Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Beneath the stars, hidden from view,
A tale of hearts, silently true.

The significance of her decision had finally settled in, pressing down on her chest like an unmovable weight. Rio Vidal leaned back against her velvety green couch, staring blankly through the open balcony doors at the ocean. Normally, the view calmed her, but this morning, the waves seemed to crash louder, mirroring the chaotic rhythm of her heart. She couldn’t remember the last time her palms had sweated this much—certainly not during any audition, no matter how high the stakes.

This was it. The role she’d always imagined taking on. To her, this wasn’t just another job, it was a chance to live her truth on screen, to step fully into herself in a way she never had before. The decision to come out publicly a few months ago had felt like shedding a layer of skin in a way only snakes did. Now, it was about embracing that raw vulnerability in front of the world. It was exhilarating. Terrifying.

This wasn’t just about playing an openly lesbian character—it was a stand, a declaration that had been missing from the silver screen for far too long. A chance to be the kind of representation she never had growing up. To show young girls that it was okay to love the way she did, that they weren’t alone in the way they felt. But as monumental as it was, it wasn’t the idea of being herself on screen that made her hands shake now.

It was the name next to hers on the call sheet: Agatha Harkness.

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, casting a soft, golden light across her living room, but it did nothing to ease the cold twist of nerves in her stomach. Agatha wasn’t just another co-star—she was an icon, a legend. The woman who’d commanded the screen with a mere raise of an eyebrow, who’d made entire theaters fall silent with a single look. And now, Rio was supposed to... what? Kiss her? Pretend they’d had this long, complicated, passionate love affair? The very thought sent a shiver down her spine, her mind reeling.

How was she supposed to act natural when her insides were tying themselves into impossible knots? She’d seen every movie Agatha had ever been in, studied her as if she held the secret to Hollywood’s magic touch. The idea of matching that energy, that intensity—of being on the receiving end of that piercing gaze—felt like standing at the edge of a cliff.

Deep down, Rio knew it wasn’t just admiration making her feel so paralyzed, standing alone in her own home, curling and uncurling her fingers around the script. But that was a thought she refused to let surface. Not now. Not when she needed to get her head on straight before their first table read.

For now, she just had to breathe. Just had to focus on the pages in front of her. The rest—whatever that was—could wait.

Rio dragged a hand down her face just as Alice, her assistant and best friend, breezed into the room, a cup of iced coffee in each hand and a knowing smirk. Without missing a beat, Alice raised an eyebrow. “Tell me again why you look like you’re about to hit the Oscars instead of just another movie set?”

“Tell me again why I’m doing this?” Rio shot back, taking the iced coffee from Alice’s hand with a shaky sigh.

Alice’s grin widened, barely containing her amusement. “Because you signed up for this, babe. You want to make a statement now that you’re out. You want more queer roles in Hollywood, right? You said it yourself—diversity, representation, all that.”

Rio groaned, sinking into the couch and pressing a throw pillow over her face. Her voice came out muffled. “I know, I know! But nobody said it would involve acting opposite Agatha fucking Harkness.”

Alice burst into laughter, leaning over to pry the pillow from Rio’s grip. “Oh my god, you have such a big, fat lesbian crush on her. It’s hilarious.”

“Do not!” Rio protested, nearly spilling her coffee as she sat up, cheeks flushing.

“Oh, you so do, Rio.” Alice shot back with a wicked grin. “But hey, I get it, she’s hot! I’d have a crush on her too. And now, you get to act with her in a role that’s all... intense ex-lovers and stuff. It’s like the gay gods answered your prayers.”

Rio shook her head, trying to look annoyed, but the color in her cheeks betrayed her. “You’re not helping! And it’s not… about that. I just can’t believe I’m actually… doing it. With her.”

Alice’s smirk deepened. “Doing it with her? Freudian slip, much?”

Rio shot her a warning look, while launching a pillow at her friend. “Drop it, Alice.”

“Fine, fine.” Alice threw her hands up in mock surrender, but her grin didn’t fade. “Look, all I’m saying is: if you’re going to be nervous, might as well make it fun. She’s hot, you’re hot. Just try not to, you know, combust, or pass out before day one on set.”

Rio pressed her lips together, trying to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe. But you love me anyway.” Alice shrugged, taking a long sip of her coffee. “Now, stop moping and get your cute butt out the door. You’ve got a table read to get to. And if you’re going to keep spiraling, at least let me enjoy it from the front row.”

Rio groaned again, but she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. She took a deep breath, letting the caffeine buzz through her system, and forced herself to stand. Alice grabbed their things, leading the way toward the door.

“All right, superstar,” Alice called over her shoulder, holding the door open with a smirk. “Time to face the music.”

Rio hesitated, glancing back at her sun-drenched living room. The sound of waves crashing outside had always been a comfort, a reminder of the calm she could find here. But today, the ocean felt like it was roaring just for her, amplifying the storm of nerves swirling inside.

“Hey,” Alice’s voice softened as she noticed Rio lingering. “You okay?”

Rio took a deep breath, the salty breeze filling her lungs. “Yeah, I’m good. Let’s go.”

They stepped out onto the wooden deck, the morning sun warm on their faces as they headed for the driveway. Rio’s black convertible gleamed in the sunlight. She tossed the keys to Alice. “You drive. My hands are still shaking.”

Alice caught the keys with a playful roll of her eyes. “Shaking from nerves, or just an excuse to sit there and overthink this whole thing?”

“Maybe a bit of both,” Rio admitted, sliding into the passenger seat. The leather was warm from the sun, and she settled back, trying to steady her breath as Alice started the engine. The car roared to life, and they pulled out onto the coastal road, the ocean stretching endlessly to their right.

For a brief moment, Rio let herself relax, the wind tugging at her hair as they sped down the highway. Malibu’s familiar sights blurred by—palm trees swaying, surfers catching early waves, the distant shimmer of the Pacific. It was the kind of perfect LA morning that usually made her feel invincible. But today, all she could think about was the table read ahead, and the woman waiting there.

“Breathe,” Alice said softly, glancing over at her. “You’ve got this.”

Rio nodded, taking another deep breath. She wasn’t sure she believed it, but for now, it would have to be enough.

As they sped down the highway, Rio’s phone buzzed. It was Lilia, her agent—and Agatha Harkness’ agent, too. The irony of having a shared agent was not lost on her. Rio figured Lilia was calling to wish her luck, but a part of her couldn’t help but wonder if she’d already spoken to Agatha this morning.

With a sigh, Rio tapped the answer button. “Hey, Lilia.”

“Hello, darling!” Lilia’s voice boomed through the speaker with that familiar mix of enthusiasm and no-nonsense tone. “Ready to knock their socks off today? I’m already envisioning the press frenzy over you and Agatha.”

Rio let out a nervous laugh, her hand instinctively combing through her hair. “No pressure at all, huh?”

Lilia’s tone softened into that almost motherly concern she reserved for moments like these. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve got this. Emmy nods don’t just happen by accident. You’re one of the brightest stars in Hollywood right now, and everyone knows it.”

Rio bit her lip, staring out at the glimmering waves. “Yeah, but it’s Agatha . She’s... I don’t know, kind of a big deal. It’s intimidating.”

“Oh, please,” Lilia scoffed, and Rio could almost see her raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow on the other end of the line. “Agatha may have been at this for decades, but she’s still a human being. And between us? I spoke to her this morning—she’s excited about this project. You were a big part of why.”

Rio’s heart skipped a beat. “Wait—she actually said that?”

“More or less,” Lilia chuckled. “You know how she is, always playing it cool. But trust me, she’s looking forward to it.”

Rio swallowed, her gaze fixed on the horizon as if it held the answers to her nerves. Knowing Agatha might actually be looking forward to their scenes together added a new layer of tension. “I just keep thinking... what if she’s only tolerating me?”

“Oh, angel, stop overthinking it,” Lilia said, her voice taking on that firm yet affectionate edge. “I wouldn’t have pitched this if I didn’t see the potential for absolute magic between you two. Besides, it’s not just her tolerating you—this film is going to be good for both of you. Trust me on this.”

Rio slumped back into the seat, letting the wind whip through her hair. “All right, if you say so.”

“I do say so,” Lilia replied with a laugh. “Now go in there, have a blast, and don’t let her intimidate you. And remember—you’ve got me in your corner. I can still scare the pants off Agatha if she gives you any trouble.”

Rio couldn’t help but smile at that. “Thanks, Lilia. You always know how to make me feel better.”

“That’s what I’m here for, darling. Now go make some sparks fly.”

Just as the line clicked off, the car rolled to a full stop. Rio’s heart gave a final flutter as she looked up at the hotel entrance where the table read was being held. It was happening—her first time seeing the entire cast assembled. The first time she’d come face-to-face with her .

Alice handed the keys to the valet with a flirtatious wink before turning back to Rio. “So, you ready for this?”

Rio exhaled sharply, stepping out of the car. The sun was bright, the air warm, but she couldn’t shake the icy tendrils of anticipation curling around her spine. “Actually,” she muttered, reaching for her bag, “I think I need a cigarette first.”

Alice raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “A cigarette? Baby, you haven’t smoked in months!”

“I know,” Rio said with a strained smile, fishing a pack out of her bag that she kept for emergencies like this. “But if there was ever a time to start again, it’s now.”

Alice snorted, folding her arms. “Right. A cigarette to steady your nerves before you meet your movie star crush.”

“It’s not a crush,” Rio shot back, already pulling a cigarette from the pack with her lips. Her hands were trembling slightly as she flicked the lighter.

“Uh-huh,” Alice hummed knowingly, watching Rio take a long drag. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Rio inhaled deeply, letting the nicotine burn through the nervous energy buzzing inside her. It helped, a little. But when she blew out the smoke, the anticipation still thrummed beneath her skin. “It’s just... she’s a legend. I want this to go well.”

Alice softened, her teasing smile fading into something more genuine. “Hey, you’re a legend in the making, Rio. And besides, I’ve seen the way you light up a room. She won’t know what hit her.”

Rio gave her a lopsided grin, the cigarette dangling from her lips. “You really know how to flatter me.”

“Just telling it like it is, babe,” Alice said, bumping her shoulder gently. “Now come on, let’s get inside before you smoke the whole pack. We’ve got a table read to conquer.”

Rio took one last drag, then flicked the cigarette away, stomping it out on the pavement. She squared her shoulders and gave Alice a nod. “All right. Let’s do this.”

As they made their way toward the entrance, Rio took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm. From inside, she could already hear the low buzz of voices—the cast and crew settling in. This was it: the moment she’d been gearing up for. And despite the nerves twisting in her stomach, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement. Because, whether she wanted to admit it or not, she couldn’t wait to see what would happen next.

She recognized a few faces right away: producers she’d met at the contract signing, casting directors who’d given her encouraging nods during auditions, and the assistant she’d seen running around at her last audition. The air was thick with both excitement and nervous energy, and Rio could feel it humming under her skin.

As they approached the conference room, Rio’s eyes landed on Wanda Maximoff leaning against the wall, casually scrolling through her phone. Wanda looked up just as they came closer, smirking in that way she always did—like she had a secret no one else knew. And was that... a wink?

“Well, if it isn’t the woman of the hour,” Wanda teased, slipping her phone into her back pocket and stepping away from the wall. “Ready to pretend you’re madly in love with me?”

Rio laughed, already feeling the tension in her shoulders ease just a bit.. “Oh please, you wish. Besides, aren’t you the shady criminal we’re supposed to be catching in this whole elaborate scheme?”

Wanda rolled her eyes in mock offense, but her smile was genuine. “And here I thought we’d start off friendly. You know, before I inevitably stab you in that lovely back of yours.”

Rio smirked, grateful for the banter. It was easier with Wanda, someone who seemed completely unfazed by the whole spectacle. “You’re right. Let’s be friends first. Then you can stab me—it’s more poetic that way.”

Wanda let out a low chuckle, nudging Rio’s shoulder with hers. “I knew I’d like you. Just try not to fall for me too hard, all right? We wouldn’t want to make Agatha jealous.”

Just as Rio was about to fire back, the energy in the room changed. It was subtle at first—a flicker of awareness that spread like a current through the crowd. Conversations faltered, laughter tapered off into hushed whispers, and almost every head turned toward the entrance in unison. Rio didn’t even have to look to know who had just walked in.

Agatha Harkness had entered the room.

Rio’s heart skipped a beat, her pulse pounding in her ears as she slowly turned, bracing herself for the sight. And there she was—Agatha, standing in the doorway like she owned the place. She wore a sleek, tailored black blazer that hugged her figure, the kind of outfit that was simple but screamed power . Her dark hair was swept back, revealing the sharp, elegant lines of her face. Her expression was unreadable, but there was an air of command about her, as if she didn’t need to say a word to make everyone pay attention.

It felt like the entire room collectively held its breath as Agatha stepped inside. Her gaze moved slowly, taking in the faces before her, assessing, calculating. When her eyes finally landed on Rio, there was a flicker—something that could have been recognition, amusement, or maybe even interest. Whatever it was, it shot through Rio like a bolt of electricity, leaving her momentarily breathless.

Agatha’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, and it took Rio a second too long to realize she’d been staring. She tore her eyes away, feeling a blush creep up her neck, betraying her nerves.

Wanda’s voice cut through the tension, low and teasing, like she’d been waiting for this moment. “Better get used to that, babe,” she murmured, her tone almost a purr. “You’re gonna spend a lot of time pretending you’re still in love with her.”

Rio cleared her throat, suddenly aware of how dry her mouth had gone.

The quiet buzz in the room was replaced by the sound of the casting director clapping his hands, calling everyone’s attention. “All right, everyone, let’s get started! Take your seats, please.”

Rio made her way to her spot at the table, the script in her hands feeling like a weight she wasn’t quite prepared for. She couldn’t help herself—her eyes drifted back to Agatha, who had taken a seat across the room. Even from this distance, Rio felt the magnetic pull of her presence, like gravity itself had shifted. This was it—the moment she’d been both dreading and hoping for.

And from the look Agatha had just given her, Rio knew she wasn’t the only one feeling it.

Chapter Text

As the room dispersed, Agatha lingered in her seat, fingers still clutching the script, though she’d stopped reading from it long ago. Her lines had flowed easily—automatic, like breathing. She was used to that by now. What she wasn’t used to, what lingered like a buzz in her veins, was Rio.

Agatha had expected a table read like any other, hadn’t put much stock into the hype surrounding Rio Vidal. Hollywood loved its new flavors of the month. But today, she’d found herself leaning in, heart stuttering in her chest as Rio’s voice wrapped around each line with raw, magnetic energy. It wasn’t just acting; it was something visceral, a live current sparking between them, undeniable and unsettling.

We have such good chemistry, she realized, the thought landing heavy in her gut.

Her gaze flicked across the room, landing on Rio, who stood a few feet away, laughing with her assistant. The woman looked effortlessly disarming—jeans slung low on her hips, a white tank peeking out from beneath a loose, striped blue shirt. Her dark hair framed her face in soft waves, accentuating the sharp intensity of her eyes. They were darker than Agatha remembered from pictures and billboards, and they were pulling her in like a riptide. The attraction hit her suddenly, a sharp, uninvited pulse that left her breathless.

Agatha clenched her jaw, the taste of panic metallic on her tongue. It’s just the role, she told herself firmly, even as the memory of Rio’s eyes locking onto hers replayed in her mind, unwavering and unguarded. The girl looked at her like she could see every crack in her façade, like she knew what Agatha was feeling before she’d even admitted it to herself.

It left her exposed, naked in a way she hadn’t felt in years. And she hated it.

As if sensing the weight of Agatha’s stare, Rio turned her head, locking eyes with her from across the room. It was instant, electric—a charged staring contest that felt far too intimate for the middle of a crowded space. The air between them buzzed, crackling with an unspoken challenge, like they were stripping each other bare with their eyes.

Rio’s expression shifted, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. It was a challenge, a dare, as if she was asking, Do you feel it too?

The connection held, stretching out in a way that defied time—seconds, hours, it didn’t matter. The room around them faded to nothing, leaving only the two of them suspended in this charged moment. Agatha knew she should look away, break the spell, shatter the moment before it consumed her completely. But she couldn’t look away. She was trapped by the intensity in Rio’s gaze, the heat curling low in her belly, unfamiliar and unwelcome, yet it terrified her how badly she wanted to keep looking.

The spell fractured when Jen, Agatha’s assistant, touched her arm lightly. Agatha jolted, like she’d been shocked back into reality, a dream interrupted too soon. The touch felt like ice against her overheated skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth still coiling in her chest. For a split second, she couldn’t remember where she was. The world around her blurred and spun back into focus, the voices and laughter of the room crashing over her like a sudden wave. The hum of conversation, the clinking of coffee cups, the shuffle of papers—it all felt so mundane, so normal, and so completely out of sync with the storm swirling inside her.

She blinked hard, trying to shake off the disorientation. Her pulse was still racing, the heat of Rio’s gaze lingering on her skin like a brand, searing and unrelenting even after she looked away. Agatha pressed her fingers to her cheek, as if she could wipe away the imprint of those dark, knowing eyes. But it didn’t matter; the feeling was still there—an unshakable certainty that Rio had seen her, really seen her, in a way no one else ever had.

"Agatha?" Jen’s voice cut through the chaos. But Agatha couldn’t respond right away, the words were caught in her throat, stuck somewhere between confusion and something darker.

Her eyes flickered back to Rio, who was laughing now, her eyes alight as she leaned into Wanda’s words, lips curling into that effortless smile Agatha found infuriatingly captivating. It wasn’t just the smile, though—it was the way Wanda’s hand lingered on Rio’s arm, fingers grazing like they belonged there, a touch that seemed a little too familiar, a little too intimate. And the way Rio tilted her head closer, leaning in just a fraction too much, as if she were savoring the attention.

A sharp pang hit Agatha’s chest, her breath snagging on the unexpected feeling coiling in her gut. It wasn’t just surprise—it was something far uglier. Jealousy. The realization slammed into her, sudden and disorienting, like a slap across the face. She hadn’t felt this exposed, this vulnerable, in years. What the hell? Agatha thought, the question ricocheting through her mind. Why does this bother me so much?

She rolled her eyes, a reflexive defense mechanism, as though dismissing the ache in her chest as nothing more than annoyance. She watched them for a beat longer, Rio’s laughter echoing in her ears, sharp as a needle prick. It grated on her, like salt in a fresh wound. With a sharp inhale, she tore her gaze away, turning back to Jen, forcing her lips into a tight, brittle smile.

"Agatha?" Jen repeated, her voice more insistent now.

Agatha blinked, snapping back to reality. “Yes?” The word came out sharper than she’d intended, slicing through the air like a knife. The irritation bled through, raw and unfiltered, betraying just how rattled she felt.

Jen raised an eyebrow but chose not to comment, simply nodding toward the door. “I was just saying, your car’s already waiting outside.”

Agatha barely registered the words, her mind still tangled in the lingering heat of Rio’s gaze. She forced herself to snap back to reality, clinging to Jen’s voice like a lifeline, desperate for any semblance of normalcy. The distractions of the room, the laughter, the chaotic buzz of chatter—it all blurred into the background as she zeroed in on her assistant.

“Agatha,” Jen repeated, pulling the brunette from the spiral of her thoughts. “Your driver’s outside already. You know, the one you pay to wait around for you for hours, even though you could just take a cab like a normal person.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, her expression smoothing into its usual mask of dry amusement. “Normal people don’t have assistants to call cars for them, Kale,” she shot back, standing up and grabbing her bag with a dramatic sigh.

“What’s going on with you today?” Jen’s voice softened, her gaze narrowing with genuine concern. “I’ve never seen you this... off.”

Agatha froze, her fingers curling tighter around the handle of her bag. The urge to snap back, to deflect with a sharp remark, fizzled out under Jen’s knowing look. Jen wasn’t just her assistant—she was someone who’d seen the cracks beneath the polished exterior, who could read the shifts in Agatha’s mood.

“I’m fine,” she said, the words coming out too quickly, too defensive. “Just tired.”

Jen didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push. Instead, she gave a small shrug, stepping towards the door with a glance back. “Alright, but you should try to get some rest. It’s not like you to be this distracted.”

As Jen turned away, Agatha’s gaze darted involuntarily to the spot where Rio had stood moments ago. She could still feel the lingering charge, the way Rio’s eyes had seemed to pierce right through her. It rattled her, and she hated it.

Focus, she thought, forcing herself to let go of the thoughts spiraling out of control. With a final look at the table read script, Agatha headed for the door, her steps brisk and deliberate.

As Agatha and Jen made their way toward the door, the noise of the studio faded behind them, the hum of voices and laughter turning into a distant murmur. Agatha was just beginning to feel a semblance of control return when she heard it—a voice calling her name, clear and confident.

“Agatha!”

She turned, her expression hardening instinctively, only to find Rio standing there. The younger woman flashed a smile—one that could have easily passed as innocent, but Agatha knew better, the woman knew exactly what she was doing.

“Hey, Agatha. Do you have a minute?” Rio asked, her voice low and smooth. There was an unspoken suggestion in the way she said it, something that sent a pulse of heat through Agatha’s veins, despite her best efforts to ignore it.

Jen, who had been trailing just behind, glanced between them, one eyebrow arched in a knowing expression. “I’ll wait in the car,” she said, her tone laced with amusement. “Don’t take too long, Agatha. You’ve got dinner plans, remember?”

Agatha shot her a sharp look, a silent command to keep her comments to herself, but Jen was already walking away, leaving the two of them alone in the hallway.

With a slow, measured breath, Agatha turned back to Rio, forcing her features into their usual mask of cool indifference. “Sure,” she said curtly. “Go ahead.”

Rio stepped closer, her movements unhurried, as if she were testing the waters, seeing how far she could push without actually crossing the line. She wasn’t quite in Agatha’s personal space, but she was close enough to make her feel cornered. “I just thought we should introduce ourselves properly,” Rio said, her dark eyes locked on Agatha’s. “Since we’re going to be working together so closely. And I was thinking… we should start building our characters’ backstory. The whole ‘former lovers turned partners in crime’ thing? It needs to feel authentic.”

Agatha felt a tightness in her chest, a reaction she hadn’t prepared for. She took a deliberate step back, trying to regain her footing. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time to ‘get to know me’ once we start shooting,” she replied, keeping her tone as icy as she could manage, as if the idea didn’t make her want to squirm.

Rio’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile, her gaze steady and unsettlingly intense. “Sure,” she said lightly, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes that Agatha couldn’t ignore. “But I’m not talking about just the set. This is going to be a long shoot, Agatha. We’re going to have to spend a lot of time together, especially with the kind of history these characters share.”

Agatha’s jaw clenched. She forced herself to hold Rio’s gaze, and with her iciest tone said, “I don’t mix business with… whatever that is.”

If her cold reception bothered Rio, she didn’t show it. In fact, her smile only widened, as though she’d expected this exact reaction. “Fair enough,” Rio said, not missing a beat. She pulled her business card from her pocket, before holding it out to Agatha. “But just in case you change your mind… Here's my number. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

For a moment, Agatha hesitated, her eyes flicking from Rio’s outstretched hand to her face. It was a calculated risk, she realized, to take the phone, to let this become something more than a professional exchange. But the challenge in Rio’s eyes made it impossible to back down. Agatha took the phone, her fingers brushing against Rio’s for the briefest second, and it felt like a spark igniting a fuse—hot, electric, impossible to ignore.

She shoved the card inside of her bag quickly, “I’ll... think about it.”

Rio’s grin was wide and satisfied, like she’d won a round Agatha hadn’t even realized she was playing. She lingered for a beat longer, her eyes never leaving Agatha’s, before she stepped back, giving her space to leave.

Agatha didn’t say another word, turning on her heel and striding down the hall without looking back. But as she walked, her pulse thrumming in her ears, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Rio was still watching her, like a shadow she couldn’t outrun. And the worst part was, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to.

Agatha approached the car, her steps brisk, masking the unease that lingered from her exchange with Rio. Jen was already waiting, leaning against the passenger side door with a grin that suggested she hadn’t missed a thing.

“So,” Jen said as Agatha slid into the back seat, shutting the door with a firm click. “What did she want?”

“Nothing,” Agatha replied, her voice clipped. She focused on buckling her seatbelt, avoiding Jen’s gaze. “Just to give me her number. For rehearsals.”

Jen snorted, throwing a glance over her shoulder as she settled into the driver’s seat. “I’d take her number,” she murmured under her breath, the suggestive lilt unmistakable.

Agatha shot her a pointed look, narrowing her eyes, yet immediately turned her head away, gazing out of the window as the city lights blurred past. She needed the distraction, any excuse not to linger on the teasing or what it might imply.

But it was impossible to silence her own mind.

She sat back, fingers absently tracing the seam of her coat, grounding herself in the familiar texture. Outside, the skyline flickered in a cascade of light and shadow, but she barely registered it. Her thoughts were caught, replaying the look in Rio’s eyes, the casual confidence in her voice. It had been a simple gesture—a number exchanged, a promise of rehearsals—but it felt like something more. And that more was a problem she didn’t want to unpack.

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to breathe, to push away the intrusive thoughts, but they refused to be dismissed so easily. Especially as the car rolled closer to where she was headed next.

Home.

The word used to mean something to Agatha, but lately, it felt hollow, like an empty shell of a life she’d outgrown. The thought of returning to the sprawling mansion she shared with Ralph felt suffocating, like a weight pressing on her chest. She could already picture it: Ralph’s forced smile, the silence that stretched between them. Once, it had been tolerable. She’d managed to coexist, to play the part, even convincing herself at times that this was what she wanted. But now, it felt unbearable.

She loved Nicky, of course. He was the one anchor keeping her tied to that life, the one bright spot in the otherwise gray existence that had become her marriage. But as the years went by, what once felt like a strategic decision—a necessary compromise for her career, for her family—had become a prison she didn’t know how to break free from. And with every passing day, Ralph had morphed into something more sinister: a constant reminder of her own powerlessness. He wasn’t just her husband anymore; he was an obstacle. An obstacle to her freedom, to her chance at something resembling happiness.

The driver turned the corner onto their street, and Agatha’s stomach tightened. And as the car slowed to a stop, Agatha hesitated, her hand resting on the door handle. For a moment, she considered staying in the car, just for a little while longer. She imagined telling the driver to take her anywhere else. A quiet bar, a hotel, even just a drive around the city until the sky turned from dusk to night. Anywhere but here. The fantasy was fleeting but tempting, like a wisp of smoke curling through her thoughts. It would be so easy to escape, if only for a little while.

But she had responsibilities and obligations she couldn’t outrun. Nicky was inside, and the longer she stayed away, the harder it would be to explain her absence. The guilt twisted alongside the dread, sinking deeper into her chest.

With a resigned sigh, she pushed the door open and stepped out, her heels clicking against the pavement as she made her way up to the front door, the familiar weight of dread settling into her bones.

Before she could even reach for the handle, the door swung open. Ralph stood there, his silhouette backlit by the warm glow from inside. He wore that smirk, the one she’d grown to despise—the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes but still managed to look pleasant to anyone who didn’t know better.

“Home at last,” he said, his voice smooth, laced with a condescension that made Agatha’s skin crawl.

She didn’t reply, didn’t trust herself to speak without something bitter slipping out. Instead, she brushed past him, stepping into the foyer. The evening awaited her, as predictable and exhausting as the last. Dinner would be polite but strained, filled with small talk she had no energy for. She’d plaster on a smile for Nicky’s sake, all while feeling the heavy gaze of Ralph, watching her, always watching.

Agatha let out a slow, controlled breath, her back to Ralph as she unbuttoned her coat. It was just another evening, another role to play. But for the first time in a long while, she found herself wondering how many more times she could bear to walk through that door before something finally snapped.

Later that evening, Agatha sat by the window in the quiet of her expansive living room, a glass of red wine sitting idly in her hand, her fingers absently swirling the liquid as she stared out at the moon. Its pale light seemed to reflect her mood, distant and cold yet strangely comforting in its solitude.

But her thoughts weren’t on the wine or the view. They kept drifting back, unbidden, to the events of the day. More specifically, to one person.

Rio.

Agatha’s fingers trailed over the edge of the small card lying on the table beside her, as if the simple touch could conjure the sensation of Rio’s hand slipping it into her own. That playful, almost teasing smile flashed across her mind, and she could feel her heartbeat quicken, a frustrating response she couldn’t quite control. She lifted the card again, staring at the digits printed neatly in black ink, letting it slip through her fingers before setting it back down.

Her instinct had been to dismiss the gesture—of course, Rio was just being professional, right? They were co-stars, set to play lovers. Building chemistry was part of the job. And yet… the way Rio had looked at her today, the way those dark eyes seemed to see through every carefully constructed wall Agatha had built, made her doubt it was just about the roles. There was a spark there, one she hadn’t felt in years.

She shifted in her seat, glancing at her phone lying face-down on the table. Her fingers itched to reach for it, to type out a message. What would it hurt? After all, they were co-stars now. It was only natural to discuss the script, the characters, the backstory of their roles. Just a conversation, nothing more.

But no.

Agatha took a deep breath, setting the card back down on the table with more force than necessary. She wasn’t going to indulge in whatever strange pull Rio had on her. It was just a flirtation—one of many Rio probably tossed out with ease. Agatha had seen it before, the way younger women like Rio carried themselves, bold and unafraid, completely unapologetic about their charms.

But Agatha wasn’t that young anymore. She wasn’t looking for games. She didn’t need anyone’s attention to feel validated. She had her career. Rio was just a distraction, something she didn’t have the time or the energy to entertain. She told herself this, over and over, as if repetition could make it true.

And yet, as the minutes ticked by, she couldn’t shake the image of Rio standing across from her, that warm, mischievous, and strangely disarming smile wouldn’t leave her mind. She found herself thinking about the way Rio’s eyes held hers, how easily it had been to forget everything around her in that moment, to feel like there was nothing but the two of them in the room.

Before she knew it, Agatha’s fingers had already closed around her phone. The glow of the screen lit up her face, casting shadows across the deep lines etched by years of restrained emotion. She stared at the blank message, her fingers hovering over the keys, caught in a moment of indecision.

It would be so easy to ignore it, to put the phone down and let the moment pass. To avoid the inevitable mess that was already beginning to brew between her and Rio. But something in her—a curiosity she hadn’t felt in years, a yearning for something beyond the cold, predictable rhythm of her life—pulled her forward.

Let’s work together.

The words were simple, safe. A way to keep things under control, to stay within the bounds of professionalism. She pressed send before she could change her mind. But the moment the message was delivered, the weight of the phone in her hand felt heavier, like a door that had just been opened—one she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to walk through.

Agatha powered down the phone, the screen going black as the device fell silent in her hand. She didn’t want to see the message go unread, didn’t want to hear the ping of a reply that would shatter the fragile calm she was clinging to. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, the cool leather pressing against her spine as she turned her gaze back to the moon outside the window.

But even as she tried to will the feeling away, the sensation of Rio’s gaze—intense, all-consuming—lingered. Agatha knew she couldn’t undo it now. Whatever came next, she’d have to face it.

But not tonight.

Tonight, she’d make herself push the thoughts of Rio’s eyes and that teasing smile to the back of her mind.

Chapter Text

“Let’s work together.”

The text message was simple, straightforward. But the more Rio read it and re-read it, the more her mind overanalyzed it. It wasn’t a simple text to her, it was a crack in the carefully constructed wall Agatha Harkness had built around herself. It wasn’t much, but it was a step forward, however small.

Maybe this was just a professional reach-out, a co-star suggesting they dig deeper into their roles. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the first glimpse of something Rio had sensed all along, a tiny flicker of curiosity that Agatha couldn’t quite suppress. Just like her.

She typed her reply quickly, before she could second-guess herself. Great!! When do we start?

And then, silence.

She sat back, feeling the hum of anticipation fade as the seconds ticked by. The screen of her phone went dark, leaving her staring into the night. Seconds bled into minutes, long enough for doubt to creep in, threading through her initial excitement. Maybe Agatha had already regretted it. Maybe she’d had second thoughts the moment her message left her phone, realizing the implication, the potential mess of whatever this might turn into.

Needing a distraction, she stepped outside onto her patio, the night air cool against her skin. She pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with ease. The smoke filled her lungs, pulling her away from her spiraling thoughts. She leaned on the railing, tilting her head back to gaze at the moon.

The beach below was awash in silver moonlight, and she imagined Agatha seeing the same moon, miles away across the city. The thought shouldn’t have felt so intimate, but it did. Rio smirked, exhaling a plume of smoke that curled into the night sky, as if it could drift across the miles separating them. Despite everything, they were both under the same sky tonight. There was a certain beauty to it.

She took another drag, the bitter taste grounding her, a sharp contrast to the flutter of nerves still coiling in her chest. It was stupid, this restless feeling, this anticipation she couldn’t quite shake off. Rio knew herself—she wasn’t the type to get hung up on a single text. And yet, here she was, standing outside in the middle of the night, waiting for a reply.

She smoked the cigarette down to the filter, savoring the bitter bite before dropping it to the ground and crushing it under her heel. Stepping back inside, she glanced around her empty living room. It felt quieter tonight, emptier. She’d come out, she’d stepped into the spotlight as her true self, and yet she still ended up alone in moments like this—waiting for a reply, hoping for something more.

Pathetic , she thought with a wry smile.

Climbing into bed, she pulled the covers up to her chin, but sleep felt like a distant hope. She lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment she’d read Agatha’s message, the tiny thrill of it. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the start of something.

But what was that old saying? Be careful what you wish for.

With a huff, she rolled over, burying her face in the pillow. It was pointless, even if the room was quiet, the noise in her head was deafening. She knew she’d be up for a while, caught in the throes of anticipation, waiting for a reply that might not come until morning. Still, despite the frustration and the uncertainty, Rio couldn’t help but smile.

Whatever happened, she had no doubt it was going to be a wild ride.

The next morning, Rio woke up to the buzz of her phone on the nightstand. She groggily reached over to grab it, still half-asleep. The screen’s brightness made her squint, but she could make out the message clearly enough.

What do you have in mind?

It was Agatha’s reply. Simple. Direct. And, for some reason, Rio felt a flush of relief. Agatha had taken the bait, and now it was time to reel her in.

Rio felt a grin spread across her face, one she couldn’t quite suppress. The early morning light filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across her bed. She rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling for a moment, letting herself bask in the tiny victory before she responded.

She typed out a quick, teasing reply:

A bit of an early bird, are you?

Her thumb hovered over the send button as she considered her next move. She couldn’t just leave it at that. No, this was her chance to push the boundary a little further, to see if Agatha was willing to step into her world—if only for a morning.

How about this: she typed. Come over to my place. I’ll make some coffee, we’ll go over the details. Brainstorm together. Sound good?

Rio hit send before she could talk herself out of it. Then, just as quickly, she set the phone down and went about her morning routine, pretending to be calm, pretending to be cool.

But she wasn’t.

Not at all.

She went through the motions—showered, brushed her teeth, made a quick breakfast—but she couldn’t shake the buzz of anticipation humming beneath her skin. Her phone sat on the kitchen counter, silent, and with every passing minute, the silence grew louder, her nerves fraying just a bit more.

The phone buzzed again, and Rio almost spilled her coffee in her rush to grab it.

Sounds good. I’ll be over at 2.

Rio stared at the screen, blinking as if the words might change if she looked long enough. 2 PM. Agatha. At my place. She read the message once more, feeling the flutter of excitement morph into something heavier—nerves, anticipation, a hint of panic. This wasn’t just a rehearsal anymore; this was Agatha Harkness stepping into her space.

Her fingers moved quickly as she typed out her address, arranging the details, feeling her heart give a strange little flip in her chest. It felt like she was gearing up for a high-stakes meeting rather than a casual meeting with a colleague. And maybe she was. Because she could already picture Agatha: walking in with that confident stride, those sharp, assessing eyes that missed nothing. It was a power move, coming to Rio’s place like this. And Rio couldn’t decide if she was more thrilled or terrified.

She closed the chat and set her phone down, pacing the room. Her gaze flicked to the fridge, where a row of wine bottles lined the shelf. For a moment, she considered it—just a glass, to take the edge off. No. Not now. You’ve got to focus. But what am I supposed to do when she gets here?

Her thoughts spiraled, bouncing between excitement and uncertainty, a million scenarios playing out in her mind. With a frustrated sigh, she grabbed a bottle of water, twisting off the cap and downing half of it before setting it aside. She needed to burn off this restless energy, or she’d end up making a fool of herself the moment Agatha walked through the door.

Throwing on a pair of running shoes, she headed out toward the beach. The morning air was brisk, the waves crashing against the shore in a soothing, rhythmic hum. Rio took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the salty air, and started to run.

But no matter how far she went, she couldn’t outrun the thought that kept circling back.

In just a few hours, Agatha Harkness was going to be standing in her living room.

And Rio had never felt less prepared in her life.

After her run, Rio darted into the shower, letting the cold water wash away the lingering heat—both from her workout and the restless energy she couldn’t seem to shake. Stepping out, she ran a towel through her damp hair, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her skin glowing; she looked as good as she felt now, a reminder of why a good run always left her buzzing.

She slipped into an oversized shirt that skimmed just above her thighs and a pair of jean shorts that clung to her in all the right places. Casual, but sexy—effortless. It was the kind of look that said she wasn’t trying too hard, but knew exactly the effect she’d have. The thought sent a jolt of confidence through her, momentarily silencing the nerves fluttering in her chest. Today, she wasn’t going to hold back. She knew the power she had when she looked like this, and she was ready to use it.

With a glance at her watch, she decided she still had some time to get a quick bite, so she ventured into the kitchen in order to make herself a sandwich, as well as kill some time. After eating, she busied herself tidying up—straightening the stack of magazines on the coffee table, tossing the throw blanket into a basket, smoothing down the cushions on the couch. It felt ridiculous, this sudden need to impress, but she couldn’t stop herself.

The clock on the wall ticked closer to 2 PM, and the anticipation wound tighter. She set a pot of coffee brewing, inhaling the rich, comforting aroma as it filled the room. It was a small thing, but it helped ground her, pulling her focus back to the moment instead of the million scenarios playing out in her head.

Her eyes flicked to the clock again. 1:55.

Almost time. The apartment was spotless, the coffee was ready, and she was as put together as she could get. Now, all she could do was wait.

The sound of a car door closing broke through her reverie and Rio took a deep, steadying breath. Fucking showtime.

She walked to the front door and pulled it open, only to find herself momentarily speechless. Agatha Harkness stood there, dressed in a crisp white button-up tucked neatly into tailored white pants— a stark contrast to the long, dark hair that cascaded down her shoulders. And those damn sunglasses made her look like she’d just stepped off a movie set.

Rio couldn’t help but stare, letting her gaze trail slowly up from Agatha’s feet all the way up to her face. But as soon as their eyes met, she could tell Agatha had been doing the same, even behind her lenses. The tiniest smirk tugged at Rio’s lips.

“You clean up nice,” she quipped, leaning casually against the doorframe, feeling more in control now.

Agatha’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile ghosting over her face before she cleared her throat and turned her head slightly. She slid the sunglasses off, pushing them up onto her head, and finally met Rio’s eyes head-on—this time, with nothing in the way.

“Well?” Agatha arched an eyebrow, the barest hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Are you going to invite me in, or do you plan on keeping me out on your porch all day?”

With a mocking curtsy and a playful chuckle, Rio grinned. “Do come in, m’lady.”

Agatha rolled her eyes to hide the smile she was fighting and stepped inside the house. Her gaze swept across the room, lingering on the green velvet couch with its matching cushions, the assortment of plants spilling from pots in every corner, and the large windows framing a breathtaking view of the ocean. The place felt vibrant, alive—very much like Rio.

“So, this is what your place looks like,” Agatha murmured, more to herself than to Rio. At Rio’s confused expression she added, “I take it you like greenery.”

“What? Oh, the plants?” Rio followed Agatha’s gaze and gave a small smile. “Yeah, I guess you could say I have a bit of a green thumb. They’re easier to keep alive than people, anyway.”

There was a moment of silence, a beat that stretched just a little too long, before Rio gestured toward the couch. “Coffee?”

Agatha nodded, sinking gracefully into the plush cushions. She didn’t say anything at first, just leaned back and let her eyes wander, taking in the space with a casual curiosity. But Rio could feel the weight of her gaze, as if Agatha was peeling back the layers of her life, dissecting everything she saw. The scrutiny made Rio’s pulse quicken in a way she wasn’t used to.

She moved toward the kitchen, aware of Agatha’s eyes tracking her every step. It felt like she was on stage, and for once, she wasn’t entirely sure she was the one in control.

A moment later, Rio returned with two steaming mugs of coffee. She set one down in front of Agatha, careful not to spill a drop, and then settled on the opposite end of the couch.

Agatha picked up the mug, wrapping her fingers around it, and met Rio’s eyes over the rim. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice lower now, more intimate.

“Anytime,” Rio replied, and she meant it. She held Agatha’s gaze a beat too long before finally glancing away, taking a sip of her coffee in an attempt to ground herself.

But the taste of it couldn’t drown out the way her heart raced, the way the air felt charged with something electric and new.

Needing to cut through the charged atmosphere, Agatha leaned forward, clearing her throat. “So…” she began, forcing a casual tone. “You wanted to talk about our characters?”

“Yes, well…” Rio faltered for a moment, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. “I thought, given their long and complicated history, it might be helpful for us to create some tension between us. You know, to help us understand them better.”

Agatha’s brow lifted slightly. “What exactly do you mean by ‘create some tension’? ”

Rio grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, you know… we could just make out.”

Agatha’s eyes widened, caught off guard. The expression was fleeting but so rare that Rio couldn’t help herself—she burst out laughing.

“No, no,” Rio wheezed between laughs. “I’m kidding! I meant we could dive into their backstory, give it more depth. You know, normal co-star stuff.”

Agatha let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, a flush creeping up her neck despite herself. She looked anywhere but at Rio, desperate to hide the flicker of embarrassment (or was it something else?) from her face.

“Agatha,” Rio’s voice softened, and when she placed a hand on Agatha’s knee, it was both grounding and electric. The contact sent a small jolt through both of them, the air thickening all of a sudden.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” Rio asked, her gaze sincere now, all teasing gone.

Agatha met her eyes, and for a second, she seemed almost… touched by the concern. “No,” she replied, clearing her throat again, this time a bit shakier. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” She tried for a dismissive smirk but failed to hide the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “What did you have in mind, then?”

Rio’s fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary before she finally pulled back, her touch leaving a trail of warmth on Agatha’s knee. “Let’s start from the beginning,” she suggested, her voice taking on a more serious, intimate tone. “How did our characters fall in love the first time?”

Agatha leaned back, crossing one leg over the other as she considered it. “Well,” she began slowly, “we agreed that Cat was new to the FBI, still a rookie, right?”

Rio nodded, her eyes bright with excitement. “Right. Fresh, eager to prove herself, and she gets assigned to this high-stakes training program. That’s where she meets Agnes—your character—a seasoned agent brought in as a guest instructor.”

The corner of Agatha’s mouth twitched in a half-smile. “I can already picture it. Agnes, all business, no nonsense. And Cat, this wide-eyed, overachieving recruit. A bit of a teacher’s pet, wouldn’t you say?”

Rio grinned. “Oh, definitely. But she’s not just some naïve rookie—she’s bold. She goes after what she wants and she doesn’t back down easily.”

“And Agnes tries to resist,” Agatha added, her expression hardening slightly as she slipped into character. “She knows it’s inappropriate, knows she has more to lose. But she can’t help it. Cat’s confidence, her fearlessness… it’s intoxicating.”

They fell into an easy rhythm, bouncing ideas off each other as they fleshed out the details. Time slipped by unnoticed, and before they knew it, the coffee mugs had been replaced with glasses of wine. Their laughter filled the room, light and easy in between moments of intense brainstorming.

“Secret meetings,” Rio said, her voice lowering into something almost like a purr from the wine. “Whispered conversations in the hallways, stolen kisses behind closed doors.” She leaned forward, a teasing glint in her eye. “It’s brief, but intense. The kind of affair that leaves a mark.”

Agatha’s face grew more serious, and she nodded slowly. “But then Agnes ends it, abruptly. She gets scared—of risking her career, her reputation. She pulls away before it can get any deeper, leaves Cat hurt and blindsided.”

The room went quiet for a moment as they both absorbed the weight of the story they were creating, the unresolved tension of their characters mirroring in a way the heavy tension currently palpable in the air.

Rio broke the silence first. “So, now they meet again, years later. Cat’s not a rookie anymore; she’s made a name for herself. She’s confident, in control. But those old feelings? They’re still there. And so is the heartbreak.”

Agatha’s gaze softened, a flicker of something raw and unguarded passing through her eyes—like she was feeling the echoes of Agnes’ regret herself. “And Agnes,” Agatha said quietly, “she’s haunted by it. She knows she made a mistake, but she’s spent years convincing herself it was the right call.”

Rio held Agatha’s gaze a beat too long, her breath hitching slightly as she realized she wasn’t sure if they were still talking about their characters. “It’s going to be explosive when they finally confront it.” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Agatha nodded, a slow, almost imperceptible movement. “Yeah,” she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Explosive.”

They stared at each other for a beat that lasted just a little too long; and Agatha would never admit it, but she realized she’d genuinely enjoyed herself with Rio tonight. Drinking wine, making easy conversation, slipping into a rhythm that felt almost… natural. It had been a long time since she’d felt this at ease, this unguarded.

The realization unsettled her, so she cleared her throat and broke the silence first. “I think it’s time for me to leave,” she said, though her voice sounded almost rehearsed. “It’s getting late.”

Rio glanced outside. The sun had dipped below the horizon, but the sky still held a soft, dusky glow. It wasn’t really that late. What was Agatha running from?

“Sure,” Rio said lightly, pushing herself up off the couch. “I’ll walk you out.”

They both stood up at the same time, and before either of them could react, Agatha’s half-full glass of wine tipped forward, splashing right onto her pristine white shirt.

“Shit,” they echoed together, eyes snapping down to Agatha’s now stained shirt, which now sported a deep red splash of wine. Agatha let out a breath, half-exasperated, half-amused.

“God, Agatha, I’m so sorry,” Rio blurted, stepping closer without thinking. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Agatha cut in, pinching the fabric between her fingers as she assessed the damage. “I’ve had worse spills on set.”

“Yeah, but this wasn’t exactly on set,” Rio pointed out, a guilty smile on her lips. “Look, let me get you something to change into.”

Agatha opened her mouth to protest, but then she seemed to hesitate, looking down at the soaked material again. She sighed. “Alright,” she conceded, sounding more resigned than anything. “But only because I can’t drive home like this.”

Rio grinned, her eyes lighting up with mischief. “I have just the thing,” she said, already making her way to the bedroom. “Wait here.”

Agatha watched her disappear down the hallway, feeling a strange mix of irritation and something else she couldn’t quite name but that definitely made her heart beat a little faster.

Rio returned moments later, holding out an oversized baby blue striped button-up. “This should fit you,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice. “It’s one of my favorites though, so don’t go stealing it.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, smirking as she took the shirt from Rio’s hand. Their fingers brushed, and the brief contact sent a jolt of electricity through her, making her swallow hard. “No promises,” she retorted, heading toward the bathroom.

When Agatha returned, now wearing Rio’s oversized button-up, Rio’s teasing smirk faltered for a split second. She visibly swallowed, eyes raking over Agatha with an intensity that could almost be felt. “I knew you’d look good in my shirt, but holy crap,”she murmured, her playful tone giving way to something deeper, more charged.

Agatha could feel the heat of Rio’s gaze, like a physical touch against her skin, leaving her exposed in a way she hadn’t felt in years. She was standing there, in Rio’s shirt, in Rio’s house, and for a moment it was all too much. Her pulse quickened, a flush rising to her cheeks and crawling up her neck. The weight of it all—the intimacy, the implications, the way Rio was looking at her like she was something to be devoured…

She could feel her cool exterior cracking as her heart pounded in her chest with emotions she hadn’t felt in a long time. Agatha felt her cheeks burn, the heat crawling up her neck as she struggled to regain her composure. For the first time in her life, Agatha Harkness didn’t know how to react.

