know being a murderer, generally.” 

“Yeah, I guess that’s probably true.” 

“You knew this was going to happen, right? That's why you asked me not to come? Were you worried I might join them? That you’d have to kill me, or simply that you didn’t want me to see?” 

“Well, I considered all of those. I think, mostly, I just didn’t want you to know. But I also decided to go through with it anyway when they asked, because it seemed like this was the way you could find out. And then it would confirm that I was right—that you wouldn’t see me the same.” 

“Well, you know, you never really see anyone the same after they share anything new. Every time you come, I see you a little differently because I get to know you a little better. Yes, this is definitely a lot different, but my feelings for you... umm, those haven’t changed.” 

“I’m not used to being honest with people, which is probably pretty obvious to you by now. But I really, really don’t understand how that can be true.” 

“Well, I guess you’re just going to have to believe me, because I do get that, but it is also true. We’ll never understand some things, but that doesn’t mean they’re not real.”

You sat in silence for a few minutes again, both lost in thought. Memories of past conversations swirled in your mind, moments when she had turned the topic or seemed to be hiding something significant. You found yourself wondering just how all of this was connected. Suddenly, a realization hit you: 

"Wait. Is this why you were so adamant that I not use my magik on you?"

 "Yes. I, uh, didn't want to risk it." 

"But a blast attack like that is completely different from healing magic. It's not really directed at you… it’s more like it flows through you." 

"I know, it's just... I haven't really been close enough to anyone to, like, test its limits, so I'm not 100% sure it wouldn't activate, and I just don't want to take that chance." 

"Ahhh, I see. So you cared and were worried you might hurt me?" 

You allowed a smirk to play on your lips, though your eyes remained fixed on the road as she took a breath and spoke softly, 

"Well, I didn’t say that." 

"Not in so many words… but perhaps you really needed my help with your injuries and knew you wouldn't survive without it." 

"Well, it definitely wasn’t that." 

"Okay, I’ll stick with the former then." 

You shrugged and leaned back against the armrest between you—a subtle invitation. Yet, her hands remained nervously fidgeting in her lap, a flicker of hesitation lingering in the air. 

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

The darkness had settled, and as you pulled up to the house, turning off the truck, you found yourself sitting there, motionless. It felt so final, like the closing of a chapter. You understood that whatever unfolded now was beyond your control, and the thought of saying the wrong thing weighed heavily on your heart. Yet, you knew you had to at least try. So, with a gentle shift of your hips in the seat, you finally faced her. 

"Look, I know this isn't an easy decision for you, but I want to ask you to really think it through because… I want you to stay, Agatha." 

You took a moment, feeling the gravity of your words. 

"I know you’ve been through alot, and I have too. We won’t really know each other until we open up, which I truly hope will happen… someday at least. Today revealed so much, and I’m sincere when I say that nothing—nothing you’ve told me or that’s happened since we met—has changed how I feel about you. I hope that the chance you mentioned before is a feeling that comes even close to what I feel because, honestly, it’s kind of tearing me apart." 

She locked her gaze onto you again, and you took a deep breath as you continued to study each other; the air was thick with emotion, almost heavy enough to taste.

“I crave being close to you. I want you around. I want to talk to you, to see you, to touch you. Your past? It’s just that—a part of what shaped you into the person I see today. I might not know everything about you, but I know that somewhere deep down—even if it’s buried way down in there—you hold goodness, and I see it. I see you, and I want you. So, I’m asking you to choose to stay. To give us a chance. Let’s figure out what this connection really is. Let’s just be whatever we want to be with each other, without hiding or keeping pieces of ourselves concealed. Stay with me, Agatha… Make the decision not just because I’m asking you, but because it’s what you want, too. Allow yourself to care, because I’m going to care about you, no matter what. I just... I don’t quite know what else to say, and maybe I’ve said too much already.” 

You pause, both of you locked in each other’s gaze, taking several deep breaths together, the silence poetic in its depth. Then, with a deliberate slowness, you reach out and gently place your hand on the side of her face once more. You lean forward, pressing your lips against hers, and this time there’s a shared instinct, no hesitation to be found. It’s different—almost fiery. It’s charged with a deep passion, a heartfelt need, a hunger that speaks volumes, and an understanding that flows between you. 