So, she did the only thing she could think of: she ran.

Well, not quite ran, but she mumbled a hasty excuse and turned on her heel, heading straight for the door without daring to meet Rio’s eyes. By the time she reached her car and slid into the driver’s seat, her heart was pounding against her ribs like it wanted out, but she just slammed the door shut and sped off down the street without a second thought.

So yeah, it wasn’t exactly running, but it sure as hell felt like it.

Chapter Text

Rio arrived to set a little earlier than usual. It was purely a professional choice, she told herself—a chance to get settled, go over her lines, and ease into the rehearsal before the others showed up. But deep down, she knew she was lying. What she really wanted was to see Agatha before anyone else arrived.

She’d never admit it, but ever since Agatha’s hurried exit, Rio had been replaying every second of that moment—the look on Agatha’s face before she bolted, like she’d been caught off guard by something she couldn’t handle. Over the past couple of days, Rio had half-expected Agatha to say something, anything, but instead, she’d vanished for the entire weekend. Not even a text. She’d left without a word, leaving Rio standing there, feeling oddly exposed and a little bit... rejected.

Now, as Rio glanced toward the entrance every few minutes, it became painfully obvious: Agatha was avoiding her.

Before all this, Rio had been looking forward to rehearsing this scene, the first real moment where their characters clashed on screen, full of tension and unresolved history. Now, though, she couldn’t help but wonder if the tension wasn’t going to feel a little too real.

When the door finally creaked open, Rio’s head snapped up, her pulse jumping despite herself. But to her disappointment, it was only a production assistant, chatting into their headset while carrying a stack of folders.

She forced her eyes back down to the script, but the lines felt hollow, lacking the spark she’d felt when they’d first discussed the scene together.

Rio was still pretending to read when she heard the sound of heels clicking against the floor. Her gaze flicked up, and there she was—Agatha, slipping into the room like she hadn’t just been avoiding her all weekend.

Agatha’s expression was perfectly composed, her usual mask back in place. But Rio saw it—the briefest flash of something in her eyes when they met. It was only a moment, but it was enough. Enough for Rio to know she wasn’t imagining it, that whatever had happened the other night had rattled Agatha too.

Rio’s gaze was drawn to her like a magnet, and her lips parted to say something, but before she could get a word out, Jen stepped into her path wearing a forced, apologetic smile.

Rio blinked, her confusion melting into realization as she spotted what Jen was holding: the baby blue striped button-up, neatly folded and freshly laundered. “Um, she said to say thanks,” Jen murmured, her eyes darting briefly toward Agatha, who was pretending to be engrossed in her script, her eyes fixed a little too intently on the page.

For a split second, Rio’s jaw clenched. Agatha definitely had some nerve, sending her assistant to deliver the shirt like she could just pretend nothing ever happened and go back to ignoring her. Like they didn’t have to face each other and play former lovers in a heated scene in just a few minutes.

But Rio wasn’t about to take it out on the poor girl standing in front of her. So she took a deep breath, smoothed the irritation from her face, and flashed her most charming smile. “You know,” she said, taking the shirt from Jen’s outstretched hand, “you should tell her that if she wanted to give it back so badly, she could’ve just come to me herself. I wouldn’t have bitten... much.”

Jen snorted, her surprise giving way to a genuine laugh. “I’ll pass that along,” she said, clearly amused, her posture relaxing a bit. You could see it in her expression—how easily Rio’s charisma could disarm anyone, draw them in without effort.

“Thanks, Jen, is it? You’re a lifesaver,” Rio winked, her grin widening. “And let her know I’m always happy to lend her a shirt—if she ever needs another excuse to see me.”

Jen’s cheeks flushed a little, and she lingered, clearly trying to flirt back. “You’re funny,” she said, her voice a touch more playful. “You know, I wouldn’t mind running errands if it meant laughing at your jokes.”

But before Jen could say anything more, the sharp sound of Agatha clearing her throat cut through the room. “Jen,” Agatha called, her voice edged with impatience, “I need you.”

The flirtatious smile on Jen’s face faltered, and she quickly glanced back at Rio with an apologetic look. “I should get back,” she mumbled, stepping away reluctantly.

Rio watched her go, but her attention drifted back to Agatha, who still hadn’t looked up from her script. There was a tightness in her posture, a tension that hadn’t been there before. And Rio couldn’t help but smile to herself, the irritation melting away, replaced by a flicker of satisfaction.

Maybe she isn’t as unaffected as she wants me to believe, Rio thought, folding the shirt neatly over her arm and settling back into her seat.

When Jen made her way back to Agatha, she found her boss waiting with an irritated expression. Agatha’s eyes flicked up from her script, narrowed and sharp as they landed on Jen.

“Did you deliver it?” Agatha asked sharply.

“Yeah, I did,” Jen replied, completely unfazed by the frost in Agatha’s voice. By now, she was probably used to it. “You know, I gotta say—Rio’s even more charming in person. I wouldn’t mind running into her more often.”

Agatha’s fingers tightened around the script, the paper crinkling slightly under her grip. “Is that so?” she said, her voice icy enough to make Jen pause.

“Yeah, she even said—”

“That’s enough, Jen,” Agatha snapped, cutting her off. She took a breath, visibly trying to rein in her irritation. “I need you to go check on the costume department. Now.”

Jen blinked, caught off guard by the sudden dismissal. “Oh, um, sure,” she mumbled, hesitating for a moment before adding, almost as an afterthought, “Oh, and Rio said that if you wanted to give the shirt back so badly, you could’ve come to her yourself. She wouldn’t have bitten... much.”

Agatha’s composure faltered, her cheeks flushing a faint pink. She turned back to her script, feigning disinterest, but the way she bit down on her lower lip gave her away. “I see,” she muttered, pretending to study the lines on the page.

As Jen scurried off, Agatha was left alone with her thoughts. The room was suddenly too quiet and the air too thick. Her fingers clenched around the edges of her script, crumpling the paper under her grip. Clearly, Rio had been a little too friendly toward her assistant, and it made Agatha’s stomach twist with something sharp and unfamiliar. Jealousy? No, that was ridiculous. Why on earth would she be jealous?

She forced herself to scoff internally. It was absurd. This was just Rio being Rio, right? Charming, disarming, always toeing the line between playful and provocative. It wasn’t like Rio didn’t act that way towards her anyway. She did. Hell, she had even made that comment about not biting her much.

And God, that comment. A flicker of heat rose in Agatha’s chest, spreading up her neck as the words replayed in her mind. Without thinking, she bit down on her own lower lip, hard enough to cut through her haze of denial. For a split second, she allowed herself to wonder what it might feel like to have Rio’s teeth grazing her lip, tugging just enough to send a jolt of electricity through her.

The image was so vivid, so startling, that she bit down even harder, tasting the sharp tang of blood on her tongue. She hissed at the pain, her own body betraying her. Get a grip, Agatha, she scolded herself, her heart pounding like it wanted out of her chest.

She took a steadying breath, trying to shake off the flustered, disoriented feeling. This was nonsense—she wasn’t the kind of woman to get worked up over a passing flirtation. Especially not from someone like Rio Vidal, who probably flirted with half the crew before breakfast.

The set was dressed as a sleek, dimly lit office—Agnes’ domain, where their first encounter was supposed to take place. The director called out, “Let’s pick up from the top.” Both actresses nodded, settling into their positions, but neither could ignore the heaviness in the air.

Agatha stepped into her role effortlessly, slipping behind the desk with an air of authority. It was her safe place, hiding behind Agnes’ sharp edges when her own nerves felt frayed. She smoothed down the lapels of her blazer, her expression cool and unreadable.

The door swung open, and there was Cat. Rio sauntered in with that easy, confident stride, the energy in the room immediately shifting. Agatha’s heart skipped a beat despite herself. She could no longer pretend to be unaffected by the younger woman’s magnetic charm, but she forced herself to maintain her composure.

“Miss me much?” Rio delivered her line with a lazy smirk, her voice dripping with playful confidence.

Agnes’ eyes snapped up, narrowing as they met Cat’s, her voice sharp. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Cat grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe like she belonged there. “Nice to see you too, Agnes.”

Agatha couldn’t help the way her pulse quickened at the sound of Rio’s voice—smooth, teasing, dripping with a kind of intimacy that felt a little too real. She swallowed hard, pushing down the feeling. It’s just the scene, she reminded herself.

“Cut the crap,” Agnes snapped, standing up from her desk in one fluid motion. Her gaze flicked over Cat, like she was sizing up an enemy, or worse, a threat she couldn’t quite control. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m your new partner, baby.” Rio’s voice dropped lower, a hint of something dangerous curling around the words.

“They sent you ?” Agnes’ disbelief was genuine, the line blurring between character and actress for just a moment. Agatha’s eyes darkened as she stepped closer, closing the distance between them.

“I guess they know as well as you do that I’m the best now,” Cat replied, her voice laced with smug satisfaction. “Student surpassing the teacher and all that.”

Agnes scoffed, the sound sharp and dismissive. “Don’t worry, I’ll be professional about this,” Cat added with a grin that was more challenge than reassurance.

“Can you, though ? ” Agnes countered, her tone a mocking drawl. Her gaze lingered on Cat’s lips for half a beat too long before snapping back up to meet her eyes, daring her to respond.

Rio stepped closer, the script falling away as she let herself embody Cat fully, advancing on Agnes until they were almost chest-to-chest.

“Can you ?” Cat’s voice was a whisper now, her lips barely an inch from Agnes’. “You think I don’t see the way you still look at me?”

Agatha felt the heat of Rio’s body, the magnetic pull between them that was becoming impossible to ignore. Her breath hitched, her chest heaving as she struggled to maintain her composure. It’s the scene—it’s supposed to be this close, this intense. But God, it felt like more.

Agatha’s hands curled into fists at her sides, her knuckles turning white as she forced herself to stay in character. “This isn’t about us,” she managed, her voice hoarse, betraying her. “It’s another fucking job.”

“Bullshit,” Rio shot back, stepping even closer, their foreheads nearly touching. The air between them was electric. Agatha could feel Rio’s breath, warm and rapid against her lips, making her feel lightheaded. It was almost too much. Her own feelings bubbled up, bleeding into the scene despite her best efforts.

For a split second, the mask slipped, and she knew Rio saw it—the flash of real vulnerability before Agnes snapped back into place, stepping away with a rough exhale. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she spat, her voice trembling, eyes glassy.

“I see you’re still the same coward you were ten years ago.”

The line hit Agatha like a punch to the gut. She knew it was coming—she’d read the script a dozen times. But hearing it now, the words hit Agatha harder than she expected, and her own breath caught in her throat for a second before she regained composure.

“Cut!” the director called, sounding pleased. “Great work, both of you. That’s exactly the kind of tension we need.”

Agatha took a step back, blinking rapidly, trying to clear the haze clouding her mind. Her heart was racing, her body buzzing with adrenaline. She forced herself to look at Rio, who was already watching her intently.

“Wow,” Rio said quietly, her voice still husky, as if she hadn’t quite left the character behind. There was a rawness to her tone, an edge that hadn’t been there before. Her eyes searched Agatha’s face, looking for... something. An answer, maybe, or a sign that Agatha had felt it too.

Agatha nodded stiffly, not trusting herself to speak. Her pulse raced in her ears, drowning out any coherent thought. She could still feel the ghost of Rio’s breath against her lips, the way her skin had prickled where their bodies had almost touched. It was the role , she reminded herself again. Just the role.

But the way Rio was looking at her right now made her doubt that. Made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t the only one struggling to keep the line between fiction and reality intact.

The silence stretched on, heavy and loaded with unspoken words. Agatha’s gaze flicked to Rio’s lips for the briefest moment, a slip she couldn’t control. Rio’s eyes darkened slightly, a flicker of something unmistakable passing between them.

“You okay?” Rio asked, her voice softer now, almost tender. It was like she’d dropped all her defenses, exposing something vulnerable beneath that confident exterior.

“Fine,” Agatha managed, but her voice wavered. She forced a laugh that sounded hollow, trying to break the spell. “Just... in the moment, I suppose.”

Rio’s lips quirked up in a half-smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah,” she agreed, though there was a knowing edge to her voice. “Me too.”

Agatha’s breath hitched. It was such a simple response, but the way Rio said it made her feel seen—like Rio understood exactly what she was feeling and felt it too. It was terrifying yet exhilarating.

Agatha swallowed hard, forcing herself to break eye contact. She took another step back, needing to put some distance between them before she did something reckless, something she couldn’t take back.

“We should... get ready for the next scene,” she said, her tone clipped, betraying her nerves.

Rio hesitated, her expression softening as if she was about to say something more. But then she just nodded, her playful mask slipping back into place. “Right. Next scene.”

She turned away, leaving Agatha standing there, her pulse still racing, the ghost of Rio’s breath on her skin like a secret she wasn’t ready to admit.

Agatha was ready to bolt the second they wrapped up rehearsals. Her own anxiety clawed at her chest, threatening to suffocate her. Hours spent in close proximity to Rio had her on edge, emotions frayed beyond recognition. What the hell is happening to me? she thought, feeling a wild, almost primal urge to flee, to put as much distance between herself and Rio Vidal as humanly possible.

She managed a strained smile, mumbling a quick, “Good job today, everyone,” before turning on her heel, already plotting her escape route. If she hurried, she could make it to her car without any more awkward interactions, without risking another second of Rio’s intense gaze on her.

But she didn’t make it far.

Just as she was stepping away, a warm hand caught her wrist. Agatha froze, her breath hitching in her throat. There was only one person bold enough to touch her like this. Only one person who would dare.

“Agatha,” Rio’s voice was soft, almost pleading. It wasn’t the usual teasing lilt—this was different. “Please, I know things are... a bit weird right now, but can we talk?”

Agatha turned slowly, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might shatter her ribs. She looked down at Rio’s hand, still wrapped gently around her wrist, the touch sending a spark up her arm. When she finally met Rio’s eyes, the intensity there nearly knocked the wind out of her. There was no teasing smirk, no playful façade. Just an open, raw vulnerability that made Agatha’s throat tighten.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re fine!” Agatha replied, her voice unnaturally bright, too cheerful to be genuine.

“Agatha.” Rio’s tone turned firmer, like she was calling her bluff. “I don’t know if I did something to make you uncomfortable, but we both know you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I have not.” Agatha said, pulling her wrist back. But her words felt hollow even to her own ears.

Rio’s expression softened, a flicker of hurt crossing her face. “You wouldn’t even return my shirt yourself,” she said quietly.

“I was... busy. Studying my lines,” Agatha deflected, avoiding Rio’s gaze as if it burned.

Rio just looked at her, and maybe it was the pleading look in her eyes, or maybe it was something deeper, something Agatha wasn’t ready to name, but she felt her resolve crumble.

“Fine,” Agatha muttered, exhaling sharply. “We can talk, but not here.” Her eyes darted around the set, like the walls themselves had ears. “Come to my trailer.”

She didn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel and stalking off. But she felt it—the magnetic pull of Rio following behind her, the air between them charged with anticipation.

Agatha shut the door behind them, the click sounding louder than it should have in the small space of her trailer. She let out a shaky breath as she sank onto the small couch, trying to compose herself.

“As I already told you, we’re fine. I’m just a little nervous about this role, is all,” she said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Rio tilted her head, studying her intently. “Then why are you acting like this? Why did you run away from my house the other night?” Her voice was soft, probing. And then a flicker of realization crossed her features, her eyes widening. “Oh my god, Agatha... Are you homophobic?”

“What?!” Agatha’s voice cracked as she leapt to her feet, genuinely taken aback. “No, of course not.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” Rio pressed, her voice gentle but insistent. “All I did was flirt a little. I promise, it’s nothing personal,” she added, though she knew it wasn’t entirely true. What she felt for Agatha didn’t come close to what she felt for her other co-stars, even though she had a tendency to be flirty with most women. “It’s just the way I am.”

Of course it is, Agatha thought, feeling a pang of foolishness twist in her gut. Of course she’s just naturally flirty, and I’m here freaking out over nothing. God, how could I be so stupid?

“I…” Agatha faltered, struggling to find her words.

“Agatha.” Rio stepped closer, taking her hand in hers. The touch sent a shockwave through both of their bodies, goosebumps rippling across their skin. Rio’s expression softened, her eyes searching Agatha’s face. “I just want to be friends.”

The look in Rio’s eyes was so tender, so earnest, that Agatha felt like an absolute asshole for making this so difficult. She knew she hadn’t been acting professionally, and it needed to end—no matter how many butterflies Rio seemed to set loose in her stomach, no matter how confusing these feelings were becoming. She had to pull herself together.

“I can do that,” Agatha said, her voice steadier now. She forced a smile and squeezed Rio’s hand between both of hers, trying to appear reassuring. “Friends.”

They held each other’s gaze for a beat too long, the silence between them thick with unspoken words. Rio was the first to break it, her voice barely above a whisper. “Friends, then.” But the way she said it sounded like a goodbye, like something was being lost in that agreement. Agatha saw the flash of something raw in Rio’s eyes—pain, maybe—and it made her heart clench.

Rio gave a tiny shake of her head, as if trying to clear her thoughts. “Should we resume our meetings at my place, then? I think they’re working. Our scene today felt so... naturally charged.”

Agatha swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Rio’s words. Naturally charged. That was one way to put it. The electricity between them was impossible to ignore, but Agatha had to. She had to, for both their sakes.

“Yeah,” she managed, her voice barely more than a breath. “Let’s keep going with that.”

She forced herself to let go of Rio’s hand, but the sensation of her touch lingered, like an imprint she couldn’t shake. As they stood there, an unspoken understanding passed between them—this was dangerous territory, and they were both teetering on the edge.

Neither of them realized just how far they were about to fall.

Chapter Text

Two weeks slipped by, and Agatha and Rio had somehow managed to maintain their friendly dynamic. On the surface, it was casual and professional—two co-stars building trust, working on their roles. Beneath that, though, there was an undercurrent attraction neither could deny, and no matter how much they tried to bury it, it lingered in every glance that lasted too long, every laugh that came too easily.

Despite the tension, they respected what they believed were the other’s boundaries, keeping things light. The meetings at Rio’s house had become a regular occurrence, always in the evenings and always accompanied by a bottle of wine. They’d avoided the spicier scenes for now, instead diving into their characters’ shared history, inventing backstories that enriched what already was on the script and made the tension in between their characters grow.

Their conversations often drifted far beyond the script, though. Between sips of wine and laughter, they’d talk about their lives and their careers, the hours slipping by until it was late enough that Agatha would have to leave. Though Agatha wouldn’t admit it, she’d grown to look forward to these evenings. Rio, initially cautious about toning down her flirtatious nature, had started to relax, letting her playful charm come through once more.

But the nights Agatha spent at Rio’s house were only half the story. When she returned home, usually tipsy and far too late, the reality of her other life would hit her. Ralph wasn’t always there to greet her—his work as a producer kept him busy with meetings and late-night events of his own—but he’d noticed. And he definitely wasn’t pleased.

The arguments started small, sharp remarks muttered in passing. “Another late night?” he’d say, his tone dripping with disapproval. Or, “Should I be worried about your sudden social life?”

At first, Agatha brushed it off. Ralph’s opinions had long since ceased to matter to her. But as the nights went on, his frustration grew. One evening, he finally cornered her as she walked through the door.

“Where the hell have you been?” he demanded, his voice low but seething.

Agatha dropped her keys onto the table and shrugged. “Rehearsals,” she said casually, toeing off her shoes.

“Rehearsals,” Ralph repeated mockingly. “Do they always end with you coming home smelling like wine and half past midnight? What exactly are you rehearsing?”

Agatha turned to face him, arms crossed. “What’s your point, Ralph?”

“My point is that you’re out every other night, spending hours with some woman you clearly care more about than your own husband.”

She let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, please, Ralph. Don’t act like you’ve ever cared about my whereabouts. If I wanted to have fun for once, why does it bother you so much?”

“Fun?” His voice rose slightly, his composure cracking. “Don’t forget who made this life possible for you. I have a right to know what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with.”

Agatha felt a spark of anger ignite in her chest. “You have a right? You know as well as I do that this is a marriage of convenience. You don’t get to lecture me about where I go or who I spend my time with.”

Ralph opened his mouth to retort, but Agatha didn’t give him the chance. She grabbed her bag and stormed past him, heading for the bedroom.

In the quiet that followed, she felt the weight of it all—the wine-fueled laughter with Rio, the fights with Ralph, the growing chaos of her life. She was tired of being bored, tired of being numb. If being with Rio—even as just a friend—meant rediscovering a spark of life, then so be it.

For once, she wouldn’t apologize for it.

The night before they began shooting, the whole cast and crew decided to go out for drinks. Drinks at the chosen bar flowed freely, and laughter echoed through the dimly lit space as everyone let their guard down.

Rio was in her element, effortlessly charming everyone with her jokes and cheeky comments that left people in stitches and leaning in just enough to make everyone feel like the center of her universe. Her charisma was intoxicating, a gravitational pull that seemed to draw everyone into her orbit.

Agatha, perched at the bar nursing a glass of wine, found herself watching Rio more than she cared to admit. It was hard not to. The way Rio tossed her hair, the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, the way she leaned on the bar like she owned the place—it was mesmerizing. Agatha told herself it was professional admiration. After all, Rio’s ability to command attention was a masterclass in charm. But the heat rising to her cheeks suggested it might be something more.

As the night wore on, the group grew bolder, their laughter louder and their questions more daring. Wanda, tipsy and gleeful, clinked her glass with a fork to command attention.

“Alright, everyone,” she said, her grin wide and mischievous. “Since we’re all here bonding, how about a game?”

“What kind of game?” Rio asked, leaning back in her chair, her smirk firmly in place.

“A drinking game, of course,” Wanda replied, winking at Rio. “We take turns asking someone questions. If they don’t want to answer, they drink. Simple enough!”

Everyone murmured their agreement and the game began with harmless, lighthearted questions: favorite films, first crushes, most embarrassing auditions. But as the drinks kept coming, they decided to up the stakes.

When it was Rio’s turn, she swirled her drink lazily and let her gaze land on Agatha, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Alright, Agatha…” She paused for dramatic effect, her smirk firmly in place. “Have you ever hooked up with a coworker?”

A ripple of oohs and laughter echoed through the group as all eyes turned to Agatha.

Agatha arched a brow, pretending to consider her options. Part of her wanted to deflect, to drink and be done with it. But the heat of Rio’s gaze spurred her to answer. “Maybe…” she said, her tone light but just suggestive enough to send a wave of laughter around the table.

Rio’s grin faltered for the briefest moment, a blush creeping up her neck as a dozen scenarios involving Agatha flashed through her mind. Before she could press further, Wanda cut in.

“My turn, my turn!” Wanda said, pointing her glass at Rio. “Have you ever been with a woman?”

The table erupted in laughter again, all eyes flicking between Wanda and Rio.

Rio leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table as she grinned, utterly unbothered by the attention. She took a deliberate sip of her drink before answering, her voice smooth and teasing. “Well, obviously,” she said, her tone laced with playful exasperation, as if the question itself was redundant.

The table erupted in laughter, some even clapping at her confident delivery. But beside her, Agatha choked on her wine. It was stupid, she already knew Rio was a lesbian, but nonetheless the woman’s response hit her like a slap.

She coughed, trying to recover as all eyes turned to her, the laughter fading into curious silence.

“You okay there?” a young assistant asked. He looked like a teenager.

Agatha nodded, waving a hand dismissively, but her composure was cracked. Beneath the table, she felt Rio’s hand settle gently on her knee. The touch was meant to be reassuring, but the warmth of Rio’s palm against her skin sent a jolt through Agatha. She froze, caught between the heat of Rio’s hand and her own panicked thoughts.

Rio didn’t even look at her, keeping her focus on the group as if nothing had happened. The casualness of it somehow made it worse—or better. Agatha couldn’t decide.

Mercifully, the conversation shifted, the crew moving on to someone else. But Agatha barely registered the words being said. Her senses were acutely attuned to Rio’s hand, which was no longer there but had left a lingering warmth, and to the erratic rhythm of her own heartbeat.

She was spiraling, and it was all Rio Vidal’s fault.

With some excuse, Agatha stepped outside, the cool night air hitting her in the face. The music and laughter faded behind her as she leaned against the rough brick wall, closing her eyes and taking deep, measured breaths, in an attempt to settle the swirling thoughts in her mind.

Her thoughts drifted back to college—to secret kisses with girls at dimly lit parties, the thrill of it all against the suffocating expectations of her family. She had been raised in a strict Christian community, and she could still hear her mother’s voice repeating: “Gay people are born with evil inside them.”

Agatha had convinced herself those moments of rebellion were just that—brief lapses she’d buried under ambition and the carefully constructed life she’d built with Ralph. But now, standing here, she couldn’t ignore the heat in her chest or the magnetic pull she felt toward Rio. It wasn’t fleeting, and it wasn’t going away. And it terrified her.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, lost in her thoughts, before the door creaked open behind her. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Needed a breather?” Rio’s voice was casual, but there was a softness to it that made Agatha’s stomach churn.

Agatha glanced over her shoulder, watching as Rio stepped outside, cigarette in hand. She lit it with a practiced flick of her lighter, the flame briefly illuminating her face before she leaned back against the wall beside Agatha.

“Want one?” Rio exhaled a plume of smoke, the sharp scent of tobacco filling the air between them.

“No, I don’t smoke that much,” Agatha admitted, watching the way Rio’s fingers wrapped around the cigarette, so casual, so natural.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence between them charged but not uncomfortable. Rio took another drag, the glowing ember at the tip of the cigarette catching Agatha’s eye. She was trying not to stare, trying not to think about the way Rio’s lips pressed against the filter, or the way the moonlight caught in her mesmerizing dark eyes.

“Big day tomorrow,” Rio said finally, her voice soft, almost tentative.

“Yeah,” Agatha replied. “Guess it’s just… hitting me now.”

“You’ll kill it,” Rio said, turning to face her fully. “You always do.”

Agatha’s cheeks warmed under the weight of Rio’s gaze, her confidence as disarming as it was genuine. She attempted to deflect with a self-deprecating smile. “I’m getting older, though.”

“And?” Rio’s tone was matter-of-fact, her eyes scanning Agatha’s face with a quiet intensity. “You’re getting more talented, if anything.” She paused, her gaze flicking briefly—almost imperceptibly—to Agatha’s lips before meeting her eyes again. “And more beautiful.”

Agatha couldn’t help but stare, her chest suddenly feeling constricted as if Rio’s words had stolen all the air from her lungs. How could this woman say things like that so casually, yet set off a storm inside her? Fuck it—she needed a smoke.

“You mind if I…?” She gestured vaguely toward the cigarette in Rio’s hand, avoiding her gaze but feeling the heat of her closeness all the same.

Rio’s lips curled into a knowing smile, her dark eyes gleaming as she held the cigarette out to Agatha.

Their fingers brushed as Agatha took it, feeling the same old electric touch that never failed to send a shiver down her spine. She brought the cigarette to her lips, inhaling cautiously, the smoke filling her lungs in a way that felt strangely intimate.

When she handed it back, Rio’s smile softened, and she took another drag without breaking eye contact. The exchange became a quiet rhythm—Agatha inhaling, then passing it to Rio, their fingers grazing each time.

“So, you’ve hooked up with coworkers, huh?” Rio teased, her smirk mischievous, accompanied by a playful waggle of her eyebrows.

Agatha almost choked for the second time that night, but she managed to keep her composure this time. “Something like that…”

“Care to share more?” Rio pressed, her voice laced with curiosity and just the right amount of flirtation.

“God, it feels like a lifetime ago,” Agatha replied, her lips quirking into a small smile.

“I’m still interested,” Rio said, her tone dipping, more serious now. “In everything about you.”

The sincerity in Rio’s words left Agatha momentarily stunned. Even through her relentless teasing, there was warmth, a genuine curiosity that disarmed her. Agatha exhaled slowly, the ghost of a laugh escaping her. “Well… I’m not naming names, but when I was younger—before I got married—I knew how to have fun.”

Rio’s smirk grew. “You don’t have fun anymore?”

Before Agatha could answer, Rio leaned closer, feeling emboldened by the alcohol, and tilted her head slightly. She brought the cigarette to her lips again but didn’t exhale immediately. Instead, she turned toward Agatha, their faces mere inches apart, and released a gentle puff of smoke directly into her mouth.

Agatha froze, the warmth of Rio’s breath mingling with hers and the air between them grew heavier, charged with a tension that stole the words from her throat. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she stared, mesmerized by the way Rio’s lips curled around the cigarette, the way her gaze lingered just a second too long on Agatha’s face.

Rio’s lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile as she pulled back just enough to meet Agatha’s gaze. Her expression was unreadable—her eyes dark, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

Agatha’s own gaze betrayed her, flicking down to Rio’s mouth before snapping back up. The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them. The distant hum of the city faded, the soft glow of the streetlights casting an intimate atmosphere around the two.

“Hey!” Wanda’s voice shattered the spell, making both women jolt apart like guilty teenagers.

Agatha turned quickly, her heart still racing, to find Wanda leaning against the doorframe, a cheeky grin on her face.

“We’re heading out,” Wanda said, her tone sing-song as her eyes flicked between them. “Unless you two want another round? Or…” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at Rio, the implication clear.

Agatha rolled her eyes as Rio stepped back from the wall, running a hand through her hair as if to shake off the moment. Her face was slightly flushed. “We’ll be right in,” she replied.

Wanda lingered for a second, clearly amused, before heading back inside.

Rio turned and stubbed out the cigarette against the wall, her movements slower than usual. “Guess we better head back,” she said, her voice quieter now.

“Yeah,” Agatha said, still feeling the weight of Rio’s gaze as though it lingered on her skin.

They walked toward the bar side by side, the laughter and music growing louder with each step. Yet Agatha barely heard it, her mind still tangled in the moment they’d shared.

What might’ve happened if Wanda hadn’t interrupted? If they’d had just a little more time?

The following day, it was finally time to start shooting. The set was buzzing with energy as cast and crew bustled about, adjusting lights, testing cameras, and finalizing costumes. Agatha and Rio were set to film a couple of scenes that required them to act as a convincing couple—but nothing too intimate just yet, thank goodness.

Agatha fiddled absentmindedly with the ring on her finger, a nervous habit she hadn’t indulged in years. She wasn’t nervous, per se. She’d done this a thousand times before. But the idea of standing so close to Rio, touching her, looking at her as though she were in love—it all tied her stomach in knots she couldn’t quite untangle.

Rio, meanwhile, seemed as calm as ever, leaning casually against the side of a prop table as she chatted with Wanda. She was wearing a leather jacket that made her look every bit the effortlessly cool wildcard her character was meant to be. Wanda, who played the undercover criminal their characters were chasing, was animated as she told some story, her hands gesturing wildly.

Agatha watched as Rio grinned at something Wanda said, playfully nudging her shoulder, mumbling something that made the redhead burst out laughing, smacking Rio lightly on the arm in response.

It was classic Rio: flirty and playful. Agatha had seen her charm everyone in the room effortlessly, from the director to the catering crew, tossing out winks and cheeky comments that were undeniably magnetic.

But somehow she knew it was different with her.

Agatha didn’t know if it was intentional, but when Rio turned that charm on her, it felt sharper, more focused. Like Rio was daring her to react, to let her guard slip, even just for a moment.

She was infuriating, yet captivating and magnetic..

The director clapped his hands together, calling everyone’s attention. “Alright, everyone! Let’s get into position. Agatha, Rio, we’ll start with the kitchen scene. Wanda, we’ll need you in about an hour.”

Rio pushed off the table and walked towards Agatha. “Ready to play house, sweetheart?” she teased, her tone light but her eyes sparkling with something deeper.

Agatha arched a brow, masking the flutter in her chest with a practiced coolness. “Just don’t forget your lines,” she quipped, slipping her hands into her pockets to keep them steady.

Rio’s grin widened as she extended her hand toward Agatha, a silent offer. The gesture was simple, but the warmth in her eyes told a different story.

Agatha hesitated for half a second before taking it, their fingers brushing briefly. Her skin tingled from the contact, but she kept her expression impassive, refusing to let Rio see the effect she had.

“Let’s do this,” Rio murmured, her voice low enough for only Agatha to hear, sending a shiver down her spine as they moved toward their marks.

Their first day went off without a hitch, much to Agatha’s relief. The scenes had been straightforward: light touches, lingering glances, and a few chaste pecks on the cheek from Rio.

Simple. Easy. Manageable.

Mostly.

Agatha could still feel the ghost of Rio’s lips brushing her skin, warm and fleeting but unmistakably real. She swore some of those kisses hadn’t been in the script.

Once, Rio had leaned in just a fraction closer than necessary, her breath fanning against Agatha’s cheek before planting a quick, soft kiss that lingered a little too long. Agatha had stiffened, her heart stuttering in her chest, but Rio had simply pulled back with that trademark grin, as if nothing had happened.

The ease with which Rio played the role was almost maddening. Every touch, every smile, every look was so natural that it made Agatha second-guess her own reactions. She told herself she was imagining things, that Rio was just that good at her job. But the flutter in her stomach said otherwise.

Still, by the end of the day, Agatha felt calmer than she had that morning. Nothing catastrophic had happened. She hadn’t faltered or frozen under the weight of Rio’s presence. And, most importantly, the cameras had stopped rolling before her nerves could betray her.

It was fine. Everything was fine.

Or so she told herself as she lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, the ghost of Rio’s lips still burning against her skin, refusing to fade.

Chapter Text

As the scenes ticked by, the "innocent" moments they needed to shoot started dwindling. The following day, their characters would finally give in to their attraction, and Agatha and Rio would finally have to kiss.

Rio was panicking. Actually, she was gay panicking . Hard.

She’d kissed women plenty of times—both on and off-screen—she was a lesbian after all. But kissing Agatha Harkness? That was a whole different thing. Agatha was magnetic, commanding without even trying, and she had a way of looking at Rio that made her knees feel weak.

Not to mention the fact that Agatha was an icon and someone Rio had looked up to throughout most of her professional career. It was definitely going to be a challenge to kiss the woman and not pass out out of mere admiration . Admiration, yes, that's all it was.

It was late at night and they were in Rio’s living room, perched on the couch with their usual glasses of wine. The room felt cozy as always, but tonight, the air was also heavy with the unspoken tension hanging between them. A tension that was heightened by the fact that—even though they wouldn't admit it— both women were internally freaking out.

The soft glow of the lamp casted golden shadows on Agatha’s face, her sharp cheekbones and piercing blue eyes even more distracting than usual. And her long, dark hair was tossed to one side and it looked slightly tangled, it only made Rio want to thread her fingers through it all the more. Get a grip, she thought.

As if to clear her head, Rio decided to rip the band-aid off before she drove herself completely insane. “So… Tomorrow, huh?” she said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

Agatha hummed nonchalantly, swirling the wine in her glass. “Mhm.” She was definitely pretending not to sound nervous, but the way her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass gave her away.

Rio noticed, of course, that Agatha kept trying so hard to play it cool and she found it almost endearing. She glanced at her, biting back a grin despite her own racing heart.

“Will I be the first woman you kiss?” Rio asked, her tone teasing, trying to lighten the atmosphere, but she could feel her chest tightening as soon as the words left her mouth.

Agatha froze for a beat, her glass hovering mid-air. Her eyes darted to Rio, sharp and unreadable, as if she was deciding how to answer—or whether to answer at all.

“Depends,” Agatha finally said, setting her glass down on the coffee table with deliberate care. She leant back against the couch, crossing her legs and tilting her head. “On screen, you will be. But you probably know that.”

Rio blinked, caught off guard. “But not off-screen?”

Agatha’s lips twitched in amusement, though her shoulders were still just a little too stiff. “I experimented a bit… in college.” She said, letting it hang in the air.

Rio grinned, leaning closer, the wine in her hand sloshing slightly as she gestured. “Oh, this I need to hear. What happened? Did you, like, kiss a girl at a party and then freak out?”

Agatha rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. “I didn’t freak out,” she said firmly, though a faint blush crept up her neck. “I just... didn’t think much of it at the time. It wasn’t a big deal. I thought I was being rebellious.”

“Uh-huh,” Rio sounded clearly unconvinced as she narrowed her eyes playfully. “So you’re saying kissing a woman didn’t make you question anything ? Couldn’t be me.”

Agatha scoffed, though there was a flicker of something in her expression—something Rio couldn’t quite put her finger on. She couldn't tell if Agatha was being truthful this time. “Not everyone has an existential crisis every time they kiss someone.”

Rio smirked, her heart still pounding but her confidence growing. “Guess that’s a ‘no’ then. I won’t be your first.” She paused, her voice dropping slightly as she added, “But I’ll be the first in a long time, right?”

Agatha’s gaze flickered, her mask slipping for just a second. She didn’t confirm or deny it, and the silence that followed was somehow louder than any words could be.

Rio shifted, suddenly aware of how close they were sitting, how the distance between them felt smaller than it really was. She cleared her throat, her eyes dropping to her wine glass, deep in thought until her eyes lit up with what to her seemed like the greatest idea. “Well then, I guess to make it memorable, we should... practice the scene.”

Agatha’s head snapped up. “Are you insane? We don’t need to practice it. I know how to kiss.”

Rio grinned even wider, her confidence undeterred. “Kissing women is different, Agatha. We need the audience to believe that we want this.” Her voice lowers slightly, her teasing edge softening. “That we want each other .”

The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Agatha’s heart skipped, but she forced a laugh, shaking her head. “We’ll do just fine. There’s no need to practice anything.”

But inside, she was unraveling.

“Oh, come on, Agatha. For me?” Rio jumped up from the couch, pulling gently on Agatha’s arm to coax her up. She flashed her a set of pleading eyes that would rival an actual puppy.

Agatha wanted to refuse. She should refuse. But looking up at Rio, so earnest and alive, she found that she couldn’t.

She sighed, rolling her eyes for good measure. “Fine.”

Rio’s grin widens. “Fine?”

“Yes, fine,” Agatha muttered, standing. “I just said that, didn’t I?” She tried for irritation, but the ghost of a smirk betrayed her.

“Alright then, let’s start from the top,” Rio said, feeling her stomach do a weird flip which she attributed to excitement—or was it nervousness? She couldn’t tell. In this moment, they were one and the same. Rio would finally be kissing Agatha Harkness.

Agatha squared her shoulders, willing her racing pulse to calm. It’s just acting, she told herself as she took a deep breath. But the moment Rio stepped closer, all coherent thought flew out the window. She didn’t know where the line between acting and living blurred, and she couldn’t care less. All she could focus on was the way Rio moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue.

The rest of the world suddenly ceased to exist. There was no living room, there was no film—only Rio, and the way her brown eyes softened as if silently asking for permission.

Rio reached up, brushing a strand of hair from Agatha’s face with a touch so light it felt like a whisper against her skin. Her fingers lingered for just a moment too long, and when she cupped Agatha’s cheek, the warmth spread throughout her whole body, leaving her breathless and making her knees tremble under the weight of their kiss.

“You ready?” Rio murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Agatha could only nod, her throat suddenly too dry, and there was nothing that could quench her thirst, only Rio’s lips.

Rio leaned in slowly, her eyes flicking between Agatha’s lips and her piercing gaze, so blue it rivaled the sky. The space between them vanishing completely the moment their lips finally met.

The first brush was tentative, testing, a gentle press that lingered just long enough to feel undeniably real. Agatha swore the world stopped, the warmth of Rio’s lips spreading through her like wildfire. It was the most alive she’d felt in ages, every dormant nerve sparking back to life under Rio’s touch.

Rio was right. Kissing women did feel different. Softer. Warmer. Nicer.

Or maybe it was just kissing Rio Vidal.

Rio tilted her head, deepening the kiss, her lips parting and inviting Agatha’s to do the same. Their bodies moved instinctively, leaning into the kiss, into each other.

Rio slipped her tongue inside of Agatha’s mouth, savoring every inch of her. Agatha followed her lead, now yearning to feel more of her. What began as a gentle exploration turned into something fervent and unrestrained, their breaths mingling as their mouths moved in a desperate rhythm, urgency eclipsing thought.

Before either of them knew it, Rio slid one hand to the other woman’s waist, pulling her closer, while the other remained cradling her jaw. Agatha’s fingers threaded instinctively through Rio’s hair, the silky strands slipping between her fingers and pulling softly, as she savored the moment completely and unabashedly.

What started as a rehearsal spiraled into something else entirely. Their breaths mingled as their mouths moved together and the kiss grew more and more fervent. The force of their connection—lips on lips, tongue against tongue—was bruising, enough to steal the breath from them both. It was as if they were in desperate need to consume one another.

In that moment they knew they weren’t just acting. This wasn’t rehearsed, practiced, or planned. It was them—unguarded, raw, and so achingly real .

When they finally pulled back, their breaths came in shallow pants, their foreheads pressed together. Agatha’s lips tingled, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Rio could hear it.

Rio’s eyes searched hers, still dazed, her voice a breathless murmur. “I… I think we’ve got this.”

Agatha swallowed hard, her fingers still tangled in Rio’s hair, as if grounding her from her spiraling thoughts. “Yeah, we’ve got this.” she echoed faintly. Although she wasn’t sure if she was answering Rio or convincing herself.

As soon as Agatha left Rio’s house and slid into her car, her chest tightened. She gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white, but it did little to calm the storm brewing inside her.

What am I doing?

The question slammed into her over and over again, louder each time. Her lips still tingled, her body buzzing with the kind of energy that left her feeling unsteady. She could still smell Rio’s perfume, the soft floral notes clinging to her skin, and taste the ghost of her lips on her tongue.

This is wrong. I’m married.

Her stomach twisted at the thought, a familiar pang of guilt rushing in, followed almost immediately by anger. A sharp, searing anger that rose unbidden. Fuck Ralph. The words felt like a scream in her mind, startling her with their ferocity.

She tried to push the thought aside, shaking her head as though she could physically dislodge it. But the truth of it wouldn’t go away. Ralph hadn’t felt like her husband in years—if he ever really had. Their marriage was a transaction, a carefully crafted façade to protect their reputations and careers. She tolerated him for the sake of Nicky. For the sake of her image.

Her career. What would happen to it if word got out?

The thought hit her like a blow to the chest, knocking the air out of her. She wasn’t just Agatha Harkness, a woman with desires and a confusing pull toward Rio Vidal. She was a Hollywood star, a brand. People looked up to her. People depended on her.

Hollywood was kinder now to younger actors exploring their identities, but for someone her age, nearing 50, the stakes were higher. Opportunities were already scarce for women like her. To come out now, in a world that still valued her image over her truth, felt like opening a door leading to an abyss.

What if someone saw?

She almost laughed at the absurdity of it. They’d been in Rio’s home, alone and far from prying eyes. Yet the thought lingered like a shadow, insidious and impossible to ignore.

The kiss played on a loop in her mind, every detail as vivid as if it were happening again. The soft press of Rio’s lips, the way her hands had felt against her waist, the warmth of her breath—it all came rushing back, sparking a longing so fierce it made her chest ache.

If it happened again—and God, she knew she wanted it to—it would feel just as intoxicating, just as undeniable.

This can’t happen again. But I can’t stop thinking about her.

Her breathing quickened as she leaned back in her seat, staring blankly out the windshield at the quiet street ahead. Rio’s face wouldn’t leave her mind—the softness in her brown eyes, the way she’d smiled just before leaning in, like she could see through every layer Agatha had tried to build around herself.

It made her chest ache in a way that felt both unbearable and addictive.

But there was too much at stake. The thought weighed heavy, pressing down on her chest until her breathing grew uneven. Her head fell into her hands as the gravity of the consequences crashed over her

She needed to pull herself together. To stop this spiral before it dragged her further down. But when she turned the ignition and the car rumbled to life, her hands trembled against the wheel.

She wasn’t sure she could.

Agatha drove home with the music blaring, the volume almost drowning out her own thoughts. But it wasn’t fully working— the kiss still played in her mind, every second of it vivid and unrelenting.

The drive felt like both an eternity and far too short. When she finally pulled into her driveway, she turned off the engine and sat there in the dark, gripping the steering wheel.

Without thinking, she pulled her phone from her bag and scrolled to Lilia’s name. Her thumb hovered over the call button. She hesitated, telling herself to wait, to sleep on it, but the turmoil bubbling in her chest wouldn’t let her. Before she could talk herself out of it, she hit call.

The line rang twice before Lilia’s familiar voice answered, crisp and efficient despite the late hour. “Agatha, darling, what’s going on? Everything alright?”

“No,” Agatha blurted, her voice tight. “I can’t do this. I need to quit. I’m out.”

A stunned pause. “Quit?” Lilia’s voice sharpened with disbelief. “Quit Undercover Lovers ? The project you fought for? The one you said was your chance to prove you’ve still got it? That one?”

Agatha squeezed her eyes shut, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Yes, that one,” she said, her voice cracking. “I can’t—this isn’t going to work. I… I can’t handle this, it’s too much—”

“You can’t deal with what ?” Lilia interrupted, her tone softening but losing none of its weight. “Agatha, slow down, honey. What happened?”

Agatha’s mind was racing. What could she say? That she kissed Rio Vidal in her living room? That her entire world felt like it was caving in because of one reckless yet utterly consuming moment?

She swallowed hard, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I shouldn’t have taken this role. It was a mistake.”

Lilia let out a slow, measured breath. “You don’t make mistakes when it comes to your career. You’re too calculated for that. If you took this role, it’s because it mattered to you. So, tell me, what’s really going on?”

Agatha opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out. Her throat tightened as the truth—the kiss, the longing, the guilt—felt too big, too dangerous to admit. Her fingers trembled around the phone. “I just… can’t,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Another pause, then Lilia’s voice softened further, laced with concern. “Agatha, whatever this is, you don’t have to go through it alone. But don’t make this decision tonight. Take a breath. Sleep on it. Call me tomorrow, and we’ll figure it out together. Alright?”

Agatha nodded numbly, even though Lilia couldn’t see it. “Alright,” she murmured, barely audible.

“Good. Now go pour yourself a drink and get some rest. I’ll check in tomorrow.”

When the call ended, Agatha sat there, staring at her phone as if it might give her the answers she couldn’t find. The weight pressing on her chest hadn’t eased, and the memory of Rio’s kiss lingered, vivid and consuming.

That evening, Rio sprawled on her couch, scrolling through social media in a half-hearted attempt to distract herself. It wasn’t working. The kiss replayed in her mind, vivid and insistent, making her stomach twist with emotions she couldn’t quite name.

Her phone buzzed beside her, the screen lighting up with Lilia’s name. Frowning, she swiped to answer. “Lilia, hi! What’s up?”

“Rio, darling,” Lilia began, her tone warm but edged with concern. “I need to ask—do you know what’s going on with Agatha?”

Rio’s heart skipped. “What do you mean? Is she okay?”

“She called me not long ago, saying she wants to quit the movie,” Lilia said, her voice steady but edged with disbelief. “She was emotional, vague. Kept saying it was ‘too much.’ I tried to get her to explain, but she shut me out.”

Rio sat up, her mind racing. Quit? Her stomach sank. Was it because of the kiss?

She forced a casual tone, masking the flare of panic rising in her chest. “Really? No, she hasn’t said anything to me. Did she give you a reason?”

Lilia sighed on the other end of the line. “Not specifically. She’s spiraling over something, but she wouldn’t tell me what. I thought since you two have been… working together, you might have a clue.”

Rio clenched her jaw, Lilia’s words sinking in. If it was because of the kiss, then Agatha wasn’t just panicking—she was running. Plain cowardice. Was she really so afraid to deal with her own feelings?

“Nope, not a clue,” Rio said, her voice tight despite her best effort to keep it light.

Lilia sighed on the other end, a sound heavy with exasperation. “Well, I’ll try to talk some sense into her. But this is serious, Rio. If she walks, the whole project could fall apart. We can’t afford to lose her on this project, Rio. You know that.”

“I get it,” Rio replied, her blood simmering just beneath her skin. She knew exactly how much Agatha meant to this movie. Everyone did—including Agatha herself. So why was she so willing to jeopardize all of it?