You force yourself to pull away and, with a heavy heart, move to open the door. Standing outside, you speak to her once more, “I really hope to see you in the morning, Agatha… good night.” With that, you head into the house, slipping into your usual routine, yet everything feels charged. 

Minutes feel stretched as you eventually make your way to the bedroom, acutely aware that she can see you flicking the lights on and off as you navigate through the house. You stop briefly at the window, heart pounding as you confirm she’s still sitting in the truck, before finally lying down. 

It seems impossible to find comfort, your body tense and silent, straining to listen. Determination surges within you like never before; it feels like an eternity. As you watch the clock on the wall, the minutes crawl by. It’s over an hour before you hear the sound of the car door closing, and your heart seizes with expectation. 

This is the moment. Will she stay? You’re unsure, feeling it could go either way, and your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when you hear your front door open. Then it closes gently, followed by soft steps across the living room and the familiar crunch of the couch beneath her weight. 

An aura of warmth envelops you; for the first time in a long time, you feel a flicker of hope for the future. A brief worry crosses your mind as you realize you have no idea what the next few days will hold, but for now, you close your eyes thinking that when morning arrives, you’ll finally, after over a year of longing, embrace being with the mysterious woman who appeared so unexpectedly in your life. You can’t help but feel a sense of happiness awaiting you as you doze off.

>>>NEXT PART

[queerocfandomer]

First Sparks - Part 4

1960

Winter was beginning to fade away, and your patience was wearing thin. It had now been six long weeks since Agatha last left, and you were quite sure that this was the longest she had ever been absent since her second visit. Perhaps you had pushed too far; maybe her response hadn't been entirely sincere, or perhaps she was genuinely hurt, or worse, had simply moved on, tired of returning to this dullness. You felt a wave of frustration wash over you, not just with her but with yourself, as these thoughts relentlessly tangled in your mind. After all these years spent keeping your distance, relying solely on yourself, all of it seemed to unravel for barely a year of sporadic visits from a woman you scarcely knew. Did she even think of you when she wasn't here? You shouldn't have allowed yourself to feel this way; you should have buried those emotions and continued on with your life. 

You found yourself in town, spending a hopeful afternoon at the end of winter seed exchange, bringing along your fairly large selection of seeds and a few remaining crates of jams. The locals were kind, their initial suspicions about your abundant offerings having faded over the years as their questions dwindled. Mrs. Margle, an endearing older woman living just a couple of miles down the road, was wrapping up her visit at your table, promising to send her son Markus to pick up her items later in the day—she always seemed to find a reason to enlist him for such tasks.

Then, the familiar sound of a voice rang across the room, stirring both excitement and nerves within you. It didn’t take long for her to come into view, and you were far from the only one captivated by her presence. She blended seamlessly with the locals in her tight-fitting long-sleeve blouse tucked into a sleek pencil skirt that hugged her figure just below the knee. Yet, her unique beauty mingled with an air of mystery, drawing more than a little attention. She made her way directly to your table, standing confidently beside Mrs. Margle. 

“Long time no see.” 

“Indeed, I was beginning to think I might never see you again. Mrs. Margle, this is my friend Agatha.”

“Well, hello, dear! I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” 

“No, you probably wouldn’t have. I only find myself in this area occasionally, and when I do, I spend nearly all my time at Oakleys.” She flashed you a quick look and a playful wink. 

“Oh yes, I see, I see. Well, I should really be on my way now; Markus will be here in a couple of hours, dear. Thank you once again.” 

“My pleasure! You have a lovely day now.” 

As she left, you and Agatha locked eyes, sharing a brief, charged silence while you crossed your arms. She seemed to be seeking insight into your reaction to her arrival, and you did your utmost to maintain a neutral expression. Another customer approached the table, prompting you to assist while Agatha stood by, her eyes intently watching the exchange.

“You’re really just going to try and ignore me then?”  

“I’m not ignoring you. I’m just… focused on my work. But what made you finally decide to come back?”  

“Finally? Mmm, did you really believe I wouldn’t return?” 

“Honestly, with weeks stretching on, it felt possible that you might not.” 

“Ahh, I see, so you missed me?” 

At this, you immediately lifted your head to shoot her an irritated glance, only to be met with her classic smirk. For a brief moment, you felt your resolve waver, scrunching your face slightly in an attempt to conceal your reaction.  