Her frustration sharpened. One kiss, and Agatha was ready to throw it all away? It wasn’t just cowardice—it was selfishness.

“Oh, I know,” Rio replied, keeping her tone smooth. “Thanks for letting me know, Lilia. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

When the call ended, Rio stared at her phone, her hand gripping it tightly. Her confusion morphed into anger, white-hot and relentless. Agatha was afraid, sure—Rio understood being overwhelmed. Hell, she was too.

But that didn’t excuse Agatha’s behavior. Running away wouldn’t fix anything, and quitting now felt like a betrayal—not just to the movie, but to the connection that had sparked between them.

Rio tossed her phone onto the couch, her jaw clenching as she stood. If Agatha thought she could kiss her, run, and leave her to pick up the pieces, she had another thing coming.

She wasn’t about to let Agatha Harkness walk away without a fight.

Chapter Text

That morning, the moment Alice stepped into Rio’s house, she knew something was off.

Rio was already up, dressed, and pacing in the living room, her movements sharp and restless. The usual easy smile that greeted Alice was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Rio barely glanced her way, muttering a quick “Morning” before grabbing her bag and heading for the door.

Alice frowned, trailing behind her. “Did something happen? Are you late? What’s going on?”

“Everything’s fine. I just need to get to set.”

Alice snorted. “Baby, I know fine, and that’s not it. Spill.”

“Nothing! I need to speak to Agatha, that’s all.” Rio said, her tone allowing no further questions.

Alice blinked, caught off guard. “Agatha? Why?”

“Stuff.”

“Rio,” Alice called. “What stuff?”

But Rio didn’t answer. Instead, she yanked open the car door and slid inside without another word. By the time Alice joined her in the passenger seat, Rio had already started the engine, her fingers tapping impatiently against the steering wheel.

The tension in the car was thick, Rio’s sour mood practically vibrating in the air. Still, Alice tried again, her voice softer this time. “Seriously, babe, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Rio’s gaze stayed fixed on the road. “It’s nothing. I just... need to talk to her.”

But it was obviously not nothing. Rio was fidgeting—drumming her fingers, adjusting the radio, shifting in her seat. The easy going and collected Rio that Alice knew was nowhere to be found. In her place was angry Rio, and she was chaos in human form.

Alice crossed her arms, leaning back in her seat as she studied her friend. “You’ve got that look, you know.” she said after a beat.

“What look?”

“The one you get when you’re about to do something reckless.”

Rio’s lips twitched, but the almost-smile didn’t last. “Maybe I am.”

Alice sighed, glancing out the window. Whatever this was about, it had Rio wound up in a way she hadn’t seen in a long time. And when Rio Vidal was on edge, chaos usually followed.

Rio Vidal arrived on set with one goal in mind: to confront Agatha Harkness.

Her jaw was set, her steps purposeful as she marched toward the trailers. She was still angry—no, furious. How could Agatha be so selfish? So cowardly? Every thought only added fuel to the fire.

“Rio,” Alice said, stepping in front of her before she could storm off toward the set. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what’s going on? Maybe I can help.”

Rio stopped in her tracks, running a hand through her hair and exhaling sharply. “I’ll be fine, Alice,” she said, though her tone wasn’t convincing even to her own ears.

“Fine doesn’t look like this.” Alice crossed her arms, a knowing expression on her face. “You’ve been fidgeting the entire drive here and… I don’t want you acting on impulse.”

“What’s so wrong about that?”

“You know how you get, Rio! You get chaotic, and now you’re charging onto set like you’re ready to start a war. Will you just tell me what happened between you and Agatha?”

Rio pressed her lips into a thin line, and for a moment, Alice’s question hung heavily in the air. Finally, she sighed, looking away. “It’s complicated.”

Alice arched her brow. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I’ve got right now,” Rio said, her frustration leaking into her voice. “Look, I just need to talk to her, okay? I’ll figure the rest out after.”

Alice studied her for a moment longer, her expression softening just enough to show she cared. “Alright,” she said at last. “But don’t do anything you’ll regret later. You’re emotional, Rio, and that’s not always the best time to act.”

Rio gave a faint nod, not trusting herself to say more. She appreciated Alice’s concern—she really did—but her anger drowned out everything else.

With that, Rio turned and headed for Agatha’s trailer, her heart pounding harder with every step. This conversation was happening, and she wasn’t about to let Agatha off easy.

She approached the trailer with sharp, deliberate strides and knocked—hard and repeatedly—on the door.

After a long pause, the door swung open with a sharp click, revealing an exasperated Agatha. “What?!”

But the irritation on her face evaporated the moment she saw who stood on the other side. Her expression shifted to something guarded, almost alarmed. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh .” Rio shot back, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation, her movements as bold as her tone.

Agatha let the door fall shut behind her, crossing her arms. “Do come in,” she said dryly, her sarcasm doing little to mask the tension in her voice.

Rio wasted no time, spinning on her heel to face her. “What the fuck, Agatha?! You’re quitting now?”

Agatha stiffened, her mouth tightening. “Well, I’m here, so obviously I did not quit, now did I?”

“But you were going to.”

Agatha doesn’t reply.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Rio pressed, her voice sharp. “And for what? Over a fucking kiss?”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed, her voice turning icy. “Don’t flatter yourself. It wasn’t about that .”

“Bullshit.” The word came out fast, raw. Rio took a step closer, forcing Agatha to hold her ground. “You may think I don’t know you, but I do. I know you were freaking out—just like you freaked out when I lent you my shirt that first night.”

“You do not—”

“Uh-uh, I’m talking.” Rio’s voice rose, cutting Agatha off mid-protest. “You think I can’t tell we have a connection? You think I can’t tell that what I felt when we kissed wasn’t one-sided? I’m not stupid, Agatha. And I don’t appreciate being treated as such.”

Agatha flinched at the words, her jaw tightening, but she didn’t interrupt.

Rio’s voice softened, but the frustration in her tone remained. “I gave you space. I agreed to the whole ‘let’s be friends’ thing. I’ve tried not to push you, not to make you run. But now? You’re doing it again. You’re too fucking scared to deal with this—to deal with me—and you’re making it harder for everyone, not just yourself.”

Agatha’s lips parted as if she wanted to argue, but nothing came out. For the first time, she looked truly cornered, her usual defenses crumbling under Rio’s unrelenting gaze.

Rio took a steadying breath but kept her voice firm. “I get it. You’re overwhelmed, maybe even scared. But what you’re doing? It’s not okay. You can’t just jeopardize the whole film—and whatever this is—because you’re too much of a coward to—”

“I am not a coward,” Agatha snapped, her voice cutting through Rio’s accusation. It was the first time she’d interrupted, but she couldn’t hold back anymore. There was some truth in Rio’s words, but she didn’t understand—not really. “You think you know me? What, because we drank wine together a couple of nights? Because we rehearsed a kiss? Because let me remind you—that’s all we did.”

“You know as well as I do—

“No.” Agatha’s voice rose, sharp and commanding. “I let you talk. Now it’s my turn.” She stepped closer, her gaze burning into Rio’s. “You don’t know anything about what it’s like.”

“About what it’s like what ?” Rio shot back, her eyes narrowing.

Agatha’s lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze hardening. “You think it’s so simple—being young, being on top, rising with your name on the Hollywood sign. Well, it won’t stay like that, sweetheart. Not forever.”

Rio froze, her arms crossing defensively, as Agatha took another step forward. Her tone dropped lower, colder. “Your decline will start the moment they decide you’re too old. Because that’s just how this industry works. No matter how talented you are. No matter how well connected.” She paused, her voice softening but losing none of its bite. “No matter who your husband might be.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

And then it hit Rio like a slap in the face.

Agatha’s marriage—it wasn’t real. Not in the way it should be. Her life was a carefully constructed facade, and now Rio could finally see the cracks beneath it.

For a moment, Rio’s anger wavered, replaced by a pang of something she didn’t want to name. Pity? No, it was deeper than that. Sadness.

Because while Rio was out there, living her life boldly, unapologetically, truthfully, Agatha was stuck. Trapped in a life she didn’t want, tied to someone she didn’t love, and too afraid to do anything about it.

But that still didn’t make this whole thing okay.

“You’re so scared of what the world might think of you that you won’t even live your own life, Agatha,” she said, her voice low but cutting. “And I think that’s just sad.”

Agatha flinched, the words slicing deeper than she cared to admit.

Before she could reply, Rio turned on her heel and stormed out, her footsteps loud and purposeful as they echoed in the trailer.

Agatha stood frozen in the silence, the weight of Rio’s words pressing down on her. The air felt heavy, and for the first time in a long time, she was left completely, utterly alone with the truth.

Agatha stayed in her trailer, pacing back and forth as the conversation with Rio played on an endless loop in her mind. The more she replayed Rio’s words, the angrier she became.

Who did she think she was? Marching in here, throwing accusations like she had any idea what it was like to live her life. Telling her how to act, how to feel—like she had any kind of authority over her.

Her jaw clenched as she stopped short, her eyes darting to the kitchenette. She slammed her palm down on the counter, the sound echoing in the small space. But even the sharp crack of impact wasn’t enough to drown out Rio’s voice in her head.

You’re so scared of what the world might think of you that you won’t even live your own life.

The words clung to her, stubborn and infuriating. A coward. That’s what Rio had called her.

Agatha clenched her fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as her breathing grew heavier. The audacity of that woman. Of all the people in this business—hell, in her life —Rio Vidal was the only one who had dared talk to her like that. And maybe that was the part that pissed her off the most.

Because beneath the anger, beneath the sting of Rio’s accusations, there was something else. Something quieter and far more unsettling.

She’s not wrong, is she?

Agatha exhaled sharply, shoving the thought away. Of course she wasn’t scared. She wasn’t a coward. Her reasons for staying were valid. She wasn’t just protecting herself—she was protecting her career, her entire life. What would happen to her without her career to fall back on? She couldn’t just jeopardize everything she’d constructed over all these years.

But no matter how much she told herself that, the uneasy feeling in her chest refused to leave her alone.

She stopped abruptly, her reflection catching her eye in the mirror across the room. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, her face flushed with anger. But what she saw staring back at her wasn’t the poised, self-assured woman the world knew. It was someone uncertain. Someone... scared.

Agatha ripped her gaze away, swallowing hard.

She wasn’t going to give Rio the satisfaction of being right. And anyways, right or not, Rio had some nerve telling her all that.

A sharp knock at the door broke her train of thought, and she yanked it open with a curt, “I’m not in the mood to—”

She froze when she saw Jen standing there, her assistant looking startled, her brows shooting up.

“Oh,” Agatha muttered. “Sorry. I’m not in the greatest mood today.”

“I can tell,” Jen said, her voice tinged with cautious concern. “I just wanted to let you know you’re needed for your next scene. Do you need me to tell them to give you a minute?”

Agatha sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. The offer was tempting, but she couldn’t afford to let anyone think she wasn’t in control. “No, it’s fine. I’m a professional,” she said firmly, even though her voice still carried the weight of her earlier anger. “I’ll be out in a second.”

Jen hesitated, her lips pressing together as if she wanted to say more, but instead, she gave a small nod. “Alright. I’ll see you out there.”

As the door clicked shut, Agatha turned to the mirror once more, gripping the counter tightly as she stared at her reflection. Her face was still flushed, her jaw tight. She closed her eyes and took a deep, measured breath.

“You can do this,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “Pull yourself together.”

She straightened her posture, smoothing the front of her blouse as if it could iron out the turmoil roiling inside her. With one final inhale, she turned and walked out of the trailer, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement.

But the moment she reached the set her irritation flared all over again. Rio was already there, lounging casually in her chair, legs crossed, as if she had not a care in the world. It was infuriating.

Her steps slowed as she approached, her nails biting into her palms. If Rio noticed her arrival, she gave no indication, her attention fixed on her phone.

It was maddening.

“Can’t we start with a different scene?” Agatha asked the director, her tone polite but just thin enough to hint at her discomfort. She smiled tightly, the expression painfully contrived. “I feel it might flow better that way.”

The director opened his mouth to respond, but Rio beat him to it, her voice sharp and mocking, “Too scared again, Agatha?”

The set went still.

Every eye turned toward them as the weight of Rio’s words hung in the silence. Crew members exchanged uncertain glances, caught between curiosity and unease. Just days ago, the two actresses had been getting along just fine. Whatever had changed, it was clear the fallout was spilling into their work.

Agatha’s jaw clenched, her smile vanishing. For a moment, she said nothing, her gaze fixed on the floor as if willing herself to stay composed. Then, slowly, she lifted her head, her eyes locking onto Rio’s with icy precision.

“Of course not,” she said, her tone smooth and dangerously calm. Her lips curved into a smile so sharp it could have cut glass. “Let’s do this.”

The director cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Alright then. Everyone, let’s get into position,” he instructed, his voice deliberately brisk as if to steer them back to the task at hand.

As the crew shuffled to their places, Agatha didn’t look away from Rio. The mocking glint in Rio’s eyes only made Agatha’s stomach twist, but she refused to let her irritation show.

Fine, she thought, her fists curling at her sides. If she wants a fight, she’ll get one.

The scene was set in a fake motel room, dimly lit and cluttered with props to mimic the ambiance of a roadside inn. Faded wallpaper peeled at the edges, and the dim yellow glow of a desk lamp bathed the room in a sickly light. A double-sized bed, unmade and uninviting, dominated the cramped space, with a scratched-up nightstand and a single, rickety chair completing the sparse decor. It was the kind of place that reeked of desperation, the perfect backdrop for Cat and Agnes, two agents on a stakeout.

They weren’t here for fun—or for each other. Their mission was to monitor the room across the hall, where their target—Wanda’s character—was holed up. They were watching for any sign that someone might join her. Every sound from behind that door sharpened their focus, but no one had come or gone. Not yet. 

With every passing minute, the air between them grew heavier. Their partnership, already tense as a wire, seemed ready to snap under the weight of proximity, their forced closeness amplifying the cracks.

Cat, seated in the chair, tilted the blinds with two fingers, her keen gaze fixed on the illuminated window across the way. Her posture was relaxed, but the sharp set of her jaw betrayed her focus. Meanwhile, Agnes stood against the wall, arms crossed, her eyes not on the target but on Cat.

Despite the earlier friction between them, Agatha and Rio slid into their roles effortlessly. Their real-life frustrations simmered just below the surface, giving their performance an edge that neither of them had to fake.

Their chemistry was undeniable, but it wasn’t the playful, easy kind. It was fire and friction, a combustible energy that threatened to ignite with every line delivered. Each of them pushed the other to the edge, their performance bleeding into something raw and unsettlingly real.

“Am I that distracting?” Cat quipped, her voice laced with mockery as she stared out the window, not even sparing Agnes a glance.

“I’m not distracted,” Agnes shot back, her tone sharp.

“Then why are you staring at me instead of doing your job?” Cat finally turned, locking eyes with Agnes in challenge.

Agnes faltered for half a second. “You wish. I’m simply making sure you don’t screw this up.”

“Well, one of us has to do our job.”

Agnes pushed away from her place against the wall, walking towards Cat with measured steps. Her voice dropped, dangerous and low. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Agnes moved with deliberate precision, closing the space between them, while Cat remained seated, leaning back in her chair with that insufferable smirk.

It was a game of control and neither wanted to give an inch.

“You tell me,” Cat murmured, her mocking smirk never leaving her face. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes glinting. “You’re the one who can’t seem to keep your eyes off me when you think I’m not looking.”

Agnes’s lips parted, her jaw tightening as though she was biting back a retort. And her breath hitched ever so slightly. “You’re so full of yourself,” the words low and venomous.

Cat leaned in now, the space between them all but gone, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Prove me wrong, then.”

The silence between them stretched thin, electric and suffocating, the air too heavy to breathe.

Agnes’s chest rose and fell, her fists clenched at her sides. She could feel the weight of Cat’s gaze on her, the teasing glint in her eyes that both infuriated and drew her in. She wanted to wipe that smirk off Cat’s face—and she hated how much she wanted to do it.

In one swift motion, she lunged forward, her hand fisting the collar of Cat’s shirt as she yanked her to her feet.

And then she crashed their mouths together in a kiss that’s more fight than affection.

Cat didn’t pull away. Instead, she matched Agnes’s intensity, her hands finding Agnes’s waist and tugging her closer, as if daring her to keep going.

The kiss was messy—a collision of anger, frustration, and something neither of them dared to name. It wasn’t soft, nor was it careful; it was raw and consuming, a match thrown on gasoline.

They didn’t stop. The tension between them burned hot and unrelenting, as though this moment was their last chance to feel alive. The kiss deepened, all fire and desperation, their hands tangling in shirts and gripping skin, their urgency leaving no space for hesitation or second thoughts.

Agnes pushed Cat back onto the bed, her movements deliberate but rough, her grip firm as she tangled her fingers in Cat’s hair. The tension in the room was suffocating.

Her other hand slid up, firm and possessive, to hold Cat’s jaw, tilting her head upward with authority. The power shift was palpable, and Cat didn’t fight it. If anything, she leaned into it, her breathing shallow and her lips parted in anticipation.

Agnes’s thumb brushed over Cat’s bottom lip, the touch deliberate and teasing, before she slid two fingers into her mouth. Cat’s lips closed around them, her eyes never breaking from Agnes’s. Her tongue moved in a slow, deliberate tease.

She stared down at her, her breath hitching as she took in the sight before her—Cat, pupils blown wide, her lips wet, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, her hair tousled from Agnes’s grip. Cat was a vision of desire, and Agnes knew she was the one who had done this to her.

Without hesitation, Agnes tightened her hold on Cat’s hair, pulling harder. When Cat let out a soft, surprised gasp, Agnes leaned forward, and with unapologetic confidence, she spit into her open mouth—an unapologetic move that left no doubt about who held the upper hand.

Cat’s lips closed around the taste of her, her breath hitching as something unreadable flickered across her face—part defiance, part submission. Agnes smirked, her thumb tracing the edge of Cat’s jaw, her voice low and dripping with authority. “Still think you’re the one in control?”

Cat didn’t respond with words. Instead, her hands gripped Agnes’s thighs, pulling her closer, a silent invitation that promised the night was far from over.

The set was silent, the air thick with the intensity of their performance. Every crew member stood frozen, captivated by the raw, unfiltered intensity radiating between them. It wasn’t just chemistry—it was electric, magnetic, impossible to ignore.

These two women weren’t merely acting; they were embodying it, blurring the line between reality and fiction with a seamlessness that left everyone breathless. For a moment, it felt like the scene wasn’t just a performance—it was the truth, laid bare for all to witness.

Chapter Text

As soon as the director yelled, "Cut," they moved with almost frantic urgency, each retreating to their respective trailers without a word, as if the act of staying in the same space was unbearable. The air crackled with unresolved tension, raw and unrelenting, leaving no room for small talk or camaraderie.

It wasn’t just the scene—it was everything. The unspoken words that hung between them, the glances that lingered too long, the magnetic pull they refused to acknowledge. Whatever this was, it was heavy, and neither of them was ready to give it a name.

Because naming it would be to finally accept that whatever they were feeling was real.

Agatha’s heart was still pounding as she shut the trailer door behind her. She leaned against it, her head tilting back with a shaky exhale, her breaths sharp and uneven. But no matter how her pulse raced in her ears, it wasn’t enough to quiet the thoughts spiraling in her mind.

The kiss had been intense—world-shattering, even. But she already knew that kissing Rio felt like that. She’d known it from the very first time. And this time had been no different, and yet, somehow, it was more. There had been something that made her feel exposed in a way that went beyond the scene.

It wasn’t just the kiss, though. It was everything else.

The way Rio looked at her, her eyes filled with an unrelenting fire that burned right through her defenses. The way she never hesitated to challenge her, on or off set.

It was maddening. Infuriating. All-consuming.

And God—spitting in her mouth had felt instinctive, primal, and shamelessly erotic. The rawness of it had shaken her to her core, stirring something deep and visceral. She didn’t know what to think, didn’t know how to reconcile this gnawing, undeniable truth.

Because ignoring it wasn’t working anymore.

She sank onto the small couch in her trailer, burying her face in her hands. What was wrong with her? This wasn’t supposed to happen—not with Rio, not with anyone. She had spent decades building a life that made sense, even if it wasn’t always happy. A life with rules, with limits. A life she could control.

Rio Vidal was chaos personified, a wildfire she couldn’t contain.

And yet, in the quiet of her trailer, with her heart still racing and her mind still spinning, Agatha knew she couldn’t keep denying the truth.

She was immensely attracted to a woman.

She was immensely attracted to Rio Vidal.

Across the lot, Rio sat on the edge of her trailer’s couch, elbows resting on her knees as her fingers raked through her hair. She replayed the scene in her mind, over and over, her lips still tingling from where Agatha’s had been.

She told herself it was just acting, just the heat of the moment—but the way Agatha had kissed her, touched her, made her doubt every line she’d rehearsed about keeping things professional. Nothing about it felt like sticking to a script.

And the truth was, no matter how hard she tried to deny it, Agatha Harkness wasn’t just in her head.

She was under her skin.

Rio leaned back, exhaling sharply as if that would help ease the tightness in her chest. But it didn’t. Instead, her gaze wandered to the ceiling, trying to get her mind off Agatha. But it was an impossible task when she could still feel the press of the other woman’s hands on her body—firm, commanding, electric.

Why couldn’t she shake it off? She’d kissed co-stars before. Hell, she’d made out with more people on-screen than she could count, but this was different. Agatha wasn’t just anyone. She wasn’t someone you could brush aside, pretend it didn’t mean anything.

In fact, every time her mind wandered back to the way Agatha’s fingers had tightened in her hair, the way her gaze had lingered, dark and unreadable, before that moment, goosebumps erupted all over her body.

And then there was that moment .

Rio swallowed hard, her face flushing at the memory. The feeling of Agatha yanking her head back, the confidence in her movements. The audacity of it. When Agatha had spit into her mouth, there had been no hesitation, no question—just power. A primal act that stole every coherent thought from Rio’s brain.

She hadn’t expected to react the way she did. Her body had betrayed her completely, heat pooling low in her stomach, her lips parting in automatic surrender. She had felt consumed, as if the act wasn’t just about the scene, but about something much deeper, much riskier.

The intensity of it lingered, her heart hammering as if she were still there, staring into Agatha’s eyes, feeling the weight of the unspoken tension that simmered between them. It wasn’t just chemistry—it was chaos.

And God, it terrified her how much she wanted to feel it again.

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Rio was used to the game, to the push and pull of flirting without consequence. But with Agatha, it was different. It felt dangerous, like she was standing too close to the edge of something she couldn’t quite see, but already knew she couldn’t resist.

A sharp knock at the door cut through the haze of her thoughts, jolting her upright. Rio blinked, startled by the sudden interruption, her heart pounding for an entirely new reason now. For a moment, she froze, her body caught between lingering adrenaline from her thoughts and the raw curiosity of who might be there.

The knock came again, firmer this time. Steeling herself, Rio stood and crossed the short distance to the door. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the handle as the thought struck her: What if it’s her?

With a deep breath, she opened the door.

And there she was.

Agatha stood on the other side, her usual poise faltering ever so slightly. Her shoulders were tense, her hair slightly tousled as if she’d been running her fingers through it in frustration. Her expression was hard to read, a mix of determination and uncertainty flickering in her blue eyes.

She looked as much of a mess as Rio felt. But even in her disheveled state, she was stunning. Her beauty wasn’t in her perfection—it was in the sharp angles of her jaw, the slight tremble of her lips, the way her blue eyes held Rio captive.

For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke, the air between them charged with the same tension that had followed them off the set. Rio’s grip on the door tightened as she tried to steady her breathing, but it was impossible to ignore the magnetic pull drawing her closer to Agatha.

“Agatha—” Rio started, but her voice came out quieter than she intended. She cleared her throat, gripping the doorframe. “What are you doing here?”

Agatha’s gaze flickered, her composure teetering on the edge of something Rio couldn’t quite name. For a moment, she seemed to hesitate, her lips parting before closing again, the weight of whatever she was holding back hanging heavy in the air.

“Can I come in?” Agatha’s voice was low, almost tentative—an unfamiliar softness that sent a shiver down Rio’s spine.

Rio stepped aside wordlessly, her mind racing as Agatha brushed past her into the small space. The trailer suddenly felt too small, the air too thick.

Rio barely had time to close the door before it happened.

Agatha was on her, her lips crashing against Rio’s in a kiss that was just as passionate as before—no, more. This time, it wasn’t for the cameras. There was no script, no audience, no safety net of fiction to shield them from the unfiltered reality of what was happening.

Rio stumbled, her back meeting the door with a muted thud as Agatha’s lips claimed hers—hot, urgent, and devastatingly unapologetic. Her hands instinctively reached for Agatha’s waist to steady herself.

The kiss was heat and urgency, a mess of tongues and lips as if both women were trying to pour everything they couldn’t say into this one reckless moment.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful.

It was real.

Agatha’s fingers tangled in Rio’s hair, pulling her closer, as if letting go wasn’t an option. She leaned in closer, pressing their bodies flush, the door rattling faintly with the force of it. Rio responded in kind, her own hands gripping Agatha’s waist harder, daring the space between them to disappear entirely.

As they kissed, the world outside the trailer ceased to exist—there was no set, no crew, no rationality—just the electric charge between them that they could no longer pretend to ignore.

They kept kissing, each touch of their lips feeding a hunger neither could deny. The door rattled again, a faint reminder of the world beyond, clattering loudly against its frame.

Rio broke the kiss first, a breathless laugh escaping her lips, her forehead resting against Agatha’s as they both gasped for air.

“Guess we’re making a scene,” Agatha murmured, her voice low.

Rio arched a brow, her smirk tugging at the corners of her swollen lips. “And whose fault is that?”

Rio pressed forward again, capturing Agatha’s lips to her own. This time, though, her hands moved with purpose, sliding down the curve of Agatha’s back, guiding her step by step, pushing her backwards.

The laughter now shifted into soft sighs and muffled gasps as Rio walked her backward, her grip firm but careful, until the edge of the couch pressed against the back of Agatha’s thighs.

Agatha’s hands trembled slightly as she moved to unbutton Rio’s shirt. Her fingers brushed the fabric tentatively, but before she could undo the first button, Rio caught her wrist—soft but firmly.

“I don’t want to do this,” Rio said, her voice low, roughened by the weight of her own restraint, “not if you’re just going to end up running again.”

Agatha took a breath, her hand tightening ever so slightly beneath Rio’s grip. “I’m tired of running,” she murmured, her voice thick. “I’m tired of being a coward. I just want to feel.”

It was all the confirmation Rio needed.

All hesitation dissolved and she closed the distance between them once more, capturing Agatha’s lips with a kiss filled with hunger.

This wasn’t careful. This wasn’t safe.

But neither of them seemed to care.

Rio’s tongue brushed over Agatha’s bottom lip, coaxing it apart, before she began trailing kisses from the corner of her mouth, then along the line of her jaw.

Each press of her lips was deliberate, lingering, until she reached Agatha’s ear. There, Rio paused, her breath warm against Agatha’s skin, and let her teeth graze the shell of it lightly, while moving her hands to untuck Agatha’s own top from her pants.

The kiss deepened, the rhythm growing more frantic as hands began to wander. Fingers fumbled and tugged at fabric, pulling at buttons, slipping beneath hems, desperate to feel more. The barrier of clothing suddenly becoming unbearable.

Agatha’s fingers finally worked the last button free, the shirt slipping open to reveal the smooth lines of Rio’s body. At the same moment, Rio tugged at Agatha’s top, pulling it over her head in one fluid motion.

Rio’s gaze roamed over Agatha, taking in the curve of her shoulders, the slight sheen of sweat along her collarbone, the swell of her breasts, the way the dark lace of her bra contrasted against her skin. She looked like something out of a dream.

Rio gently cupped Agatha’s face, her thumb brushing against her cheekbone. “You’re beautiful,” she murmured, her voice softer now.

They moved at the same time, a step closer, their bodies drawn together as if a magnet pulled them together. The pull was undeniable and inescapable, and when Agatha kissed her again, it was with the kind of hunger that burned away any kind of hesitation or fear.

Agatha’s fingers found the waistband of Rio’s pants, trembling as they fumbled with the button, her movements desperate and unsteady, burning with the undeniable urgency to feel her, to have her.

Rio’s hands slid lower, finding the curve of Agatha’s ass and giving it a squeeze. She groaned softly at the perfection of it—better than she’d ever let herself imagine, better than any dream. And, God, she’d dreamed of this. Of her .

Agatha finally managed to pop Rio’s button open and slid the zipper down. She tugged the waistband gently, freeing Rio from the fabric, and let the pants pool on the ground.

Rio stood before her now, clad in matching dark green lace that hugged her body perfectly. The contrast against her golden skin, the way the delicate fabric framed her curves, left Agatha breathless.

Agatha’s chest rose and fell, her breathing shallow as her eyes swept over Rio. Her hair was tousled, lips kiss-swollen, her pupils wide and dark with unspoken intensity. It made Agatha’s heart race.

In that moment, Rio wasn’t just beautiful—she was radiant. A vision , Agatha thought. My undoing.

Rio’s grip on Agatha’s ass tightened, pulling their hips together as a low, throaty moan escaped her lips. The pressure, the closeness, was intoxicating.

“I need you out of these,” she murmured, her voice rough with need.

“Then take them off,” Agatha challenged, her tone laced with equal parts defiance and desire.

Rio dropped to her knees without hesitation, her fingers deftly working at the waistband of Agatha’s pants. With one fluid motion, she slid them down, her movements deliberate. Before Agatha could process the shift, Rio’s hands pressed gently at her hips, guiding her down onto the couch. Rio stayed where she was, kneeling between Agatha’s legs, looking up at her with an intensity that made Agatha’s breath catch.

The sight was devastatingly erotic—Rio Vidal, proud and untouchable to most, now on her knees for her. The sheer power of the moment sent a pulse of heat through Agatha’s body.

Rio started at the soft skin of Agatha’s thighs, her lips brushing feather-light kisses along each one of them. Her pace was torturous, leaving a trail of heat in her wake. She let her teeth graze just enough to tease, a playful nip that sent a jolt straight to Agatha’s core.

Her mouth moved slower than Agatha could stand, each kiss a tantalizing promise that refused to be fulfilled. The scrape of her teeth against the sensitive skin, the warm press of her breath, and the maddening way her tongue flicked out occasionally—all of it was designed to unravel her.

It was driving her insane. Her patience, already worn thin, snapping when Rio’s lips lingered just an inch too far from where she needed her most.

“Rio,” she growled, her voice thick with desperation.

Rio only smirked against her skin, deliberately kissing the inside of her knee in defiance.

That was it. Agatha’s hand shot out, fingers threading into Rio’s dark waves before gripping hard. She yanked, forcing Rio’s mouth to exactly where she wanted it.

“Enough teasing,” Agatha demanded, her voice sharp, her pupils blown wide with lust.

Rio didn’t hesitate. Instead, she surrendered with a satisfied hum. Her hands slid firmly up Agatha’s thighs, spreading them wider as she finally pressed her tongue to the slick heat waiting for her.

Agatha’s head fell back, a moan ripping from her throat, raw and unrestrained. It was relief and hunger all at once—a long-awaited satisfaction as Rio licked with deliberate, unhurried strokes, savoring every taste.

Rio moaned against her, the sound guttural and full of need, as if the taste of Agatha was intoxicating her in return. The vibration sent a fresh wave of pleasure rolling through Agatha, but it still wasn’t enough.

Her fingers tightened in Rio’s hair, pulling her closer, harder. "Fuck me, Rio," she demanded, her voice ragged with desperation. "I’m not going to fucking break."

Rio paused just long enough to look up, her eyes dark and burning with wicked intent. She let out a throaty laugh, the sound reverberating against Agatha’s core and making her thighs tremble. “Oh, believe me,” Rio murmured, her voice dripping with playful defiance, “I never thought you would.”

And then, without another word, Rio dove back in, her movements hungrier, more demanding, determined to make Agatha come undone.

“More,” Agatha demanded, her voice rough with need, as she tugged hard on Rio’s hair once more, the sharp pull forcing a gasp from the woman between her thighs.

Rio answered without hesitation, sliding one finger inside her, probing, while her tongue moved to suck on Agatha’s clit with just the right amount of pressure. She felt Agatha’s body respond instantly, tightening around her.

Without breaking her rhythm, Rio added a second finger, curling them as she began to move, her free hand gripping Agatha’s thigh to keep her steady. Agatha moaned loudly, the sound raw and unrestrained, and Rio couldn’t help but smirk against her.

If Agatha had the strength, she might have quipped something about Rio not getting too cocky, but she had been left momentarily speechless.

Another tug on her hair—harder this time—and Rio gave a soft, approving hum as she added a third finger, pushing deeper. Her pace quickened, her tongue and fingers working in tandem, relentless and precise.

The tension inside Agatha coiled tight, her orgasm building like unstoppable waves. And then, it hit her, crashing over her like a hurricane that left her trembling, her cries filling the air as she came undone in Rio’s hands and mouth.

She slumped back against the couch, her chest heaving as aftershocks rippled through her. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d come so hard, her body shaking with pleasure that felt almost primal.

But really, how could she have expected anything less? This was Rio Vidal—the woman who could make her unravel with a single look. Of course she’d taken her apart like this.

Rio’s lips kept moving slowly, pressing kisses along the soft inside of Agatha’s thighs. She began teasing her way upwards, her breath warm against the sensitive skin, until her lips brushed against the curve of Agatha’s belly. She paused there, just for a moment, before continuing her path.

When she reached the swell of Agatha’s breasts, she took one nipple into her mouth again, her tongue circling with slow precision. A shiver rippled through Agatha, her back arching instinctively, her body already pleading for more.

Rio smirked against her skin but didn’t rush. She moved to Agatha’s collarbone, her teeth grazing lightly just enough to tease, before pressing her lips against the pulse point on her neck. There, she lingered, sucking gently, her tongue flicking over the skin to soothe it.

“Mmm. No marks allowed,” Agatha reminded her, trying for a warning but her voice betraying the want she felt.

With a smile, Rio reached Agatha’s lips again and met her in a soft, languid kiss. Agatha tasted herself on Rio’s tongue, the realization sending a low moan spilling from her lips. Unable to resist, Agatha’s hand slid up to the nape of Rio’s neck, her fingers curling possessively as she pulled her impossibly closer, their bodies pressed together as if they couldn’t bear even the smallest distance between them.

The kiss deepened, all-consuming, leaving Rio incapable of processing anything beyond the heat of Agatha’s mouth. Every nerve in her body seemed to come alive, in tune with the magnetic pull between them.

It wasn’t until Agatha’s fingers threaded through Rio’s hair, tugging just enough to make her gasp against her lips, that they finally broke apart. Agatha pulled back only an inch, her breath hot against Rio’s skin, her gaze searching, intent, and burning with something Rio couldn’t name.

Rio blinked up at her, chest heaving, lips kiss-swollen and glistening. God, she’s beautiful, Agatha thought.

With one swift motion, Agatha flipped them. Straddling Rio’s waist, she followed her down with a hungry kiss, the weight of her body pressing them together.

Rio instinctively reached for her, but Agatha caught her wrists midair, pinning them above her head with a firm grip. “Not your turn,” Agatha murmured against her lips, her voice low.

Her free hand trailed down, fingers brushing over Rio’s collarbone before finding her breast. Agatha’s thumb teased over a nipple, circling it deliberately, then pinched lightly, eliciting a sharp inhale from Rio. Agatha smiled, leaning down to soothe the sensitive peak with her mouth, her tongue flicking against it before she moved to repeat the same on the other side, keeping her pace agonizingly slow.

Her hand continued its exploration, fingers digging roughly into the curve of Rio’s hip. Agatha leaned in, her voice a low, teasing murmur against Rio’s ear. “If I let go of your wrists, will you keep them where they are?”

Rio managed a nod, her lips parted, breath shallow, utterly incapable of forming words.

“Good girl,” Agatha purred, a smirk curling her lips as her gaze raked over Rio’s trembling form.

Both hands slid down to grip her hips, hard enough that Agatha knew she’d leave faint marks, the thought alone sending a thrill through her. She leaned in, her teeth grazing the soft, sensitive skin just above Rio’s hipbone before biting down gently.

Rio gasped, her hips instinctively bucking forward, seeking more. But her wrists stayed obediently in place.

Tantalizingly slow, Agatha let her lips roam over every inch of exposed skin, her kisses deliberate and teasing. Her nails grazed softly down Rio’s sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Each touch, each press of her lips, sent sparks of anticipation coursing through Rio’s body as Agatha made her way downward.

When she finally reached Rio’s heat, Agatha let her thumb press against her clit. Rio’s moan was immediate, her head falling back as she whispered, “Agatha.”

The sound of her name breathy and pleading brought a smirk to Agatha’s face. She didn’t hesitate, pushing one finger inside Rio with firm precision, then quickly adding a second, Rio’s body welcomed her eagerly, already so wet that Agatha’s roughness felt nothing but perfect.

Agatha’s fingers set up a steady rhythm, perfectly in sync with the roll of Rio’s hips.

Rio’s moans filled the air and Agatha wanted to drown in them. She leaned forward, capturing the other woman’s lips in a hard, passionate kiss, swallowing every gasp, every moan as if they were her own.

“Mmm. More,” Rio murmured against her lips, her voice trembling with need.

Agatha pulled back just enough to ask, her tone teasing, “More, what?”

“More, please,” Rio gasped, her eyes fluttering open, dark with desire.

Agatha, pleased with her answer, added a third finger, her pace never faltering, and curled them inside, just enough to press where she knew it would drive Rio wild. The effect was immediate—a sharp gasp escaped Rio as Agatha’s lips found her neck, kissing and sucking lightly, leaving Rio utterly undone.

It was overwhelming, the pleasure coursing through her body too much to contain. Agatha kissed her deeply, swallowing her cries, and in that moment, Rio’s back arched. Her fingers dug into the sofa as she came with a force that left her trembling, her release muffled only by Agatha’s lips.

Agatha kept up with her pace, guiding Rio through the aftershocks of her orgasm, keeping the pleasure lingering, not allowing it to fade too quickly. Rio couldn’t help but melt into her, her head falling back against the couch, chest rising and falling as she struggled to catch her breath.

Gradually, Agatha slowed, easing her pace to gentle, soothing strokes as she rested their foreheads together, her lips brushing the edge of Rio’s ear as she whispered, “You’re perfect.”

Rio couldn’t respond, her body still recovering from the intensity, but the warmth of Agatha’s breath, her soft touch, made her feel completely undone. The aftershocks of her release faded, but the closeness, the intimacy between them, lingered in the air.

Who would’ve thought that Agatha Harkness, who had never been with a woman before, would be such an incredible lover? Then again, Rio shouldn’t have been surprised. Agatha had a way of excelling at everything she did. She exuded talent, effortlessly and undeniably.

Chapter Text

A couple of hours had passed in peaceful silence, neither of them realizing when sleep had claimed them.

The quiet hum of the trailer was interrupted by the buzz of a phone vibrating nearby. Rio stirred first, her brows furrowing as the sound woke her from her slumber. She blinked, disoriented, and realized two things simultaneously: the phone wasn’t hers, and she was tangled up with Agatha Harkness on the couch.

Agatha’s arm was draped around her waist, her head nestled against Rio’s shoulder. Their legs were intertwined together, and the couch—small and intimate—felt even smaller now.

The phone buzzed again, louder and more insistent this time.

Rio shifted, murmuring softly, “Agatha, wake up.” She nudged her shoulder lightly, her voice thick with sleep.

Agatha groaned, her voice muffled as she buried her face against Rio’s neck. “Ignore it,” she muttered, tightening her hold on Rio’s waist like she didn’t want to let go.

Rio chuckled, low and warm. “Babe, it could be someone important.”

That seemed to stir something in Agatha. Her eyes fluttered open, and as the haze of sleep lifted, awareness crashed over her. She had fallen asleep after making love to Rio Vidal.

Her stomach twisted—not with regret, but with the weight of what came next. However, she realized the call would most likely be coming from one person: Ralph.

Agatha sighed and disentangled herself from Rio reluctantly, as if letting go was the hardest thing she’d done in ages. She reached for her phone, her heart sinking as she saw the name on the screen.

She had been right.

Almost 1 a.m., and her husband was calling.

Her fingers hovered over the answer button, her hesitation palpable. Finally, she pressed it, bringing the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Where the hell are you?” Ralph’s voice was sharp, his irritation cutting through the line. “It’s the middle of the night, Agatha. Why aren’t you home?”

Agatha stiffened, her grip on the phone tightening. “I was... I’m still on set. Long day.”

Her tone was measured, careful, but even Rio could hear the strain in her tone.

Ralph’s scoff was audible. “Don’t tell me you’re sleeping in your trailer again. You know how it looks when you pull stunts like this.”

Agatha’s jaw tightened. “I’m not ‘pulling stunts.’ I’m working.”

“At this hour?” his voice laced with suspicion.

Agatha swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep her voice even. “It happens. Look, I’ll be home soon.”

There was a pause, heavy with judgment, before Ralph’s voice turned colder. “Whatever it is you’re doing, it’s time for you to come home. Don’t make me regret keeping your little career afloat, Agatha.”

The line went dead before she could respond.

Agatha stared at the phone for a moment, her shoulders sagging as she exhaled shakily, the weight of the conversation settling over her.

Rio sat up, her brows furrowed in concern as she reached out to touch Agatha’s shoulder. “Hey,” she murmured, her voice low and still thick with sleep. “Everything okay?”

Agatha hesitated, her fingers curling tightly around the edge of her phone. “Yeah… It’s…”

“Your husband?” Rio asked softly, uncertain if this was a topic she should breach.

Agatha nodded, unable to bring herself to say the word, a knot forming in her throat.

“Hey.” Rio shifted closer, cupping Agatha’s cheek with surprising tenderness. “Look at me.” She waited until their eyes met, her thumb brushing gently against Agatha’s skin. “It’s okay.”

Agatha looked at her— softer now, her vulnerability laid bare in a way Rio had never seen before. It was disarming. Beautiful.

Without hesitation, Rio leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips.

“Come on,” Rio said after a moment, pulling back just enough to meet Agatha’s eyes again. “Let’s get dressed. I’ll give you a ride home.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Agatha,” Rio interrupted with a small, teasing smile, already standing up. “I want to.”

Agatha was moved. She wasn’t used to people being willing to do things for her without expecting something in return. For so long, her life had been built on transactions, where every kindness came with a hidden cost. But here Rio was, standing before her, offering to ease her burdens, asking for nothing in repayment.

The sincerity in her eyes undid something deep inside Agatha.

This time, it was her who stood, surging forward to grab Rio’s face, her thumbs brushing over the curve of her jaw as she kissed her deeply. At first, the kiss was soft, but that tenderness quickly gave way to something deeper, hungrier.

Rio’s hands slid down instinctively, finding Agatha’s waist and tugging her closer. The heat of their bodies pressed together sent a thrill through both women, and Rio’s touch grew bolder. Her hands drifted lower, fingers teasing over the curve of Agatha’s hips before firmly squeezing her ass, earning a breathless laugh from Agatha.

After they parted, Rio gave her a playful slap, stepping back with a grin. “Come on, Cinderella,” she said, her tone light but warm. “We need to get you home.”

The car ride was surprisingly pleasant. Agatha was still a little on edge, but there was something about Rio’s presence that settled her nerves. She didn’t owe Ralph anything—she knew that—but the weight of their earlier conversation still lingered. And yet, Rio had this effortless way of grounding her, easing the tension she didn’t even realize she was holding.

The soft hum of the engine filled the silence between their conversations, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was the kind that felt warm, comfortable—even intimate.

Rio kept one hand on the wheel, her other hand occasionally drifting to rest on Agatha’s thigh.

The first time it happened, Agatha stiffened ever so slightly, caught off guard. Rio’s touch was casual, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, but the heat it sent coursing through Agatha’s body was anything but.

By the third time, Agatha had given up pretending it didn’t affect her. Each time Rio’s hand found her thigh, it lingered a little longer, her fingers brushing just a bit higher.

Agatha’s breath hitched with every pass, her body betraying her as it leaned into the touch. A shiver raced up her spine, and she cursed herself for how maddeningly responsive she was. How could something so small, so seemingly innocent, unravel her so completely?

“You’re quiet,” Rio said, her tone teasing but soft, as her eyes flicked briefly to Agatha before returning to the road.

Agatha cleared her throat, willing herself to sound composed. “I’m just… tired. Long day.”

Rio smirked knowingly, her fingers giving Agatha’s thigh a light squeeze. “Right. Mine too.”

The double meaning in her words made Agatha’s cheeks flush, and she turned to look out the window, pretending to focus on the passing city lights. But the lazy, almost absentminded way Rio’s thumb brushed against her skin made it impossible to think straight.

“Do you do this to everyone?” Agatha asked after a beat, her voice quieter than she intended.

Rio’s brows furrowed as she glanced at her again. “Do what?”

“Touch them like this. Make them feel…” Agatha trailed off, unsure if she even wanted to finish the sentence.

Rio chuckled, her hand lingering for just a moment longer before she pulled it away to shift gears. “Only the ones who drive me a little crazy,” she said.

“Mmm.” Agatha tilted her head, side-eyeing her with a raised brow. “And may I know how long that list is?”

Rio grinned, her voice light but steady. “So far? Just one name on it.”

Agatha couldn’t help it—the small, genuine smile that tugged at her lips felt impossible to suppress.

They fell back into silence after that, but it wasn’t the comfortable kind this time. It was charged, the air in the car thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

When Rio finally pulled up in front of Agatha’s house, neither of them moved right away. They sat there for a moment, staring at each other, as if they wanted to do anything except say goodbye.

Agatha glanced around, her eyes scanning the quiet street. When she was sure no one was watching, she leaned in and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to the corner of Rio’s lips. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rio’s breath hitched, her lips tingling from the brief contact. She wanted more—God, she wanted more—but she knew better. It was too dangerous. So instead, she smiled—a soft, genuine smile as she said “Anytime.”

As Agatha stepped out of the car, the faint scent of her perfume lingered in the air, and the warmth of her kiss burned on Rio’s skin, long after the other woman disappeared behind the heavy door of her house.

Agatha stepped into the house, moving cautiously as she slipped off her heels and held them in her hand. The house was dim, the only light spilling from a lamp in the corner of the living room.

Good, she thought. Everyone’s probably asleep.

She exhaled softly, relief flooding her chest as she moved further inside, ready to retreat to the safety of her bedroom.

But the relief was short-lived.

“Out late, aren’t we?”

The voice, low and cutting, made her freeze.

Agatha turned, her stomach sinking as her eyes landed on Ralph. He was sprawled out on the living room couch, a glass of bourbon dangling loosely from his fingers.

Her heart sank further when she saw his expression—cold, calculating, and far too sharp for this hour of the night.

“I didn’t think you’d still be awake,” she said evenly, her voice devoid of the warmth she used to be able to fake so well.

“I could say the same about you.” Ralph leaned back, gesturing loosely with his glass. “Where’ve you been, Agatha? And don’t tell me ‘on set.’”

Her grip tightened on her heels. “I was on set,” she replied, keeping her tone calm despite the knot twisting in her stomach.

“At one in the morning?” Ralph’s eyebrow arched, his lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Come on. Do I look stupid to you?”

She wanted to scream yes, but instead, her voice turned steely. “Do I ask where you are when you’re out with your little whores?”

Ralph let out a low laugh, the sound sending a chill up her spine. And not the good kind.

He sat up, his movements deliberate, and set the glass down on the coffee table with a deliberate thud .

“So you’re admitting you were not on set then?”

“Fuck you, Ralph.” The words came out before she could stop them. “I don’t owe you an explanation. You know as well as I do this is a sham.”

“Let me remind you of something, Agatha,” he said, his tone dropping to something more menacing. “You wouldn’t be where you are without me. That little career of yours? It’s standing on my foundation.”

Her nails bit into her palms as she fought the urge to lash out. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, to throw every success she ever had in his face—but she couldn’t. Not now. Not yet.

“I’m going to bed,” she said, brushing past him, her heels clutched tightly in her hand. Her grip on the banister tightened as she climbed the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last.

She didn’t look back. She couldn’t.

Rio, on the other hand, couldn’t stop replaying the night they’d lived together in her mind. Images of Agatha coming undone beneath her kept popping up in her brain. So beautiful, she thought, her chest tightening at the memory.

It was time to admit it: she’d always had a crush on Agatha Harkness. Even before they met, she was one of her few celebrity crushes, as people called them. Seeing her on screen had been enough to make Rio swoon, but experiencing her up close? That was something else entirely.

And now... to know what it felt like to touch her, to taste her, to have her—completely—it felt unreal. Her lips curved into a smile before she could stop it.

Stop acting like an idiot, she scolded herself.

But the truth was, it wasn’t just a one-night thing for her. It couldn’t be. Not when Agatha made her feel this way. And that was what terrified her.

She knew it was a difficult situation for both of them. She was newly out, finally embracing herself, and now she was falling for a “straight,” married woman. The weight of that reality hit her like a punch to the gut, making her pulse race—and not in the good way.

What if she decides she doesn’t want me tomorrow? What if she decides it was all a mistake?

Her own intrusive thoughts were eating at her, each one sharper than the last. She’d always been the confident one, the one who laughed off heartbreak and flirted her way past disappointment. But this felt different. Agatha felt different.

God, Vidal. Get a grip.

But no matter how hard she tried to brush it off, one thing was clear: she had to know. She had to know if what Agatha felt for her was real—real like the way Rio felt for her.

Without giving herself a chance to overthink, Rio grabbed her phone and scrolled to Agatha’s contact. Her thumb hovered over the name, her heart pounding in her chest. She took a deep breath, willing herself to be brave, and typed out a message.

Missing you already.

Before she could second-guess it, she hit send.

The moment the message delivered, her stomach flipped. She set the phone down, staring at the screen like it might combust. The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity, but in reality were merely seconds. The wait felt unbearable, her mind racing with every possible outcome.

And then, her phone buzzed.

Is that so?

Rio’s breath caught as the typing indicator appeared again. Seconds later, another message came through:

I have to admit, for a moment, that awful couch almost felt more inviting than my own bed.

Rio bit her lip, her pulse quickening. She could practically hear Agatha’s voice in those words—teasing, flirting, laced with that signature charm that drove her absolutely wild.

Oh, she wanted her. There was no denying it now. Agatha Harkness, with all her poise and control, wanted Rio just as much as Rio wanted her.

The thought sent a thrill through her, sparking a heat that settled low in her stomach. But it was laced with something else—a vulnerability she wasn’t used to. Because wanting wasn’t the same as having, and even in this moment of connection, doubt whispered in the back of her mind. What if she changes her mind?

Rio caught herself before the thought could make her spiral., shaking her head. She wouldn’t let fear ruin this moment. She wasn’t the kind to shy away from risk, especially when it came to something—or someone—she wanted this badly.

So she replied.

That’s because you haven’t tried my bed yet.

Way more comfortable

She hit send, her lips curling into a playful grin. Let Agatha chew on that .

The next reply came faster than expected.

Bold of you to assume I’d be in your bed, Vidal.

But go on, sell me on it. What makes it better than mine?

Rio felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through her as she tapped out her response. She could almost hear the challenge in Agatha’s voice and it made her pulse quicken.

Easy. I’d be in it.

Her fingers hovered over the screen for a second longer, but the words felt right. Confident, teasing—just like her.

I guess I’ll have to see for myself then.

If it lives up to the hype, that is.

Rio grinned. The game was on—she could feel it in her bones, the electric charge in the air between them even from miles away.

She leaned back against her bed, enjoying the moment, and then tapped out her response:

Trust me, it will. But I’d need to give you the grand tour first.

You know, show you all the very comfortable spots (;

Agatha took a minute to reply, and Rio felt a flicker of doubt. Had she pushed it too far? Maybe that last message was a little too bold, too much.

She stared at the screen, waiting, tapping her fingers against the bed in impatience.

Then, finally, the screen lit up as a new message popped up.

Can’t wait then.

The words were simple, but Rio could read between the lines. Agatha wanted this.

A slow, satisfied grin spread across Rio’s face as she set her phone down, her mind already spinning with possibilities.

Her gaze drifted to the ceiling. Agatha Harkness—poised, controlled, untouchable—was stepping into Rio’s orbit. Or maybe, Rio thought with a wry smile, she was stepping into Agatha’s.

The truth was, Rio only knew one thing for certain: she wanted Agatha. Not just for the thrill of the chase or the allure of the forbidden. Not because Agatha had been her crush for years. She wanted her —the woman behind the persona. She wanted to peel back every carefully constructed layer, to uncover the truths Agatha kept hidden from everyone else.

It was exhilarating. It was terrifying.

Rio shifted, running a hand through her hair, her fingers brushing over the same strands Agatha had tangled hers in just hours ago. Was she really ready for this? For the complications, the risks? Because it wasn’t just her heart on the line. Agatha was still married, and if anyone found out, the fallout could be catastrophic.

But then she thought of Agatha. The way her lips curved in that faint, teasing smile. The way her voice softened when she let her walls slip, even just a little. The way she looked at Rio with those piercing blue eyes .

Rio let out a breath, a smile tugging at her lips as she realized she was willing to risk it.

She didn’t know what this would become, or if it would even survive the chaos of their lives.

But for Agatha, she’d risk it all.

Chapter Text

The studio lot buzzed with the usual morning chaos—trailers opening and closing, crew members hurrying with equipment, and the distant hum of rehearsals already in progress. Rio stepped out of the car, sunglasses perched on her nose, exuding her usual confidence.

Alice walked beside her, clipboard in hand, rattling off reminders about the day’s schedule. “So, after the costume fitting, you’ve got that fight scene rehearsal with the stunt team. Then a quick—”

Rio nodded absently, her mind somewhere else entirely. Her thoughts still tangled up in Agatha.

“Rio, are you even listening to me?” Alice’s voice cut through the haze, pulling Rio back to the present.

“Of course,” Rio lied, but Alice knew her too well. “Something about the fight scene.”

Alice gave her a skeptical look. “Right. You’re totally focused,” she mocked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Alice kept talking but the minute they rounded the corner her voice faded into background noise and Rio’s steps faltered for a second.

There she was.

Agatha stood near her trailer, leaning slightly against the doorframe, deep in conversation with Jen and one of the producers. Her dark hair fell loosely around her shoulders, framing her face. And even from across the lot, her commanding presence was unmistakable. To Rio, she looked stunning.

Rio didn’t even realize she’d stopped walking until Alice nudged her gently.

“Hello there, lovergirl,” Alice teased, following Rio’s gaze.

“Shut up,” Rio said, rolling her eyes, though her voice betrayed her bright mood.

She started walking again, but her eyes couldn’t help but keep flicking back to Agatha. It was as if they had a mind of their own.

For one long moment, Agatha glanced up mid-conversation. Her piercing blue eyes locked with Rio’s warm brown ones, and the world stopped, leaving them alone in the room.

But then, Agatha turned back to Jen, and the spell broke.

Rio headed to her trailer, her steps quickening as she shut the door behind her. Once inside, she leaned against the wall, pulling out her phone almost instinctively.

She clicked on Agatha’s contact and typed:

You look beautiful.

Soon enough, her phone buzzed, the notification lighting up the screen.

Flattery will get you everywhere.

Rio grinned at the cheeky response, sinking onto the couch as she typed another message.

Anywhere in particular you’d like me to go?

The reply came faster this time.

I can think of some options…

Rio’s pulse quickened, her thoughts racing. She felt the desperate need to see her again, to feel her close. Her fingers moved over the screen.

Come to my trailer.

We’ll say we’re rehearsing.

Agatha’s reply didn’t come right away and Rio stared at the screen, feeling doubt already creeping in.

But then her phone buzzed again.

Give me ten minutes.

Rio could feel the excitement and nerves shooting through her as she paced the length of her trailer. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she paused just long enough to smooth her hair and adjust the collar of her shirt. She was anxious, but she couldn’t afford to let it show.

The knock on the door came sooner than she expected, making her stomach flip. She inhaled deeply, willing herself to appear composed as she went to answer it.

But when she swung the door open, it wasn’t Agatha standing there.

“Wanda,” Rio said, blinking in surprise.

“Hey, stranger,” Wanda greeted with a warm smile. “I feel like we haven’t talked much lately, so I just wanted to drop by and say hi. You don’t have to look so scared, though.”

“God, no, I just… I wasn’t expecting you. You startled me.”

“Expecting someone else?” Wanda asked, her brow quirking in amusement.

“No! Of course not,” Rio replied, quickly—perhaps too quickly.

Wanda’s smirk deepened. “May I come in, then?”

“Of course, I’m sorry.” Rio stepped aside, letting her in.

They were making small talk, Rio doing her best to keep the conversation natural, when another knock echoed through the trailer.

Rio’s pulse quickened, her heart thundering in her chest. This time, she was certain. It had to be Agatha.

She froze, unsure of what to do. They couldn’t be seen together, but she couldn’t leave Agatha standing there after she’d just invited her, either.

“Well? Won’t you see who it is?” Wanda said, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“Yes, of course,” Rio replied, snapping out of her haze, her heart pounding. Time to face the music.

When she opened the door this time, there stood Agatha, her piercing blue eyes sending a thrill through Rio’s entire body.

“Miss me much?” Agatha asked, stepping inside, her voice low and teasing.

Rio was momentarily speechless, but as Agatha entered, her eyes fell on Wanda. She froze mid-step, her confident demeanor faltering for just a second.

“I… Wanda, hi!” Agatha recovered quickly, her gaze darting between the two women. “We were just about to rehearse for…”

“A scene, yeah,” Rio interjected, her words rushing out. “That’s who I was expecting earlier. Wanda, I’m so sorry.”

Wanda smirked knowingly, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll let you two get to work. I’m less work , more fun , anyway.” She winked and went to exit the trailer.

For a moment, Agatha said nothing, her sharp gaze sweeping over the room until it finally landed on Rio.

“Inviting all the pretty girls to your trailer, I see,” she said, her tone light, but a subtle edge betrayed her.

“Okay, first of all, I didn’t invite her.” Rio raised an eyebrow, holding her hands up in mock defense. “And second, are you calling her pretty?”

Agatha’s lips twitched, but she didn’t smile. “Hmm. Wanda did seem awfully comfortable here, though.”

“Wanda’s just a friend,” Rio replied, her voice steady, but her stomach tightened. She stepped closer, closing the distance between them slightly. “You know that.”

“Do I?” Agatha shot back, her piercing blue eyes locking onto Rio’s with an intensity that made Rio’s pulse quicken. “I mean, who’s to say? You’re very charming, after all. Always have been.”

Rio took another step closer, her smirk softening into something more sincere. “You’re the only one I invited, Agatha.”

That seemed to catch her off guard. Agatha looked away briefly, her arms folding defensively, though her shoulders eased just a fraction. “Well,” she muttered, “if you wanted privacy, maybe you should’ve scheduled it better.”

“Next time, I’ll make sure the coast is clear,” Rio teased, her voice low and warm as she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against Agatha’s arm.

The softening in Agatha’s expression was almost imperceptible, but Rio caught it. Taking the moment for what it was, she leaned in, her heart pounding, and kissed her. Agatha hesitated for just a second before she leaned into it.

The kiss was a clash of passion and vulnerability—it was pure want, unfiltered and undeniable. But there was something else there. Something more than simple attraction.

Agatha’s hands moved to cup Rio’s face as she angled her head, deepening the kiss. Rio felt like she was burning alive, the intensity of it stealing the air from her lungs as her hands slid to Agatha’s waist, pulling her flush against her.

Agatha’s nails grazed lightly against the nape of Rio’s neck, drawing a soft gasp from her lips that Agatha swallowed hungrily. Her tongue swept inside, the kiss growing deeper, hotter, until the world outside the trailer dissolved entirely.

The moment they parted for air, both breathless, their gazes locked for a second before they burst into laughter, the sound light and full of joy.

“Miss me much?” Agatha teased.

Rio grinned, her fingers brushing against Agatha’s as she intertwined their hands. “Should I lie and say no?” she replied, tugging Agatha gently toward the small couch.

As they settled onto the couch, Rio kept hold of Agatha’s hand, her thumb tracing slow, absent-minded circles against her skin. Agatha leaned back, her head resting lightly against the cushion, and let out a soft sigh, relaxing under Rio’s touch.

“So,” Agatha began, her lips quirking into a smile. “What exactly are we rehearsing in here?”

Rio chuckled, leaning closer, her knee brushing against Agatha’s. “Oh, you know… chemistry. Building tension, and all that.”

Agatha tilted her head, amusement in her eyes. “Chemistry, huh? Don’t we have enough of that already?”

“We can never have too much, or so I’ve heard.” Rio said in a teasing voice before leaning in to press a soft, playful kiss against Agatha’s lips.

Agatha let out a soft laugh, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on Rio’s arm. “I should really be going over my lines,” she said, though she made no effort to move.

“Mmm, this feels more important,” Rio replied.

Agatha shook her head, though her smile stayed. “You’re impossible.”

“To resist? Yeah,” Rio quipped, earning herself a playful swat on the shoulder.

They stayed like that, their knees brushing, fingers interlocked as they shared soft, stolen kisses. Conversation came in whispers—about nothing and everything at once.

Every now and then, Rio would lean in, catching Agatha’s lips with her own, just because she couldn’t resist. Agatha would laugh softly against her mouth, like they were sharing a secret language no one else could ever understand.

When a knock came at the door, signaling it was time to head to set, neither of them moved at first. They just sat there, foreheads touching, caught in the moment for a little longer.

But reality crashed in.

“I guess we should...” Agatha started, her voice reluctant.

Rio sighed dramatically, pulling back with a grin. “Fine, but just so you know, I’m holding you personally responsible if our chemistry is too good on camera.”

Agatha laughed, shaking her head as she stood. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.” Rio said, her grin widening.

Agatha rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered as they exited the trailer together, the warmth of their secret moment still all around them.

The day’s shoot dragged on, leaving both Agatha and Rio drained from the intense fight scenes. The long hours under the studio lights had taken their toll today.

Rio debated inviting Agatha over for one of their usual late-night rehearsals but dismissed the idea. No, she wanted something different this time. Something real. She wanted to ask Agatha out—on a proper date.

An idea sparked in her mind, and she grinned to herself as she turned to Alice, who was juggling her ever-present clipboard and a half-empty iced coffee. Rio’s energy seemed to return.

“I need you to do me a favor,” Rio said, pulling her assistant aside with mischief in her eyes.

Alice raised an eyebrow. “What kind of favor?”

Rio rolled her eyes, already going through her bag to pull out a small notebook and pen. “I need you to deliver something to Agatha. But—” she paused, pointing a finger at Alice for emphasis—“no one can see you do it.”

Alice stared at her, unimpressed. “What am I, a spy now?”

“Come on, just do it,” Rio urged, scribbling quickly on the paper.

When she finished, she folded the note neatly and handed it over.

“Will this get me fired?” Alice muttered, but there was a teasing lilt in her voice.

“I’m firing you if you don’t do it,” Rio shot back with a grin. “Now go! And remember—slip it to her when no one’s looking.”

Alice sighed dramatically but tucked the note into her back pocket. “Fine, but you owe me.”

“You’ll get your reward,” Rio called after her as Alice walked off.

Rio watched from a distance, her nerves bubbling up. The note wasn’t anything special—just a simple invitation—but the thought of Agatha reading it, of seeing her reaction, made her heart race.

Now, all she could do was wait.

Alice approached Agatha, who was deep in conversation with the director. Nearby, Jen stood idly, scrolling through her phone.

To stay inconspicuous, Alice struck up a casual conversation with Jen. “Hey,” she began, her tone easy, “long day, huh?”

Jen glanced up, her face lighting up with a quick smile. “Tell me about it. I feel like I’ve been holding this clipboard for years.”

Alice chuckled, relieved by the easy banter. Before long, their conversation flowed naturally. To her surprise, Jen was friendly and sharp, and the two found themselves clicking almost immediately. They exchanged a few jokes, quickly finding common ground in their jobs.

Eventually, Agatha’s discussion with the director wrapped up, and she approached the pair, her eyes flicking curiously between her assistant and Alice. Her brow arched in an amused, questioning expression.

“Well, you two seem to be getting along,” she remarked, her tone light but carrying an unmistakable curiosity.

Alice straightened, trying to appear composed. “Hey, Agatha. Actually, Rio asked me to pass along a quick message.”

Agatha tilted her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Did something happen?”

“No, nothing like that,” Alice replied smoothly. “It’s about... the rehearsal schedule.”

Agatha’s brow quirked slightly, but she nodded. “Alright. Come this way,” she gestured for Alice to follow along.

Once they were a bit more secluded, Alice glanced around to ensure no one was within earshot. “Okay, so... she wanted me to give you this,” she said, lowering her voice and passing the note to Agatha. “But she also made a big deal about keeping it a secret. I figured Jen wouldn’t be a problem, but I still didn’t want anyone else to see.”

Agatha took the note and unfolded it, her eyes going over the handwritten words:

Friday, 7pm. My house. It’s a date.

What do you say?

- R.

Her fingers twitched, folding the paper closed almost immediately, as if it had burned her. Yet, a small smile tugged at her lips, betraying her amusement.

Clearing her throat, she asked, “Right... Is that all?”

Alice hesitated, “Umm, don’t you want to... I don’t know, send a reply?”

Agatha let out a sudden laugh, catching even herself off guard. The absurdity of passing secret notes made her feel like a teenager again. She quickly covered her mouth, hoping no one had noticed the outburst. “You’re right. I suppose I should.”

Calling Jen over, Agatha asked for a pen and quickly scribbled something on the back of the note. Folding it neatly, she handed it to Alice with a sly wink.

“Here. Go ahead and give this back to her,” Agatha said, her tone casual as she dismissed Alice.

Alice nodded, taking the note. She couldn’t help but compare Agatha’s polished demeanor to Rio’s playful, chaotic energy. Still, somehow, they seemed to balance each other perfectly. I guess opposites really do attract, she thought to herself with a small smile.

Friday arrived faster than Rio had anticipated.

Determined to impress, she had spent most of the afternoon preparing her famous carbonara pasta, the one dish she knew could win anyone over. The rich aroma of garlic, guanciale, and creamy sauce filled the air. She was excited but equally nervous.

Once the food was ready, Rio decided to make herself more presentable. She slipped into a navy halter top that showed just enough of her toned stomach to be playful, and paired it with tailored gray pants and matching navy flats. She looked good and she knew it.

She was in the midst of setting the table, carefully placing the wine glasses and folded napkins, when the doorbell rang. Rio paused, her heart skipping a beat.

It was time.

Rio opened the door, and there she was. Agatha stood on the threshold in a crisp white blouse tucked into tailored navy trousers, paired with matching stilettos. Her long brown hair cascaded over one shoulder in that effortlessly messy-yet-sexy style she always seemed to master. She looked stunning.

For a moment, Rio just took her in, letting her eyes sweep over Agatha's figure—only to catch Agatha doing the same.

“You look amazing,” Rio said warmly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Agatha’s cheek. As she lingered, her lips close to Agatha’s ear, she whispered, “Come in so I can give you a proper kiss.”

Agatha laughed softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Is that the effect I have on you?” she teased, stepping inside.

“It’s the effect you’ve always had on me,” Rio replied, her voice sincere.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Rio reached for Agatha, and their lips met in a soft kiss—one that quickly deepened, as it always seemed to with them.

Rio’s hands slid up Agatha’s chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of her blouse to pull her closer. Agatha’s hands found their way to Rio’s stomach, pressing lightly as a soft moan escaped from the back of her throat.

“You look so good,” Agatha murmured in between kisses, her voice low and breathy. Her hand pressed against Rio’s stomach for emphasis. “Is this for me?”

“Mmm, I wanted to look good for you,” Rio said, her voice warm.

She tilted her head slightly, parting her lips to allow Agatha to take control. The kiss deepened, growing hungrier, messier, leaving no space left for words.

Agatha’s thumb stroked over the curve of Rio’s waist, her touch slow and deliberate. In response, Rio nibbled softly on Agatha’s bottom lip, drawing a helpless moan from her that made Rio’s chest tighten with want.

“Babe, as much as I love making out with you, I did kill myself trying to make the perfect dinner for you,” Rio said with a laugh, pulling back just enough to meet Agatha’s gaze.

Agatha blushed, she truly felt like a giddy teenager. “Lead the way then,” she replied, biting her lip with a smile.

Rio grinned, taking Agatha’s hand and guiding her toward the small dining table she’d meticulously set up. Candles flickered softly, casting a warm glow over the room, and the scent of freshly cooked pasta filled the air.

“Ta-da, m’lady!” Rio announced, gesturing to the table dramatically. “Carbonara, made with love by yours truly.”

Reaching for a flower from the vase in the center of the table, she offered it to Agatha with a bashful smile.

Agatha took the flower, her lips curling into a cheeky grin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to win me over.”

“Well, I think I already did,” Rio replied, stealing a quick kiss before moving to pull a chair out for her.

They sat down to enjoy the delicious meal Rio had prepared, the conversation flowing easily between them

Agatha twirled a forkful of pasta, her eyes flicking up to meet Rio’s. “You weren’t just showing off—this is amazing,” she said, savoring another bite.

Rio leaned back in her chair, a teasing smirk playing on her lips. “What can I say? I’m full of hidden talents. Cooking’s just one of them.”

Agatha chuckled, setting her fork down to take a sip of wine. “I think I already know some of the others.”

Rio’s smirk deepened, “If you’re lucky tonight, I might just show you more of those,” she teased, leaning in slightly, her voice dropping a little.

They both laughed, the kind of laughter that came easily when two people are completely at ease with each other. Conversation shifted, touching on everything from their early acting careers to their favorite childhood memories.

As the meal wound down and they moved their conversation to the couch, the atmosphere grew softer, more intimate. Agatha reached out, letting her fingers brush against Rio’s hand.

“You know, it’s been ages since anyone’s made an effort like this for me.”

Rio’s gaze softened, her thumb drawing lazy circles on Agatha’s hand. “I don’t do this for just anyone, Agatha.”

Agatha could feel the sincerity in Rio’s voice and something warm stirred inside her. The room suddenly seemed quieter, the flicker of the candles casting shifting patterns of light, the only movement in the room.

“Thank you for tonight,” Agatha said softly, her fingers tightening slightly around Rio’s.

Rio smiled, her free hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair back from Agatha’s face, her fingers lingering on her cheek. “You don’t have to thank me. I wanted to.”

Agatha let out a soft laugh, leaning into Rio’s touch. “You’re dangerously charming, you know that?”

“Dangerously?” Rio teased, though her voice remained playful.“ Am I a threat to you, Agatha?”

Agatha’s gaze faltered for just a moment, her lips curving as though considering how much truth to reveal, before looking back. Her gaze was softer than Rio had ever seen. “You feel like one sometimes. You threaten to shatter the world I’ve spent years constructing... and rebuild it into something else entirely.”

Rio’s teasing expression melted, giving way to something deeper, more vulnerable. She leaned in slowly, her movements careful, as if afraid to break the fragile honesty hanging between them. When their lips met, it was soft and lingering, the kind of kiss that conveyed everything words couldn’t.

When they pulled back, Rio rested her forehead lightly against Agatha’s. “Stay tonight,” she whispered, the words barely audible, as though saying them any louder might scare Agatha away. Her breath mingled with Agatha’s, and she closed her eyes as she waited for an answer.

For a brief moment, Agatha hesitated, her thoughts drifting back to the life waiting for her at home. But when she looked at Rio, so open, so full of longing, her decision was clear.

“Okay,” Agatha whispered, her lips brushing against Rio’s once more.

This time, the kiss was different—deeper, hungrier, filled with need. It wasn’t careful or soft; it was all-consuming. Agatha’s hands slid up to cradle Rio’s face as she leaned in, pulling her closer, and Rio responded in kind, her fingers threading through Agatha’s hair.

A soft gasp escaped from Agatha’s lips, and Rio couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth before their lips met again, hotter this time.

The air between them grew heavier. Agatha’s hand slipped from Rio’s face to her naked shoulder, then down her arm, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Rio’s hands moved too, sliding down Agatha’s back, fingers curling into the fabric of her now-wrinkled blouse.

This was the kind of kiss that carried them beyond words, beyond hesitation, into something undeniable. Agatha shifted slightly, her knee brushing against Rio’s thigh, and Rio’s breath hitched at the closeness.

Rio broke the kiss only for a moment to whisper “You’re so beautiful,” the words coming out low and rough with want.

Agatha’s lips curled into a soft smile, her hands slipping beneath the hem of Rio’s top to rest against the bare skin of her stomach. “And you’re dangerous,” she replied, her blue eyes now dark with desire.

The space between them disappeared again as Agatha tilted her head, capturing Rio’s lips with renewed fervor. There was nothing left in that room but the overwhelming need to lose themselves in each other, to let the world outside dissolve into nothingness.

When Agatha’s hands slid higher, her touch deliberate and unhurried, Rio shifted instinctively, leaning back into the couch and pulling Agatha with her.

The night stretched ahead of them, with the flickering candlelight remaining the only witness to the intimacy unfolding between them.

Chapter Text

A few weeks had passed, yet the world outside felt unchanged—long days on set, the hum of cameras, and the constant shuffle of crew members coming and going. But for Rio and Agatha, everything had shifted.

Their days had become a delicate balance of work and a secret rhythm of stolen moments between takes, hands brushing when no one was watching, glances that burned hotter than any stage light. It was dangerous yet exhilarating. And even though they both knew it couldn’t last—as secrets rarely did—still neither could bring themselves to stop.

This particular afternoon had stretched on endlessly. The heat of the day and the heavy tension in the air were mirrored in the scene they’d just wrapped—a tense, close-quarters exchange between their characters that left them both a little too breathless to be entirely professional.

Rio was clad in her FBI costume, her tailored blazer a stark contrast to Agatha’s more laid-back look—flannel and jeans that somehow still managed to make her seem captivating.

“Cut!” the director’s voice rang out. “That was good, guys. We’ll pick it up from the next scene after the break.”

Relief rippled through the set as crew members scattered to reset for the next shot. Rio slipped off her character’s badge and holstered prop, her fingers fumbling slightly as she tried not to think about the heat lingering from their last scene.

“You’re free for a bit,” the assistant director called out, nodding at both of them. “We don’t need you until later.”

Rio stretched her arms overhead, letting out a dramatic sigh and flashed that captivating smile of hers as she turned to Agatha, “I’m exhausted. Thinking about heading to my trailer and taking a nap. You in?”

Agatha’s heart skipped a beat, the casual invitation laced with just enough teasing to make her pulse race. But she forced herself to stay composed, glancing around the set with practiced nonchalance. “Someone could hear you,” she scolded softly, taking a step closer to Rio as though proximity might muffle their words.

Rio didn't seem the least bit concerned. Instead, she leaned in, her voice dropping just enough to make Agatha’s breath hitch. “Let them. We’re just two co-stars, right?”

Rio’s grin widened as she started toward her trailer, her confident stride punctuated by the occasional over-the-shoulder glance to ensure Agatha was following.

Agatha hesitated for a moment, mentally chastising herself. They were supposed to be professionals. They were supposed to be pretending. And yet, here she was, trailing after Rio like it was the most natural thing in the world.

What they were doing was reckless.

But she couldn’t bring herself to stop.

Rio stepped into her trailer and moved to the minibar in the corner, grabbing a bottle of beer and cracking it open with ease. Taking a sip, she let the cool drink wash away the exhaustion from the day.

She settled onto the small couch, her eyes flicking to the door every few seconds. It wasn’t long before the knock came—a soft, tentative sound that sent a thrill through her.

“Come in,” Rio called out casually, her tone light but her pulse quickening with anticipation.

The door opened, and there stood Agatha. She hesitated for just a second, exhaling softly before stepping inside and closing the door shut firmly behind her. Her eyes swept over the room, before her gaze landed on Rio, who was comfortably lounging on the couch, beer in hand.

Without a word, Agatha crossed the small distance and took a seat beside her. Close. Close enough that Rio could catch a faint whiff of her perfume, subtle and undeniably alluring.

Rio gestured to her beer, tilting the bottle in a silent offer. Agatha arched an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at her lips, but accepted it anyway. She lifted the bottle, and as her lips closed around the rim, Rio couldn’t look away.

God, she's sexy.

Agatha lowered the bottle, her movements deliberate, and turned her head slightly, catching Rio’s gaze. She didn’t need words to notice the way Rio’s eyes lingered—first on her lips, then darting up to meet her own.

A knowing smirk played at Agatha’s mouth, and she leaned just a fraction closer, her voice low and teasing. “Is this distracting to you?”

Rio felt a slight blush creep up her neck. She tilted her head and admitted in a soft voice, “I hate how you can still make me blush.”

“Oh, do you?” Agatha’s smirk deepened as she leaned back slightly, her gaze never wavering. “Is that why you invited me? To make you blush?”

Rio pretended to think for a minute, her eyes narrowing in mock consideration. “Hmm, I think I mentioned a nap, didn’t I?”

“Is that what you want?” Agatha’s voice dipped lower, her lashes fluttering in exaggerated innocence as her tongue darted out to wet her lips—a movement that sent a jolt straight through Rio.

If that's how she wants to play, fine. Rio thought, her own smirk returning with full force. Two can play this game.

“You know,” Rio began, leaning lazily against the back of the couch as she undid the top button of her shirt, her voice dripping lower, “it’s getting hot in here...”

Agatha’s eyes betrayed her, flickering down to Rio’s newly revealed cleavage before snapping back up to meet her gaze. “Oh, you’re not playing fair.”

“Who said anything about fair?” Rio replied, a low chuckle escaping her as she tilted her head, her tone both a tease and a challenge.

Agatha’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “It’s on,” she declared.

She reached up, pulling the tie from her hair in one fluid motion, letting the dark waves tumble freely around her shoulders. The effect was mesmerizing, and Rio couldn’t hide her sharp intake of breath.

Then, Agatha moved to straddle her, settling into her lap with confidence. Her hands rested lightly on Rio’s shoulders as she leaned in, her face mere inches away.

“Still feeling hot?” Agatha teased, her voice a low purr, her gaze daring Rio to close the distance.

Rio swallowed, her own confident demeanor faltering ever so slightly under Agatha’s intensity. “Oh, I’m definitely feeling something,” she murmured, her hands instinctively finding their way to Agatha’s hips.

Agatha’s smirk deepened, and she rolled her hips against Rio with deliberate, agonizing slowness, drawing a gasp from the younger woman.

Rio’s hands slid upward, brushing the fabric of Agatha’s blouse before moving back to her own chest. Her fingers worked quickly, undoing another button on her shirt, exposing more of her skin.

Every movement was part of a game, a silent battle of wills. Both women were testing each other’s limits, testing each other’s control, seeing who would break first.

Agatha smirked and dipped her head, her teeth grazing the delicate lace of Rio’s bra, tugging at the cup until it slid lower, exploding flushed skin to the cool air. It sent a jolt through Rio, her restraint lowering with every passing second.

Fuck it. Rio thought, the need to close the distance between them overwhelming.

Her fingers tangled in Agatha’s hair, gripping tightly as she pulled her up, crashing their mouths together in a kiss that was nothing if not feral.

This kiss was desperate and filled with hunger. Agatha’s teeth nipped at Rio’s bottom lip, eliciting a low, throaty moan that spurred her on. Agatha’s hands roamed as well, one slipping into Rio’s unbuttoned shirt, her nails teasing against bare skin, drawing shivers and more breathless gasps from the woman beneath her.

Rio’s hands moved to Agatha’s shoulders, pulling her even closer, her nails digging lightly into Agatha’s skin as she slid off her flannel. Agatha’s hands roamed as well, one slipping into Rio’s unbuttoned shirt, her nails teasing against bare skin as she undid the remaining buttons, drawing shivers and more breathless gasps from the woman beneath her.

Their kiss grew messier, wetter, it was as if they were trying to consume each other completely. Agatha shifted her hips, grinding down against Rio’s lap, and Rio groaned into her mouth, the sound swallowed by Agatha’s lips.

Rio tugged Agatha’s tank top over her head, her eyes devouring the sight before her. Without hesitation, her hands slid to the other woman’s bra, pushing the cups down to expose her breasts. Rio leaned in, capturing one nipple between her lips, her tongue flicking and teasing before moving to the other, nibbling just enough to draw a low, guttural groan from Agatha.

Agatha’s hands flew to Rio’s hair, her fingers threading through the dark strands, holding her there as she drank in the sensation. Her breaths were uneven, a mix of soft gasps and throaty moans that only fueled Rio’s movements.

Once she was released, Rio’s mouth began moving upwards—trailing kisses along Agatha’s collarbone, up her neck, brushing her jawline, and finally capturing her lips once again. This kiss was slower, but no less intense, as Rio’s fingers fumbled with the zipper of Agatha’s pants.

Agatha shifted instinctively, rising just enough to help slide her pants off. The absence of contact between them made both of them groan in protest, but Agatha quickly climbed back onto Rio’s lap, now clad only in her panties. Her hips moved with a fiery intensity, grinding against Rio in a hungrier rhythm.

Rio pulled her closer, their lips colliding once more in a passionate kiss. Her hands found their way to the other woman’s ass, gripping hard as she guided their movements, her own hips thrusting upward to meet Agatha’s.

With one hand, Rio expertly slid her fingers to Agatha's front, slipping beneath the thin fabric of her panties. Her fingers found the place where Agatha needed her the most, stroking with precision as the older woman’s head fell back, a loud moan escaping from her lips, raw and unfiltered.

Rio chuckled softly, her breath warm against Agatha’s cheek. “Now you’re the loud one,” she teased.

Agatha’s lips parted to respond, but the words were swallowed by a gasp as Rio slipped two fingers inside of her, filling her in a steady pace that matched the sway of her own hips perfectly.

“More,” Agatha demanded, her voice rough with desperation.

Rio didn’t hesitate, slipping a third finger inside her, her movements deeper, more deliberate. She leaned in to press her lips to Agatha’s neck, biting softly, just enough to drive her wild as her fingers worked faster, hotter, the pressure building with every motion.

Agatha’s hands grasped Rio’s shoulders, her nails digging into her skin as waves of pleasure overtook her. She couldn’t stop the moans spilling from her lips, the sound filling the room, her body responding to Rio’s unrelenting pace.

“Just like that,” Agatha panted, her words barely coherent.

Rio grinned against her skin, her free hand wrapping around Agatha’s back, pulling her even closer as her thrusts became harder, deeper. She felt Agatha’s body tightening around her, her breath hitching in anticipation of what was coming.

And then it hit—Agatha shattered, her climax exploding through her like fireworks. She cried out, her body trembling against Rio’s as wave after wave of release coursed through her, leaving her breathless and utterly undone.

Rio slowed her movements, drawing out every last bit of pleasure as she held Agatha close. When Agatha collapsed against Rio’s shoulder, Rio stayed still, her fingers still inside, until Agatha reached down, her hand covering Rio’s to guide her fingers out. Agatha caught Rio’s gaze, her eyes dark with lingering desire as she brought Rio’s fingers to her lips, taking them into her mouth.

She sucked slowly, her tongue swirling, tasting herself as she maintained unwavering eye contact. The sight made Rio moan, her breath hitching. She was so overstimulated by the intensity of it all, and yet, she hadn’t found her release. Her body ached with need.

Agatha pulled back, her lips curving into a wicked smile. “Take your pants off,” she commanded, her voice low and firm.

Rio did as she was told, her hands fumbling with the button and zipper as Agatha moved to recline on the couch, her naked body stretched out for Rio to see.

“Now sit.” Agatha instructed, her voice commanding. Rio climbed onto Agatha’s thighs, straddling her. But Agatha wasn’t finished. She reached up, her hands gripping Rio’s hips with possessiveness. “No. Sit on my face.”

Rio bit her lip as desire surged through her and she moved, crawling up Agatha’s body, before finally positioning herself over her mouth. Agatha’s hands guided her firmly, pulling her closer.

“Come on,” Agatha teased, “You’re not gonna crush me.”

That was all she needed. Rio lowered herself fully, her body responding to Agatha’s words. The first touch of Agatha’s tongue sent a jolt through her, her hips instinctively grinding forward in search of more. Agatha was deliberate at first, her tongue moving slowly, savoring every moment as if she had all the time in the world.

Rio’s hands found their way to the couch cushions for balance, her breaths turning into soft gasps. Agatha’s grip on her hips tightened, urging her to move. “That’s it,” Agatha murmured between licks, her voice rough and low, making Rio shudder.

Spurred on, Rio began to grind her hips more boldly, moving with raw need. The rhythm was intoxicating, their movements synchronized as Agatha’s tongue worked her skillfully. Every flick, every swirl, sent sparks coursing through Rio’s body.

When Agatha slid her tongue inside, Rio cried out, her voice breaking into a moan that seemed to reverberate through the room. Her hands clutched the back of the couch, her head tilting back as she let the pleasure consume her.

Agatha’s fingers dug into Rio’s thighs, her grip firm and grounding as the younger woman moved above her. Each stroke of Agatha’s tongue was deliberate, teasing yet satisfying, driving Rio closer and closer to the edge.

Rio’s breaths grew heavier, her moans filling the intimate space of the trailer. Her head fell back, dark hair cascading over her shoulders, as she surrendered to the pleasure coursing through her.

“Agatha,” Rio gasped, her voice trembling.

Agatha’s response was to pull her even closer, her tongue pressing deeper, flicking just the way she knew Rio needed. With one final lick, Rio cried out, her entire body shuddering with the force of her orgasm. The release was overwhelming, her thighs trembling as she ground against Agatha’s face, her movements slowing but lingering as she rode out every last surge of pleasure.

Agatha held her there, her lips and tongue not relenting until Rio’s hips stilled, her body sagging with exhaustion. When Rio finally caught her breath, she looked down and Agatha smirked, her lips glistening as she licked them slowly.

Once Rio came down from her haze, she shifted gently, her body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure as she climbed down from Agatha’s face. She collapsed beside her, pulling the older woman into a slow, deep kiss.

Their lips met with lingering passion and something close to reverence, the taste of each other still fresh on their tongues. They kissed lazily, the intensity softened by the exhaustion settling in their limbs, but the reminder of the need that had just been fulfilled was still there.

Rio’s hand wandered to the back of the couch, reaching for the blanket draped there. She spread it over them both, the soft fabric enveloping them. Agatha’s arm pulled Rio closer, their bodies pressing together in the comfortable silence that followed.

The intimacy of it all started to settle them and sleep began to claim them both. As their bodies relaxed, still deeply intertwined, they drifted into a peaceful, tangled sleep.

None of them knew how much time passed before they were jolted awake by a knock on the door.

“Rio, have you seen Agatha?” The voice came from outside, distant but growing more insistent.

Agatha stirred first, blinking as the grogginess of sleep slowly faded. She looked down at Rio, still sleeping peacefully next to her. For a moment, she allowed herself to linger in the warmth, reluctant to face the outside world, but duty called.

"Rio, there's someone outside," Agatha murmured, gently nudging her, her voice soft but urgent.

Rio's eyes fluttered open, her body stretching with a soft groan as she became aware of the situation. Still half-asleep, she looked up at Agatha, disoriented but groggy.

“What’s going on?” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

Before Agatha could respond, a louder knock came. "Rio, Agatha, you in there?"

That’s when it happened.

The door slammed open without warning, and the director walked in. His eyes widened in surprise as he took in the sight of them, tangled in the blanket, their bodies close. His gaze flickered between them, clearly caught off guard and struggling to make sense of what he was seeing.

For a moment, there was only silence, the air thick with tension as Agatha and Rio blinked up at him, still trying to process the situation. Agatha’s heart raced, panic creeping up on her as she sat up a little too quickly, pulling the blanket tighter around her body.

“What the fuck are you guys doing?” the director asked, his voice sounding confused.

“I- We-” Agatha started, but the words wouldn’t come out right. She could feel her face heating, and she couldn’t help but glance over at Rio as if seeking to be rescued from the situation.

“We were taking a nap,” Rio explained, her voice smooth and casual. “I was showing Agatha this blanket I brought back from Nepal, and we had a beer... and next thing we knew, we were asleep. It’s been a long day.”

The director stared at her, clearly not buying the explanation, but it was the best they could come up with in the moment. His brow furrowed, and he glanced between them, his mind still processing the awkwardness of the situation.

“Right,” he said, voice low, trying to mask his discomfort. “Okay, just... we need to shoot one more scene with you two. If you could please join us, then you're free to go.”

There was a brief pause, and then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

The room fell into an unsettling silence.

Agatha sat there, frozen on the couch, her body tense and unmoving. Her mind was racing, a thousand thoughts per minute, but none of them seemed to make any sense. Her heart pounded in her chest, and the weight of the situation settled heavily over her. She had never imagined something like this could happen—caught in a moment of vulnerability, exposed in a way that both terrified and embarrassed her.

Rio’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Baby, we need to go back,” she said softly, but Agatha didn’t respond. She just stayed there, staring blankly ahead, her hands clenched in her lap.

“Agatha,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “Hey,” she added, stepping closer, her tone tender yet filled with urgency.

Agatha’s eyes flicked to Rio for just a moment before she turned away, frustration and impotence flashing across her face. She could feel the sting of tears threatening to surface, but she refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now.

She shoved Rio’s hands away, her movements sharp. “I'm fine,” Agatha said, her voice low but heavy with emotion. The words felt hollow in her own mouth, but she couldn’t find the strength to say anything else. “Let’s just get dressed and get this done with.”

Rio didn’t move immediately, her gaze softening as she watched Agatha struggle to hold herself together. It was clear that something deeper was affecting her, but Rio wasn’t sure how to help. The confidence and boldness Agatha usually exuded had cracked just a little, revealing the vulnerability that she rarely let anyone see.

“I don’t think you’re fine,” Rio said, her voice quieter now, a gentle ache in it. She knelt down in front of Agatha, trying to catch her gaze, but Agatha refused to meet her eyes.

Agatha’s jaw tightened. She could feel the walls around her heart rising, the need to protect herself from the discomfort of the situation overwhelming everything else. The vulnerability she had allowed herself to feel, even if just for a brief moment, was too much. Too real. She wanted to brush it off, pretend like it didn’t matter, but deep down, she was shaken—more than she’d ever been on set before.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to steady herself, her mind reeling. The way Rio had looked at her, the closeness they shared—this whole thing had blurred the lines in ways Agatha wasn’t prepared for.

She was used to control. She was used to being in charge, to keeping her emotions wrapped up tight. But Rio had broken through that, and now, for the first time in years, she wasn’t sure how to handle it.

“Agatha, look at me,” Rio insisted gently, her voice soft but insistent as she reached for her again.

But Agatha knew that if she allowed herself to be vulnerable, to lean into Rio’s touch, there was no turning back. She’d come crumbling down, and so would her whole life.

She couldn’t do this. Not now. Not with Rio, not with anyone.

“I said I’m fine,” Agatha repeated, her voice quieter now, but with a sharp edge. The words felt hollow, but they were all she could manage. She needed to shut this down, before it became more than she could handle. “I just... need a minute.”

Rio’s eyes softened, the understanding in her gaze almost unbearable. She didn’t press, though it was clear she wanted to. Agatha wasn’t fine, and Rio knew it. But sometimes, all she could do was be there. And for now, that had to be enough.

Agatha had been used to her own isolation for so long that the idea of needing someone else made her feel insane. This wasn’t how she functioned, not how she wanted to function. But Rio—Rio had made it so much harder to keep her distance, to keep pretending she didn’t care, and that terrified her.

Finally, Agatha stood up, the movement sharp as if it would help put distance between herself and her own emotions. Her posture straightened, and she gave herself a moment to breathe. She needed to regain control.

She reached for her clothes, fingers fumbling slightly as she tried to gather herself, her thoughts a jumbled mess. She couldn’t let herself fall apart. Not here. Not now. She needed to pull herself together. They had a job to do, and she couldn’t afford to let her emotions get in the way.

Chapter Text

The last few days of shooting had a bittersweet air, the kind that lingered after months of hard work and long hours. There was a palpable sense of relief among the crew—plans for wrap parties were whispered between takes, and the countdown to the final scene was already beginning to take place.

For Agatha and Rio though, things were more complicated. For them, it brought an air of uncertainty that neither of them could address. It should have been simple: finish their work, say their goodbyes, and walk away. Move on with their lives.

But nothing about them had ever been simple. Not from the moment they’d met, not through the long hours spent together, and certainly not after the nights they shared together in private.

Rio sat alone in her trailer, staring at her phone as if waiting for a message that she already knew wouldn’t come. She had sent Agatha a casual text that morning, but it had gone unanswered. Just like the others before it.

She leaned back on the couch with a sigh, running a hand through her hair. She’d been trying so hard to keep things light between them since the incident with the director, cracking jokes and throwing out her usual flirtations. But Agatha had been distant.

‘Keeping things professional’ she’d said. And while Rio understood the logic, she couldn’t shake the feeling that all the warmth she’d come to know in Agatha was now long gone, buried beneath layers she couldn’t seem to reach. It wasn’t just professionalism. She was shutting her out.

On set, it was easier. They slipped into their characters and the chemistry between them burned as brightly as ever, every glance and touch alive with a raw intensity that lit up the camera lens. But off-camera? Off-camera was a different story entirely.

Rio exhaled sharply, tossing her phone onto the small table in front of her. She hated existing in this space in between where they used to be and where they were now. She felt in an endless limbo, one she couldn’t seem to move past.

And the worst part? She didn’t know how to fix this—or if Agatha even wanted her to.

Across the lot, Agatha stood by the craft services table, coffee in hand, watching the bustle of the set with a distant expression. She was aware of Rio’s presence, could feel it beneath her skin even when she wasn’t looking. Her chest tightened at the thought of their last scene together, the one they’d shoot tomorrow. The thought of walking away from this— from her —should have brought relief. It should have felt like the clean break she so desperately needed.

Instead, it felt like stepping off a cliff into the abyss.

She hadn’t meant to shut Rio out. Not really. But the risks were too great to ignore. The director was good friends with Ralph. That fact alone had been driving her to insanity ever since that night in Rio’s trailer. One misstep, one careless word in the wrong ears, and everything could come crashing down. She had a career to protect, a son to think about—her entire life was at stake.

And then, there was the matter of her own feelings—feelings she hadn’t asked for and didn’t want to even acknowledge. They were too messy, too complicated, and above all—too dangerous.

Right now, shutting Rio out seemed like her only option. Even if it hurt them both.

And yet, every time Agatha caught Rio’s eyes on her, every time she caught herself watching Rio laugh, or move, or smile, she felt her resolve falter. It was infuriating, the way Rio could do that to her without even trying.

She took a long sip of her coffee and turned her focus back to the set. It was safer than whatever Rio had stirred inside her.

Besides, like every other movie she’d starred in, it was temporary. The film, the feelings, Rio —all of it was fleeting. She just had to hold on a little longer. A few more days, a few more scenes, and it would all be over for good.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

And maybe if she repeated it enough times she’d start to believe it.

The moment of the wrap party finally arrived. Strings of lights crisscrossed the open-air venue, illuminating the long tables laden with food and drinks. A playlist of upbeat classics hummed in the background, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the occasional clink of glasses.

The crew, dressed down from their usual work attire, mingled freely, their energy lighter now that the film was officially wrapped. Months of grueling schedules and early mornings had given way to celebration, a collective sigh of relief exhaled by everyone in attendance.

Rio leaned against the bar, a cold bottle of beer in hand, her fingers idly peeling at the label. Her eyes wandered over the crowd, taking in familiar faces: she spotted the director deep in conversation with one of the producers, a few actors clustered near the makeshift dance floor, and the sound team laughing loudly over something at a corner table.

But Agatha was nowhere to be found.

Her gaze scanned the venue again, more carefully this time, lingering on each group of people in search of the one person she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about.