“Well, I did plan to come sooner; it's just that I got caught up with something a bit longer than I had expected. Then, when I realized the date was approaching, I figured I would just meet you here.”  

“How exactly did you know that I was going to be here today?” 

“Oh, easy—it was on your calendar.”  

You struggle to mask your surprise at her comment; you never would have imagined Agatha keeping an eye on your calendar, let alone remembering specific dates. You wish you could cling to your irritation with her a little longer, but that feeling fades as swiftly as it arose. Sure, you're happy to see her, but you won't dare admit that you missed her. In the brief silence you took to gather your thoughts, she glides around the table to your side.

“I do pay attention, you know, and besides, I thought since you were already in town, it’d be easier for me to take you out for that dinner.” 

She nudged her shoulder playfully against yours, studying your expression with a spark of mischief. You uncross your arms, shake your head, and allow a small smile to tug at your lips.  

“Okay, fine, but I still have a couple of hours here; the market ends at 4.” 

“That’s why I made the reservation for 5…” You catch a glimpse of the satisfaction in her face.  

“I can wait here if that’s okay,”  

“Ah, yeah, I mean, if you want to, it might get a bit boring,” 

“Oh, I’m sure it will be just fine.”

For the next two hours, you find yourself weaving between the occasional customer and the captivating presence of Agatha, who sits behind the table, lost in a magazine or engaged in light-hearted banter with the local townsfolk vying for her attention. You can’t help but feel a growing fascination as you split your attention between her and your work. 

Your interactions with her have mostly been one-on-one, and you notice a shift in her demeanor when she’s around the crowd. That dramatic flair you have come to adore radiates from her; it’s no longer just a sprinkle here and there, but an almost constant vibrancy when she interacts with others. She transforms into a character, seamlessly playing the role of the charming, average town woman. 

Yet, she often steals a moment to send you a knowing glance, and you start to realize that you know her better than you initially thought. You can discern when she’s amused, irritated, or bored, and it fills you with a warm sense of satisfaction. As the market begins to wind down and you start packing up, you’re pleasantly surprised to see Agatha helping stack the crates. Just then, Markus approaches—a young, blonde man in his late twenties. 

"Hey, Oakley, I'm so sorry for being a bit late! My mom mentioned you had some things for her?" 

"It's perfectly alright, Markus. We aren't quite finished packing up here anyway. I've got everything for her right here in these two bags." 

"Thank you! She's so happy to have gotten everything she wanted this year. She's convinced your seeds grow better than any others! So, are you, um, up to anything special this evening, or are you just heading home?" 

“Oh, actually, yes! I have a friend visiting,” you reply, turning to gesture towards Agatha behind you. Not realizing she’d moved closer, you inadvertently swing your arm into her, and she catches it with her hands, gently returning it to your side—a spark of warmth igniting in your cheeks. 

“Agatha,” she says confidently, extending her hand for a shake. 

“Ah, Markus, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“Yes, likewise! But we really ought to be on our way; we have lots of plans for this evening.”

She lightly takes your wrist, turning both of you to face the remaining supplies. You grab a couple of crates in hand as she offers to pull the wagon, starting to walk toward the exit. She leans in closer, her shoulder brushing against yours, and speaks softly with a teasing smirk.

“You know this would be a whole lot easier if we could just levitate this all to the truck.” 

“Oh yes, I'm sure that would go over very well,” you laugh lightly and nudge her shoulder. 

After finishing loading up the supplies, you head to the passenger seat and pull out another small crate and bag, moving them to the hood of the truck. 

“I'm just expecting one more quick pickup; they should be here any minute now.” 

She raises her eyebrow as she looks at the items. “Fresh herbs?” 

“Yeah, I don't really want the locals asking too many questions, so I prefer to keep things low-key this time of year. Usually, they just come to my place, but since I was here and they were just passing through anyway, I planned for four. Oh, and there they are!” You watch as a red car pulls into the parking lot, the driver giving a friendly wave as it parks across from you, displaying the triple goddess symbol painted just above the license plate. “Well, they aren't very subtle, are they?” Agatha scoffs, her intrigue evident, causing you to let out a warm laugh. 

“Yeah, it’s an odd choice,” you shrug and smile, “modern covens.” 

The passenger and rear doors swing open as two young women step out, and you grab the supplies, moving to meet them halfway. You notice Agatha has taken to following closely behind you, her curiosity piqued.

“Abbey, Marie, good to see you!” 

“And you too, Oakley. We really appreciate you meeting us here, even though we know it’s not the best spot. Sorry if we’re interrupting your day,” Marie says warmly as Abbey reaches for the items, their eyes flitting to Agatha beside you. 

“Not a problem at all; it all worked out with me being here anyway. Ah, this is Agatha—she's just visiting from, well...” 

“Florida, most recently,” Agatha interjects, shaking their hands warmly. “But I get around.” 

“Right, yes. I should have everything you asked for here. The hibiscus has been giving me a bit of trouble lately, so it’s not as strong as I’d like. The sooner you put it to use, the better.” 

“We’ll definitely prioritize that, thank you! And we’re still all set for May?” 

“Yes, of course! Just give me a call as we get closer for the exact dates, and I’ll have everything ready for you as usual.”

“While I hate to collect and dash, we have quite a bit of travel left today. See you soon, Oakley, and nice to meet you, Agatha,” Marie states with a kind smile and an intrigued look. She hands you a small bag, and together, you all turn to head back to your vehicles.

“Arwood Coven,” you say softly, leaning in towards Agatha as you walk. “They’re set up about four hours west—the closest, at least, as far as I know—and they’re my biggest customers.” You gently jingle the bag in your hand, a playful gesture as you stroll. “It’s just too bad they don’t have much to offer besides civilian money—quite ahhhh ordinary, really.” 

“Young by the looks of it,” 

“Yeah … I’m not sure they truly grasp the ahh extent of my experience, but I’m definitely okay with that. So, are you actually taking me out then, or am I expected to drive?” 

“Well, we can walk if you want; I’d just fly, but apparently that’s frowned upon.” 

“It’s the middle of the afternoon, Agatha.” You roll your eyes, sharing another playful glance before hopping into the car, the anticipation of the restaurant ahead igniting a spark of excitement.

You find yourself mildly impressed by her choice of venue; there aren’t many options around, but she picked the nicest one. You’ve never been—usually opting for a more casual experience—it’s been ages since you’ve really sat down at a table to be served. It’s a curious experience, as your conversation can’t flow as freely as it usually does, so you find yourselves mostly catching up on what you’ve been doing over the past few weeks since you last saw each other. 

Everything feels subtly different from what you’ve grown used to, but you can’t quite grasp why. Agatha seems more contemplative than you remember—could it be because you’re out in public, or is it something deeper? Once you finish, you make your way back to the truck with Agatha close behind. As dusk starts to wrap the sky in its gentle embrace, you pause, leaning your back against the door.

“Well, thank you for dinner, Agatha. I must admit, it was the best meal I've had in quite some time." 

"Of course! I mean, I did owe you one, or maybe a few, really." She shifted awkwardly, rubbing a hand behind her neck. 

You felt that familiar frustration bubbling up again, a deep desire to understand what thoughts were racing through her mind. Sure, she could be awkward at times, but she usually masked it well. Today, though, it felt like something was distracting her. 

"So, is this the moment where you fly off, or, um, did you want to come back to the farm with me?" 

You cast your eyes down for a moment, but when you looked back up at her, you realized you were reflecting the same uncertainty she was displaying, sparking a curiosity about whether her feelings mirrored yours. She locked eyes with you and took a few steps forward. 

"I mean, if you’re asking... yeah, I would like that." 

You turned to unlock the door, trying to hide the warmth rising in your cheeks. 

"Guess that’s settled then. It is almost an hour's drive, though, so you’ll have to endure my company in close quarters for a bit longer." 

"I think I can handle that," she replied from behind you, making her way to the passenger side.

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

The drive out of town was quiet for a little while, both of you wrapped in an awkward silence. Subtly, you noted how several times she sneaked a quick glance in your direction. Why did the energy feel so different? It wasn’t as if you hadn’t shared countless conversations before, but having called this dinner a date the last time you spoke, you wondered if you were both taking that seriously now, slightly shifting the tone of your closeness with the acknowledgment of something deeper. That shouldn’t have changed anything for you, you thought, seeing as you had always seen her that way. 