Rio’s chest tightened with frustration as she took a slow sip of her beer, the bitterness spreading across her tongue. Agatha had been distant ever since that night in her trailer, keeping things painfully professional on set, retreating further into herself with every passing day.

Rio’s grip on the bottle tightened as her emotions bubbled up—a tangled mess of annoyance, concern, and an unwelcome ache. She couldn’t decide if she was more upset about Agatha avoiding her or worried about what that avoidance might mean.

Her eyes flicked to the far edges of the venue, scanning the darker corners and quieter spaces. Agatha had to be here somewhere. And if she wasn’t… well, Rio wasn’t sure she wanted to stay much longer either.

But in that moment, as if she was manifesting her presence, she appeared.

Dressed impeccably, as always, she wore tailored dark pants that accentuated her legs and a matching blazer. Agatha Harkness looked every inch the star she was. She was fashionably late, of course—that’s what all the divas did.

Rio felt her breath hitch, her grip tightening on the beer bottle as her gaze locked onto Agatha. The noise of the party seemed to dull in the background, the laughter and music fading into a low hum as Agatha scanned the crowd with an unreadable expression. There was a casual confidence in the way she carried herself, as if she was perfectly aware that all eyes would eventually find her.

And Rio couldn’t look away.

Agatha mingled easily with the crowd. Within minutes, she had a glass of wine in hand, exchanging pleasantries with crew members and co-stars alike. Her laugh rang out once or twice, low and throaty, the kind that turned heads without even trying.

Rio watched from her spot near the bar, her beer growing warm in her hand. She felt like a damn stalker, her eyes tracking Agatha’s every move as if she couldn’t help herself. She told herself she wasn’t doing anything strange—it was casual observation, nothing more. Just watching her co-star, like anyone else might.

Except no one else seemed to be watching the exact way Agatha tilted her head when she laughed or how the soft glow of the lights reflected in her hair.

A few people tried talking to her, and she might’ve paid more attention to them if the circumstances were different. But she was far from feeling like herself this night. She wasn’t feeling like the confident, playful Rio but a shadow of her own self, someone whose entire mind was consumed by one person only: Agatha Harkness.

Rio couldn’t help the way her chest kept tightening every time Agatha leaned in to listen to someone or placed a hand lightly on their arm.

She wasn’t even jealous, she told herself. Not really. It wasn’t as if she and Agatha were… anything. Agatha had made that clear enough this past week, keeping her distance, polite but detached, her warmth replaced by a barrier of professionalism that was impossible to break.

Agatha, for her part, seemed perfectly at ease. Her every move was measured, graceful, deliberate. She smiled just enough to seem engaged but never too much to reveal anything more than necessary. Her body language was open yet guarded, a masterclass in controlled charm.

To everyone else, it probably seemed natural. But to Rio, every glance, every laugh felt like Agatha was putting on a show just for her.

But that was ridiculous. Agatha had barely looked her way all week, keeping their interactions strictly professional. Still, Rio’s eyes stayed glued to her, tracing the lines of her blazer, the curve of her neck, the way her fingers wrapped delicately around the stem of her wine glass.

“You good, Vidal?”

The sudden voice startled Rio, and she turned to find Wanda standing beside her, holding a drink and giving her a playful grin.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Rio replied, flashing her a grin. She leaned casually against the bar, tilting her bottle toward Wanda in a half-toast.

Wanda arched an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’ve been standing here, staring into space, looking like someone stole your spotlight.” She took a sip from her glass, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Pfft. Me? Staring? Please.” Rio scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m just... people-watching. Observing the human condition. You know, actor stuff.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, her smile deepening. “You’ve been observing the human condition from the same spot for the last twenty minutes.”

Rio chuckled, a low, self-deprecating sound. “Guess I’m not in a party mood tonight.”

“Not in a party mood? You? That doesn’t sound like the Rio Vidal I know.” Wanda’s tone was light, teasing, as she leaned in closer. “Want me to fix that?”

Rio’s smile widened instinctively, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

Wanda tilted her head, considering. “Well, for starters, I could get you another beer.”

Rio let out a soft laugh, her fingers toying with the label on her bottle. “Tempting.”

But even as she flirted back, her eyes betrayed her, darting—just for a second—across the room to where Agatha stood, her profile illuminated by the warm glow of the lights. She was talking to one of the producers now, her hand resting lightly on the man’s arm as she listened intently, her expression serene.

Rio quickly looked back at Wanda, hoping the moment had gone unnoticed.

“So?” Wanda prompted, her voice dropping slightly.

Rio hesitated, pretending to consider her options, but her chest tightened again. She could feel Agatha’s presence like a gravitational pull, even without looking directly at her. It was infuriating. Why couldn’t she just let it go?

“You seem distracted,” Wanda observed, stepping even closer. Her tone was playful, but there was a hint of genuine curiosity in her eyes.

“I’m not distracted,” Rio lied smoothly, raising her beer in a mock toast. “I’m right here, promise.”

“Uh-huh.” Wanda wasn’t convinced, but she played along, her smile mischievous. “Good. Because I’m starting to feel like I’m wasting my best lines on you.”

Rio smirked, grateful for the distraction but still too aware of Agatha’s every movement. “Trust me, Wanda, I’m worth your best lines.”

“Guess I’ll have to keep trying then,” Wanda said, her voice dropping into something softer, more intimate.

Wanda reached out, her fingers grazing Rio’s arm lightly, and Rio responded instinctively, leaning into the touch. But even as she did, her mind betrayed her again, flickering back to Agatha’s face, the memory of her laugh, the way her lips curved when she smiled.

Wanda leaned closer, and for a moment, Rio almost let herself get swept up in it—almost.

But then, across the room, Agatha turned.

Their eyes met, just for a heartbeat, and Rio felt her breath catch. It was brief, so brief that she wondered if she’d imagined it. But the impact was immediate, a jolt that made Wanda’s touch suddenly feel too warm, too intrusive.

“You okay?” Wanda asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

Rio forced a grin, stepping back just enough to break the moment. “Yeah. Just... thinking I need some air.”

Wanda didn’t press, though her expression hinted at confusion as Rio slipped away, leaving her standing by the bar.

As Rio stepped outside into the cool night air, she could feel the faint scent of the ocean mixing with the crisp breeze. The sounds of the party were muffled now, replaced by the soothing hum of distant waves and the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. She pulled a cigarette from her jacket pocket, her fingers steady as she lit it.

Taking a long drag, she exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl up into the darkness. It wasn’t often she let herself brood, but tonight seemed to demand it. Her thoughts felt heavier here, away from the lights and the crowd.

What the hell am I doing?

She didn’t need to name the source of her turmoil. It wasn’t the movie, the party, or even Wanda’s bold flirting. It was Agatha. Agatha and the way she could simultaneously make Rio feel like the most confident person in the room and the most uncertain.

She took another drag, her free hand brushing through her hair as she leaned back against the wall. Agatha’s absence had been a relief and a weight all at once. The idea of leaving her behind, of moving on after tomorrow, felt like losing something she hadn’t even fully had.

It’s just a crush, she told herself, even as she knew it wasn’t. It was more. It had been more for a while now, and the way Agatha had shut her out these past days only made it worse.

Lost in thought, she didn’t hear the door open or the soft steps approaching until it was too late.

“Smoking again?” a familiar voice echoed in the night.

Rio turned her head sharply, her breath hitching as she found herself face-to-face with Agatha.

Agatha stood there, her blazer draped loosely over her shoulders, her hands tucked casually into her pockets. Her expression was guarded, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—hesitation, maybe. Or curiosity.

“Bad habit,” Rio replied, lifting the cigarette slightly in acknowledgment before taking another drag. She blew the smoke to the side, away from Agatha. “Figured I’d indulge tonight.”

Agatha didn’t respond right away. Her gaze lingered on Rio, tracing the line of her jaw as she exhaled. Finally, she spoke, her voice quieter than Rio expected. “I like the way you look when you do it.”

Rio froze, the cigarette poised halfway to her lips. She turned to Agatha, disbelief flickering in her dark eyes. “What?”

Agatha hesitated, her confidence faltering as the words hung in the air. “I mean it,” she said, softer now. “You look... dangerous. In a good way.”

Rio huffed a laugh, though there was no humor in it. She shook her face. “That’s what you have to say to me after avoiding me all week?”

Agatha blinked, caught off guard by the sharpness in Rio’s tone. “That’s not—”

“Not what?” Rio interrupted, her voice cool, but her grip on the cigarette tightened. “Not what you’ve been doing? Because that’s sure as hell what it felt like, Agatha.”

Agatha straightened, her own defensiveness rising. “I’ve been busy,” she said, though she didn’t believe the excuse.

“Bullshit.” Rio’s gaze snapped back to her, smoldering now. “You’re not ‘busy.’ You’re scared.”

Agatha’s lips parted, a retort ready, but it never came. Rio’s words hit their mark, and for a moment, she couldn’t summon anything but silence.

Rio took a step closer, her voice dropping lower, the frustration cutting through like glass. “I’m not asking for a grand gesture or some big declaration. But you can’t keep pushing me away every time this—” she gestured between them, “—starts to feel real.”

Agatha’s chest tightened, her breath shallow. She wanted to argue, to deny it, but the weight of Rio’s words pinned her in place. “It’s not that simple,” she said, the crack in her voice betraying her.

“Then make it simple,” Rio said, her voice low but trembling with barely contained frustration. She stepped closer, her chest rising and falling quicker with each breath. “You’ve been pushing me away, and I can’t figure out if it’s because you’re scared or if you’re just… too selfish to care.”

Agatha’s jaw tightened, her defenses rising instinctively. “That’s not fair.”

Rio let out a sharp laugh, devoid of humor. “Fair? What’s fair about you pretending like none of this matters?” Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, but she pushed through it, her anger now spilling out.

Agatha opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but her voice came out tight. “You think I wanted any of this?”

"Then what do you want from me? Because I’m done trying to figure it out,” she said, quieter now, but the intensity in her voice cut just as sharp.

Silence fell between them, heavy and oppressive, the air between them charged with everything unsaid. Agatha shifted her gaze, unable to look at Rio a minute longer. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “I want you to stop messing with my head.”

“Oh, I’m the one messing with your head now?!” Rio snapped.

Agatha’s eyes flicked back to her, filled with conflict and something deeper—something vulnerable. She exhaled sharply. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, softer now but still defensive. “It’s just… complicated. I can’t stop thinking about you. But I can’t afford to do that right now. I just… can’t.”

Rio felt her face flush with frustration and pain. “So what, you’re just going to pretend this never happened? Pretend I’m just some fling you’re too scared to acknowledge?”

Agatha’s expression flickered with something unreadable—guilt, fear, maybe longing. The air between them was charged, crackling with the anger and confusion between them. For a moment, neither of them moved, both of them breathing heavily, separated by mere inches as Rio stood right in Agatha’s face.

“You’re not a mistake,” Agatha said finally, her voice barely audible. But the words hung there, unsteady and uncertain, as if she didn’t quite believe them herself.

Rio’s heart pounded in her chest, her body leaning in without thinking. “Then why the hell are you still pushing me away?” Her voice cracked, the rawness in it breaking through. She was close now—so close their breaths mingled, her body trembling with the effort to hold herself back. “You need to let me know, Agatha, because I’m done playing games.”

Agatha’s hands clenched into tight fists at her sides, her nails biting into her palms as she struggled to hold her ground. Her gaze darted downward—just a flicker—to Rio’s lips before snapping back up. Her voice, when it came, was tight and frayed. “I want you to stop making this harder than it already is.”

Rio’s breath hitched. “I’m not the one making this hard.” She was almost shaking now, the raw emotion in her voice impossible to mask. “You are. So stop pretending like I don’t matter to you.”

The words seemed to strike a chord, and for a moment, the air between them felt electric. And then Agatha moved.

She grabbed the lapel of Rio’s leather jacket, clutching the fabric as though it were the only thing grounding her. She yanked Rio toward her and kissed her—hard, desperate, and unapologetic, their lips crashing together in a heated, angry kiss. It was rough, all teeth and frustration, neither of them holding back anymore.

Rio’s hands came up to grip Agatha’s arms, pushing her back for a split second, before shoving her body forward again, the kiss deepening as all their pent-up emotions poured into it. Agatha’s breath was ragged, her fingers pressing into Rio’s skin as if she wanted to feel everything all at once.

There was no gentleness, no softness—just two people fighting with the only weapon they had left: each other.

Rio’s heart hammered in her chest as the tension that had been building between them for days erupted in this kiss. Her fingers tangled into Agatha’s long locks, pulling the older woman even closer, as if she could erase the distance that had plagued them for so long.

Every movement was frantic, chaotic, as though the kiss was the only thing holding them both together in the midst of the chaos they’d created.

Agatha’s hands slid to Rio’s hair, tugging it roughly, forcing her head back just enough to deepen the kiss, their tongues clashing with urgency. She felt Rio’s body press harder against her, and for a split second, her mind went blank, consumed by the need to dominate the moment, to claim the other woman as much as Rio had claimed her.

It was everything. It was nothing. It was rage and hunger, a wild, uncontainable mess of feelings they couldn’t untangle. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their chests rising and falling in sync, foreheads pressed together as they fought for air. The weight of the kiss lingered between them, their eyes closed, minds reeling.

Rio’s heart thundered in her chest, her voice barely a whisper as she pulled in a shaky breath. “What now?”

Agatha’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze clouded with something unreadable. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, her hand reaching up to gently brush Rio’s cheek, as if she needed to feel her warmth one last time. "I’m sorry, Rio," she murmured, her voice tight, almost broken. "I can’t do this."

Rio’s stomach twisted as the words sank in. She opened her mouth to say something, to beg her to stay, but before she could find the words, Agatha was already turning, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement.

Without another word, she walked away, leaving Rio standing there, her heart a storm of emotions—caught between anger, confusion, and something akin to heartbreak.

Chapter Text

It had been over a month since the wrap party and Rio hadn’t heard from Agatha at all. No texts, no calls, not even the passive-aggressive kind she’d half-expected. And the silence was driving her to the brink of insanity.

Rio lounged on her couch, a stack of scripts next to her untouched. A glass of half-finished wine—her third of the evening—sat on the coffee table. She wasn’t in the mood to read, though. Hell, she wasn’t in the mood to do much of anything. And she hadn’t been for a whole month.

Her phone buzzed once, and her heart leapt—only to sink when it was just Alice asking if she wanted sushi for dinner. She ignored it, throwing the phone back onto the cushion beside her without replying.

She tried again to focus on the first few pages of a script she’d promised Lilia she’d review, but the words bled together, turning into nothing. Every time her mind wandered, it landed in the same place: their last kiss.

The way their breaths had mingled, the intoxicating closeness of Agatha’s body. The way she had whispered, “I’m sorry,” as if it wasn’t the most devastating thing Rio had ever heard. She could still feel the press of Agatha’s lips on hers, the heat of her hands, the ache of her absence.

Her fingers itched to text her. Something casual. Hey, hope you’re doing well. Or maybe something pointed. So we’re just ghosting each other now? But each time, she talked herself out of it, throwing her phone down like it burned her.

She sighed, tossing the script onto the coffee table. It wasn’t like her to let someone get this deep under her skin, but here she was, restless and irritated.

Rio leaned back back against the couch cushions to stare at the ceiling. “She doesn’t care, Vidal. Why should you?” she muttered to herself.

But even as the words left her lips, she knew they were a lie. Agatha cared. Rio had seen it in her eyes, felt it in the way her hands had lingered, trembling slightly, before she’d pulled away. Agatha cared too much—that was the problem.

The silence wasn’t indifference. It was fear. And Rio didn’t know how to fix it.

She closed her eyes, willing the memory of Agatha’s voice to stop haunting her, but it remained engraved in her brain. "I’m sorry." Sorry for what? For wanting her? For leaving her? For making Rio want something she couldn’t have?

She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, frustration bubbling up in her chest. This wasn’t who she was—Rio Vidal didn’t pine. She flirted, she teased, she moved on. Yet here she was, stuck in this endless loop.

The wine wasn’t helping, but she reached for the glass anyway, taking a long sip as her phone buzzed again. She groaned, snatching it up. Another text from Alice:

Seriously, sushi or not? I’m hungry.

Rio sighed and finally typed a response.

Sure. Whatever.

She tossed the phone onto the cushion beside her, forcing her gaze back to the pile of scripts.. It wasn’t like her to ignore work either, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about another project, another role, not when every character on every page felt hollow.

Setting the glass down with a clink, she leaned back into the couch. She needed a distraction—something to get out of her head, to drown out the ghost of Agatha Harkness that seemed to linger in every shadow of her house. Everywhere she looked, Agatha had been. Everything touched by her, turned to gold by her Midas touch, only to revert to dust now that she was gone.

Everywhere Rio looked, she was plagued by memories of the other woman. Agatha was an inescapable force, and no matter how fast Rio wanted to run, she always seemed to keep up.

Her eyes fell on the half-empty bottle of scotch on the shelf—Agatha’s drink of choice. She could still hear that low, teasing voice: “What kind of host doesn’t have decent whiskey?” She’d said with a smirk, as she poured herself a glass.

Her gaze shifted to the piano in the corner, the one she hadn’t touched since Agatha left. Agatha hadn’t played it either, but one evening she’d rested her hands on the keys as they kissed against it, breaking away only to laugh softly, their foreheads pressed together.

Finally, her eyes landed on the throw blanket draped over the armchair—the one she had brought back from Nepal. It reminded her of that night: the two of them tangled together, limbs intertwined, only to be interrupted by the director walking in on them, catching them curled up after making love.

Rio had thought about throwing it away, ridding herself of the memories, but in the end, she couldn’t. The truth was, it was better to have had Agatha than to have never known her at all.

Even if it pained her. Even if it felt like a lifetime ago. Rio knew she wouldn’t trade one minute with Agatha Harkness for anything in the world.

Later that night, Rio sat cross-legged on her couch, a pair of chopsticks in one hand, picking at the sushi in front of her with detachment. Alice was sprawled across the armchair opposite her, a carton of takeout on her lap, her legs tucked beneath her comfortably. The TV hummed softly in the background but neither of them seemed particularly invested in what was on screen.

Alice had been talking non-stop and normally, Rio would’ve been paying attention and laughing along, but tonight, she felt like she were on autopilot. Her mind, instead of being focused on Alice’s words, drifted elsewhere—on the blank space left by Agatha’s silence.

"Are you even listening to me?" Alice’s voice cut through the haze of Rio’s thoughts, sharp enough to pull her back into the room. Rio blinked, trying to catch up.

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you.” Rio forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She pushed a piece of sushi into her mouth without really tasting it, her gaze drifting back to the TV, but her mind was somewhere else entirely.

Alice arched an eyebrow, her expression shifting from playful to concerned in an instant. "You know, you’ve been weird for weeks now. You’ve barely talked about anything other than work, and even that’s been a stretch." Alice paused, her chopsticks hovering above her carton as she studied Rio. “Is everything okay?”

Rio shrugged. “Just tired. Work stuff, you know.”

Alice snorted softly, resting her elbows on the table, leaning in slightly as if trying to catch a glimpse of the real Rio. “Please, you haven’t touched a script in weeks. Lilia called me yesterday to ask if you’re still alive. I had to assure her you weren’t buried under a pile of indie rom-coms.”

Rio shot her a playful glare, though the spark in her eyes was noticeably dimmer. “I’ll get to them eventually. I’ve been... distracted.”

Alice arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, no kidding. You’ve been moping around like someone stole your puppy.”

“I don’t feel like talking about it, Alice,” Rio simply said.

Alice threw her a look, clearly not convinced, but didn’t push. “If you say so.” She paused, then added casually, “By the way, Jen asked me to dinner tomorrow.”

Rio glanced up at that, her brow furrowing slightly. “Jen? Like Agatha’s assistant, Jen?”

Alice smiled knowingly, savoring a sip of her sake. “Mm-hmm. We’ve been talking. She’s cute. I like her vibe.”

Rio’s response was swift and calculatedly nonchalant. “Speaking of Agatha...”

Alice nearly choked on her drink, her expression sliding into a smirk as she set down her glass. “Oh, now we’re speaking of Agatha?”

Rio groaned, setting down her chopsticks with more force than necessary. “Don’t start, Alice.”

“I didn’t start anything. You brought her up.” Alice leaned back, crossing her arms and studying Rio with a mix of amusement and concern. “Look, you don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but I know something’s up. You’ve been... off lately. Not just work-wise, but in general.”

Rio hesitated, opening her mouth to deflect, but Alice cut her off. “And don’t say it’s nothing. I know you. The way you’re isolating yourself, it’s not healthy.”

Rio sighed, running a hand through her hair, her frustration evident. “Fine. Maybe I’ve been a little... in my head.”

Alice raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “A little ? Babe, you’re basically a hermit at this point. Even Wanda’s been texting me asking what’s up with you because you’ve been ignoring her too.”

Rio winced. “I wasn’t ignoring her. I just—”

“Didn’t feel like talking to anyone?” Alice finished for her. “Yeah, she mentioned that. Which is why I think you should go out with her tomorrow. Lunch, drinks, whatever. Let someone else cheer you up for once.”

Rio shook her head, though not as firmly as she might’ve a week ago. “I don’t know... Wanda’s great, but I’m not really in the mood to play catch-up.”

“You’re not in the mood for anything these days,” Alice pointed out bluntly. “But if anyone can cheer you up, it’s Wanda. Plus, she’s one of the few people who won’t let you sulk in peace.”

Rio chuckled despite herself, the sound faint but genuine. “That’s true. She’d probably show up with tequila shots if I replied to her just once.”

Alice smiled, sensing she was making progress. “Exactly. So go. What’s the worst that could happen? You laugh a little? Relax for five seconds?”

Rio leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting back to the TV. The thought of spending time with Wanda—a break from her self-inflicted solitude—was tempting. Maybe it would be the distraction she so desperately needed.

“Fine,” she said at last, a resigned smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll text her.”

Alice beamed, raising her glass in mock celebration. “That’s my girl. And who knows? Maybe you’ll even stop brooding long enough to answer Lilia’s calls too.”

Rio picked up her chopsticks again, though her attention lingered for a moment on the empty space beside her, the one that had once been filled with Agatha’s presence. The silence between them felt heavier now, more pronounced. She quickly pushed the thought aside, trying to focus on the moment at hand.

“Yeah, maybe,” Rio murmured, but her mind was already slipping back to the unanswered messages, the silent weeks.

Later that same week, Rio found herself sitting across from Wanda at some trendy café in West Hollywood. The table between them was strewn with half-empty glasses of mimosa, a bread basket, and two plates with avocado toast and poached eggs.

“You look better than I expected,” Wanda teased, her lips quirking into a smirk as she twirled her fork in the air. “When Alice said you’ve been in full-on hermit mode, I thought you’d be looking like Tom Hanks in Castaway.”

Rio rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Yeah, well, I’m not that far gone.”

“Yet,” Wanda shot back with a mischievous glint in her eye. She leaned forward now, resting her elbows on the table as she surveyed Rio. “But seriously, it’s good to see you. I was starting to think you forgot my number.”

“I didn’t,” Rio replied quickly, her fingers fidgeting with the stem of her glass. “I’ve just been... busy.”

“Busy,” Wanda echoed, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Rio, I adore you, but you’re a terrible liar.”

Rio shifted uncomfortably, her gaze dropping to her plate. She speared a piece of avocado toast with her fork but didn’t eat it. “I don’t know. It’s... complicated.”

Wanda’s smirk faded, replaced by a softer expression. “Of course it’s complicated. It always is.” She paused, waiting until Rio looked up at her. “But I’m here because I care about you. And last I checked, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

Rio hesitated, her fingers tightening around her fork. Finally, she nodded, a small, almost reluctant smile playing at her lips. “Yeah, we are.”

“Good,” Wanda said with a decisive nod, her confidence returning. “So, spill. What’s got you moping, honey?”

Rio glanced down again, pushing a crumb across her plate as her thoughts tangled. She couldn’t betray Agatha’s confidence, but she couldn’t keep deflecting either. After a moment, she sighed, setting her fork down. “I... I met someone. And things have been a little complicated ever since.”

Wanda’s eyes lit up. “ Someone, huh?” she said, drawing out the word with a knowing grin. “Replacing me already?”

Rio laughed, shaking her head as she took a sip of her mimosa. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Hmm,” Wanda hummed, narrowing her eyes as if assessing Rio for clues. “So, what’s so complicated? Are they taken?”

Rio hesitated, her fingers tapping lightly against the edge of her plate. “I’m not wrecking any homes, if that’s what you’re worried about. Not any happy ones, at least.”

“So they are taken, then?” Wanda pressed, tilting her head with a raised brow.

“No, it’s not about that,” Rio said quickly, then sighed. “They’re just… more complicated than I am, I guess.”

Wanda reached across the table, placing her hand on Rio’s. Her voice softened, though the playful twinkle in her eyes remained. “Oh, honey. What’s so complicated about you? You’re wonderful company, fun, and pretty easy on the eyes,” she added with a wink.

That earned a genuine laugh from Rio, her shoulders relaxing for the first time in days.

That is, until the sharp click of a camera startled them both.

Rio froze, her head snapping toward the source of the sound. Wanda’s gaze followed, her expression darkening as she spotted a figure lowering a camera from behind a nearby potted plant.

“Seriously?” Wanda muttered under her breath.

Paparazzi had found them. Rio’s expression hardened, her annoyance clear as she got ready to flip them out. But before she could do anything, Wanda leaned in with a wicked grin.

“You know what?” Wanda said, her voice low and mischievous. “Why don’t we give your mystery woman something to think about?”

Without waiting for a response, Wanda placed a quick, playful kiss on Rio’s cheek, her eyes sparkling as she pulled back and gave Rio her best imitation of a lovestruck gaze.

Rio burst into laughter, her earlier irritation melting away. “You’re absolutely incorrigible,” she said, shaking her head.

“And you love me for it,” Wanda shot back with a wink, settling back into her seat as if the entire café wasn’t buzzing with whispers and the faint click of cameras.

A few days later, Rio and Wanda’s pictures were everywhere , plastered across every entertainment news outlet and social media platform. Headlines screamed speculative gossip:

“Workplace Romance? Sparks Fly Between Rio Vidal and Wanda Maximoff!”

“Hollywood’s Newest It Couple?”

“Co-stars or More? Rio and Wanda’s Get Cozy in a Café.”

The images were incredibly suggestive—Wanda leaning in close, her lips brushing Rio’s cheek, and the two of them laughing, caught in a moment that felt far too intimate to be platonic.

And Agatha couldn’t stop staring at them.

She told herself it was ridiculous, that these were just pictures taken out of context, designed to provoke exactly this kind of reaction. And yet, her chest felt tight, the ache in her stomach spreading as she studied every detail.

The way Rio leaned into Wanda’s touch so effortlessly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The crinkle in her eyes as she laughed—unfiltered, genuine. It was so achingly real .

And Wanda... Wanda looked at Rio like she was the sun itself. And that thought alone made Agatha’s breath hitch.

They’re just co-stars, she told herself. But the logical part of her brain, the one that clung to rehearsed denials and well-practiced lies, was no match for the visceral, gut-wrenching feeling that consumed her.

Her jaw tightened as her grip on her phone grew white-knuckled. She scrolled through the headlines again, even as she told herself to stop. What was she even doing? Searching for more evidence? Torturing herself with another scroll through these photos?

Each headline felt like a jab at her, calling her a coward for not living her truth to the fullest, for choosing her image and her well-constructed family life instead of her relationship with Rio. Every single magazine outlet seemed to be screaming at her Look at you, too afraid to claim what you want. And now someone else has it. Because now there was Rio, papped with some other girl. Laughing freely, in a way Agatha couldn’t— wouldn’t do with her.

This was stupid. She was stupid. Jealousy wasn’t something Agatha Harkness did. She was above this kind of petty, emotional nonsense. But the hollow ache in her chest and the way her mind raced, spinning narratives she didn’t want to believe but couldn’t completely dismiss, told a different story.

There was one nagging question that repeated itself on an endless loop in her mind: Was it true?

Why should I care?, her rational side tried to intervene. Wanda was a close friend, a colleague. Rio was... Rio—infuriating, chaotic, flirtatious Rio. It shouldn’t matter. And yet, it did .

The thought of Rio laughing so freely, of her sharing that warmth and ease with someone else, felt like a weight pressing down on her. The memory of Rio’s playful smirks, the way she leaned in just a little too close during rehearsals, the private moments when her guard slipped—it all resurfaced, and it almost made Agatha want to throw up.

She snapped her phone down on the counter and began pacing her kitchen as if moving would help her thoughts untangle.

“What does it matter?” she muttered aloud, her voice sharp against the silence.

But deep down, she already knew the answer. It mattered because every time Agatha thought of Rio, her pulse quickened, her defenses faltered. It mattered because Wanda’s tenderness toward Rio shouldn’t make her want to throw her phone against the wall, but it did.

It mattered because she cared. More than she should. More than she dared admit, even to herself.

Her thoughts spiraled, slipping into the moments she’d shared with Rio. The late-night rehearsals, Rio’s casual texts about the moon or some ridiculous poem she thought Agatha would like. The way Rio would lean too close, her voice dropping low with that signature smirk that Agatha pretended didn’t make her knees weak.

And now, all of that was gone . Or maybe it had never been hers to begin with.

She stopped pacing and braced her hands on the counter, her breath uneven. Agatha squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would silence the storm inside her. But the truth was already there, undeniable and terrifying:

She wanted Rio.

And now, Wanda had her.

But the worst part? The worst part wasn’t Wanda. The worst part weren’t the photos, either. It was what they represented—the possibility of a life that could’ve been hers if only she’d had the courage to pursue it when she had the chance.

Chapter Text

It had been months since the wrap party. Months since she had truly laughed—really laughed— with her. Months of silence and second-guessing, of replaying every choice she’d made and questioning whether those reasons, once so clear, had been worth it after all.

But most of all, it had been months since Rio had moved on.

And the worst part? Time hadn’t healed anything. If anything, it had only sharpened the pain, making it more and more unbearable with every passing day. What started as a dull ache had become a relentless throb, a physical ache that had spread through her entire body, unyielding and cruel.

The mere thought of seeing Rio again made her heart race in ways she couldn’t control. Her mind spun in endless circles, desperately searching for the right words to say—if she even had the chance to say them.

She missed her. She missed her so desperately it felt as though her heart would shatter at the first glimpse of her. Yet, every time her hand hovered over the phone these past months, fear won out. What if Rio didn’t answer? Worse, what if she did?

And yet, no matter how hard she tried to push Rio from her mind, she couldn’t. The memories of her lingered like a ghost, haunting her. Agatha couldn’t stop thinking of her sharp wit, her teasing grin and the way her mesmerizing eyes lit up her entire face when she was about to say something flirty or cheeky.

But with those memories came painful uncertainty. Was she happier now? With her ? She couldn’t be. Agatha told herself this over and over again. What Rio and she had shared had been real. She knew that. She felt it in every lingering glance, in every stolen moment. But what if it had all been one-sided? What if Rio had moved on so quickly because it truly hadn’t meant as much to her?

The doubts had plagued her ever since those damned pictures surfaced. Agatha could still see them in her mind with perfect clarity: Wanda’s arm draped casually over Rio’s shoulders, their faces tilted toward each other in laughter, the soft press of Wanda’s lips against Rio’s cheek. It was all too much—too close, too intimate. And sadly, for Agatha, impossible to forget.

It wasn’t her business, she’d told herself countless times. Rio was free to live her life, to find happiness with whomever she chose. Agatha had no claim to her, no right to feel this possessive knot tightening in her chest.

But none of those rationalizations could make the ache go away.

Because the truth was, she cared.

She cared so deeply she hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in months. Night after night, she lay awake, staring at the ceiling as the silence pressed down around her. Sleep felt like a distant memory, stolen by the constant replay of every moment she and Rio had shared, and every possible outcome of their secret connection.

The knot in her stomach tightened with every passing day, until it felt like she could barely breathe. It was as if she were bleeding from the inside out—a wound no doctor could see, let alone heal. And the worst part was knowing that this wasn’t some fleeting pain. This was the kind of wound that scarred, one that would leave a permanent mark on her soul, untouched even by the passage of time.

Agatha looked at her reflection in the mirror one last time, her voice barely audible as she muttered, “What does it matter?”

But deep down, she knew the answer. She’d always known. It mattered because Rio mattered. Because no matter how many walls she put up, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise, the thought of seeing Rio again had been consuming her every waking moment.

She frowned at her own reflection, her fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. With a resolute shake of her head, as if physically willing the thoughts away, she straightened the lapels of her burgundy blazer. Every detail in her chosen armor mattered; every stitch and fold had been calculated to exude control she didn’t entirely feel. If she could look the part, maybe she’d start to believe it herself.

She couldn’t afford to let her guard down—not now, not today.

Today marked the beginning of the press tour, the first time in months that she and Rio would share the same space, breathe the same air. The thought alone sent her stomach into a knot of anticipation and dread. But even as the scenarios in her head played out, she knew that no amount of mental rehearsal could prepare her for the reality of seeing Rio again.

Agatha’s chest tightened as she adjusted the cuffs of her sleeves, her hands trembling ever so slightly before she forced them still.

“Pull yourself together,” she hissed, as if scolding her reflection. She wasn’t some starstruck newbie fumbling through her first interview. She was Agatha Harkness—the icon, the legend. She had survived the ruthless machine of Hollywood, navigated scandals, faced impossible roles with unmatched composure.

This should’ve been no different.

And yet, the weight of what lay ahead felt heavier than anything she’d ever faced.

She inhaled deeply, letting the air fill her lungs in an attempt to anchor herself. Turning away from the mirror, the click of her heels against the hardwood floor seemed to echo louder than usual.

This wasn’t about her feelings, she reminded herself sternly. It wasn’t about the unresolved tension or the ache that had taken up permanent residence in her chest. It was about the job, the film, the narrative they’d built together and now had to sell to the world.

But the reminder felt hollow, and as she headed for the door, the familiar ache lingered, a quiet reminder that no matter how polished she looked, she wasn’t fully prepared for what was to come.

Because today wasn’t just about facing the press. It was about facing Rio.

And no amount of armor could protect her from that.

Agatha stepped into the bustling room, her polite smile already in place, a shield as familiar as the press tour setup itself. The banners emblazoned with the movie’s title were perfectly positioned, the lighting strategically angled to flatter everyone in the room. Crew members bustled about, adjusting microphones and checking cameras, their chatter blending into a low hum. It was all so routinary.

She nodded at familiar faces and exchanged quick pleasantries. But even as she went through the motions, her gaze flickered around the room, scanning instinctively.

She wasn’t sure what she expected—if she’d see Rio immediately, if the room would shift in some way to announce her presence. But nothing could have prepared her for the actual moment she saw her.

Across the room, Rio stood like a vision, dressed in a forest green suit that fit her perfectly, the open jacket revealing just a hint of her black bra underneath. It was both effortlessly casual and devastatingly deliberate. Her dark hair fell in loose waves, framing her face in a way that softened her sharp features, though her eyes—God, her eyes—were anything but soft.

Agatha’s heart stopped.

For a fleeting moment, everything else—the hum of conversation, the click of cameras, the subtle movement of the crew—blurred into nothingness. All she could see was Rio. She stood there like a force of nature, magnetic and utterly untouchable, radiating a kind of presence that was impossible to ignore.

Then Rio laughed at something one of the reporters said, her head tilting back just slightly, the sound carrying faintly across the room. It wasn’t the practiced laugh of a publicist-approved persona; it was real, unguarded, the kind of laugh that made Agatha’s chest tighten. She hadn’t heard that laugh in months, but it had haunted her nonetheless, replaying in her mind far too many times.

Agatha willed herself to look away, to regain control, to focus on something—anything—else, but her eyes betrayed her, drawn back to Rio like a moth to a flame.

She couldn’t help it, Rio’s presence was magnetic, drawing every eye, and yet she seemed completely unaware of the power she wielded. Or maybe she wasn’t, Agatha thought bitterly, her stomach twisting in a knot.

And then, as if Rio could feel the weight of her gaze, she turned.

The moment their eyes met the world around them seemed to blur into a dull haze. Agatha tried to tell herself it was nothing, just another co-star, just another press event. But the intensity of Rio’s gaze—the way her eyes darkened when they locked onto Agatha—shattered that illusion.

But just as quickly as it had begun, the moment ended. Rio turned back to her conversation, leaving Agatha feeling unsteady, as if the ground beneath her had shifted.

She forced herself to move, her heels clicking against the floor as she walked further into the room. Her smile remained composed, her posture unshaken, but inside, her mind was reeling. Her heart pounded in her chest, the ache she had worked so hard to suppress rising to the surface.

The press tour had only just begun, and Agatha was already in trouble.

The days of the press tour went by in a haze of staged smiles, rehearsed answers, and the endless flash of cameras. From the outside, it all seemed perfectly professional—two co-stars promoting their film with poise and charm. But inside, Agatha was fighting a battle she didn’t seem able to win.

Her perfect composure was beginning to crack. The interviewers were becoming bolder, and the questions hit closer to home. At first, it was about their chemistry on screen, the kind of questions Agatha had anticipated. That didn’t mean she was comfortable answering them, but at least she was prepared. She delivered her answers with a practiced ease, every once in a while glancing at Rio.

Rio, however, was dazzling—radiant smiles, quick wit, and a magnetic charm that seemed to draw everyone in. She was captivating.

What hurt Agatha, however, was the fact that Rio never glanced back at her, not even once.

And then came that question. The one that almost made her perfectly composed façade shatter. “So... we’ve been hearing a lot of rumors about you and Ms. Maximoff,” the interviewer said, their voice thick with insinuation. “Are they true?”

Agatha’s heart clenched, her stomach twisting as she waited for Rio’s reaction. Rio’s smile faltered for the briefest second, but she recovered quickly, laughing it off with a practiced ease that only someone as confident as her could manage. Agatha, meanwhile, felt like she was suffocating. The idea of Rio and Wanda together made her chest tighten in a way she couldn’t quite name, though it wasn’t jealousy, of course. It couldn’t be. Could it?

Rio’s light laugh echoed in her ears. “Oh, those rumors,” Rio said, waving her hand dismissively. “Wanda is great and we have so much fun hanging out, but I’d really rather just talk about the movie, if you don’t mind,” she added, turning back to the interviewer with a dazzling smile.

But for Agatha, the question lingered, and she felt a strange heat rise in her. She didn’t know what the truth was, but she needed to find out. But even if Rio wasn’t with Wanda… What did that change? It wasn’t as though they’d be together instead. It was ridiculous, really.

And yet, the idea that Rio might be with someone else felt like a knot tightening around her lungs. She crossed her legs, trying to appear unaffected, but all she could think was how much easier it would be to breathe, to sleep at night, if she just knew .

She kept trying to find a quiet moment in between their interviews to talk to Rio. But every attempt was met with the same indestructible wall of professionalism.

Whenever the cameras were off, Agatha would linger, waiting for an opening. She’d catch Rio out of the corner of her eye, leaning against a chair or sipping from her coffee cup, and her chest would tighten with the urge to cross the room. To say something . Anything.

But before she could even take a step, Rio would slip away, always needing to check in with Alice, or some crew member.

It was worse when Rio and Wanda were together.

Agatha couldn’t help but watch them from across the room, her gaze locking onto the easy way they laughed together, the way Rio’s face lit up when Wanda whispered something in her ear or leaned in a little too close to show her something on her phone. It made Agatha feel like an outsider, a ghost in a world she no longer belonged to.

The sight of them sent a hot, prickling sensation crawling up her spine, her stomach twisting into knots that tightened with every stolen glance. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms as if the pain could keep her from spiraling further.

She told herself it wasn’t jealousy. It couldn’t be. Agatha Harkness didn’t get jealous. She was a goddamn movie star, for Christ’s sake. Jealousy was beneath her, a petty emotion reserved for others, not her.

But the truth was a pill harder to swallow.

Each time Wanda leaned in too close, her hand brushing Rio’s arm, or her laughter ringing out just a little too loudly, the rush of nausea that flowed through Agatha told a different story. The sharp sting in her chest, the way her breath hitched, the way her jaw tightened—it was all too familiar.

She wanted to run, to escape the suffocating weight of it all. But no matter how much distance she tried to put between herself and those moments, the feelings followed her.

And deep down, she knew it was her fault.

She’d ruined everything.

Once, not so long ago, they’d been close. Closer than Agatha had ever allowed herself to be with anyone else. Rio had been someone who challenged her, who made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t in years.

But now? Now it was as if none of that had ever existed. As if she were just another co-star, another colleague, someone to be tolerated but never truly seen.

The realization cut deeper than she cared to admit, and no matter how hard she tried to suppress it, the ache in her chest refused to fade.

And the worst part? She couldn’t blame Rio for any of it.

Because Agatha had been the one to push her away.

By the end of the week, Agatha had reached her breaking point.

She couldn’t take it anymore—the avoidance, the silences, the constant weight of Rio’s absence even when they were in the same room. It was driving her insane.

So when she spotted Rio slipping into an elevator alone after a particularly grueling round of interviews, Agatha didn’t think. She followed.

She got in the elevator right after Rio and pressed the stop button. For a moment, Rio’s expression was unreadable—a flicker of surprise quickly masked by something colder, more distant.

Rio moved to pass her, but Agatha stepped in her way.

“What are you doing?” Rio asked, her voice tense.

“What am I doing?” Agatha asked, her frustration evident in her voice. “What are you doing? Why do you keep avoiding me?”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are!” Agatha cut her off. “Don’t try to pretend that’s not what’s happening. You’ve been dodging me all week!”

Rio stared at her for a moment, her jaw tightening. Her dark eyes flickered with something—anger, hurt, exhaustion. Finally, with a tired sigh, she said, “What do you want me to say, Agatha?”

“Nothing! I don’t—” Agatha faltered, her voice breaking slightly. “Just… say something .”

Rio’s laugh was bitter, a sharp contrast to the warmth it once carried. “Like you did? When I sent you all those messages?”

Agatha’s stomach sank. “I— I was confused. I was scared. You know that.”

“No, Agatha,” Rio snapped, her voice rising. “I don’t know that. Because all you said was that you ‘couldn’t do it.’ Whatever the hell that means. You left me with nothing!”

Agatha’s mouth opened, but no words came.

“Is that why you’re with her now? To get back at me?” Agatha shot back

Rio’s eyes flashed with fury. “Oh, go fuck yourself, Agatha. Wanda has nothing to do with this. The problem isn’t her. It’s you. You pretend to be this all-powerful, in-control woman, but the truth is, you’re a coward.”

“Stop calling me that!” Agatha snapped, her voice trembling with anger and something deeper, rawer. “You don’t understand! You’re young, you’re free, you’re so effortlessly loved by everyone who meets you. I’m not like that! I’ve had to fight for everything I have. I’m not getting any younger, and I have a husband waiting for me at home!”

Rio’s laugh was hollow, her voice dripping with disbelief. “And you don’t think I know that? You don’t think I wished things were different? But I was willing to risk everything for you. Everything! ”

“Don’t—” Agatha’s voice cracked, her composure unraveling. “Don’t say things like that, Rio.”

“Oh, now you don’t want me to talk?” Rio snapped, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. “Which is it, Agatha? Do you want me to stay silent, or do you want me to tell you how much you’ve hurt me?”

Agatha closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “I just…” She exhaled shakily. “I just want you to stop acting like I don’t exist. Not after everything.”

“After everything?” Rio echoed, her tone sharp and incredulous. “And what exactly is ‘everything,’ Agatha? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like nothing. ”

The silence that followed was loud, deafening . Agatha’s throat tightened, her mind racing for something to say, something that could fix this. But the words wouldn’t come.

Rio’s expression hardened. “I knew it.” Her voice was low, resigned, and it cut through Agatha like a knife.

She turned, her hand reaching for the door.

“Rio, wait.”

Rio paused, her hand on the handle, her shoulders tense. Slowly, she turned, her eyes heavy with exhaustion and hurt.

Agatha’s voice was barely a whisper, but it was enough. “I miss you.”

Rio stared at her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, finally, she spoke, her voice quiet. “It’s too late for that.”

And with that, she pressed the stop button once more and walked out, leaving Agatha alone in the empty elevator, the weight of her words hanging in the air.

Agatha stood frozen, staring at the doors long after they had shut behind Rio. The sound of her heels clicking against the tiles echoing faintly in her ears.

She couldn’t bring herself to move, her body heavy with the weight of everything unsaid and the room suddenly feeling suffocating.

She dropped her gaze to her reflection in the mirror. Her makeup was still perfect, her expression calm and composed—at least, that’s what it would look like to anyone else. But beneath the surface, she felt like she was breaking to pieces. Her chest felt tight, her breathing shallow as she fought against the tears threatening to spill.

She’d never felt this way before. Not for anyone. Only Rio Vidal.

No one else had ever made her want to strip herself bare, to leave her most vulnerable side exposed. She wanted Rio to know her, every part of her—messy, flawed, and fragile.

And yet, she’d done nothing but push her away.

What had she expected? That Rio would forgive her with a smile? That the damage she’d caused could be undone with a single whispered “I miss you”?

Pathetic.

The word echoed in her mind, cutting deep.

Agatha straightened, her fingers trembling as she reached for a tissue in her purse to dab at the corners of her eyes. No tears had fallen yet, but they were close—too close. She couldn’t let anyone see her like this.

She took a deep breath, trying to ground herself. But it didn’t help.

Her mind raced, replaying the conversation over and over. The way Rio’s eyes had burned with anger and hurt. The way her voice had cracked when she said, “I was willing to risk everything for you.”

Agatha clenched her fists, the tissue crumpling in her hand. She hated how much those words hurt. Hated how much she wanted to chase after Rio, to grab her and say something— anything —to make her stay.

But she couldn’t.

Instead, she stayed rooted to the spot, staring at her reflection like it belonged to someone else. Someone weaker. Someone who didn’t deserve Rio’s forgiveness.

She let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. “Coward,” she whispered to herself, the word stinging.

It stung because it was true.

Her mind wandered to the moments they’d shared—Rio’s laughter, the way her eyes lit up when she smiled, the warmth of her presence. And now, all of it was gone, replaced by walls Agatha herself had built.

The elevator’s doors opened suddenly, and Agatha straightened instinctively, her mask snapping back into place. A production assistant stood outside, her expression cautious.

“Ms. Harkness, hi!” she said.”Um… Everyone’s looking for you…”

She took one last look at herself in the mirror, smoothing her hair and adjusting her blazer. Her reflection was immaculate again, as if nothing had happened.

But as she turned to leave, the ache in her chest lingered. It whispered a truth she didn’t want to face: she had lost Rio.

And deep down, she feared it might be forever.

Chapter Text

The press tour had come and gone, leaving a hollow ache in Agatha’s chest that refused to dissipate. Despite spending countless hours in the same rooms, sitting side by side in interviews and smiling for cameras, Rio’s walls had remained firm and impenetrable.

She’d been perfectly professional, of course. Answering every question with charm and poise, offering practiced smiles to the press, and playing the part of the gracious co-star with ease. But beyond that? Nothing. No shared laughter. No lingering glances. No fleeting moments of warmth.

It was like Agatha didn’t exist.

She’d tried. God, how she’d tried.

She’d taken every opportunity to try and bridge the distance between them. A compliment here, a subtle joke there, even soft glances whenever their eyes accidentally met.

But every effort fell flat, bouncing off the cold fortress that Rio had built around herself.

Indifference. That’s what Agatha was met with. Polite, detached responses that acknowledged her presence without truly engaging. Words that were functional but devoid of the spark that had once made her heart race.

It was excruciating.

Each interaction felt like a slow, drawn-out punishment, a constant reminder of the connection she’d shattered with her own hands.

And maybe, Agatha thought bitterly, she deserved it.

And now, as she stood in yet another hotel suite, Agatha would replay every moment in her mind. Every missed opportunity. Every rejection. The sting of Rio’s indifference lingered long after the day’s work was done, seeping into her thoughts and haunting her dreams.