You opened the small compartment in the middle console—usually reserved for cigarettes—and reached for a small coin, offering it to Agatha. She raised her hand and an eyebrow as you dropped it into her palm, giving you a questioning look. You smiled. 

“For your thoughts?” 

She either couldn’t help it or chose not to hide the smile and small laugh that instantly lit up her face. 

“Really?”

“I'm nothing if not waggish,” you shrugged playfully. 

“Probably best I not comment on that,” she smiled, and a warm laugh escaped you both at her response. 

“Seriously though, you're reminding me of that first chat in my kitchen; it seems you have an awful lot on your mind.”

“You know I could say the same for you.” 

“Touché. You know, there is this thing about having someone in your vehicle...” 

“Oh?” 

“I mean, you could just open the door and hop out, sure, but generally that’s not a great plan. So while we're here, you're kind of just stuck, unable to escape whatever conversation or questions I might have for you.” 

“I mean, I could also just ignore you and sit in silence.” 

“Eh, but where’s the fun in that?” 

You closed the compartment and shifted your focus back to the road before continuing.

“I did notice that your knee seems to have healed quite well.” 

“Ah, yes, well, I did have a good doctor, it seems, and, ah, I did keep that promise.”

 “I’m glad to see it. How about the other injuries?” 

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.” 

She shifted slightly, and you caught her scrunching her face in amusement. You relaxed into your seat, lowering your right arm to rest on the armrest between you. 

“So, ah, that Markus fellow was rather attractive.” 

You couldn’t contain the confused glance you shot her way. 

“Ah, I mean, I guess so if that’s your type.” 

“And he’s not?” 

“My type??” you laughed heartily. “No, definitely not. Ah, was he yours?” 

“Oh no, no, ahh, no,” she stammered, awkwardly running her hand over the back of her neck again. 

“You're being weird, Agatha,” you nudged her arm gently with your elbow, and she readjusted herself in her seat, raising her arms briefly. 

“Eh, I’m tired; I had a good length of travel to make it here this morning.” 

“Sure, sure,” you teased, and after a brief silence, the conversation drifted back to familiar territory, discussing the spells she’s been working on lately.

It's only a few minutes into this more comfortable exchange that Agatha lays her arm beside yours, just barely brushing against each other. You share a tentative look while she continues her story, and you can't resist nudging your arm just a bit closer until they are in full contact. They remain like this for the rest of the drive, fingers brushing often whenever one of you gestures with your hand. When you finally pull into the driveway, the night has settled, and Agatha joins you in carrying the crates from the truck up onto the porch, her presence feeling like a welcomed warmth beside you.

“There was a movie playing late tonight that I was hoping to catch if you’re interested,” 

Both of you hanging up your coats and slipping off your shoes at the door. 

“Sure, yeah, that sounds good.” 

“I’ll get us some drinks and make some popcorn then,” you smile, warmth spreading in your chest as you head to the kitchen while she settles into the couch. 

When you return, you find her relaxed, her head leaning back and her eyes closed. “You gonna fall asleep there?” 

She raises her head, a playful defiance in her eyes as she responds, “Psh, I’m fine.” 

“Whatever you say, Agatha.” 

You hand her a glass and place the bowl of popcorn in her lap before settling in right beside her. You catch a fleeting look of surprise on her face as you choose to sit just inches from her, a closeness that feels a tad more intimate than before. 

“Is this okay? I, uh, don’t want to reach too far for the popcorn,” you muse, a hint of vulnerability in your tone. 

“Oh yeah, it’s good,” she says, breaking eye contact as you reach for the remote. Did you just notice a slight blush on her cheeks?

As the movie plays, you both watch intently, resisting the urge to glance her way, you observe only from the corner of your eye. It doesn't take long for you to widen your stance a little, allowing your thighs to rest against each other, igniting a spark of warmth throughout your body. This shift in position seems to ease some of the tension in the air, and you both visibly relax into your seats. 

Agatha is definitely beginning to doze off, but you pretend not to notice it as her head gently leans back, only to return to the TV again. You move the popcorn to the other side, away from your bodies, and rest your hand on your thigh, just at the edge, allowing your pinkie to rest against her, and to your surprise, she mirrors your gesture. You stay in that position until she drifts off again, this time with her head leaned back, neck curved gracefully against the couch. 