She thought about Rio’s laugh—the way it used to ring out, unrestrained and warm, filling whatever space they occupied. She thought about how Rio’s eyes used to light up when she spoke, how she’d lean in just a little closer, as if Agatha’s words were the only ones that mattered.

Now, those moments felt like a lifetime ago, buried beneath layers of tension and regret.

And yet, even in the face of Rio’s icy detachment, Agatha couldn’t stop herself from hoping.

She hated herself for it—for the way her heart still leapt whenever Rio walked into a room, for the way she searched for any sign that the woman she’d fallen for was still there, somewhere beneath those walls.

She had thought the press tour would give her a chance to fix things, to find her way back to Rio. She’d clung to that hope, fragile as it was, through every moment they’d been forced to share. But now, with the night of the premiere looming ahead of her, her fears of losing Rio— her Rio—only grew stronger, like a dark cloud following her every move.

Agatha stood in her hotel room, staring at the dress laid out on the bed. A designer had sent it weeks ago, a black dress with feathers meant to dazzle under the camera flashes. Yet to her, it looked like nothing more than a hollow costume right now.

It was supposed to be a celebration—the culmination of months of work, of late nights and long hours on set. The kind of night she’d once lived for, the moment when all the world’s eyes would be on them, when they’d smile for the cameras and pretend everything was perfect.

But nothing felt perfect.

Her stomach twisted at the thought of seeing Rio again, knowing they’d be forced to stand side by side, the way they always did at these events. For the press. For the fans. For the photographers.

Pretending. Always pretending.

She could already picture it—the practiced smiles, the easy banter they’d deliver for the red carpet interviews, the way they’d pose together like they were still something other than strangers.

And Rio would do it flawlessly. She always did. Agatha could almost hear the charm in her voice, see the way she’d flash that effortless grin that made everyone around her melt.

But Agatha would see the truth in her eyes. She’d see the cool distance, the polite indifference that had haunted her for weeks now. And it would cut deeper than any harsh word or cold shoulder ever could.

She sighed and sank onto the edge of the bed, her gaze still fixed on the dress. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, twisting the delicate bracelet she hadn’t bothered to take off.

She didn’t know how much more of this she could take—this endless game of pretense and self-inflicted torture. She didn’t know how she’d survive standing so close to Rio, feeling her presence but knowing she’d never reach her again.

The premiere was supposed to mark the end of this chapter. The film would be released, the buzz would fade, and eventually, they’d both move on to other projects, other lives.

But the thought of letting go—of truly losing Rio forever—made Agatha feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, staring into an abyss.

With a deep breath, she reached for the dress, knowing she had no choice but to face the night ahead.

No choice but to face Rio.

And no choice but to pretend, once again, that everything was fine.

The moment she saw her, Agatha felt like she couldn’t breathe.

Rio stood across the room, radiant under the glow of the lights and the flashes of cameras. The crowd around her blurred into insignificance as Agatha’s eyes trailed over her, taking in every detail. She’d seen Rio in designer gowns before, but tonight? Tonight, she was breathtaking.

Literally.

It wasn’t just the way Rio looked—though, God, she was stunning. It was the dress.

Black.

Like Agatha’s.

Matching, without even trying.

Agatha’s gaze dropped to her own gown, the deep black fabric clinging to her frame, its plunging neckline designed to tease without revealing too much. The delicate feathered accents at her shoulders gave the dress a touch of drama, a statement meant to command attention and hold it.

And yet, across the room, there was Rio.

Her dress was different—sleek, shimmering, understated—but the effect was the same. The fabric caught the light with every subtle movement, the high slit on her thigh revealing just enough skin to make Agatha’s mouth go dry.

It wasn’t the kind of match that screamed coordination. Not the deliberate pairing of a couple making a statement.

No, this was worse.

This felt accidental. Fateful.

Like the universe itself had conspired against her, forcing them into alignment despite the walls Rio had so painstakingly built between them.

Agatha couldn’t look away. Her eyes followed the curve of Rio’s neck, the way her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders. The way she tilted her head slightly as she laughed at something someone said—an effortless, intoxicating sound that Agatha hadn’t heard directed at her in what felt like forever.

Her stomach twisted, the sharp ache of longing cutting through her.

What had she expected? That Rio would somehow be less radiant tonight, less magnetic? That time and distance would dull the pull she had on her?

Foolish.

Rio hadn’t noticed her yet. She was surrounded by reporters, her effortless charm drawing them in. Agatha couldn’t help the pang of something sharp and bitter as she watched them lean in, hanging on Rio’s every word, basking in her charm.

She wanted to look away, to turn her back and spare herself the agony of watching Rio light up the room for everyone else.

But at the same time, she wanted to go to her, to close the distance, to say something—anything—that might melt the ice between them.

So she did neither.

She stood frozen, caught between the urge to retreat and the desperate pull to cross the room, to reach out and reclaim something that felt so irrevocably lost.

Because for all the effort Rio had put into keeping her at arm’s length—for all the polite indifference, the cool detachment—Agatha still couldn’t stop wanting her.

And tonight, with their matching dresses and the weight of everything unsaid between them, it felt like the universe itself was mocking her.

Then, as if sensing her gaze on her, Rio saw her.

And their eyes met.

For a moment, everything else fell away.

Agatha’s breath caught, her pulse quickening as she searched Rio’s expression for something—anything—that might break through the walls between them.

She could swear Rio hesitated, just for a fraction of a second. Her gaze skimmed over Agatha, lingering long enough to send a shiver down her spine. But then, her expression shifted.

Her face settled into that same mask of polite detachment Agatha had come to dread. No warmth, no softness, just a cool acknowledgment before Rio turned away, as if Agatha were nothing more than another face in the crowd.

The ache in Agatha’s chest deepened, spreading through her like wildfire.

The weight of the room pressed in on her—the lights, the cameras, the eyes now turning in her direction—but all she could think about was how Rio had looked at her.

Or rather, how she hadn’t.

They were aligned in every way tonight—dresses, proximity, even the fabricated perfection the cameras demanded. Aligned in every way except the one that mattered.

And that was the tragedy of it.

The premiere was supposed to be their grand moment, the culmination of months of work. But instead, it felt like a cruel stage play, a mockery of what they’d once shared and what Agatha feared they might never have again.

Agatha forced herself to step forward, the sharp click of her heels cutting through the noise as she stepped into the spotlight. She was an actress, after all. She knew how to wear a mask.

The cameras loved her, the flashes illuminating every inch of her as she posed for them, offering practiced smiles.

And so, she played her part.

But beneath the feathers and sequins, beneath the elegant façade she wore so well, her chest ached with the bitter truth.

Rio Vidal was close enough to touch, but Agatha had never felt further away from her.

Rio was halfway to the ladies’ room when she heard it.

“Rio.”

The voice froze her mid-step. Low, controlled, but unmistakably hers.

Agatha.

Rio turned, her pulse quickening as she caught sight of her. Agatha stood just a few feet away, the hallway dimly lit compared to the bustling chaos of the premiere. Her dress—the same black dress Rio had noticed earlier—seemed to absorb the light, her silhouette striking and, as always, a little intimidating.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Rio crossed her arms, leaning against the wall as if to mask her unease. “What do you want, Agatha?”

Agatha took a step closer, her expression unreadable. “I need to talk to you.”

“About what?” Rio asked, her tone sharper than she intended, her defenses already up. “We’ve spent the past few months doing nothing but talking—for the cameras, at least.”

Agatha flinched, a flicker of hurt crossing her face, but she held her ground. “Not like this.”

Rio huffed a humorless laugh. “Oh, so now you want to talk? After you chose to push me away over and over again?”

“I wasn’t—” Agatha started, but Rio cut her off.

“Agatha, stop,” she said, her voice tight. “Just stop. I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”

Agatha’s jaw tightened, her eyes flickering with something Rio couldn’t quite place. Guilt? Anger? Regret?

“You don’t understand,” Agatha said, her voice trembling just slightly. “It’s not that simple.”

Rio pushed off the wall, stepping closer, her frustration bubbling over. “So you keep saying. But you either want me in your life, or you don’t. And from where I’m standing, it’s pretty damn clear where you landed on that.”

“I do want you in my life!” Agatha shot back.

“As what, Agatha? What role would I even play in your picture-perfect life?”

Agatha’s lips parted, but no words came. Finally, she shook her head. “My life is far from perfect, and you know it. And it’s even worse now that you’re not in it.”

Rio’s laugh was bitter, hollow. “Well, congratulations. You made sure of that.”

The words hung heavy between them, a silence so thick it felt suffocating.

Agatha stepped closer, close enough that Rio could catch the faintest trace of her perfume. “You don’t think I feel it too?” Agatha asked, her voice breaking slightly. “You don’t think I hate myself for the way I handled things?”

Rio’s chest tightened, the vulnerability in Agatha’s tone catching her off guard. But she didn’t let it show. She couldn’t.

“Then why?” Rio asked, her voice soft but laced with hurt. “Why couldn’t you just let me in?”

Agatha’s gaze dropped, her mask slipping for the briefest moment. “Because I was scared,” she admitted, the words so quiet Rio almost didn’t hear them.

Rio’s breath hitched. The raw honesty in those words cut through her anger, but it wasn’t enough to stop the ache in her chest.

“Scared of what?” Rio pressed. “Of what people would think? You could’ve trusted me with that, Agatha.”

Agatha’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, Rio thought she saw the answer there—the real answer. But then Agatha shook her head, her voice breaking as she whispered, “It doesn’t matter.”

Rio stepped back, the weight of those words slamming into her. “You’re right,” she said coldly. “It doesn’t.”

She turned on her heel, heading for the ladies’ room, but Agatha’s voice stopped her in her tracks once more.

“I at least want us to be friends.”

Rio froze, her fists clenching at her sides. When she turned back, her eyes burned with anger. “Funny,” she said, her voice cutting. “That’s the last thing I want us to be.”

Agatha’s eyes welled with tears, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she turned and walked quickly down the hallway, disappearing into the bathroom.

Rio cursed under her breath and followed. “Agatha. Agatha, wait.”

But Agatha didn’t stop. She pushed open the bathroom door, letting it swing shut behind her.

Rio sighed, running a hand through her hair before following her inside.

The door clicked shut, muffling the noise of the premiere outside.

“Agatha,” Rio started, her voice softer now. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Agatha stood with her back to her, gripping the edge of the sink, her shoulders trembling slightly. When she finally turned, her eyes were red, but her voice was steady.

“I think you did,” she said quietly.

Rio’s chest tightened at Agatha’s words. The sight of her standing there, tears threatening to spill but her jaw still set in defiance, made something twist painfully inside her. She hated seeing Agatha like this—cracked, raw, so unlike the confident, untouchable woman she knew.

But it wasn’t just pity or concern that stopped her. It was the realization that, no matter how much Agatha had hurt her, Rio couldn’t walk away.

“I didn’t mean it,” Rio said again, softer this time. She took a step closer, her voice steady but low. “Not the way it came out.”

“Just leave me alone, Rio,” Agatha said, her voice cracking under the weight of her words. “I get it, okay? You hate me, and there’s nothing I can do to fix that.”

Rio’s heart ached at the bitterness in her tone, and before she could stop herself, she closed the distance between them.

“I…” Rio started, her voice faltering as she searched for Agatha’s gaze. “I don’t hate you.”

Agatha let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“No,” Rio said firmly, her voice cutting through the tension in the room. “I don’t hate you. Quite the opposite, actually.”

Agatha froze, her breath hitching as her eyes snapped to Rio’s.

The air between them felt electric, the silence stretching long enough for Rio to wonder if she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.

“Rio…” Agatha started, but her voice was barely a whisper.

“I mean it,” Rio said, stepping even closer, her own vulnerability cracking through her usual defenses. “You drive me insane, Agatha. You’re stubborn and impossible and—God, you’ve hurt me more than anyone ever has.”

Agatha flinched, but Rio pressed on, her voice softening.

“But I could never hate you. I wish I could sometimes, because it would make things easier, but I can’t.”

Agatha’s lips parted as if to say something, but no words came. Her hands trembled slightly where they gripped the sink, her defenses crumbling.

“I care about you, Agatha,” Rio continued, her voice almost breaking now. “And maybe that’s the problem. I care too much, and I don’t know what to do with it.”

Agatha blinked, her tears finally spilling over, streaking down her cheeks.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Agatha admitted, her voice raw and trembling. “I don’t know how to let myself feel this way. About you.”

Rio’s heart clenched as she reached out, her fingers brushing against Agatha’s cheek before gently cupping it. “We don’t have to figure it all out at once,” she said softly. “Let’s just… start with the truth.”

Agatha swallowed hard, her eyes searching Rio’s before she leaned into the warmth of her touch. “The truth is, I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “Of losing you. Of ruining this. Of ruining you.”

Rio’s thumb stroked her cheek gently, her voice steady but filled with emotion. “You’re not going to ruin me,” she said, her words firm yet tender. “And you don’t have to be scared alone. Just stop pushing me away, okay?”

Agatha’s eyes glistened with tears as she nodded. “Okay,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute.

Rio’s heart swelled at the sight of her—vulnerable but finally letting her in. She leaned in slowly, her gaze flicking to Agatha’s lips, her breath mingling with hers as the distance between them disappeared.

But just as their lips were about to meet, Agatha pulled back, her hand pressing lightly against Rio’s chest.

“Rio,” Agatha said, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry. I was selfish and shortsighted. I let my fear—my stupidity—get in the way of everything we could have been.”

Rio’s heart both ached and swelled to hear the raw honesty in Agatha’s words. “Agatha,” she said softly, taking her hand in hers. “You don’t have to apologize anymore. You’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

Agatha exhaled shakily, her hand still pressed against Rio’s chest. “You’re too good to me,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Rio smiled softly, leaning in again, giving her all the time in the world to stop her. But this time, Agatha didn’t pull away.

Their lips met, tentative at first, as if testing the waters. But the hesitation melted quickly, replaced by something desperate, raw, and long overdue.

One minute Agatha was leaning against the sink, and the next, her hands were buried in Rio’s hair, pulling her closer. Rio’s hands moved instinctively, finding Agatha’s waist, her grip firm but trembling slightly, as if she feared this moment might slip through her fingers.

The kiss was anything but perfect—it was messy, tear-streaked, and tinged with all the emotions they’d held back for so long.

But that imperfection made it real.

And for the first time in months, they were on the same page, no barriers, no pretense—just them.

Things escalated quickly, and Rio knew with an almost dizzying certainty that if Agatha told her she’d make love to her right here, in the middle of a crowd, in front of every pair of prying eyes, she might just let her.

Agatha was intoxicating—a fix Rio couldn’t get enough of. Every kiss, every touch was like a drug seeping into her veins, leaving her craving more.

Without warning, Agatha grabbed Rio and pushed her against the door with a force that made Rio gasp softly against her lips. Agatha’s movements were bold, unrestrained, as if she’d finally stopped holding herself back.

Before she even stopped to consider the danger, Agatha let her fingers graze the slit of Rio’s thigh, teasing her skin just enough to make Rio’s breath hitch. Her lips traveled down Rio’s neck, leaving a trail of lipstick in their wake, while her hand slid higher, testing, exploring and claiming.

Rio moaned, a soft, muffled sound that escaped before she could stop it. Agatha smirked against her skin, her confidence growing as she covered Rio’s mouth with her hand, silencing her gently but firmly.

“Shh,” Agatha whispered, her voice a sultry murmur against Rio’s ear, before teasingly giving it a nibble.

The words sent a thrill coursing through Rio’s body, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she fought to control herself. But she didn’t care who heard. Not anymore. Not when Agatha was finally touching her the way she had always wanted—needed.

Agatha’s fingers grazed the sensitive skin of Rio’s thigh, her touch deliberate and slow, igniting a fire within Rio that spread through every inch of her body. She ached, needing more, craving the pressure of Agatha’s touch.

Agatha’s hand moved higher, teasing the edges of Rio’s panties before pulling them to the side. Her fingers found the softness of Rio’s skin, then the heat of her core, and Rio’s breath caught sharply, her head tilting back against the door.

Her body responded instinctively, her hips jerking forward as Agatha’s fingers slid inside her, the pressure perfect. She moaned—soft, desperate, unable to hold back the sound as Agatha’s rhythm started slow and torturous, coaxing her higher and higher.

With every movement, Agatha’s fingers deepened, exploring with unhurried precision that pushed Rio to the edge of madness. Her breathing became erratic, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession as the pleasure built in waves, each one stronger than the last. Her body tightened, coiled like a spring, ready to snap.

“Agatha, please…” Rio’s voice was barely a whisper, breathless, her hand gripping the door behind her for support as the pressure within her intensified.

Agatha didn’t respond with words. Instead, she only deepened her touch, her fingers curling and finding the rhythm that made Rio’s legs tremble. Rio’s body moved against Agatha’s hand, every nerve alight with need, the tension building until it was unbearable.

And then, just as Rio thought she couldn’t take any more, the pleasure hit her like a wave slamming against the shore. Her body convulsed, legs trembling violently as release flooded through her, hot and intense. She collapsed against the door, her head resting against the cool surface, chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.

Agatha’s hand remained steady, not pulling away, holding her through the waves of pleasure as Rio’s body shuddered beneath her touch.

For a long moment, Rio stayed there, pressed against the door, her body humming with the aftershocks, too spent to move. Agatha’s fingers gently withdrew, but she didn’t pull away completely. Instead, she cupped Rio’s face, her thumb brushing tenderly over her cheek, and tilted her head so their eyes could meet.

“I love you,” Agatha said, her voice barely above a whisper, raw and unguarded.

Rio froze as the words sank in. She couldn’t believe her ears. Agatha Harkness—untouchable, guarded, and so often out of reach—had just bared herself completely.

Rio leaned in, a smile slowly spreading across her face as she leaned in, her forehead pressing against Agatha’s. 

“Well, that’s good,” Rio murmured, her tone teasing but soft. “Because I’m kind of obsessed with you.”

Agatha let out a shaky laugh as Rio kissed her—gentler this time, full of unspoken promises and everything she wasn’t ready to say yet.

This was how Agatha Harkness would earn her forgiveness.

And how they both knew they couldn’t live without each other.

Because now they both knew what they were willing to risk. Just to be together.

Chapter Text

The sunlight was unforgiving, spilling through the blinds and landing squarely across Rio’s face. She groaned softly, shifting just a little—but she stopped when she felt it.

A weight. A warmth.

Rio’s eyes fluttered open, her pulse quickening a little as she registered what—who—was pressed against her.

Agatha.

Her head was resting on Rio’s shoulder, her dark hair fanned out against the pillow.

One arm was draped across Rio’s waist, her body curled instinctively into her side, as if she belonged there.

Rio froze, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, she didn’t move. Didn’t even dare to breathe.

The room was quiet except for the faint sound of Agatha’s breathing—slow, steady, each rise and fall a quiet rhythm that felt almost calming.

But Rio wasn’t calm, her heart pounding in her chest while her mind was a haze, blurred by exhaustion and the rush of everything that had passed between them.

She tilted her head just slightly, her eyes tracing the curve of Agatha’s face—the way her lashes cast soft shadows on her cheeks, a faint smile on her face even in her sleep.

Rio’s chest tightened.

For all of Agatha’s sharp edges and guarded walls, this version of her—the one nestled against Rio, unguarded and soft—was almost too much to bear.

Rio shifted slightly, trying not to disturb her, but the movement made Agatha stir.

Her brow furrowed, and her arm tightened around Rio’s waist as if to keep her from moving away.

Rio froze again, her breath hitching.

She wanted to say something. Do something. Wake her gently and make a joke to try and ease the tension. But the words caught in her throat.

Instead, she let herself sink back into the mattress, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as she tried to process the reality of Agatha Harkness asleep in her arms.

What does this mean? She thought. Was this another goodbye? A one-time thing? Would Agatha remain this unreachable being after this was all over?

The truth was: Rio didn’t know. But as Agatha let out a soft sigh, her breath warm against Rio’s neck, she realized she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Not now.

Because if all she could have was this moment, she would enjoy it. And if Agatha woke up and regretted it, if she pulled away and pretended it never happened, Rio would deal with it then.

But right now, with the sunlight creeping across the bed and Agatha tucked against her, Rio let herself savor it—the quiet, fragile joy of having her.

Even if it was only for now.

I love you.

The words echoed in Rio’s mind, louder now in the stillness of the morning. Agatha had said it.

Rio’s lips curled into an involuntary smile as her gaze lingered on Agatha.

Even asleep, she managed to stir something in Rio that no one else ever had. It wasn’t just desire, though that was there too, humming quietly under her skin. It was something deeper, something that scared her as much as it thrilled her.

Whether she meant it or not, Rio realized, I’m in trouble.

She let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, the sound barely more than a breath.

Rio Vidal, the confident, unshakable woman who could charm a room without breaking a sweat, was utterly undone by one woman.

She was utterly undone by Agatha Harkness.

And whatever came next, Rio knew one thing for sure.

She wasn’t ready to let go.

The lingering warmth of Agatha’s body had lulled Rio back to sleep. But when she woke again, the bed was empty—the rare sense of peace she’d been feeling shattering immediately.

Her chest tightened, a cold knot of fear forming in her stomach as her eyes darted around the room. The sheets were rumpled, the pillow beside hers slightly indented where Agatha’s head had been, but the woman herself was nowhere in sight.

Rio sat up quickly, her breath hitching as panic began to rise inside her.

Had she left?

The thought sent a sharp pang through her chest, her mind racing with the possibility.

No, Rio told herself firmly, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. She couldn’t have. Not after last night. Not after everything we went through.

But the emptiness of the room was there, making her doubts grow louder with every passing second.

The room felt smaller now, the walls closing in as the memories of the night before clashed with the stark reality of the morning. Rio clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to believe the words Agatha had uttered the night before had been real, that she had meant them. But the empty bed felt like a cruel answer to the question she hadn’t dared to ask.

What if she regretted it?

The thought made Rio’s throat tighten, her breaths coming quicker now. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to push the panic down, but it was no use. The air felt heavy, thick with unspoken fears as Rio’s mind raced through every possible explanation.

Just as Rio was on the verge of spiraling further, she heard the sound of the bathroom door closing. Relief surged through her, so overwhelming that if she had been standing, her knees would’ve given out.

The bedroom door opened a moment later, and there she was.

Agatha.

She stepped inside, her hair slightly damp from washing her face, wearing one of Rio’s oversized shirts that fell just past her thighs. It was a little big on her, their height difference showing. The sight made Rio’s breath catch.

Agatha looked impossibly sexy and adorably out of place at the same time, like she didn’t quite belong in Rio’s space but had claimed it anyway.

Rio’s eyes traced the line of her bare legs, the way the sunlight seemed to reflect on them. Warmth spread through her chest, down her stomach, and settled low in her belly.

Agatha noticed Rio’s gaze and tilted her head, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips as she climbed back into bed. “Like what you see?” she teased, though her tone was softer than usual.

Rio swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Very much,” she replied honestly, her voice dropping slightly as she bit her lip. Her eyes lingered on Agatha’s exposed skin before meeting her gaze. “You look adorable.”

“Adorable?” Agatha raised an eyebrow, her smile growing. “Not exactly the reaction I was going for.”

Rio smirked, leaning back against the headboard. “Trust me, you’re doing plenty.”

Agatha chuckled, tugging at the hem of the shirt. “Sorry for stealing one of your shirts,” she said, her tone light but her cheeks slightly flushed. “I couldn’t very well stroll around butt naked.”

“Oh, believe me,” Rio said, her voice low and teasing, “that’s a sight I would’ve appreciated very much.”

Agatha let out a throaty laugh, the sound sending a shiver down Rio’s spine, and for a moment, she couldn’t think of anything except how much she wanted to pull Agatha into her arms and claim her as her own again.

Her fingers twitched against the sheets, aching to reach out, but she stopped herself.

This wasn’t just a fling. It wasn’t a moment of passion to be forgotten by morning.

Not anymore.

Not when Agatha had said I love you.

And not when Rio’s own feelings had grown into something far deeper than she’d anticipated.

She shook her head slightly, as if trying to clear it. But the ache in her chest, the pull toward Agatha, was impossible to ignore.

Agatha must have noticed the shift in her expression because she tilted her head, her smile fading just a little. “What’s that look for?”

Rio hesitated, her throat tightening. “Nothing,” she said quickly, but her voice betrayed her.

Agatha narrowed her eyes, studying her. “You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

Rio let out a soft breath before admitting “For a minute there, I thought you’d left.”

A flicker of sadness crossed Agatha’s face. “I wouldn’t do that to you,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. She reached out, taking Rio’s hand in her own. “Rio, I meant what I said last night.”

“You did?” Rio’s eyes searched Agatha’s, almost pleading.

“Of course I did,” Agatha said, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I love you. I never want to part with you again.”

The admission hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. Agatha felt the weight of it settle between them, especially since Rio hadn’t said the words back yet. But she knew she couldn’t rush her—Rio needed to trust her again, and that would take time.

Rio’s fingers tightened around Agatha’s hand, a small smile spreading across her lips. “I believe you,” she said softly. Her relief was palpable, her shoulders relaxing. But something lingered at the edges of her thoughts, a nagging concern she couldn’t ignore.

“But, Agatha,” Rio began, her voice steady but serious, “if we’re doing this—really doing this—and if we want it to work, we need to talk about it. All of it.”

“I know.” Agatha’s gaze dropped, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of Rio’s shirt. “But I wouldn’t even know where to start. I’ve never done this before…”

“Hey.” Rio leaned forward, cupping Agatha’s cheek with her hand, her thumb brushing lightly against her skin. “Look at me.”

Agatha hesitated but finally lifted her eyes to meet Rio’s.

“One step at a time, okay?” Rio said, her voice soft but resolute.

Agatha saw the sincerity in her gaze and gave a small nod, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Let’s just promise to be honest with each other,” Rio continued, her hand still cradling Agatha’s face. “We can figure out the rest as we go.”

Agatha exhaled shakily, her lips curving into a small, almost bittersweet smile. “Rio, I might’ve done a lot of stupid things, but I would never lie to you. God, with you I feel so… so vulnerable. Like I’ve been stripped naked, and you can see every single part of me.”

The confession felt like peeling back her own skin, exposing the tender parts of herself she’d spent years keeping hidden. Rio could see the effort it took, and her heart swelled with appreciation.

“I want to see every part of you, Agatha,” Rio said, her voice steady and honest. “The good, the bad, the fucked-up parts. I want to know it all. I want you to strip naked in front of me, and I want to explore every inch of you—but only if you’ll let me.”

Agatha swallowed hard, her breath catching. “I want you to,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “I’ve always wanted you to.”

Rio tilted her head slightly, her eyes softening. “So what’s been holding you back?”

Agatha hesitated, her throat tightening as she prepared to speak the truth she’d been avoiding. “Fear,” she said finally, her voice breaking on the word. “I’m scared, Rio. I’m scared of putting myself out there and my life going to hell. I’m scared that my career—a career I’ve worked so hard to build—won’t survive it.”

Rio’s brows furrowed, her expression both empathetic and questioning. “Why are you so sure it wouldn’t survive, though? I know I’m hardly the first woman to come out, but my career seems to be doing just fine.”

Agatha let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “It’s different for you, Rio. You’re younger, you’re bold, and you’re already a rule-breaker. People expect it from you. But me?” She paused, her voice dropping. “I’ve spent my entire career playing it safe, building an image of this untouchable woman. If I step outside of that, everything I’ve built could crumble.”

Rio’s grip on Agatha’s hand tightened, her voice steady and filled with quiet conviction. “Agatha, you’ve spent your whole life building a fortress to protect yourself. But don’t you see? You’re stronger than you think. You don’t need that fortress anymore.”

Agatha’s eyes filled with tears, her walls threatening to crumble under the weight of Rio’s words.

“I’m here,” Rio said softly. “I’m not going anywhere. And if the world tries to tear you down, we’ll face it together. But I need you to take that first step with me.”

Agatha inhaled deeply, her gaze locking with Rio’s. “What about Wanda, though?”

Rio let out a small laugh. “You know those were just rumors, Agatha. I could never move on from you,” she admitted. “But what about your husband? That is the elephant in the room, you know.”

Agatha’s gaze dropped to their joined hands, unable to meet Rio’s eyes as she spoke.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” she said, her voice low, almost hesitant. “My marriage with Ralph… it’s not what people think it is. It never has been.” She paused, searching for the right words. “We got married because I was pregnant with Nicky. At the time, it felt like the right thing to do—for my career, for the baby, for stability. And Ralph… he was powerful. Respected. He offered me security.”

Rio’s brows knit together, but she didn’t interrupt, letting Agatha take her time.

“I tolerated him at first,” Agatha continued, her voice growing quieter. “But as the years went on, I started to hate him. His control. The way he makes me feel like a puppet on strings. But I stayed. I stayed because I thought it was the only way to protect Nicky and my career.” She let out a bitter laugh. “I thought I was being strong, sacrificing myself for the greater good. But now? I just feel like a coward.”

Rio reached out with her free hand, gently tucking a strand of hair behind Agatha’s ear. “You’re not a coward,” she said firmly. “You did what you thought you had to do to survive. That’s not weakness.”

Agatha’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back, continuing. “It’s not just Ralph. It’s everything. The way people see me. The way I’ve boxed myself into this image of who I’m supposed to be. Now I feel like I can’t just be me anymore.”

Rio’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Agatha’s voice. “You can be,” she said softly. “And you will. And now I’m here to accompany you every step of the way.”

Agatha looked up then, her eyes meeting Rio’s. “I’m scared, Rio. Of everything. Of what people will think if I leave Ralph. Of what will happen to my career if I’m honest about who I am. Of what I might lose if I let myself love you.” Her voice broke on the last word, and a single tear slipped down her cheek.

Rio reached out, brushing the tear away with her thumb. “Agatha,” she said, her voice steady, “I can’t promise it’ll be easy. But I can promise you this—you’re not going to lose me. Not if you’re honest with me. Not if we face this together.”

Agatha exhaled shakily, her shoulders sagging. “I don’t deserve you,” she whispered.

“Yes, you do,” Rio said without hesitation. “You deserve to be happy. To be loved. To be free. And I want to help you with that.”

Agatha leaned into Rio’s touch, her walls crumbling further with every word. For the first time in years, she allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—she could have something real. Something honest.

And Rio listened, soaking in every word Agatha shared, every fear, every regret, every painful truth. She didn’t judge. She didn’t push. She simply held space for Agatha to be seen and heard.

In that moment, Agatha realized something she hadn’t dared to hope for: she wasn’t alone anymore.

But even as Rio’s heart swelled with affection, alongside it came the familiar ache of her own fears—the ones she had been trying so hard to suppress.

She swallowed hard, her fingers still intertwined with Agatha’s. “Can I tell you something?”

Agatha nodded, her expression open and earnest. “Of course.”

Rio hesitated for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “I’m scared too,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “I’m scared of how much I care about you. How much I want this—want us—to work. And I’m terrified that one day, you’ll wake up and decide this isn’t what you want. That you’ll leave, and I’ll be left standing here wondering what I did wrong.”

Agatha’s brows furrowed, her grip on Rio’s hand tightening. “Rio…”

“I fear that if you ever left me, a piece of me would go with you, leaving a permanent scar,” Rio continued, her voice trembling slightly. “That’s how deeply you’ve buried yourself under my skin.”

Tears welled in Agatha’s eyes, her heart breaking at the rawness of Rio’s confession. “Oh, Rio,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry. For everything. For the way I pushed you away before. For making you feel like you couldn’t trust me. You didn’t deserve that.”

Rio shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “It’s not about blame, Agatha. It’s about moving forward. But I need to know that you’re in this with me. That you’re not going to run the moment things get hard.”

Agatha cupped Rio’s face with both hands, her thumbs brushing gently against her cheeks. “I promise you,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears spilling over. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever. I’ve made mistakes, Rio—so many mistakes—but leaving you? Hurting you? I won’t let myself do that again.”

Rio searched Agatha’s eyes, looking for any hint of doubt, but all she found was sincerity. Slowly, she nodded, the tightness in her chest easing.

“Okay,” Rio said softly, her hands coming to rest on Agatha’s wrists. “Okay.”

Agatha leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss against Rio’s lips.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I mean it,” she whispered against her lips. “That you can trust me. And that you’re not going to lose me.”

Rio closed her eyes, letting the warmth of Agatha’s presence soothe the lingering ache of her fears. “I believe you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, holding each other in the quiet intimacy of the morning light. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t easy—but it was honest.

And for both of them, that was enough.

Chapter Text

The rest of the day Agatha and Rio remained wrapped up in each other in a haze of joy, the hours melting into one another. Their conversations drifted in and out, alternating between light-hearted teasing and deep confessions, but always circling back to the feeling of being together. There were no expectations, no rushing to the next thing. Just them, existing in the space they’d created—safe and untouched by the world outside.

Rio’s laughter echoed softly through the room as Agatha recounted a ridiculous on-set mishap from years ago and she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against Agatha’s cheek. “I love seeing you like this,” she murmured, her voice soft.

“Like what?” Agatha asked, tilting her head.

“Happy,” Rio said simply. “Unburdened.”

Agatha’s smile faltered for a moment, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she reached for Rio’s hand, threading their fingers together. “I am happy,” she said, her voice quiet but sure. “With you, I am.”.

Agatha’s phone buzzed faintly on the nightstand and without hesitation, she reached over and turned it off, letting it fall back onto the table with a muted thud. The distractions of reality could wait. For once, she didn’t want to hear from anyone—didn’t want to think about anything other than Rio and the way her heart seemed to beat only for her in that moment.

“No distractions,” she said firmly, her gaze meeting Rio’s. “Not today.”

Rio’s lips curved into a slow smile. “Not ever, if I had my way.”

Her fingers traced the curve of Agatha’s spine with tenderness, igniting sparks that sent shivers racing across Agatha’s skin. It wasn’t just the touch itself—it was the way Rio looked at her, as if she were the only thing that mattered in the universe.

Agatha let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her body relaxing under Rio’s touch. She had never known a love like this—raw, unguarded, and yet so incredibly comforting. Rio’s presence was a contradiction she never wanted to solve: fire and warmth, chaos and serenity, all wrapped into one intoxicating package.

Rio leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s just us now, Agatha. Nothing else. No one else.”

Agatha’s heart clenched at the words, at the sincerity in Rio’s tone. She reached out, her hand slipping into Rio’s hair, tangling her fingers in the dark locks as she pulled her closer. Their lips met in a deep kiss that felt like a way of saying that for now, there was only them. Only this.

Agatha’s hand slid down from Rio’s hair, her fingers grazing the curve of her jaw before resting lightly on her cheek. She broke the kiss just enough to whisper against Rio’s lips, her voice low and laced with honesty. “You make me forget, Rio. Everything. Everyone. I didn’t know I could feel like this.”

Rio’s smile softened, her thumb brushing against Agatha’s collarbone as if memorizing every inch of her skin. “That’s the point, isn’t it?” she murmured. “To lose yourself in someone that makes it all worth it.”

Agatha exhaled shakily, Rio’s words hitting way too close to home.

For years, she had lived in the shadows of her own fears, shoving away the pieces of herself that didn’t fit into the life she had built. She hadn’t allowed herself to hope, to dream, to want—not like this.

But Rio was different. Rio wasn’t asking her to be anything other than what she already was. And in her presence, Agatha felt like she could finally breathe.

Agatha stayed like that for a moment, before Rio’s hands began to move, trailing down the curve of her sides with deliberate slowness. Agatha opened her eyes, meeting Rio’s gaze, and what she saw there unraveled her further: a tenderness so fierce, so unrelenting, that it was almost unbearable.

For the first time in as long as she could remember, Agatha didn’t fight the emotion that swelled in her chest. Instead, she leaned forward, her forehead resting against Rio’s, her breaths mingling with hers.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Agatha admitted, her voice trembling.

Rio’s smile grew. “We’ll figure it out together, then.”

Agatha’s lips curved into the faintest smile, and in that moment, she let herself believe it was possible—this love, this connection, this hope that she hadn’t dared to touch until now.

The hours slipped by unnoticed, the sun’s descent casting golden light through the window before fading into the deep hues of twilight. In the quiet of the room, they shared whispered confessions and soft kisses, each one delicate and raw. Every brush of lips, every gentle touch, felt like a reaffirmation that they were still here, choosing each other after everything.

Rio’s hands roamed Agatha’s body with reverence, mapping her curves like she was committing them to memory. Every touch felt deliberate, her fingers tracing patterns over Agatha’s skin that sent shivers racing through her. Agatha’s body responded instinctively, arching into Rio’s touch, her breaths shallow and uneven. It felt as though her body had always known Rio’s—had always craved her—even before she’d been willing to admit it to herself.

Their movements were unhurried, every kiss and caress full with meaning. Their kisses deepened with every passing moment, as if they were learning each other all over again, rediscovering a secret language they were always meant to speak. Rio’s lips moved against Agatha’s with both tenderness and hunger, the kind of kiss that demanded everything while giving even more in return.

Agatha’s hands wandered to Rio’s jaw, her fingers curling slightly as she tilted Rio’s face closer, deepening the kiss, her lips parting to invite Rio’s tongue to meet hers. The taste of her was addictive, like wine and something sweeter, something unmistakably Rio . Agatha couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t pull away, not when this felt so achingly right.

Rio’s lips brushed against the sensitive spot just below Agatha’s ear, eliciting a soft gasp, and she smiled against her skin, the sound filling her with a quiet pride. “You’re so beautiful like this,” Rio murmured, her voice low and filled with awe.

Agatha’s hands found Rio’s face, her thumbs brushing against her cheekbones as she guided her into another kiss. It was deep, languid, a kiss that spoke of everything she couldn’t put into words. When they pulled back, Agatha’s eyes searched Rio’s, her heart pounding in her chest.

“I don’t know how you do this to me,” Agatha whispered, her voice trembling with vulnerability.

Rio smiled, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from Agatha’s face. “I could say the same about you,” she replied softly.

Rio moved her lips down Agatha’s neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses on her way. Agatha’s head tipped back, giving the woman more access, and her hands slid down to Rio’s shoulders, gripping tightly.

When Rio’s hands cupped Agatha’s waist again, she pulled her even closer, their bodies flush as the heat between them built. Agatha’s skin was electric under Rio’s touch, every caress lighting her up from the inside out. The younger woman’s thumbs brushed the sensitive dip of Agatha’s hips, and Agatha couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped her lips.

Their mouths met again, this time with a fervor that bordered on desperate. Agatha kissed Rio like she was starving, like this was the only way to breathe. Her nails scraped lightly against the back of Rio’s neck, earning a low hum from her, and Rio responded by tightening her grip, her hands sliding lower to cup Agatha’s thighs.

Each kiss and touch spoke more than words ever could. They were claiming each other, piece by piece, stripping away every layer of doubt and fear that had once kept them apart. There was no hesitation now, no uncertainty—only the undeniable pull of their bodies and the unspoken promise of something deeper, something lasting.

“You’re perfect,” Rio whispered, her breath warm against Agatha’s skin.

Agatha’s only response was to kiss her again, her hands tightening around Rio’s hair and tugging slightly. She didn’t want this feeling to end—didn’t want to let go of the overwhelming sensation of being seen, of being wanted, of being loved.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, their touches slowing as exhaustion began to creep in. But even as sleep threatened to claim them, they remained close, their bodies entwined as if letting go wasn’t an option.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Agatha felt at peace. She wasn’t thinking about the past or worrying about the future. All that mattered was the here and now—the warmth of Rio’s body against hers, the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the knowledge that, at least for this moment, they were exactly where they were meant to be.

The following morning, the golden glow of early sunlight filtered through the curtains. Rio stirred first, her eyes fluttering open to the gentle warmth of Agatha pressed against her.

Their limbs were a tangle beneath the sheets—Agatha’s arm draped possessively over Rio’s waist, her face nestled into the curve of Rio’s neck. Their legs were intertwined, as if even in sleep they couldn’t bear to be apart. The fact that Agatha was such a cuddler made Rio smile, bringing an undeniable warmth to her chest.

She let her eyes roam over the woman’s peaceful expression, taking in the way her dark lashes rested against her cheeks, the faint flush on her skin, and the soft, almost imperceptible smile on her lips.

It hit Rio then, like it had so many times before, how much she loved her. It wasn’t just the way Agatha looked in the morning light or the way her presence seemed to bring butterflies to her stomach. It was everything. The sharp edges and the softness. The fears and the strength. The way Agatha had opened herself up, little by little, letting Rio in despite the walls she’d built so high.

Agatha stirred slightly, her grip tightening around Rio’s waist as she let out a soft, contented hum. “Mmm, morning already?” she mumbled, her voice husky with sleep.

“Afraid so,” Rio murmured, her lips curving into a smile.

Agatha blinked her eyes open slowly, the haze of sleep still clouding her gaze as she looked up at Rio. A sleepy grin spread across her face. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Rio replied, brushing a strand of hair from Agatha’s face. “Sleep well?”

“Better than I have in years,” Agatha admitted, her voice soft and unguarded.

After a moment, Agatha shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow so she could look at Rio more fully. “You know,” she said, her fingers tracing idle patterns on Rio’s arm, “waking up like this might just ruin me for life.”

Rio chuckled, her hand coming up to cup Agatha’s cheek. “Good. I plan on making this a regular thing.”

Agatha smiled softly and leaned down, capturing Rio’s lips in a slow kiss. When they broke apart, they were both smiling.

“Guess I’ll have to get used to it, then,” Agatha teased.

“You’d better,” Rio replied, pulling her back down into her arms.

For a while longer, they stayed wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world forgotten as if nothing else mattered. But reality loomed too large to ignore, and eventually, Agatha sighed.

“I should probably go,” she murmured, though her voice was tinged with reluctance.

“Dooooon’t,” Rio whined, her lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout.

Agatha let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m serious,” Rio said, reaching for Agatha’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “Stay. Just a little longer.”

Agatha hesitated, her thumb brushing over the back of Rio’s hand. “I don’t want to leave,” she admitted quietly, her other hand coming up to cup Rio’s cheek.

Neither of them moved at first, as if staying tangled in each other for just a few moments longer might put off the inevitable. But Agatha finally pulled away with a reluctant sigh, sitting up and running a hand through her tousled hair.

She looked at Rio then, her expression soft but conflicted, as if she was already regretting her decision.

“I wish I could stay forever, you know,” Agatha said, a small, wistful smile playing at her lips. “But I need to face reality...”

Rio propped herself up on one elbow, watching as Agatha began to gather her things.

“You look really good in my shirt,” Rio said. “Too good, actually. Makes me wish you didn’t have to leave.”

Agatha paused, glancing over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “You think flattery’s going to make me stay?”

“Maybe,” Rio replied with a grin. “Is it working?”

Agatha chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Tempting,” she admitted, her voice light but her gaze lingering on Rio. “But I can’t hide here forever.”

Rio swung her legs over the edge of the bed, standing and walking over to Agatha. She rested her hands on Agatha’s hips, holding her in place for just a moment.

“Then promise me you’ll come back,” Rio said, her tone serious now. “Soon.”

Agatha’s expression softened, and she reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind Rio’s ear. “I’ll always come back to you,” she said.

Rio smiled, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to Agatha’s lips, as if sealing the promise between them.

Agatha disappeared into the bathroom with a bundle of her clothes, leaving Rio alone in the room.

Rio sighed, raking a hand through her hair as she got up. She glanced at the rumpled bed, the faint imprint of Agatha’s form still lingering on the sheets. Her gaze drifted to the bathroom door, where the soft sound of running water carried through the quiet.

She busied herself, tidying the room in small, absentminded motions. But her thoughts were anything but calm. The words she’d been holding back swirled in her mind, pressing against her chest, and she couldn’t ignore them anymore.

When Agatha emerged, fully dressed, her hair slightly damp from a quick wash, Rio was already leaning against the wall by the door.

“Ready?” Agatha asked.

Rio nodded, pushing off the wall. Without a word, she reached for Agatha’s hand, threading their fingers together as they walked to the front door.

When they reached the door, Agatha turned to Rio, her lips curling into a small, bittersweet smile.

“This is not a goodbye, okay?” Agatha said softly, her thumb brushing over the back of Rio’s hand.

Rio didn’t answer, not with words. Instead, she cupped Agatha’s face and leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that seemed to be trying to hold onto something neither of them wanted to let go of.

When they pulled apart, Agatha took a shaky breath and turned to leave, her hand slipping from Rio’s. But before she could take another step, Rio reached out, grabbing her wrist gently but firmly.

“Agatha,” Rio said, her voice soft but insistent.

Agatha turned back, her brows furrowing slightly in question. “Hmm?”

Rio hesitated, the words catching in her throat for just a moment before she let them out. “I love you, too.”

Agatha froze, her eyes widening as the words sank in. For a heartbeat, she didn’t move, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a smile broke across her face—a real, unguarded smile that made Rio’s chest ache.

“Say it again,” Agatha whispered, her voice trembling.

“I love you,” Rio repeated, her tone steady this time, her eyes never leaving Agatha’s.

Agatha closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around Rio and burying her face in her shoulder. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” she murmured, her voice muffled but full of emotion.

Rio held her tightly, her hand stroking Agatha’s hair. “You’ll hear it as many times as you need,” she promised, her lips pressing softly against Agatha’s temple.

For a moment, they stood there, and the world ceased to exist.

Agatha walked into the quiet house, the door clicking softly behind her. The familiar scent of home, wood, dust, and a hint of something floral from the vase of fresh roses on the kitchen table, wrapped around her, but today it felt different. Distant, almost foreign. It was as if the walls that had once felt like a shield now felt like a cage, trapping her in a life she didn’t want anymore.

Ralph wasn’t home, which was a small relief. It meant silence, space to think, to breathe without his presence hovering over her. But even the silence felt suffocating now, as though it was closing in on her, demanding answers she wasn’t ready to face.

Agatha let out a slow breath and walked deeper into the house, her footsteps soft against the hardwood floor. The walls, lined with photos of happier times—before the cracks had started to show—seemed to judge her quietly. This place used to feel like hers, but now it felt like someone else’s life, someone else’s memories.

Her mind wandered back to Rio, to the warmth of her touch, the softness of her lips against hers. She could still feel it—still feel Rio’s words echoing in her chest, I love you. Agatha’s heart swelled at the memory. That felt like home now.

But the swell quickly shifted to a cold knot of guilt. She couldn’t keep doing this. She couldn’t keep living this double life. She couldn’t keep lying to herself, to Rio, or even Ralph. The fear of losing everything—her career, her family, the stability she had fought so hard to build—gripped her again. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized how much of her life had been built on a foundation of fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of the unknown. Fear of living authentically.

She paused in front of the staircase, her gaze drifting upward to the second floor, where her bedroom was. But before she could take the first step towards it, a voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Mom?”

Agatha turned, her heart skipping a beat as she saw Nicky standing at the foot of the stairs. His wide brown eyes were studying her carefully. Agatha’s stomach twisted as she realized she was still wearing the clothes from the day before.

“Mom?” Nicky’s voice broke through the haze of her thoughts. “Are you okay?”

Agatha opened her mouth to reply, but the words got stuck. Her son had always been sharp and the way he was looking at her now made her feel like he could see right through her, knowing better than herself what she was thinking and the lies she was about to make up.

"I’m fine, sweetheart," Agatha said, her voice unsteady. She tried to smile, but it felt fake, like she was trying to convince herself more than him. She was always trying to convince everyone else that everything was fine. But even Nicky, with his young innocence, could sense when things weren’t.

Nicky crossed his arms and stepped forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you sure? Because you look... different…” He hesitated, looking at her carefully. "And you’re still in your clothes from yesterday. Did something happen?"

Agatha froze for a moment, unsure how to answer. How could she explain to her son her emotions and the desire to rebuild her entire life? How could she explain the aching pull she felt for Rio, the way she was beginning to question everything that had once seemed like the safe choice?

Agatha swallowed hard, gathering her thoughts. She sat down on the steps, motioning for Nicky to join her. He did, plopping down beside her and watching her with that familiar, comforting presence of his.

"I’ve just been thinking a lot," she said, voice low. "About my life, about what I want. And... about what makes me happy."