Finally, you allow yourself a moment to really look at her, your heart racing as you wonder what exactly you're doing here. She looks relaxed, almost unguarded, the hint of the tension that usually surrounds her fading away. Leaning slightly toward her, your shoulders connect, and you edge your hand just enough to rest half atop hers before returning your focus to the movie. 

It startles you slightly when her head slowly tilts towards you, eventually resting against your shoulder. Your breath catches in your throat, but you manage to remain still. As the film comes to a close, you gently lean your cheek against the top of her head, surrendering to the moment as you close your eyes.

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

You're not sure how long she had been awake before she moved, or if your heads were still resting against each other when she finally did. As you start to regain consciousness, you feel the soft squeeze of her hand, and in that fleeting moment, you can only manage to wonder, were we holding hands? 

Then, you sense the weight and warmth beside you shift as she rises. Keeping your eyes closed, you listen intently, holding your breath to gauge her next move. You hear her take a few steps, accompanied by the rustle of cloth, followed by moments of silence that are punctuated by a heavy sigh, and then the sound of the door handle. 

As you open your eyes, you catch a glimpse of her stepping out, and, instinctively, you summon your magic to keep the door open, walking towards her. She releases the door with another sigh, and you barely catch the whisper, “Oakley, I…” before she takes another step forward, leaving you in her wake. 

You stop at the doorframe, leaning against it, while she lingers two steps ahead, her back turned but still poised on the porch. “It’s been a long while since you snuck out in the middle of the night.”

She turns halfway, her voice barely above a whisper, “Oh, you know, couldn’t sleep so…” 

You abandon your lean, stepping forward. 

“Well, that’s funny because according to my watch, it was only an hour ago that I saw you fast asleep… head resting on my shoulder.” 

The silence stretches, and after a few tense seconds, you push on, “You are so infuriating sometimes, Agatha, you know that?” 

Her gaze sharpens, and you're not sure if it’s your words or the barely-contained frustration in your tone that catches her attention. You both search each other’s faces, her expression revealing something you’ve never seen before. 

“What are we doing here, Agatha?” 

Her chest rises and falls with a deep breath, eyes locked on yours. She shakes her head slightly, clearing her throat briefly, “I... I don’t know.” 

“Okay,” you say softly, taking another step towards her, the distance between you diminishing—your hand could reach out to touch her if you chose, yet you restrain yourself. 

“Well, I think I'm done pretending that I don't… I think I do know what I'm doing here, and honestly, I even know what I want. So, yeah, guess I’m done skirting around it.” 

You can see that you’ve caught her off guard yet again. A familiar glimmer of interest and curiosity flickers across her face as she tilts her head, narrowing her eyes for just a moment before stretching her neck upward and turning to fully face you, giving a slight nod. 

“Alright, well let’s hear it then.” 

Gathering your courage, you take a deep breath, never breaking eye contact. 

“You tell me what to do, Agatha, because I’m pretty sure it’s clear that I care about you and I… well, I just want you to let me.- I guess, plain and simple… I want… you, Agatha. I want to see what this could be, what WE could be. So, you tell me, is this something I should bury, or is there a chance you feel the same?” 

As you gaze into her eyes, it seems like there are too many emotions swirling around to even begin to decipher. 

“Oakley, I…” she pauses, slowly placing a hand against your face. 

The bold gesture sends a shock through you, the purposeful contact igniting a spark, as you feel your heart pounding in response. 

“There is a chance, but you should also…”

That’s all it takes for you to lose your restraint. You lift a hand to her face and step forward, closing the distance completely as you capture her lips with yours. It takes a heartbeat of surprise before she melts into the kiss, both of you surrendering to the moment—slow, deliberate, savoring a connection that makes everything else fade away. 

It feels like both an eternity and no time at all before you pull apart, breathless, resting your foreheads together for a fleeting moment. Then, you lean back slightly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear and returning your hands to yourself. 

“Sorry, I guess I kind of interrupted you,” you say with a smile, but she wears a still-saddened look, a flicker of uncertainty dancing in her eyes.

She looks down as she gently folds her hands together, taking a half step back to meet your gaze once more. 

"I... obviously there’s a chance, but I was also saying you should still really try to bury that." 

"Sorry, What?" 

"You don’t really know me, Oakley. I don’t… you don’t… if you knew who I really was, you wouldn’t want me. As much as I want to escape into this fantasy world, I can’t, because if you knew, you would feel differently. So, there’s really no point in it. You should bury it, and I should too." 

"Seriously, Agatha? We are going to do that, and you still want to say this? Do you want to pretend like that didn’t mean something?" 

"No, I’m not, obviously. It was... it did... Oakley, I want to. I do. But it’s just… it’s like I said." 

"You think I don’t know that living as long as you wouldn't have done things you’re not proud of? I can assume as much because I definitely have. Maybe you’ll think of me differently, but that won’t stop me from trying. I want to know you, Agatha. I genuinely want to know you. And you’re assuming the worst. Just give me a chance; I know that’s easier said than done, and I know it’ll take time, but my feelings for you are real, and I don’t want to stop now when it feels like we’ve just begun… I don’t want that to be the last time I kiss you."

You regain some confidence, bridging the gap, placing one of your hands on top of hers as she pulls away. 

"You asked me what to do. So I’m telling you—you should try to bury it.” She pauses to breathe deeply again. “I need to go. I have to think; and I can’t think clearly around you." 

"Look, okay, I see that I’m not going to change your mind right now, so I’ll let you go. But know that I’m not happy about it and… look at me." 

You take her hand, moving your other to her face, pulling her gaze back towards you. “Just come back, okay? Don’t run away from me. Please, just… come back.” 

You run your thumb along her jawline and rest your hand below her ear. She looks at you with such intensity, the striking blue of her eyes piercing into you. She says nothing, only nods, and so you lean in once more, pressing a gentle, fleeting whisper of a kiss upon her lips before releasing her from your grasp and taking two steps back. 

You stand for a moment, just looking at each other in the darkness before she turns away, walking down the steps and away from the house. She pauses just at the edge of the garden wall, turning back for one more lingering look before she takes off, a purple glow surrounding her as she drifts into the night.

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

The weeks continued to drift by—two, then three, and into four—each day consumed by thoughts of that intoxicating moment—her lips pressed against yours, sending sparks of electricity coursing through your veins. You felt warmth in her touch, and you would lose yourself in the depth of her eyes while beneath the surface, you sensed a whirlwind of emotions that both thrilled and confused you. It was a mystery you didn’t fully understand, yet the pieces began to fall into place, giving you a better grasp of why your relationship had evolved the way it had. 

Yet uncertainty loomed over you, almost painfully clear: something was holding her back—was it the fear of hurting you or the vulnerability that came with opening up? You wrestled with the thought that you might never know the answer, because she would surely never admit it. You couldn’t shake off the nagging thought—what could be so terrible? What were those hidden beliefs that made her feel utterly unlovable, those things she feared you couldn’t see past? That thought lingered in your mind, gnawing at you, especially after the phone call.

Marie from the Arwood Coven called to finalize the plans for their stay at the property in a few weeks. Everything felt perfectly normal until the end when she unexpectedly asked, 

“I was actually also wondering, the friend who was with you in town—Agatha, is her last name Harkness?” 

“Well, it could be; honestly, I don’t know. I’ve never asked; it’s not something I’m particularly interested in, why?” 

“It just seems like she might fit the description, and after some research, I grew a little concerned. Agatha Harkness is often called the witch killer.” 

“Oh, come on now, Emily! Don’t tell me you’re the kind to believe any old rumor or slander circulating. You know—especially about our kind—there are always those who spill negativity. I’m certainly not one to believe in anything that doesn’t come directly from a person.” 

“Of course, we just thought there were some other intriguing things. We trust your judgment in your choice of company. It’s not that; she just sounds like an interesting person. If it is Harkness, I’d love the chance to pick her brain, so to speak.” 

“Well, her visits aren’t exactly scheduled. But I can mention your interest the next time I see her, if you’d like.” 

“Yes, actually, we’re always keen to learn from other witches, of course. So I would appreciate the opportunity to talk with her.” 

“Then if I see her, I’ll be sure to let her know.”