Nicky nodded slowly, but his eyes were brighter now, as if he was really listening. “You’ve always told me to follow what makes me happy,” he said, his voice so mature for his age that it made Agatha’s heart ache. "You always said I shouldn’t just stay in a place because it’s comfortable, or because it's what I’m supposed to do. You told me that if I want something different, I should go after it, no matter how hard it is. Why aren't you following your own advice?"

Agatha blinked, taken aback by his words. He was right. She’d spent so many years telling him to be true to himself, to chase his dreams even when it was difficult. But now, when it was her turn to take that leap, she didn’t know how to begin.

“I’m scared, Nicky,” Agatha whispered, looking at her hands, wringing them together. “I’ve spent so much of my life building this… this image, this career, this life... I don’t know how to leave it all behind. And if I do… I’m not sure what I’ll have left.”

Nicky put a hand on her arm, squeezing gently. "You’ll have me left, mom. And maybe the real question is what you’ll gain. You told me I shouldn't stay somewhere just because it's comfortable. So why stay in a life that doesn’t make you happy? Dad’s a douche, mom. And if you feel like there’s something more, something that makes you feel alive, maybe it’s time to go after that."

Agatha stared at him, her chest tightening as she tried to process his words. "But leaving everything... that’s not simple, Nicky."

He tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Nothing good ever is, right? But you deserve to be happy. You taught me that." His eyes softened, his voice gentle but firm. "You don’t have to be scared. You can make your own choices. And you have me. I’ll be here. No matter what."

Agatha blinked back the tears threatening to fall. She wasn’t sure when her son had grown into someone so wise, but hearing him say those words—so simple, yet so profound—suddenly felt like everything she’d ever needed.

“You deserve to be happy, Mom. I want you to be.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Agatha felt a flicker of hope. The fear was still there, the uncertainty still looming, but for the first time, it didn’t feel as suffocating. Maybe, just maybe, she could find the courage to let go of the life she had built out of fear. Maybe she could finally live the life she truly wanted.

“Thank you, baby” she whispered to Nicky, her voice cracking.

Nicky smiled and wrapped his arms around her, his embrace warm and reassuring. It was a comfort that reminded Agatha that despite all the uncertainty swirling inside her, she wasn’t alone. She still had her son—her boy—who, even though he was growing up far too quickly, would always be her little boy.

And then there was Rio. And even though everything was new and filled with questions, deep in her gut, Agatha felt an undeniable certainty: that what she had with Rio was something lasting, something that could maybe last until the end of time.

And for the first time in a long while, Agatha allowed herself to believe in a future that made her happy.

Chapter Text

Agatha sat in the living room, the soft glow of the afternoon sun streaming through the curtains. Her conversation with Nicky kept replaying in her mind on an endless loop. The fact that her son—her perceptive, kind-hearted boy—supported her, even encouraged her, only made the decision seem more inevitable. She had no other option. She had to leave Ralph.

The decision was clear now, sharper than it had ever been. But clarity didn’t erase the fear. Her hands trembled slightly as she held her mug of tea that had long gone cold. The room felt too quiet, the ticking of the clock on the wall too loud, as if marking the seconds she was wasting, sitting there frozen.

The thought of confronting Ralph made her stomach churn. He wasn’t a violent man; she wasn’t afraid of that. But Ralph’s power was in his ability to manipulate, to wield his influence. He had always carried himself with the confidence of a man who believed the world bent to his will.

"I’ve made you," he would say to her, his voice laced with that maddening condescending tone. "And just like that, I can take it all away."

The words had stung then, and they still stung now, lingering like a ghost in the back of her mind. She hated that a part of her had believed him, even for a moment. Yes, his power in Hollywood had opened doors for her, smoothed paths that might otherwise have been treacherous. But her talent had carried her through those doors. Her work, her dedication, her craft—that was what had made her a star.

Still, the threat wasn’t empty. She knew Ralph well enough to understand how vindictive he could be when his ego was bruised. He could ruin her career with a few well-placed whispers in the right ears. Or worse, he could target Rio. The thought of sweet, fearless Rio getting caught in the crossfire of Ralph’s wrath made Agatha’s chest tighten.

Her mind spiraled with possibilities, each one worse than the last. She imagined headlines splashed across tabloids, whispered accusations on film sets, phone calls that suddenly went unanswered. She could endure it for herself, she thought. She could weather the storm. But if Rio suffered because of her choices, Agatha wasn’t sure she could live with that.

She set the mug down on the coffee table with a trembling hand, the porcelain clinking softly against the wood. The house felt suffocating now, the walls closing in as her fear threatened to overwhelm her.

Her fingers found their way to the pendant she always wore, fiddling with it as she tried to concentrate on Nicky’s words. "Do what makes you happy, Mom. You deserve that."

She tried to cling to those words like her life depended on them. But then her gaze landed on a photo on the mantelpiece: her and Ralph on their wedding day. She looked at her younger self, the forced smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and the way Ralph’s arm had gripped her waist possessively, even then. She had been scared that day too, but for different reasons.

Ralph had taken so much from her over the years—her freedom, her happiness, her sense of self. But he hadn’t taken Nicky. He hadn’t taken Rio. And he wouldn’t. She wouldn’t let him.

Fear was a powerful thing, but so was love. And for the first time in a long time, Agatha was ready to fight for the life she wanted.

Hours had gone by, and Agatha had retreated to the quiet solitude of her bedroom. The room, bathed in the dim, golden light of a fading afternoon, felt like both a sanctuary and a prison. The heavy curtains blocked out the outside world, but they also seemed to block out the air, leaving her with nothing but the weight of her thoughts.

She stood before the mirror, her reflection staring back at her like a stranger she was trying to recognize. The sharp angles of her face, the faint lines around her eyes and mouth—each told a story of years spent performing, not just on screen but in her life.

Agatha leaned in closer, her fingertips brushing the mirror as if she could reach through it and touch the person she used to be. For years, she had hidden behind perfect smiles and carefully chosen words, playing the role Ralph, and the rest of the world, expected of her. The poised wife, the charming actress, the woman who always seemed to have it all together. But it was all a lie, a mask she had worn so well that even she had started to believe it.

Now, though, the cracks were showing. The woman staring back at her wasn’t the same. She had changed. She could see it in the softness of her expression, in the way her lips curved now into something real, something vulnerable.

She thought of Rio, of the way her touch had awakened something inside her. It wasn’t just love, though it was that too—it was life. A pulse, a spark, a reminder that she was still capable of feeling something other than numbness. For the first time in years, Agatha felt alive. She had found pieces of herself she thought she’d lost forever. The parts of her that laughed without restraint, that dreamed without fear, that dared to want more than the curated existence she’d been trapped in since marrying Ralph.

Her thoughts lingered on the moments they had shared—the warmth of Rio’s smile, the glint in her eyes, the way her voice could turn soft when she spoke about things that mattered and low when she whispered sweet nothings in Agatha’s ear.

Rio was chaos and calm, a paradox that had shaken Agatha’s entire world and offered her a glimpse of something real.

She picked up her phone, the screen lighting up with the familiar wallpaper of Nicky from years ago. She opened her messages, her fingers moving almost instinctively to Rio’s name. She began typing, the words spilling out in fragments: Just letting you know I’m doing it. She paused, deleting the words. Then tried again: I want you to know that I’m making it right this time.

Her fingers hovered over the send button. It would be so easy to involve Rio, to share the weight of this decision with her, but as much as she wanted to reach out, she couldn’t. This was her battle to fight. She had to be the one to face Ralph, to untangle the mess of her life, to stand on her own two feet before she could walk towards Rio.

With a sigh, she erased the message and placed the phone face-down on the nightstand as she took a deep breath. She let the air out slowly, steeling herself for what was to come. But of one thing Agatha was sure: she wasn’t the same woman who had walked into this house years ago, tame and willing to live in Ralph’s shadow. She was someone new, someone braver. And she was ready to face this.

In that moment, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house, followed by the clink of Ralph’s keys being dropped onto the table. Agatha closed her eyes for a second, willing herself to stay composed. Taking one last deep breath, she smoothed the front of her shirt, straightened her posture, and began descending the stairs.

“Agatha?” Ralph’s voice called out, slicing through the quiet. There was a faint slur to his words, a telltale sign that he had been drinking.

She reached the bottom of the stairs just as he appeared in the doorway of the living room, a bourbon glass in hand.

“There you are,” he said with a half-smile, his tone laced with disinterest. “Didn’t hear you earlier. Busy day?”

Agatha stood still for a moment, studying the man she had spent over two decades with, the man who had shaped so much of her life. His presence used to feel imposing, commanding, but now it felt like an echo of something that no longer had power over her.

“Yes,” she replied, taking a step closer. “We need to talk,” she said, keeping her voice steady.

Ralph waved a dismissive hand as he moved toward the bar once more, ready to pour himself another drink. “Let’s wait until I’ve had dinner, I’ve had a hell of a day,” he said, not even bothering to look at her.

“No,” Agatha said firmly, surprising even herself with the strength in her tone. “It can’t wait.”

Ralph let out a tired sigh, turning back to her with impatience. “Agatha, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not as urgent as you think. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

Her jaw tightened, anger rising in her chest. She stepped forward, placing herself directly in his path. “No, Ralph,” she said, her tone sharper now. “You’re not brushing this off. We’re talking. Right now.”

Ralph raised an eyebrow, finally giving her his full attention. “What’s gotten into you? You’ve been in one of your moods lately,” he said, taking a slow sip of his drink. “I’m guessing this is about the same old complaints. Look, I’ve told you before—if you’re unhappy, maybe you should take some time off. Travel. Buy something expensive. Whatever it takes to get this out of your system.”

Agatha stared at him, her disbelief turning fully into anger. “This isn’t something I can just ‘get out of my system,’ Ralph,” she said. “This is my life we’re talking about. My happiness. My future.”

Ralph rolled his eyes, setting his glass down with a loud clink. “Agatha, I don’t have time for this,” he said dismissively. “You’re overthinking everything, as usual. Why don’t you go upstairs and get some rest? You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Agatha’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. “No, Ralph,” she said, her voice cutting through his condescension. “I’m done being dismissed. I’m done being ignored. You’re going to listen to me, whether you want to or not.”

Agatha didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. For the first time in years, she felt her power and she wasn’t going to let him take it away from her.

“You want to know what’s gotten into me?” she continued, stepping closer. “I’ve finally realized that I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep pretending that this, that we, are working. We’re not. And we haven’t for a long time.”

Ralph opened his mouth to respond, but Agatha held up a hand, cutting him off. “No, you don’t get to talk over me this time. You don’t get to tell me how I should feel or what I should do. I’ve spent years letting you dictate my life. And I’m done.”

Her voice trembled slightly, but her resolve was unshakable. “I’m leaving you, Ralph. And nothing you say or do is going to change that.”

Ralph's eyebrows shot up comically to his head, and Agatha would've laughed had the circumstances been different. “Excuse me?”

“I’m leaving,” she repeated, her voice firmer now. “This marriage has been over for years. I stayed because I was scared, not just of you, but of what you could do to my career. But I can’t live like this anymore.”

His face darkened. “You ungrateful slut. Do you have any idea what I’ve done for you? Everything you have, everything you are, is because of me.”

“No,” Agatha shot back, her voice rising. “Everything I have is because of me. My talent. My work. You didn’t make me, Ralph. And I'm done feeding into your delusion.”

His laugh was cold and bitter, his anger now palpable. “You think you can just walk away? Do you have any idea what I could do to you? To your career? To Nicky?”

Agatha flinched at the mention of her son but forced herself to hold her ground. “Leave Nicky out of this.”

“Why should I?” Ralph sneered, stepping closer. His voice was now dripping with venom. “Do you think he’ll choose you over me once he knows what kind of person you really are? The lies you’ve told? The life you’ve hidden?”

Agatha’s chest tightened, her anger bubbling over. “Don’t you dare try to use him against me. You think he doesn’t see through you? He’s not stupid, he knows exactly who you are.”

Ralph’s expression twisted with fury and his hand shot out, grabbing her arm tightly. The force of it made Agatha gasp, pain radiating up her arm as his fingers dug into her skin. “You’re really going to stand there and act like you’re some saint? Like you haven’t benefited from every single thing I’ve done for you?” His tone grew more menacing as he uttered in her ear, “You’re nothing without me, Agatha. You hear me? Nothing.”

“Let go of me,” Agatha demanded.

“Or what?” Ralph challenged, his grip tightening. “You think you can scare me? You’re not going anywhere, Agatha. Not without my permission.”

Summoning every ounce of strength she had left in her body, Agatha yanked her arm free, stumbling back against the stairs and twisting her ankle in the process. She cradled her arm, her skin already bruising where his fingers had been.

“You don’t own me,” she said, her voice trembling with anger. “Not anymore. And if you ever touch me like that again, I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly who you are. Every. Single. Person.”

Ralph stared at her, his chest heaving as he processed her defiance. Then, his expression twisted into something more dangerous.

“You think you can just walk out of here?” he snarled, grabbing the bourbon glass from the table. “You think you can humiliate me and get away with it?”

Before Agatha could react, he hurled the glass in her direction. It smashed against the wall behind her, shattering into a million pieces. Bourbon sprayed across the room, the sharp scent mingling with the air. Agatha flinched, her heart pounding as she instinctively stepped back, her heels crunching on the shards.

“You’ll regret this!” he roared, his voice echoing through the house. His face was flushed with rage, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’ll regret every damn thing you’ve ever done to cross me!”

Agatha’s breath came in short gasps as adrenaline surged through her. Her arm still throbbed from his earlier grip and her ankle hurt, but the fear coursing through her now was sharper. She didn’t wait for him to come closer. Instead, she bolted up the stairs the best she could, ignoring the shouts that followed her.

Slamming the bedroom door shut behind her, she locked it, her hands trembling as she leaned against the door and let herself sit on the floor.

Ralph’s threats reverberated in her mind, each word cutting deeper than the last.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand, her fingers fumbling as she unlocked it. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely type, but she managed to send a message to Rio:

Can you come pick me up?

I’ll explain everything when you’re here. Just hurry.

The moment the message sent, she felt tears pricking at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She wouldn’t give Ralph the satisfaction.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

Are you okay? I'm on my way.

Agatha quickly typed back:

I’m in the bedroom. He’s downstairs. Just... be careful when you get here.

Rio’s response was swift:

I’m coming. Stay put. I’ve got you.

Agatha clutched the phone to her chest, her breathing uneven as she tried to calm herself. She could still hear Ralph pacing downstairs, muttering curses under his breath. Each sound made her flinch and her body trembled, but her mind was clear. This was it. There was no turning back now. She would leave him, no matter the cost.

As she held onto the promise of Rio’s arrival, for the first time in years she allowed herself to believe that she could escape this. That she could have a life outside of this house, this marriage, this prison Ralph had built around her.

Because for the first time, she wasn't alone.

The pounding on the front door echoed through the house and Agatha’s heart leapt at the sound of Rio’s voice calling her name. She pushed herself off the floor and bolted out of the bedroom.

Her feet thudded against the stairs as she tried to race down despite her swollen ankle, but Ralph moved faster and he reached the door just as Agatha reached the bottom step.

“Who the hell is that?” he barked.

“Ralph, don’t—” Agatha started, but he ignored her, yanking the door open with brute force.

Rio stood on the porch, her expression pure determination. Her dark eyes locked onto Agatha’s for a fleeting moment, softening with concern before snapping back to Ralph, hard and unrelenting.

“What the hell is going on here?” Ralph demanded, his voice dripping with contempt.

Rio stepped forward, unfazed by his hostility. “I’m here for Agatha. Get out of the way.”

Ralph laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and grating. “Oh, I see. This is who you’re running to? This is what you’ve traded me for?” He turned to Agatha, his face twisted with disdain. “You're a lesbian now, Agatha? How pathetic.”

“Ralph, stop it,” Agatha said, her voice trembling but firm. She stepped forward, her arm still aching from his earlier grip, but she refused to let fear stop her.

Rio’s eyes flicked to Agatha again, scanning her quickly, taking in the faint red marks on her arm and the tension in her posture. Her jaw tightened. “I’m not going to let you talk to her like that. Now move.”

Ralph’s sneer deepened as he stepped into Rio’s path, towering over her. “You think you can just walk in here and take what’s mine? You don’t know who you’re messing with.”

Rio didn’t flinch. “I don’t care who you are, but Agatha isn’t yours. She’s not a thing. She’s a person. And she’s leaving with me.”

Agatha took another step closer, her voice rising over the tension. “Ralph, let me go. This is over. I’m done living in your shadow, done pretending. You can’t control me anymore.”

Ralph’s face darkened as he pointed a finger at Agatha, his hand trembling with rage. “You don’t get to walk out on me! After everything I’ve done for you? After everything I’ve built for you?”

Agatha’s heart pounded in her chest, but she stood her ground, her voice firm despite the fear crawling up her spine. “You didn’t build me, Ralph. You've only exploited my talent.”

His eyes burned with fury, and in a split second, he lunged for Agatha again, his hand reaching for her arm, ready to yank her back into his control.

But before he could make contact, Rio was there.

In one swift motion, Rio stepped between them, her eyes flashing with protective rage. “Don’t touch her,” she spat.

Ralph sneered, towering over Rio. “And what? You think you can stop me? Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the person who’s taking her out of here,” Rio snapped. She was close enough now that Agatha could see the fury on her face, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “And I’m not going to let you lay another finger on her.”

Ralph laughed bitterly, his eyes narrowing as he sized Rio up. “You think you can take me on? You’re nothing but a pretty face, another little actress who fucked her way to the top.”

Agatha’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding as she watched Rio, knowing there was no turning back now.

Without warning, Rio moved. She stepped forward, her fist crashing into Ralph’s jaw with a loud thud. The force of the punch knocked him back, his bourbon glass falling from his hand and shattering on the floor.

Ralph stumbled, his face contorting in shock and pain. He wiped at his mouth, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You—”

“Stay the hell away from her,” Rio growled, stepping closer to Ralph, her chest heaving with adrenaline. “You’re done.”

Ralph’s face twisted with anger as he regained his balance, but the shock of the punch had rattled him. He took a step back, glaring at Rio like she was the one who had violated him. “You’ll regret that,” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous.

But Rio wasn’t intimidated. “We’re already done here,” she said, her voice unwavering.

Ralph’s eyes flicked to Agatha, then back to Rio, his anger turning into a guttural rage. “You think this is over? You think I’m just going to let you walk away with her?”

Agatha could see the wild look in his eyes, the way his fists clenched as if he was about to lunge again. But Rio stood firm, blocking Agatha from his line of sight.

“Don’t even try it,” Rio said, her voice low. “You touch her again, and I’ll make sure you regret it for the rest of your miserable life.”

The air in the room was thick with tension. And Agatha knew that if she had to leave, she had to do it now, before Ralph’s fury could take over again.

She reached out, grabbing Rio's hand with a sense of urgency. “Let’s go.”

Rio nodded, her anger still simmering beneath the surface, but still she moved hand in hand with Agatha towards the door.

Ralph stood there, seething, but he didn’t move to stop them. He was too stunned by the punch, too enraged to act.

As they stepped out, the cool air hit Agatha’s face, and for the first time in years, she felt like she could breathe again.

She was free.

And Rio was with her.

Chapter Text

The drive to Rio’s home was quiet, the hum of the car engine filling the silence. Agatha sat curled against the passenger door, her eyes unfocused as she stared out into the night. The events of the evening replayed in her mind like a loop—Ralph’s fury, Rio’s punch, the shattered glass. Her arm throbbed faintly where Ralph had grabbed her, the skin tender and bruised, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her chest.

When they arrived, Rio parked the car and came around to open Agatha’s door. Agatha hesitated for a moment before taking Rio’s outstretched hand. However, the moment she took the other woman’s hand, the warmth of her touch seemed to immediately take all her pain away, if only for a brief moment.

Rio led her inside, her home peaceful and quiet, a sharp contrast to the chaos Agatha had just left behind.

“You’re safe now,” Rio said softly, guiding Agatha to sit on the couch. “Let me take care of you.”

Agatha nodded but didn’t speak. She felt drained, like a shell of herself, too tired to resist Rio’s gentleness.

Rio crouched in front of her, her hands resting lightly on Agatha’s knees. “How about a bath? It’ll help you relax.”

Agatha hesitated, her gaze dropping to her lap. The thought of undressing, of exposing the marks Ralph had left on her arm, made her stomach twist. She shook her head slightly. “I don’t think—”

“Agatha.” Rio said, her hand moving to gently cup the older woman’s cheek. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

“I’m not hiding,” Agatha said quickly, though her voice wavered. She folded her arms over her chest, her fingers brushing against the tender skin where Ralph’s grip had left its mark.

Rio’s gaze flickered to Agatha’s arm, her brow furrowing. “Did he hurt you?”

Agatha’s throat tightened. “It’s nothing,” she whispered. “I let him—” She cut herself off, her voice breaking. “I let it happen. I shouldn’t have let it get that far.”

Rio reached out, gently pulling Agatha’s hand away so she could see the faint, angry bruises forming on her arm. Agatha flinched but didn’t pull back.

“Agatha,” Rio murmured, her voice full of tenderness, though her eyes betrayed the anger she felt for the man who had done this. “This isn’t your fault. Do you hear me?”

Agatha’s eyes brimmed with tears, but she refused to let them fall. “I just feel so... pathetic.”

Rio’s heart ached at the sight of her—this strong, beautiful woman who had been through so much, now feeling small and broken. She leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the bruised skin on Agatha’s arm.

“You’re not pathetic,” Rio whispered against her skin. “You’re still beautiful. Every part of you.”

Agatha’s breath hitched, her tears finally spilling over. She looked down at Rio, who was still holding her arm gently, her lips brushing against the bruises as if trying to erase them.

“I don’t feel beautiful,” Agatha said, her voice trembling.

Rio looked up at her, her gaze filled with an intensity that made Agatha’s chest tighten. “Then let me remind you.”

She stood, holding out her hand again. “Come on. Let me draw you that bath. You don’t have to do anything. Just let me take care of you tonight.”

After a moment, Agatha nodded, slipping her hand into Rio’s. For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to be cared for. And as Rio led her to the bathroom, Agatha allowed herself to feel safe in the arms of the woman she loved.

When they got to the bathroom, Rio began moving with ease, her hands adjusting the water’s temperature while splashing a handful of lavender-scented bath salts into the stream. Behind her, Agatha lingered by the door, watching her with curiosity. No one had ever cared for her like this before. Not even her own husband of twenty years.

“Almost ready,” Rio murmured, glancing over her shoulder with a small smile. “You’re going to love this.”

Agatha nodded, her fingers brushing absently against the buttons of her blouse. “You’ve thought of everything,” she said, her voice quieter than usual.

Rio turned to face her fully, leaning back against the counter. “I just want you to relax, my love.”

The words were simple, but they brought with them a warm feeling that settled deep in Agatha’s chest. She exhaled slowly, her hands moving to undo the first button of her blouse. She kept working her way down as her eyes flickered to Rio. She expected the younger woman to look away, to give her privacy, but Rio didn’t. She didn’t stare, either. Instead, her gaze was reverent, soft, as though she were witnessing a sacred ritual.

“You’re beautiful,” Rio said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. The sincerity in her tone made Agatha’s fingers falter for a moment before she finished the last button, slipping the blouse off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

Agatha’s hands moved to her slacks, unzipping them and stepping out with measured movements. She felt exposed, her breath hitching slightly as she stood there in nothing but her undergarments. But Rio’s expression—gentle, admiring, without a trace of judgment—steadied her.

Rio pushed off the counter, stepping closer. “Let me,” she offered, her hands hovering just above Agatha’s. Agatha nodded, letting Rio slide the straps of her bra down her arms, her touch careful, almost reverent. The fabric joined the growing pile on the floor, and Agatha resisted the urge to cover herself, trusting the warmth in Rio’s eyes.

When Rio’s hands found the waistband of her panties, she paused, her gaze meeting Agatha’s as if asking for permission. Agatha gave a slight nod, and Rio knelt slightly, sliding the last barrier down with the same tenderness as before. When she rose, she didn’t move away, her hands resting lightly on Agatha’s hips for just a moment before allowing herself to place a soft kiss against Agatha’s lips.

“The water’s perfect,” Rio said when she stepped away, her voice a little rougher now.

Agatha stepped forward, slipping into the warm water with a soft sigh. She leaned back, her head resting against the edge of the tub, her eyes fluttering shut.

Rio knelt beside the tub, her hand dipping into the water to trail across Agatha’s arm. “Better?” she asked, her gaze never leaving Agatha’s face.

Agatha opened her eyes, a small smile curving her lips. “Much better,” she murmured, her eyes locking with Rio’s. “Thank you.”

Rio pushed herself up from where she’d been kneeling by the tub, brushing her damp hands against her jeans. “Alright, I’ll let you enjoy this,” she said softly, her lips quirking into a small smile. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Agatha’s eyes followed her, and just as Rio turned toward the door, she abruptly stopped her, “Wait.”

Rio glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

Agatha shifted slightly in the tub, her cheeks flushing, though whether it was from the heat of the bath or the words she was about to say, she wasn’t sure. “Stay,” she said. “Get in with me.”

Rio let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through her hair. “Are you sure? This is your time to relax. I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding,” Agatha said firmly, sitting up a little straighter in the water. “I don’t want to do this alone. Not tonight.”

The sincerity in her tone left no room for argument. Rio swallowed hard before letting out a resigned sigh, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Alright,” she said, her voice softening. “Scoot over.”

Agatha’s smile widened, and she shifted to make room as Rio pulled off her shirt and stepped out of her jeans. By the time she slid into the tub, Agatha was watching her with an intensity that made Rio’s pulse quicken more and more.

Rio settled back against the opposite side of the tub, her knees brushing against Agatha’s. The space was small, intimate, their proximity impossible to ignore. “Happy now?” she asked, her voice teasing but her gaze soft.

“Getting there,” Agatha murmured, leaning forward just enough to let her hand rest on Rio’s knee beneath the water. The gesture was subtle, but the contact felt electric.

Rio reached out, her fingers trailing lightly along Agatha’s arm, the touch tentative but lingering. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Agatha tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “And yet, here you are.”

Rio chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah, here I am.” Her voice softened, her gaze locking with Agatha’s. “Where else would I be?”

Agatha’s hand remained on Rio’s knee, her fingers moving in small, deliberate circles, each touch sending ripples through Rio’s body that had nothing to do with the bath.

Rio leaned forward slightly, her hand rising to tuck a strand of damp hair behind Agatha’s ear. Her fingers lingered there, brushing against Agatha’s cheek, her thumb tracing the line of her jaw. Agatha’s lips curved into a faint smile at the touch, her own hand now sliding up from Rio’s knee to rest on her thigh as her gaze dropped to Rio’s lips. She didn’t hesitate this time. Slowly, deliberately, she leaned in, closing the distance between them.

Their lips met, soft and unhurried at first, but quickly deepening. Agatha’s hand tightened on Rio’s thigh, pulling her closer as the kiss grew more fervent, more demanding. Rio responded eagerly, her own hands finding their way to Agatha’s waist beneath the water, her thumbs brushing over her skin in a way that made Agatha shiver.

Rio shifted, her legs tangling with Agatha’s, her body pressing closer until there was no space left between them. Agatha’s hands wandered, her fingers tracing the contours of Rio’s back, her nails scraping lightly against her skin. Each touch felt like a spark, igniting a fire within them.

Rio’s lips left Agatha’s only to trail down her neck, leaving a path of soft kisses and gentle nips that had Agatha tilting her head back with a quiet gasp. “Rio,” she breathed, her hands tangling in Rio’s damp hair to hold her close.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Rio murmured against her skin, her voice husky now.

“Please don’t,” Agatha replied, her fingers tightening in her hair, her body arching towards Rio as if she couldn’t bear the thought of space between them.

Rio’s hands settled on Agatha’s hips, her thumbs brushing the delicate curve of her waist. She paused for a moment, her gaze tracing every detail of Agatha’s face, committing it to memory. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” she asked, her voice trembling with raw emotion.

Agatha opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Rio closed the distance between them once more, her lips brushing against Agatha’s with a tenderness that made her heart ache. Agatha’s hands now moved to Rio’s shoulders, her fingers digging into her skin as Rio kissed her senseless.

Rio whispered sweet nothings against Agatha’s lips as her mouth trailed along the woman’s jawline, pressing soft kisses to the sensitive skin there before moving lower, to the curve of Agatha’s neck.

Agatha tilted her head back, giving Rio full access to the curve of her neck, her breathing uneven as Rio’s lips continued their journey. Each kiss lingering just long enough to send sparks through her skin. Rio moved down to Agatha’s collarbone, her lips brushing the sensitive dip before trailing lower, as if memorizing every inch of her. There was no rush in her movements, only an unhurried devotion that left Agatha feeling both cherished and undone, as if she had all the time in the world to show Agatha just how much she meant to her.

The warmth of Rio’s body pressed against hers, the sure, deliberate pressure of her hands on Agatha’s waist, made her heart race. Every touch seemed to whisper I love you. You are mine. And in that moment, Agatha surrendered to the overwhelming feeling of being loved so completely, so unapologetically. She didn’t fight it—she couldn’t. Not when it felt like this.

Rio then shifted slightly, deliberately sliding her thigh between Agatha’s. A jolt of heat spread through Agatha’s body as Rio pressed closer, her hands steadying her by the curve of her waist as her body arched toward her.

Rio’s lips brushed against Agatha’s ear, her voice a low, breathless murmur. “Is this okay?”

Agatha couldn’t form a coherent response; she only nodded and whispered “Don’t stop.”

Rio’s thigh pressed more firmly, her movements building a rhythm that left Agatha gasping. Her hips rocked instinctively, chasing the pressure that unraveled her composure.

Rio’s hands moved upward, palms tracing along Agatha’s ribs with an aching tenderness before settling over her breasts. Her thumbs brushed over sensitive skin, eliciting a soft moan from Agatha, before she leaned down, her tongue flicking over a peaked nipple. She alternated between teasing licks and gentle pinches, the contrast sending shivers through Agatha’s body. When she felt the slight sting of Rio’s teeth, followed by the soothing warmth of her tongue, a broken cry escaped her lips.

Agatha’s head fell back, her body arching into Rio’s touch and her lips parting as her body responded to every touch, every kiss. The sensation of Rio’s thigh between hers, the deliberate press and slide, combined with the heat of her hands and the softness of her lips, was intoxicating. It was overwhelming in the best possible way, as if Rio were intent on pulling her apart and putting her back together all at once.

Rio’s hands slid down Agatha’s sides, her thumbs pressing gently into the curve of her hips as she quietly whispered. “Beautiful. Mine.”

Agatha clung to her, her hands gripping Rio’s shoulders as she surrendered to the sensations coursing through her. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her body trembling as Rio continued her slow, deliberate worship, her thigh pressing just right, while her hands kept moving down.

When Rio’s hands found the heat of Agatha’s center, she paused, savoring the quiet hitch in Agatha’s breath. Slowly, deliberately, Rio slid her fingers inside, the warmth and softness of her touch making Agatha gasp and clutch at her shoulders for support.

Agatha’s body responded instinctively, her hips beginning to rock in time with Rio’s movements. Rio’s fingers matched the rhythm, slow and intentional, as if she were learning every inch of her lover, memorizing what made her shudder and sigh. Her other hand stayed steady on Agatha’s hip, guiding her movements as she pressed her thigh upward, the friction adding another layer to the intoxicating sensations.

“You feel incredible,” Rio whispered, her lips brushing against the side of Agatha’s neck. Her kisses trailed upward, capturing Agatha’s lips in a kiss that was both tender and consuming. Their mouths moved together, the kiss deepening as Agatha’s moans grew more desperate, muffled against Rio’s lips.

Agatha’s head fell back, her breath coming in uneven gasps as Rio’s fingers curled inside her, hitting a spot that made her entire body tremble. The combined rhythm of Rio’s hand and thigh sent waves of pleasure coursing through her, building with every single motion.

“Rio…” Agatha’s voice was barely more than a whisper, her tone laced with both urgency and surrender.

Agatha clung to Rio, her nails digging into her skin, her breath catching as the sensations became almost too much to bear.

And then it hit her—a wave of pleasure so intense that it left her trembling in Rio’s arms. Her body arched, her cries muffled as Rio captured her lips once more, holding her through the release, steadying her even as she unraveled.

Rio’s touch didn’t waver, her fingers moving gently now, coaxing Agatha through the aftershocks. She pressed her forehead against Agatha’s, their breaths mingling as the intensity of the moment gave way to something softer in the intimacy of the bathtub.

The bedroom was dark except for the soft glow of a lamp on the bedside table, casting shadows across the room. Agatha lay on her side, wrapped in the comfort of Rio’s bed, her head resting on a pillow that smelled faintly of her—clean, warm, familiar. Rio lay beside her, propped up on one elbow, her fingers absently tracing gentle patterns along Agatha’s arm.

The silence between them was comfortable, filled with the unspoken weight of the night’s events. Agatha finally broke it, her voice soft and tentative.

“What if he doesn’t let me go?” she asked, staring at the ceiling.

Rio’s hand stilled against her arm. “He doesn’t own you, Agatha. No matter what he thinks, no matter what he’s told you.”

Agatha let out a shaky breath. “It’s not just about me, though. He’s... vindictive. If he feels like he’s losing, he’ll find a way to make it everyone’s problem. What if he goes after you? Or Nicky?”

Rio shifted closer. “We’ll figure it out,” she said firmly. “We’ll get you a lawyer, someone who can handle this kind of thing. And as for me—” She paused, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Let him try. I’m not afraid of him.”

Agatha turned her head to look at Rio, her expression softening despite the fear still lingering in her chest. “You’re not, are you?”

“No,” Rio said simply. “Not when it comes to fighting for your love.”

Agatha closed her eyes for a moment, letting Rio’s words settle over her. But when she opened them, her fears resurfaced. “It’s not just Ralph. It’s the whole machine he’s part of. The industry, the gossip, the way they turn lives into scandals. I’ve seen it happen, Rio. If we do this, it won’t just be him we’re up against.”

Rio nodded. “I know. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

Agatha’s throat tightened, the truth she’d been avoiding all night finally bubbling to the surface. “I don’t want to hide anymore,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so tired of pretending, of living this half-life. I don’t want to keep us a secret.”

Rio’s breath hitched, her eyes searching Agatha’s face. “Are you saying...?”

“I want to go public,” Agatha said, her voice firmer. “About me. About us .”

Rio’s lips parted, a mix of surprise and something akin to pride flashing across her face. “Are you sure?”

Agatha nodded. “I’ve been hiding for so long, Rio. From everyone, but mostly from myself. You’ve shown me what it feels like to actually live, and I don’t want to go back to just surviving. I don’t care what people say, or what Ralph does. I want to be honest about who I am. About who we are.”

Rio leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Agatha’s forehead, her hand finding hers beneath the blanket. “You’re incredible, you know that?” she murmured.

Agatha let out a soft laugh, her lips curving into a small smile. “I don’t feel incredible. I feel terrified.”

“That’s okay,” Rio said, her voice steady and warm. “We’ll do it together. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it.”

Agatha squeezed Rio’s hand, a sense of calm settling over her for the first time all day. “Together,” she echoed, the word feeling like a promise.

They lay there in the quiet, their hands intertwined, the world outside momentarily forgotten. For the first time in years, Agatha felt like she had something to look forward to. Something real. Something worth fighting for.

Chapter Text

The first rays of morning light filtered through the sheer curtains of Rio’s bedroom, casting a golden glow over the room. Agatha stirred awake, the events of the previous night slowly returning to her as she came out of her sleep-induced haze. The minute her eyes fluttered open, she saw Rio sleeping soundly beside her.

Rio’s arm was draped protectively over Agatha’s waist and her dark hair was tousled, splayed across the pillow. Her lips were slightly parted and her long lashes rested over her cheeks. Agatha had never seen someone look so beautiful while sleeping. For a moment, she lay there, gazing at her girlfriend and listening to the steady rhythm of her breathing beside her. The sight tugged at something deep inside Agatha, a warm feeling that settled deep in her stomach, akin to butterflies.

Agatha propped herself up on one elbow, careful not to disturb Rio, and allowed herself the rare luxury of simply watching her. It was in moments like these that everything felt clear, uncomplicated. For once, she didn’t feel the weight of Ralph’s shadow or the suffocating expectations of the world outside.

She reached out hesitantly, brushing a strand of hair from Rio’s face. In that moment, Rio stirred slightly, a soft hum escaping her lips, but her eyes remained closed. Agatha smiled to herself, a quiet, private smile, and settled back against the pillows.

Not too long after, Rio’s eyes began to flutter open, her lashes lifting to reveal her soft brown eyes. A lazy smile spread across her face as she caught sight of Agatha looking at her.

“Morning,” Rio mumbled, her voice husky with sleep.

“Morning,” Agatha replied softly, her heart skipping at the way Rio’s smile deepened.

Rio stretched, groaning slightly as she rolled onto her side to face Agatha fully. “Were you watching me sleep, weirdo?”

Agatha flushed, suddenly feeling caught. “Maybe.”

Rio chuckled, reaching out to tuck a strand of Agatha’s hair behind her ear. “That’s a little creepy, you know.”

“Maybe you should run for the hills, then,” Agatha said, her lips quirking into a teasing smile.

Rio laughed again, the sound bright and warm, filling the room like sunlight. She reached out, her hand brushing against Agatha’s cheek. “There’s no way in hell I’m running from you,” she said, her voice low.

Agatha’s lips twitched into a small, disbelieving smile. “You say that now,” she teased, but there was a hint of vulnerability in her tone, the ghost of all her doubts lingering just beneath the surface.

Rio shook her head, her dark eyes soft but resolute. “I mean it, Agatha. You’re not getting rid of me now.”

Without giving Agatha a chance to respond, Rio moved closer, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her into a gentle embrace. She placed soft, feather-light kisses across Agatha’s face, on her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, until the older woman finally gave in, a laugh bubbling out of her.

“Rio, stop,” Agatha said between giggles, though she made no effort to push her away.

“Make me,” Rio murmured, her lips brushing against Agatha’s in a lingering kiss that was equal parts playful and tender.

Suddenly, they were all tangled limbs and laughter, their bodies instinctively curling into each other as they fell back onto the bed. Agatha let out a startled yelp that dissolved into another round of laughter, her head resting against Rio’s shoulder as they shifted into a more comfortable position.

They stayed like that for a long while, wrapped up in each other, their breaths and heartbeats syncing in the quiet intimacy of the morning. Agatha’s fingers traced idle patterns along Rio’s arm, while Rio’s hand rested lightly on Agatha’s waist, her thumb brushing back and forth in soothing strokes.

In that moment, there were no fears, no pressures, no looming shadows of the past. Just the two of them in the soft glow of morning light.

Agatha tilted her head up slightly, her gaze meeting Rio’s. “You know,” she began softly, “I don’t think I’ve ever had a morning like this. One where I didn’t feel like I had to be somewhere, or be someone else.”

Rio smiled, leaning down to press another kiss to Agatha’s temple. “Well, get used to it,” she said, her voice full of affection. “Because I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. Lazy mornings like this? They’re going to be our thing. Until the end of time.”

Agatha let out a quiet laugh, the kind that came from deep in her chest, and rested her head against Rio’s shoulder once more. “That doesn’t sound too bad,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut.

Rio tightened her hold on Agatha, her lips brushing against her hairline as she whispered, “Not bad at all.”

And so they stayed there, their bodies entwined, the weight of their love grounding them in the here and now, God knows for how long.

Eventually, Rio’s stomach gave a loud, dramatic growl, cutting through the quiet of the room. Agatha couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, a teasing smile spreading across her face.

“Someone’s hungry,” she remarked, amusement twinkling in her eyes.

Rio’s cheeks turned red momentarily, but soon they both erupted in laughter, filling the room with a light, carefree energy. It felt good—so good, in fact, that for a moment, Agatha allowed herself to fully embrace the moment, to let go of everything else that weighed on her.

Rio swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet touching the cool floor. She stretched, arms reaching high above her head, as she elongated her lean body. The stretch caused her shirt to rise slightly, revealing a small sliver of her toned stomach. Agatha’s breath caught in her throat, and she found herself staring, her gaze lingering on the soft curve of Rio’s skin.

The sight made Agatha’s pulse quicken, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away, despite the sudden flutter of nerves in her stomach.

Rio, noticing Agatha’s stare, smirked knowingly. “See something you like?” she teased, her voice low and playful. “Come on, you know I’m of no use without my breakfast.”

“I thought I was going to be your breakfast?” she said with a pout.

Rio chuckled, shaking her head as she bent down to pull on a pair of yoga pants. “That’s dessert, babe,” she replied with a wink, the playful tone in her voice unmistakable.

Agatha raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Laughing, they both moved towards the kitchen, where soon the smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as Rio prepared breakfast.

They settled at the small kitchen table, the clink of silverware and the soft hum of their easy conversation filling the space. Rio passed Agatha a plate, and the two of them began to eat, their chatter flowing effortlessly. It was the kind of easy companionship that felt natural, the kind that made everything else in the world fade into the background.

As they were finishing up, Rio set her fork down and looked at Agatha seriously. “Okay so, what’s the plan?

“The plan?” Agatha asked, her brows furrowing as she looked up from her plate, confused about what Rio was referring to.

“You said you wanted to go public, right?”

“Oh, that!” Agatha said, the realization dawning on her. She sat back in her chair, folding her arms thoughtfully. “Yes, of course. And I mean it. I want to stop hiding.”

Rio nodded, relieved that Agatha was still on board. “Okay then, we can do it, but we need to be smart about how we do it. This isn’t something we can rush into.”

Agatha considered this, nodding in agreement. “You’re right. We can’t just dive in without thinking it through. We have to be careful.”

She paused, thinking it over. “I was thinking we should call Lilia. She’s always been good at handling… delicate situations.”

Rio smirked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s one way to put it. She’s a shark when she needs to be.”

Agatha smiled at the truth in Rio’s words. “Exactly. If anyone can help us figure out the best way to handle this, it’s her.”

Rio pulled out her phone, scrolling through her contacts with purpose. She tapped on Lilia’s name and set the phone on speaker.

The phone rang twice before Lilia’s voice came through “Rio, darling, what’s going on?”

“Good morning to you too, Lilia,” Rio replied, her voice light and playful. “I was wondering if you could come over, actually. There’s something important we need to discuss.”

“Important, huh?” Lilia’s voice held a trace of curiosity. “I’m intrigued. I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Perfect,” Rio said, glancing at Agatha. Agatha gave her a small, encouraging nod, though her heart was beating a little faster now. The decision was made. They were going forward, for better or worse.

“See you soon,” Rio finished, ending the call.

The silence that followed felt heavy, and Agatha exhaled slowly, the nerves she had been pushing down all morning finally surfacing. “Do you think she’ll understand?” Agatha asked, her voice quieter now. The weight of the situation was settling in. She had no idea how this would play out, and she wasn’t sure how Lilia would react to their plan.

Rio’s hand reached across the table, cupping Agatha’s cheek gently. Agatha leaned into the touch, letting the warmth and reassurance settle over her. “Lilia’s tough, but she cares about us,” Rio said, her voice soft but confident. “She’ll understand, and she’ll help us figure this out. She always does.”

Agatha nodded, closing her eyes for a brief moment as the tenderness of Rio’s touch calmed her racing thoughts. She had never felt more uncertain, but Rio’s presence made everything feel just a little more possible.

“Okay,” Agatha said, opening her eyes and meeting Rio’s gaze. “Let’s do this.”

Whatever Lilia’s reaction, whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together. And for the first time in a long time, Agatha felt a glimmer of hope, even if it was just the beginning of something new and uncertain. She wasn’t alone anymore.

The sharp chime of the doorbell echoed through Rio’s home. Agatha sat on the couch, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her fingers digging into her palms as the nerves in her stomach twisted into tight knots. The decision to go public was something she was sure of, but still the weight of it was pressing down on her chest, or maybe it was just the fear of what would come next. She glanced up at Rio, who looked calm, her presence always reassuring.

Rio noticed the way Agatha’s gaze lingered on her and leaned down to kiss the woman’s forehead gently, the gesture warm and comforting. “We’ve got this,” she murmured, her voice reassuring.

Agatha gave her a small smile, but the anxiety still fluttered in her chest. “I hope so,” she said softly, though she appreciated Rio’s efforts to steady her.

Rio gave her one last encouraging smile before walking toward the door. She reached for the handle, took a deep breath, and swung it open with a bright, confident grin. “Lilia,” she greeted warmly, her voice full of genuine affection. “It’s so good to see you.”

Lilia’s gaze softened slightly as she met Rio’s smile. “Rio, darling, you look fabulous for someone who dragged me out of my house on a Sunday of all days.”

Rio smirked, stepping aside to let her in. “You’re so dramatic, Lilia. You’ll survive, I promise.”

Lilia waved her hand dismissively, already launching into a story. “Do you know how many fires I had to put out before my first cup of coffee this morning? Wanda—bless her soul—decided to go rogue in an interview, and now I have Variety calling me for comments.”

As she spoke, Lilia made her way into the living room, her eyes scanning the space with her usual sharp attention to detail. But when her gaze landed on Agatha, standing stiffly by the couch, her words abruptly stopped mid-sentence.

“Agatha?” Lilia’s voice was tinged with genuine surprise as her sharp eyes flicked between the two women. She tilted her head, clearly trying to piece together the unexpected scene before her. “What are you doing here?”

Agatha straightened her posture, her nerves suddenly bubbling to the surface like a pressure cooker about to burst. She had anticipated Lilia’s reaction, but standing here, under that piercing gaze, the weight of the moment made her feel exposed. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words felt stuck.

Before she could say anything, Rio stepped closer to her, and brushed her hand lightly against Agatha’s back, a simple touch that steadied her more than Rio could ever know.

“She’s here because…” Rio began, but she paused, her eyes searching Agatha’s for confirmation. She knew this was a delicate moment—this was the moment they had to tell Lilia everything, and Agatha could feel Rio’s hesitation, the shared weight of the secret they were about to expose.

Lilia, however, wasn’t the type to wait for long. She raised an eyebrow, clearly not content with the silence. “Yes? I’m listening.”

Agatha swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest, but there was no turning back now. She had come this far, and there was no more hiding. She stepped forward slightly, her voice steady despite the nerves in her stomach.

“Lilia, we’re together,” Agatha said, the words coming out clearer than she expected, though the nerves were still there, tight in her chest.

Lilia’s eyes widened, and for a moment, her usual composure slipped. “Together?” she repeated, her voice carrying a rare note of disbelief. She turned her full attention to Agatha. “As in… together-together?”

“Yes, together as in… Rio and I are seeing each other,” Agatha explained.

Lilia’s brows shot up, but she recovered quickly, crossing her arms as her sharp gaze lingered on Agatha. “Well, that certainly explains a few things,” she said dryly, though there was no malice in her tone. “And Ralph? Where does he fit into this... new development?”

Agatha swallowed hard, glancing briefly at Rio for support before speaking. “I left him.”

Lilia blinked, clearly caught off guard. “You left him?” Her tone was a mix of surprise and skepticism. “Just like that?”

“It wasn’t ‘just like that,’” Agatha said firmly, stepping forward. “It’s been years of misery, Lilia. I’ve been stuck in a marriage I never wanted, to a man I couldn’t stand. I stayed for Nicky, for my career, for a thousand reasons that don’t matter anymore. I couldn’t do it any longer.”

Lilia studied her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she sighed, dropping her arms. “Well, I can’t say I’m shocked about Ralph—he’s a bastard, and we all know it—but this… This is a lot to process.”

Rio, sensing Agatha’s tension, chimed in. “We’re telling you because we need your help, Lilia. This isn’t just personal—it’s going to get messy. Ralph won’t let this go quietly.”

Lilia’s sharp eyes flicked to Rio, then back to Agatha. “Messy is an understatement. Ralph’s not the type to let anyone walk away, least of all his wife. And with you two...” She trailed off, her meaning clear.