This conversation was undeniably intriguing. It was true—last names had never held much significance for you, and you had never felt compelled to raise the subject. Nor had she, for that matter. Were those whispers the root of the worries she seemed so desperate to shield you from discovering? 

There was a reason you never found your place in another coven, as witches often came wrapped in layers of mistrust. Often dull and uninspiring, it felt as though fewer and fewer possessed that true spark as the years went by. None of this applied to Agatha—not in the slightest—but it hardly surprised you that there would be murmurs about someone like her. From the very first moment you met her, you sensed a power that surpassed anyone you had encountered before—a gift undeniably accompanied by its own hardships. 

If there’s any truth to those rumors—and if that’s why she feared you could never see her the same way—it made you pause. You had considered following her advice to suppress the feelings, but that thought barely lingered for a couple of days. Deep down, you recognized the futility of that notion; even if you vowed to try, you were already too far gone. There was no doubt that if she returned, you would reach for her again. 

After all, what did you really have to lose at this point? You had been merely drifting through life for years, day by day, surviving without anything truly anchoring you. Countless times, you had questioned if it was even worth it, but somehow you kept trudging forward. You had to admit, everything shifted the day she walked into your life. Even if she was nothing more than a peculiar visitor you saw every few months, when you reflected on it, she had become a reason to keep pushing on for months now. 

So you found yourself wondering, what would you do if she came back? How far were you willing to go? Would you even have a chance? The contemplation persisted as the weeks passed—five, then six, then seven—it was time to gather your thoughts and prepare for the Arwood coven’s arrival.

>>>NEXT PART

[queerocfandomer]

I cannot be the only one who has written something so completely absurd that they just stare at it in a complete loss of how to continue. I cannot look at this and not loose myself in laughter. I present to you my new shame (and immediate mood booster) - Vivacious Fervor - I think I definitely need to stop going so hard on the synonyms 😅😂

[queerocfandomer]

The Oak Saga - First Sparks

The story of how you met and fell in love with Agatha Harkness in 1960. PreQuel to 'Reunited on the Road" - Parts 1-3 now on A03!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63244984/chapters/161996044

It was the little things that began to linger in your mind, playing over and over whenever she was absent. Your fingers brushed against each other while passing dishes or books, and you could swear they lingered just a moment longer each time. Once, sitting at the table, caught in a spirited argument about a spell, you both gestured in unison. When your hands finally returned to the table, they rested atop each other, held in a glance that felt like an eternity before pulling away. As you watched television, you noticed how you were no longer confined to your side of the couch; each night brought you a little closer together, as if drawn by an unspoken force. Then there was that moment lying in the grass, gazing at the vast night sky, when she lay beside you just a fraction too close, your hands barely a hair's breadth apart.

[queerocfandomer]

Loving this! Definitely recommend

The Weight Of Grief Masterlist-

A/N: this story is currently ongoing! Now that I have everything I’ve pre written posted, and ppl have shown some interest. I’ll be continuing to work on it and my intentions are to have a new chapter posted every week minimum! Plot wise you can expect at least 7-8 more chapters of this particular story, it really just depends on the flow of things. it honestly may go over, there is just so much to include✋🏽😭

Summary:

Centuries ago, Agatha Harkness was condemned by her own coven for entangling herself with the dark arts, yet when they tried to execute her she turned their magic against them, draining them of their power and leaving nothing but hollowed husks & ashes in her wake.

In the aftermath of Salem, she found solace in an unlikely love, forging an unbreakable bond with the Reader and later with the cosmic enigma herself, Rio Vidal. Their passion burned bright, but fate is rarely kind to those who defy its balance.

When Nicholas Scratch was born, he was not just your son but a child of magic, a gift from Rio—one that came at an unforeseen cost. Fearful of the price that would one day be demanded, Agatha ran taking Nicholas with her in a desperate attempt to keep him safe. But no amount of magic, no amount of hiding could change what had already been decided.

Years later, Agatha stands on your doorstep, stripped of her power and seeking aid. But the wounds of betrayal are not so easily mended and the weight of grief is not so easily forgotten. How dare she return now, after all this time—after leaving you to grieve alone. Love, loss, and the cruel hands of fate weave their story together once more, But some wounds do not heal without a price.

Prologue 

Ch 1.

Ch 2.

Ch 3.

Ch 4.

Ch 5.