Agatha nodded, her voice steady despite the knot in her stomach. “I know. That’s why we need you. You’ve always been good at handling... situations like this. We need a strategy, a way to control the narrative before Ralph tries to destroy us.”

Lilia let out a long breath, pacing for a moment as she processed the weight of what they were asking. Finally, she stopped and turned to them, her sharp gaze softening slightly.

“All right,” she said. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. But you’d better be ready, because Ralph will come for you with everything he’s got. And Agatha...” She paused, her voice gentler now. “You’re sure about this? About leaving him, about Rio, about all of it?”

Agatha met her gaze without hesitation. “I’m sure. For the first time in years, I know exactly what I want.”

Lilia nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line as she set her bag down and pulled out a notepad. “Then let’s get to work.”

Rio smiled, reaching for Agatha’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Whatever was coming, they would face it together.

Lilia looked in between them and nodded briskly. “Good. Then listen carefully. First, you need a lawyer. Not just any lawyer—a damn good one who specializes in high-profile divorces. Someone who can handle Ralph’s theatrics and knows how to navigate the media circus he’s likely to create.”

“Do you have someone in mind?”

“I always have someone in mind,” Lilia said, pulling her phone from her bag and scrolling through her contacts. “I’ll make a call today. But that’s only part of it.” She set the phone down and fixed them both with a pointed look.

“You need to come clean—publicly,” Lilia continued. “If Ralph gets ahead of this, he’ll spin the narrative to make you the villain, Agatha. He’ll frame you as ungrateful, disloyal, or worse. And Rio?” She turned to her, her gaze sharp. “He’ll use you to do it. The younger woman who ‘stole’ his wife? The tabloids will eat it up.”

Rio’s jaw tightened, but she nodded. “We expected that.”

“Good,” Lilia said. “Then you know the only way to counter it is to own the story. You need to get ahead of him, set the tone, and control the narrative before he has the chance to.”

Agatha’s throat felt dry. “How?”

“You do an interview,” Lilia said simply. “A controlled, carefully planned one. You tell your story—on your terms. You explain why you left, what your life has been like, and yes, you tell the world about Rio. But you do it in a way that leaves no room for Ralph’s version of events to take hold.”

Agatha’s stomach twisted at the thought of baring her soul to the public. “An interview?” she repeated, her voice shaky. “I don’t know if I can do that, Lilia. I’m not... I’m not ready for that kind of scrutiny.”

Rio’s hand tightened around hers, grounding her. “You don’t have to do it alone,” she said softly. “We’ll do it together.”

Lilia’s expression softened, but her tone remained firm. “I know it’s a lot to ask, Agatha. But this is the only way to protect yourself—and Rio—from whatever Ralph is going to throw at you. If you don’t speak up, he will. And trust me, his version of the story won’t be kind.”

Agatha took a deep breath, her mind racing. She hated the idea of exposing her private life to the world, but she hated the thought of Ralph dictating her story even more.

“I’ll do it,” she said finally, her voice steadier than she felt. “I’ll do the interview.”

Lilia nodded approvingly. “Good. I’ll start making calls to set it up. In the meantime, I’ll have the lawyer draw up papers to serve Ralph. The sooner we start the legal process, the better.”

Agatha’s stomach churned at the thought of Ralph receiving those papers, but she nodded. “Okay.”

Lilia stood, gathering her things. “This won’t be easy, but you’re doing the right thing. And you have me, you have Rio. You’re not alone in this.”

Rio followed her to the door, her hand resting lightly on Lilia’s arm as they exchanged a few quiet words.

Just before Lilia stepped out, she turned to Agatha, her eyes sharp but filled with concern. “Oh, and those bruises on your arm?” she added, her voice firm. “You’re taking pictures and telling your lawyer about that.”

Agatha blinked, taken aback. She hadn’t realized Lilia had noticed them. Her hand instinctively moved to her arm, but she nodded, knowing Lilia was right.

“I will,” Agatha said quietly, the weight of her words settling heavily in the room.

As Lilia left, Rio closed the door with a soft click, and the quiet that followed felt different—heavy. Agatha stood still for a moment, her gaze unfocused, as if lost in the weight of everything that had just been said and done. She found herself unsure of how to move forward.

Rio walked over to Agatha and sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. “Hey,” she said softly. “We’ve got this, okay? We’ll just take it one step at a time.”

Agatha leaned into her, finding comfort in the warmth of Rio’s embrace. For a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of them. She let out a slow breath, the tension in her chest easing just a little, but the uncertainty was still there, lurking beneath the surface.

“I just hope I’m strong enough for what’s coming,” Agatha murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rio’s grip tightened, her touch reassuring and firm. “You are,” she said with absolute certainty. “And if you ever forget that, I’m here to remind you every single day.”

Agatha smiled faintly, the corners of her lips twitching upward, though the weight of her thoughts remained. Rio’s words, however, planted a seed of hope in her heart. She wasn’t alone anymore. They were in this together.

As the quiet settled around them, Agatha found herself holding onto that promise, the thought of facing the future no longer as daunting as it had been before. With Rio by her side, she felt like maybe, just maybe, she could face whatever came next.

Chapter Text

The days after their interview had passed in a blur of headlines, paparazzi flashes, and whispered conversations. Word of Agatha and Rio's relationship spread like wildfire, the media buzzing with every new detail.

Everywhere Agatha turned, there were reminders of their decision to go public: headlines splashed across magazines, grainy photos of them leaving Rio’s house or walking hand in hand. The world, it seemed, couldn’t get enough, and opinions—both supportive and critical—flew faster than they could process them.

For the most part, the narrative had been controlled—or at least, as much as it could be. Lilia had worked tirelessly to shape the story in a way that painted it as both romantic and empowering, a symbol of love breaking through the constraints of Hollywood’s expectations.

But even with the careful curation, Agatha couldn’t escape the weight of the public eye. Her phone buzzed incessantly—texts from old friends, colleagues, and even strangers who felt entitled to weigh in on her life. Some messages were kind, filled with admiration and support, while others were venomous, accusing her of being reckless or selfish. She ignored most of them, but the sheer volume was overwhelming.

And then there were the tabloids. Every day, it seemed, they found a new angle to exploit: Rio’s past relationships, Agatha’s marriage to Ralph, even speculative stories about Nicky. It was relentless, and though she had braced herself for this, the reality of living under such intense scrutiny was something else entirely.

In the quiet moments between the chaos, Agatha felt the exhaustion creeping in. The weight of it all settled on her shoulders, pressing down with an almost unbearable force. She hadn’t slept well in days, her mind constantly racing.

But through all the noise, one thing remained clear: the decision had been made. Agatha was done hiding. For better or worse, she had stepped into the light, and there was no going back.

Rio, as always, was her anchor. In the evenings, when the chaos outside felt suffocating, Rio would pull her into a warm embrace, murmuring words of comfort against her hair. “Let them talk,” she’d say. “They’ll get bored eventually. And even if they don’t, we’ve got each other. That’s all that matters.”

It was those moments that kept Agatha grounded, that reminded her why she had made this choice. She had spent years living in fear—of Ralph, of the industry, of herself. But now, for the first time in decades, she felt free. Scared, yes, but free.

One night, as they sat on the couch with glasses of wine in hand, Rio turned to her with a mischievous grin. “So,” she said, “how does it feel to be Hollywood’s newest power couple?”

Agatha rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “Exhausting.”

Rio laughed, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “You’ll get used to it.”

Agatha wasn’t so sure, but as she looked into Rio’s eyes, filled with warmth and unwavering confidence, she felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could weather this storm together.

One late afternoon, as the sunlight streamed through the windows, Agatha sat curled up on the couch with a glass of wine in hand. The jazz record spinning on the turntable filled the space with a soft, lazy hum.

Rio sat cross-legged on the floor, her notebook balanced on one knee, absentmindedly sketching flowers and leaves. Her pencil moved with an easy rhythm, pausing every so often as she tilted her head to study the page. Her hair was a little messy, strands catching the light like spun gold, and her lips were slightly parted in concentration.

Agatha took a slow sip of her wine, her eyes lingering on Rio. She loved how relaxed Rio looked in moments like this, free of the mask she so often wore in public. Here, she was softer, almost luminous, and it tugged at something deep in Agatha’s chest. The sight filled her with a kind of peace she hadn’t felt in years, and a warmth that spread through her like the wine’s gentle buzz.

Is this how love is supposed to feel? she thought, her heart catching in her throat. The realization that this was the first time she ever felt this way for someone hit her hard. Yet she couldn’t look away, couldn’t stop the quiet hope blooming within her, delicate and persistent, like the flowers Rio was sketching.

Rio glanced up, catching Agatha’s gaze. “What?” she asked, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

Agatha’s breath hitched, but she quickly masked it with a small smirk of her own. “Nothing,” she replied, swirling the wine in her glass. “Just thinking.”

“About?” Rio pressed, leaning back on her hands, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Agatha hesitated, her pulse quickening. “About how long it’s been since I felt this... relaxed,” she said finally, her voice softer than she intended.

Rio’s smile softened, her expression turning almost shy. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

Agatha’s lips curved into a smile as she looked down at her wine. If only you knew, she thought, the warmth in her chest spreading further.

Agatha began running her thumb along the edge of her glass as she quietly murmured, “I’ve been thinking, though…” She hesitated, her gaze flicking up to meet Rio’s. “What if we… lived together?”

Rio blinked, caught off guard. “Live together? Like, officially?”

“Yes,” Agatha said, her voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in her chest. “I mean, we practically do already. I’m here most of the time anyway. But it’s not just about us.” She set her glass down and shifted slightly, leaning forward, her eyes earnest. “It’s about Nicky, too... I want us to be a family.”

Rio’s expression softened, her initial surprise melting into something warmer, more tender. She set her notebook aside and moved to sit beside Agatha on the couch. “Agatha,” she said gently, taking her hand in hers, her thumb brushing lightly over Agatha’s knuckles. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured by all this media circus that’s surrounding us.”

Agatha shook her head, her dark eyes glistening. “I’m sure,” she said, her voice firmer now. “For so long, I’ve been afraid of making the wrong choices, of upsetting the balance. But this? This feels right. For the first time in forever, I feel like I can breathe, like I can finally build something real.”

Rio squeezed her hand, her lips curving into a small, almost shy smile. “You have no idea how much that means to me,” she said softly. “I’d love nothing more than to live with you—and Nicky, of course. But... are you ready for the chaos of having me around all the time? I’m not exactly subtle, you know.”

Agatha laughed, a light, genuine sound that seemed to dispel the tension lingering in the room. “I think I can handle it. Besides,” she said, tilting her head with a playful smirk, “I like your chaos. It keeps me on my toes.”

Rio grinned, her trademark mischief sparking in her eyes. “Then it’s settled,” she said, leaning in closer, her hand still holding Agatha’s. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you catch me watering the plants at three in the morning.”

Agatha rolled her eyes, but her smile widened. “As long as you don’t touch my wine collection, we’ll be fine.”

Rio laughed, the sound warm and infectious, before her gaze softened again. She leaned in and her lips met Agatha’s in a tender and lingering kiss.

When they pulled back, Agatha rested her forehead against Rio’s, her smile small but radiant.

“I love you, now and always,” she murmured.

“Now and always, my love,” Rio shot back, her grin impossibly wide.

Agatha laughed again, her heart feeling lighter than it had in years.

The afternoon sun bathed Rio’s house in a golden glow as Agatha pulled up the driveway. Rio stood barefoot in the driveway, her hair loose and windswept, hands on her hips, watching as the car came to a stop, followed by a truck filled with boxes. She wore an old band T-shirt, the sleeves cut off, and ripped jeans, looking effortlessly cool in a way that made Agatha’s heart do a little flip.

Rio grinned and waved as the passenger door swung open.

Agatha climbed out first, sunglasses perched on her nose, looking both elegant and harried, as though trying to maintain her composure while also navigating the chaos of the move. Behind her, Nicky hopped down, his sneakers hitting the pavement with a bounce.

“Finally!” Rio called out, pushing off the railing of the porch. “I was starting to think you’d changed your mind.”

Agatha stepped out of the car, adjusting her sunglasses with a mock glare that softened when she caught Rio’s teasing smile. “We’re not that late,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of playful exasperation. “Blame the teenager and his inability to pack efficiently.”

“Hey, not true!” Nicky protested, hopping down from the car and immediately beginning to grab a box from the trunk. His dark hair flopped into his eyes as he flashed a grin at Rio. “I packed fast, Mom’s the one who couldn’t decide what shoes to bring. It’s a whole thing.”

Rio laughed, the sound rich and carefree, ruffling Nicky’s hair as he passed her with a box in hand. “Sounds about right,” she said, winking at Agatha, who rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips.

Agatha’s gaze softened as she watched Rio and Nicky interact, the easy affection between them tugging at her heart. She’d never seen Rio so unguarded, so genuinely at ease, and it was a side of her Agatha hadn’t fully realized she’d been craving to see. Rio’s natural warmth and connection with Nicky made the whole situation feel more real, more grounded. It was a glimpse into the life they could build together, and the thought settled over Agatha.

“Alright, alright, let’s get this show on the road,” Agatha said, stepping toward the truck with a small sigh, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. “I just hope there’s enough room for everything.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. “There’s always room for more chaos. Don’t worry,” she teased, her tone playful but sincere. “Besides, if we run out of space, we’ll just throw a few things in the pool. It’s a real California move-in experience.”

Agatha chuckled, feeling a bit lighter. “I’m sure you’ve done that before,” she said, her voice softening. “It’s nice, though, this—being here with you.”

Rio’s smile softened in return, her eyes momentarily warm and vulnerable. She stepped closer, her voice quieter now, as though she wasn’t sure how to articulate the weight of the moment. “Yeah, it is,” she agreed, her tone carrying an unspoken understanding. “Feels like the start of something, doesn’t it?”

Before Agatha could respond, Nicky, ever the disruptor of serious moments, bounced over with another box. “Are we just gonna stand here all day, or are we moving in already?” he asked impatiently, clearly eager to dive into the chaos of unpacking.

Agatha shot him a fond look before turning back to Rio. “We’ll move in, but only if you promise not to turn the living room into a jungle again.”

Rio threw up her hands in mock surrender. “I swear, I’ll try to keep it under control. For you,” she said, her voice teasing, but the sincerity behind it was unmistakable.

With a shared laugh, they got to work. Nicky darted off to grab more boxes, while Agatha and Rio began unloading the truck together. The sound of boxes shifting, feet scuffing against the driveway, and laughter echoing in the warm air created a comforting backdrop to the growing sense of home that seemed to settle over the house.

As the minutes passed, the movement became a rhythm, and Agatha found herself settling into it, enjoying the simplicity of the task. Rio’s presence was grounding, her humor infectious, and for the first time in a long while, Agatha allowed herself to imagine what this life could be. She looked over at Rio, her heart lighter than it had been in years.

This, she thought, was what family felt like.

The next morning, Agatha woke to the insistent buzzing of her phone on the nightstand. Groaning, she blindly reached for it, her fingers fumbling across the screen. The harsh light of the display made her squint, but the words on the notifications quickly came into focus, and her stomach sank.

“From Co-Stars to Roommates? Agatha Harkness and Rio Vidal Move In Together!”

“Rushing Romance? Hollywood’s Hottest Couple Sparks Affair Rumors!”

“Did Rio Break Up Agatha’s Marriage? Sources Say…”

Agatha sat up abruptly, her heart pounding as she scrolled through the articles. Each headline seemed more sensational than the last, painting a picture that twisted their reality into something sordid. She rubbed her temples, trying to suppress the creeping dread.

Beside her, Rio stirred, her hair mussed from sleep as she groggily mumbled, “What’s going on?”

Without a word, Agatha handed her the phone. Rio blinked a few times to adjust to the screen, her confusion quickly morphing into frustration. “Seriously? We’ve been public for weeks, and they’re still dragging this out?”

Agatha sighed, her shoulders slumping as she pulled her knees to her chest. “I should’ve expected this. The timeline… it looks bad, doesn’t it?”

Rio set the phone down on the nightstand, her jaw tightening as she turned to face Agatha. “Agatha, we’ve been over this. Ralph and you were done long before we got together. The media loves drama, but we know the truth. So does Nicky. That’s what matters.”

“But they’re making it sound like I’m some slut and you’re nothing more than a… homewrecker,” Agatha said, her voice breaking on the last word. Her hands trembled slightly as she brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “I thought I was ready for this, but seeing it written out like that…”

Rio’s expression softened immediately. She reached out, taking Agatha’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “Baby,” she said, her voice low and steady, “we know the truth. You’d been stuck in a marriage that made you miserable long before we fell in love. I’m not a homewrecker, and you’re not a slut. We’re allowed to be happy, Agatha. Don’t let them take that from you.”

Agatha’s eyes watered, her lips pressing together as she fought the sting of tears. Rio scooted closer, pulling her into a gentle embrace. “Hey,” Rio murmured against her hair, “look at me.”

Agatha hesitated, then tilted her head up to meet Rio’s gaze. The sincerity in Rio’s eyes was almost overwhelming.

“You’ve spent so much of your life worrying about what other people think,” Rio said, brushing her thumb gently along Agatha’s cheek. “But this? This is our life. The only people who get to define it are us. Let them write their trashy articles. They don’t know you. They don’t know us.”

Agatha let out a shaky breath, the tension in her chest easing slightly. “I just… I don’t want Nicky to see this garbage. He’s already had to deal with enough.”

“And he’s handling it like a pro,” Rio said with a small smile. “He knows who you are. Who we are. That’s what counts. We’ll keep talking to him, making sure he’s okay. And if this media circus gets too loud, we’ll figure it out together. Deal?”

Agatha managed a small smile, the warmth of Rio’s words slowly chasing away the cold knot of anxiety in her stomach. “Deal.”

Rio leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Agatha’s lips, her touch warm and reassuring. She lingered there for a moment, as if willing her calm to seep into Agatha’s restless thoughts. When she pulled back, their foreheads rested together, the morning sunlight filtering through the curtains and bathing them in a golden glow.

“You don’t have to carry all of this alone, you know,” Rio murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m here. For all of it. The good, the messy, the headlines, and the mornings like this.”

Agatha closed her eyes, letting Rio’s words sink in. “I know,” she said softly, her voice laced with a vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to show. “It’s just… I’m not used to this. Letting someone else take the weight. I’ve been doing it alone for so long.”

Rio tilted her head slightly, brushing a stray strand of hair from Agatha’s face. “You don’t have to anymore. I’m not going anywhere, Agatha. You’re stuck with me, headlines and all.”

Agatha chuckled quietly, her lips curving into a genuine smile. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” Rio admitted with a small grin. “But nothing worth having ever is.”

They sat in the quiet for a moment, their breaths syncing as they held onto each other. The world outside might be noisy, chaotic, and full of speculation, but here, in this little bubble of morning light and whispered reassurances, everything felt right.

By midday, Lilia was in full damage-control mode. She swept into Rio’s house armed with her laptop, a notepad, and an air of no-nonsense determination that instantly shifted the energy in the room.

Rio had set her up at the kitchen table, clearing away half-finished sketches and an empty coffee mug. Agatha hovered nearby, clutching a steaming mug of tea as though it might shield her from the media storm raging outside.

“I’ve already sent a statement to every major outlet,” Lilia announced, her fingers flying over her keyboard as she spoke. Her voice was calm, measured, and unwavering. “We’re reinforcing the timeline of your separation from Ralph and emphasizing how long you two have been working together. The message is clear: this relationship blossomed after the marriage was over. Period.”

Agatha nodded, her grip tightening on the mug. “And… the affair rumors?”

Lilia didn’t miss a beat, flipping open her notepad. “Handled. I’ve scheduled interviews with a few friendly outlets who owe me favors. We’ll frame this as a story of love, healing, and authenticity. People eat that up. I’m also reaching out to some industry allies to back you up publicly. A few kind words from the right people can drown out a lot of noise.” She paused, glancing at Agatha. “And Agatha, this is important: no reactive comments, no impulsive posts. We stick to the narrative.”

Agatha exhaled shakily. “Understood.”

Rio smirked, leaning back in her chair with a casual confidence that only half-concealed her irritation. “You’re scary when you’re in full PR mode, Lilia.”

Lilia shot her a pointed look, unamused. “That’s why you hired me. And you,” she said, pointing her pen at Rio, “need to stay off Twitter. No sarcastic comments. No cryptic emojis. Nothing.”

Rio held up her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll be a saint.” She turned to Agatha, her voice softening. “Lilia’s got this, babe. I trust her.”

Despite Lilia’s confidence, the media frenzy didn’t immediately die down. Tabloids latched onto the narrative of an affair, with anonymous “sources” claiming Agatha had been unfaithful during her marriage. Social media was ablaze with opinions—some supportive, others cruel. Even a few industry figures weighed in, adding fuel to the fire.

Agatha spent those days in a haze of anxiety, her phone buzzing constantly with notifications she didn’t dare open. Nicky tried to distract her with jokes and games, but even he couldn’t fully lighten her mood. Rio, however, was committed. She fielded calls from Lilia, handled logistics for the magazine profile Lilia had arranged, and spent her evenings holding Agatha close, whispering reassurances that they would weather this storm together.

The profile piece, published in a reputable magazine, was a turning point. It painted a glowing picture of Agatha and Rio—not just as a couple, but as individuals. It highlighted Agatha’s decades-long career, her dedication to Nicky, and her strength in leaving an unhappy marriage. It celebrated Rio’s boldness in coming out and her rise as a Hollywood starlet. Together, they were framed not as a scandal, but as a symbol of resilience and authenticity.

Lilia didn’t stop there. She reached out to trusted colleagues who had worked with Agatha during her marriage, securing statements about her professionalism and integrity. Slowly but surely, the narrative began to shift.

Within weeks, the tabloids moved on to fresher scandals, and social media buzz softened. Headlines evolved from “Hollywood’s Newest Affair” to “Why Hollywood Needs More Stories Like Agatha and Rio’s.”

One quiet evening, as the three of them—Agatha, Rio, and Nicky—curled up on the couch with a movie, Agatha finally exhaled a deep breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

“See?” Rio murmured, leaning over to kiss her temple. “Told you we’d be okay.”

Agatha smiled, resting her head against Rio’s shoulder. For the first time in weeks, she felt like she could finally believe it.

Chapter Text

Three months had passed since the media frenzy, and life had settled into something resembling normalcy. The mornings at Rio’s house had become a comfortable routine—quiet, unhurried, and full of the little details that made it feel like home. The smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen, Nicky’s laughter drifting down the hall as he bickered with Rio over some silly thing, Rio humming off-key to whatever song had gotten stuck in her head. For the first time in years, Agatha felt like she could breathe.

Until today, when an envelope arrived.

Her name was neatly printed at the top, next to Ralph’s, in a font that felt coldly impersonal. Agatha stared at it, her fingers hesitating over the edge, as if opening it might unleash a torrent she wasn’t ready to face.

Two decades, condensed into a stack of legal documents. The divorce was final.

The relief came first—a rush of air filling her lungs, as if she’d been holding her breath for years. But it was quickly followed by a faint sting of loss. Not for Ralph, not for the marriage, but for the years she’d spent convincing herself this was the life she deserved. For the woman she had been—the one who had believed happiness was something other people got to have.

She ran her thumb along the edge of the envelope, memories of the early years with Ralph surfaced: the forced smiles at industry events, the quiet moments where loneliness seeped in, and the nights spent staring at the ceiling, wondering if this was all there was. The dreams she’d pushed aside, convinced that she was lucky to have the life she had, that it was enough.

But now, as she sat there with the envelope in her hands, Agatha couldn’t deny that the weight of her own silence had been the heaviest thing she had carried.

The truth was, Ralph had made the entire process as excruciating as possible. He had dragged out negotiations, questioning every detail, and using his influence to muddy the waters whenever he could, making sure nothing came easily.

He hadn’t stopped at legal battles, either. There had been veiled threats, whispered insinuations about what he might reveal to the press if she didn’t concede. Personal details dangled like a sword over her head, choking her resolve and forcing her to weigh every decision with excruciating care.

Agatha had braced herself for a fight, but nothing could have prepared her for the emotional toll of being dragged through the mud by the man she had once trusted with her most vulnerable years. Even now, his voice lingered in her mind—sharp, cutting, always one step ahead in a game she never wanted to play.

And yet, that bitterness had started to fade, replaced by a growing clarity. She didn’t care about Ralph’s money. She didn’t want the house. She didn’t need any of the things he had tried to control her with. Agatha had made a name for herself in this industry for a reason, and she was finally beginning to see her own worth, independent of him.

She could feel Rio’s presence in the next room, the sound of her humming as she moved about the house. Agatha felt her shoulders relax at the sound, and for a moment, she allowed herself to just be , and the thought of her girlfriend brought a small, comforting smile to her lips.

Agatha had never felt more certain of anything than she did about Rio. In her, Agatha had found the kind of love she had always been too afraid to reach for, the kind that didn’t demand compromise but encouraged her to be more fully herself.

Agatha’s heart ached at the thought of her son, Nicky. The past few months had been hard on him too, but Agatha had never been prouder of him. He had weathered this storm with more grace than Agatha could have ever expected from a teenager.

The love between the three of them was simple and unconditional. That was all Agatha needed now—her girlfriend, her son, and a life that was hers to shape, free from the suffocating grip of a man who had never seen her for who she truly was.

“Babe?” Rio’s voice broke through her thoughts, soft and cautious.

Agatha blinked, realizing she’d been staring at the envelope for too long. She turned to see Rio leaning against the doorframe, her hair tousled, the light from the window casting a soft glow around her. There was a worried crease between her brows, and Agatha could see the concern etched on her face.

“It’s here,” Agatha said quietly, holding up the envelope.

Rio’s eyes softened, and she crossed the room in a few quick strides, her bare feet silent against the tile. She stopped just short of touching Agatha, her hands hovering as if unsure whether to pull her into a hug or give her space.

“Do you want me to—” Rio gestured to the envelope, her voice trailing off, leaving the question unspoken but clear.

Agatha shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the ache in her chest. She couldn’t help it. Even in moments like this, Rio had a way of making everything feel a little more manageable. “No. I’ll do it.” She slid her finger under the seal, the paper crinkling as she pulled out the documents. Her eyes scanned the first page, and she felt the air in her lungs freeze as she saw the finality of it in black and white.

The divorce. Official. It was over.

Rio reached out then, her hand warm on Agatha’s back, grounding her. “It’s over,” she said softly. “He doesn’t get to control you anymore.”

Agatha closed her eyes, letting the words sink in. They were true, but they didn’t erase the scars Ralph had left behind. Still, there was something freeing in knowing she’d made it to the other side, battered but unbroken. And in Rio’s arms, she was starting to feel like herself again.

“I know,” Agatha murmured, her voice steadier now. She opened her eyes and met Rio’s gaze. “It’s just… a lot.”

Rio nodded, her thumb tracing gentle circles on Agatha’s back. “You don’t have to go through it alone, you know,” Rio said softly, her voice full of warmth. “I’m here. Nicky’s here. You’ve got people who love you. People who see you.”

Agatha looked up at her, the weight in her chest lifting slightly. “Thank you,” she said, the words carrying more emotion than she intended. “For everything.”

Rio smiled, and without a second thought, she leaned in to press a kiss to Agatha’s cheek. But Agatha shifted, closing the small gap between them, her lips meeting Rio’s instead.

When they pulled away, Rio’s grin widened, her eyes sparkling with something both playful and tender.

“Always,” she whispered, her voice warm and sure, the promise of it hanging in the air. She straightened, brushing a strand of hair from Agatha’s face with a tenderness that made Agatha’s heart swell. “Now, let’s get ready to toast when I get back from work. I think we’ve earned it.”

Agatha nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Rio had been working on a new lesbian romcom, one that had been generating significant buzz in the industry since its announcement. The film followed the story of two women who had been childhood best friends but lost touch after a messy falling out in their early twenties. What begins as awkward and reluctant reconnection blossoms into something more, with plenty of comedic missteps, heartfelt moments, and a romantic finale on a New York City rooftop under the fireworks.

For Rio, the project felt personal in a way that caught her off guard. Maybe it was because of how much of herself she saw in her character’s optimism, or maybe it was because she was finally playing a queer role without having to explain or justify it. She didn’t have to pretend, didn’t have to hold back. And now, with Agatha in her life, she felt even more connected to the story’s themes of rediscovery and love.

Agatha’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, though she quickly masked it with a sip of her tea. “Right. Big day on set?”

Rio nodded, grabbing her keys from the counter. “Yeah, we’re shooting the rooftop scene today. You know, the one where the leads finally admit they’re in love? It’s got fireworks, literal and metaphorical.” She winked, her enthusiasm lighting up the room, but it didn’t quite erase the faint shadow that crossed Agatha’s expression.

Agatha tried to sound casual. “Sounds... fun. What’s your co-star’s name again?”

“Natasha,” Rio replied, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “She’s great, super funny, really down-to-earth. You’d like her.”

“Mm-hmm.” Agatha’s fingers tightened slightly around her mug, her knuckles turning white against the porcelain. She didn’t like the way Rio’s face lit up when she talked about her co-star, even though she knew it was silly. She trusted Rio. She did. But the thought of Rio spending her day acting intimate scenes with someone else—someone younger, someone new—stirred a small, irrational knot of jealousy in her chest.

“Well, I’m sure Natasha’s thrilled to be getting all your attention today,” Agatha said, her tone just sharp enough to be noticeable, a touch of bitterness creeping in.

Rio paused, catching the subtle tension in Agatha’s voice. She tilted her head, studying her. “Hey,” she said softly, stepping closer. “You know it’s just a movie, right? It’s my job.”

Agatha nodded quickly, a little too quickly. “I know. I just—” She stopped herself, her words hanging in the air as she wrestled with the mix of emotions swirling inside her. She felt foolish, too old for this kind of insecurity, too experienced in life to be jealous over something so trivial. But that didn’t make the feeling go away. She shook her head with a small laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Ignore me. I’m being ridiculous.”

Rio’s brow furrowed as she stepped closer, her eyes never leaving Agatha’s. “You’re not ridiculous,” she said, her voice steady. Rio reached out, cupping Agatha’s cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against her skin. “But you don’t have to worry. You’re it for me, Agatha. No script, no co-star, no fireworks on a rooftop are ever going to change that.”

Agatha exhaled, the weight of Rio’s words sinking into her. She leaned into the touch, allowing herself to be held, to feel the warmth and certainty of Rio’s love. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

Rio grinned, her thumb brushing against Agatha’s lips. “Only because I mean it.” There was a teasing glint in her eyes, but her words were so sincere, so unwavering, that Agatha couldn’t help but believe them.

The knot in Agatha’s chest loosened, though it didn’t disappear entirely. She knew her jealousy wasn’t fair. She trusted Rio. And yet, the thought of Rio with someone else—even if it was just acting—was a hard pill to swallow. But she also knew that Rio’s love for her was something real, something deep. And she had to hold on to that, even when her insecurities flared up.

As Rio made her way toward the door, Agatha’s heart felt lighter, the storm of jealousy quieted by Rio’s words. She watched her go, knowing the day would be long, but also knowing that when Rio returned, they would have each other.

Agatha glanced at the clock, already counting down the hours until Rio came home. She’d find something to occupy her time, something to keep her mind off the feeling of being left behind for a few hours. After all, the Academy Awards nominations were coming out today, and she was really looking forward to their movie being nominated. 

Even if all Agatha wanted was to be near Rio again, to feel the security of her touch and the certainty of her love, she’d have to keep her mind busy with work.

Agatha went on with her day, busying herself with the stack of scripts she had to read. The pile on her desk had been staring at her for weeks, a mix of indie dramas, thrillers, and one historical epic that she already knew she’d turn down. Normally, she loved diving into new material, dissecting characters, and imagining herself in their shoes. But today, her heart wasn’t in it. Every script felt like just another set of words, hollow and uninspiring.

She tried not to think about Rio spending her day making out with another woman, she really did. But the more she tried to avoid it, the more the image seemed to creep in, uninvited. It’s acting, Agatha, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. She’s done it before. You’ve done it before. She’d been in this industry long enough to know the difference between on-screen chemistry and real-life intimacy. But knowing it and feeling it were two very different things, and the image of Rio laughing and kissing someone else, even in the name of art, was a persistent itch in the back of her mind.

Agatha glanced at the clock. The nominations were set to be announced that afternoon, a fact she had tried to ignore all week. Agatha had told herself she didn’t care. Awards didn’t matter; they didn’t define her or her career. But the truth was, she did care. She always had. The thought of hearing her name— or not hearing it —sent a flicker of nervous energy through her. She wanted to be seen, to be acknowledged, especially now that she was stepping out of Ralph’s shadow and reclaiming her career on her own terms.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair as she abandoned the scripts and made her way to the kitchen. Maybe a cup of tea would calm her nerves, though she suspected it wouldn’t do much. She leaned against the counter as the kettle boiled, her mind wandering back to Rio. She pictured her on set, her expressive face lighting up the screen, her easy charm making everyone around her laugh. It was one of the things Agatha loved most about her—how Rio could make anyone feel like the most important person in the room.

Agatha frowned. She didn’t want to be jealous, she didn’t want to feel this way, like she was competing with people who weren’t even in the same league. Rio loved her. She knew that. But her jealousy still whispered in the back of her mind, stubborn and persistent.

The sharp whistle of the kettle broke through her thoughts, and Agatha poured the water into her mug, watching the tea steep as if it held some kind of answer. She needed to snap out of it. She had survived worse than this—so much worse. She had rebuilt her life from the ground up, carved out a new space for herself away from Ralph’s shadow. This, she could handle.

As she was coming back from the kitchen, her phone buzzed on the counter. Then it buzzed again. And again. She frowned, wiping her hands on her jeans before reaching for it. The screen lit up with a flood of notifications—Lilia, Jen, her whole team.

Her breath caught as she unlocked her phone, her heart thudding in her chest as she scrolled through the messages.

Lilia: You did it! You’re nominated!!!

Jen: Agatha, congrats!! So well deserved!!

Lilia again: I tried calling Rio, but she’s not picking up. Can you let her know she’s nominated too?

Jen again: Champagne tonight, my treat.

Her hands trembled slightly as she sat down on the couch, the tea she’d made forgotten on the table. The notifications kept rolling in—friends, colleagues, even a few acquaintances she hadn’t heard from in years, all offering their congratulations.

But she needed to see it for herself.

She opened the awards site, her fingers clumsy as she typed in the address. Her heart raced as the page loaded, the seconds stretching out unbearably. She held her breath, barely blinking, as the list appeared. And then, there it was:

Best Actress in a Leading Role.

Her name, bold and unmistakable, right there in the lineup.

A laugh bubbled up in her throat, escaping before she could stop it—a sound of pure, unfiltered joy that startled even her. It was the kind of laugh she hadn’t let herself feel in years, one that carried a weightless, childlike glee.

She pressed a hand to her mouth, as if trying to catch the moment and hold it close. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, blurring the words on the screen, but she didn’t care. This wasn’t just a nomination. It was proof. Proof that she had clawed her way back from the shadows, that she had something to offer beyond being someone’s wife, someone’s afterthought.

She leaned back against the couch, staring at the screen, her lips curving into a grin she couldn’t suppress. For a moment, all her insecurities, jealous thoughts, and the shadow of Ralph’s lingering presence melted away. This was hers. She had done this. On her own terms, in her own way.

Her gaze lingered on the page, and then her eyes drifted to the other names. Rio Vidal. Her heart swelled with pride. Of course Rio had been nominated. She deserved it.

Agatha picked up her phone and dialed Rio’s number, her thumb trembling slightly over the screen. It rang. And rang. And rang.

No answer.

Rio was probably on set, busy filming that rooftop scene. But Agatha couldn’t sit still. She needed to see her, to share this moment with her, to tell her how proud she was.

Grabbing her bag and keys, she slipped on her shoes and headed out the door.

The drive to the set felt longer than it should have, her fingers drumming impatiently against the steering wheel at every red light. She tried to imagine Rio’s reaction, picturing the way her eyes would light up, the way her grin would widen. Agatha’s own smile lingered, even as her nerves buzzed.

By the time she reached the studio lot, her pulse was racing. Parking her car, she quickly made her way toward the soundstage, weaving through crew members and equipment.

She spotted Rio almost immediately, standing near the edge of the set with Natasha and the director. Rio’s laughter rang out, clear and carefree, and Agatha paused for just a second, watching her. She looked radiant, her hair tousled by the breeze machines, her face lit with that effortless charm that made everyone around her gravitate toward her.

Natasha leaned in, brushing a hand against Rio’s arm, and Agatha’s stomach twisted.

She hesitated.

This was Rio’s space, her moment. Would showing up unannounced seem too much? Too intrusive?

And besides… she seemed to be enjoying Natasha’s company a bit too much.

That bitter, unwelcome feeling crept up again—jealousy, sharp and unrelenting.

Agatha clenched her jaw, her fingers tightening around her phone.

She hated this. Hated feeling this way.

She should go up to Rio. Tell her about the nominations. Celebrate with her. That was the whole reason she came.

And yet, she stood frozen in place, watching from a distance.

In that moment, Rio glanced over, her eyes meeting Agatha’s across the room.

The surprise on her face quickly gave way to a smile—one that was brighter, softer, and unmistakably meant just for her.

Agatha’s doubts almost vanished right then and there.

Almost.

But then again, she was a stubborn woman.

She watched as Rio excused herself from Natasha, her movements fluid and effortless, that easy confidence in every step. She was still smiling when she reached Agatha.

“Hey,” Rio said, her voice warm as Agatha reached her. “What are you doing here?”

She just looked at her, letting herself take her in—the soft curve of Rio’s lips, the way her eyes sparkled with curiosity, the slight tilt of her head that made her hair fall just so. God, she loved her.

But Agatha couldn’t help herself.

“Am I interrupting you and your friend?”

The words slipped out before she could stop them, sharper than she meant.

She wished she could stop herself.

Rio blinked, then let out a quiet laugh—low, amused, knowing. Her smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, teasing, as if she’d been waiting for Agatha to say something like this.

“Natasha?” she said, voice lilting with amusement. “Baby, is that jealousy I hear?” Rio teased.

Agatha’s stomach clenched at the pet name, at the way Rio stepped just a fraction closer. Close enough that Agatha could smell her perfume.

Agatha huffed, crossing her arms. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Rio grinned, and fuck, Agatha hated how much she loved that grin.

In that moment, Agatha knew she should have held back. She should have waited. But Rio was standing there, looking at her like she was the only person in the world, and Agatha was never good at resisting temptation.

And without a second thought, Agatha closed the distance between them, her hands finding Rio’s face as she kissed her. It wasn’t just any kiss, it was fierce, unguarded, and utterly unapologetic.

Rio froze for a heartbeat, caught off guard, but then she melted into it, her arms winding around Agatha’s waist as if they belonged there. The world around them blurred, the murmurs of the crew and the hum of the set fading into nothing.

Agatha tilted her head, deepening the kiss, pouring everything she couldn’t put into words into that moment. Her fingers slid into Rio’s hair and she felt Rio smile against her lips.

Somewhere in the background, someone wolf-whistled, and even a couple of applauses broke out. But neither of them pulled away. The kiss softened, turned tender, and when Agatha finally broke it, their foreheads rested together.

Rio’s eyes fluttered open, her cheeks flushed, her breathing uneven. “What—” she started, her voice barely above a whisper, but Agatha cut her off, her voice thick with emotion.

“We did it,” she murmured, her lips brushing against Rio’s as she spoke. “You’re nominated. We’re nominated.”

Rio’s eyes widened, and for a moment, she just stared at Agatha as if she hadn’t heard her right. “Wait—what?”

Agatha grinned, her thumb brushing gently over Rio’s cheek. “Best Actress. Both of us.”

Rio’s face lit up, her grin spreading wide and unstoppable. She laughed, a bright, joyful sound that made Agatha’s chest ache with how much she loved her.

“Agatha, this is incredible,” Rio said as she pulled her into another hug, lifting her slightly off the ground as she spun her in a small circle.

“You earned this, Rio. You deserve this,” Agatha interrupted softly, her hands sliding down to rest on Rio’s shoulders.

Rio’s expression softened, her eyes searching Agatha’s as if trying to find the right words. “So do you,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. “You deserve it more than anyone.”

Around them, the crew had mostly gone back to work, though a few curious glances and knowing smiles lingered. But neither of them cared. This moment was theirs, and nothing else mattered.

Rio leaned in again, brushing her lips against Agatha’s in a softer, lingering kiss. “Congratulations, my love,” she whispered softly.

Agatha didn’t reply with words. She didn’t need to. She just kissed her again, slow and sure, letting Rio feel everything she couldn’t say out loud.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Agatha wasn’t worried about who might be watching or what they might think. All that mattered was Rio—their moment, their victory, and their overwhelming love.

Chapter Text

That morning, Agatha sat at the kitchen table, hands curled around a warm mug of coffee, watching Nicky across from her. He was still in his pajamas, hair tousled from sleep, his focus split between his cereal and whatever held his attention on his phone. The glow from the screen illuminated his face in the soft morning light, highlighting how much he had grown—his features sharper now, traces of the little boy she used to tuck into bed slipping away with each passing day.

For a moment, everything felt quiet, peaceful—like any other morning. But it wasn’t.

Tonight was the Academy Awards.

She had woken up to Rio’s lips pressing softly against her forehead, her voice low and warm as she murmured, "I have to go meet my team, baby. I’ll see you tonight." Agatha had barely opened her eyes, sleep still thick in her limbs, but she had reached for Rio anyway, fingers curling around her wrist, reluctant to let her go. If Rio noticed, she didn’t tease her about it, just leaned down and kissed her properly this time before slipping out of bed.

Now, hours later, Agatha still felt the ghost of that kiss, the imprint of Rio’s warmth against the sheets beside her. She traced the rim of her coffee mug with her thumb, lost in the memory, in the way Rio had looked at her before leaving—soft, steady, like she already knew how the night would end.

She had attended countless award shows before, dressed in gowns she didn’t choose, smiling at cameras she didn’t care for, standing beside a husband who had always felt more like a business partner. Back then, these mornings had been filled with tension—silent breakfasts, rehearsed smiles, the weight of expectation pressing heavy on her shoulders. But today was different. Today, there was no pretense, no script. Just her, Nicky, and the quiet comfort of their home.

"You excited for tonight?" Nicky’s voice cut through her thoughts. He didn’t look up as he spoke, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

Agatha smirked. "Excited? I don’t know about that. I’d say… mildly terrified."

That made him glance up, eyebrows raised. "Terrified? What, of winning?"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Of the whole thing. The cameras, the speeches, the pretending I don’t care when my name gets called—or doesn’t."

Nicky rolled his eyes, setting his phone down. "You’re overthinking it. Just do what you always do, charm everyone and act like you belong there."

Agatha arched her brow. "Like I belong there?"

"Yeah," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Because you do."

She felt something catch in her throat, her grip tightening slightly around the coffee mug. Nicky had always been perceptive, in ways that sometimes unnerved her. He saw through her in ways few people did.

Before she could respond, he huffed dramatically, pushing his bowl away. "Anyway, if you lose, at least you have Rio now. And me. We’re your family, mom."

We’re your family.

The words settled deep, warm and solid in her chest. Agatha let them sink in, let herself believe them. The way her son had accepted Rio so easily into their lives, the way they had built something new—something good—together. It was more than she had ever dared hope for.

She reached across the table, ruffling his messy hair. "You’re getting sappy on me, kid."

Nicky groaned, ducking away with an exaggerated scowl. "Ugh, don’t get all emotional on me, mom."

He got up and stretched before reaching for his bowl and taking it to the sink. As he carefully washed it, he mumbled in a nonchalant way, "Anyway, no matter what happens tonight, I’m proud of you, Mom. You know, for everything you did. It was… brave. Kinda kickass."

Agatha blinked, momentarily caught off guard. She opened her mouth, then closed it, swallowing around the unexpected lump in her throat. She wanted to say something, to brush it off with a joke, but instead, she just watched him—this boy who was growing up too fast, who saw her in ways she hadn’t thought possible.

Finally, she pushed back her chair and walked over, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head. "Thanks, baby."

To that, Nicky just groaned dramatically, making Agatha let out a laugh as she moved to reach for her coffee once more.

She sat back down, wrapping her hands around the mug again. Nicky wandered toward the living room, stretching as he went. He flopped onto the couch, grabbing the remote, his voice carrying back to her. "Think Rio’s already stressing about what to wear?"

“Oh, absolutely. She still wasn’t sure which option she would choose.”

Nicky grinned. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

She shook her head, a small smile lingering on her lips. The house felt alive in a way it hadn’t in years. There was an ease to it, a lightness she wasn’t used to but was finally allowing herself to embrace.

The warmth of the morning wrapped around her, and for the first time in a long time, she felt something settle inside her—steady, certain.

She belonged here. With them. And no matter what happened tonight, she had already won.

Agatha was finishing getting ready when she heard a knock on her door. Adjusting an earring, she turned toward the sound, smoothing her dress down instinctively before crossing the room.

When she opened the door, Rio stood there, framed by the soft glow of the hallway lights. She was stunning—dressed in a long, deep red gown with daring cutouts and a single shoulder, the fabric clinging to her figure in all the right ways. The color made her dark eyes look impossibly rich, her lips painted to match.

Agatha took in a slow, measured breath, willing herself to act unaffected, but it was useless. Rio was breathtaking.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Rio’s gaze traveled over Agatha with slow precision, lingering, and when her eyes met Agatha’s, there was something in them—something deep, almost challenging, as if daring her to look away. But Agatha couldn’t.

“Wow,” Rio finally said, her voice husky while a teasing smirk played at the corner of her lips. “I knew you’d look good, but… damn, Harkness.”

Agatha’s breath caught in her throat. She forced herself to look away, but the pull of Rio’s gaze was magnetic. She swallowed hard, a smirk curling at her lips, trying to mask the heat she felt creeping up her neck. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Rio stepped forward, closing the gap between them in a single fluid motion, her presence filling the space. Her fingers brushed lightly over Agatha’s wrist, sending a jolt of warmth up her arm. It was light, almost innocent, but the touch lingered a fraction longer than necessary. “Nervous?” Rio’s voice dropped lower, soft but intense, more intimate.

Agatha exhaled and glanced toward the mirror, but all she could see was Rio’s reflection just behind her, her eyes never leaving Agatha’s. “A little.”

Rio didn’t pull back. Instead, she took another step closer, her breath brushing against the back of Agatha’s neck, her fingers tracing the outline of Agatha’s arm as if to memorize the feel of her. Agatha’s pulse spiked. “Then it’s a good thing you’ve got me,” Rio murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her lips so close to Agatha’s skin that she could feel the warmth of every syllable. Her fingers ghosted over Agatha’s hand before lightly tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the movement slow, deliberate.

Agatha couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. Her fingers curled instinctively around Rio’s hand when she reached for it, a soft, almost imperceptible touch, but it was enough. The intensity of the connection sent a tremor through Agatha’s chest. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, “it is.”

Rio’s grin was slow, deliberate, as if she knew exactly what her touch was doing to Agatha. Her eyes sparkled and she tilted her head nonchalantly. “Ready to make them all jealous?”

Agatha wanted to say something witty, something to regain control of the situation, but her words caught in her throat. The way Rio was looking at her, like she could see right through Agatha made it impossible to focus. Instead, Agatha reached out, almost without thinking, and smoothed an invisible wrinkle on Rio’s dress, her fingertips barely grazing the fabric over Rio’s hip.

Rio’s gaze flickered down at the touch before returning to Agatha’s face, her smirk deepening, her voice softer now. “Careful, baby. Keep touching me like that, and we might never make it to the Oscars.”

Agatha’s lips parted slightly, but she quickly recovered, raising an eyebrow. “We should go before I change my mind about taking you with me.”

Rio chuckled softly, leaning in just a bit more, her lips dangerously close to Agatha’s ear. “You love it,” she whispered. Then, she pulled back, winking as she turned to let Agatha grab her clutch.

Agatha’s hands were trembling, but she forced them to steady as she glanced at her reflection one last time. The black gown she was wearing shimmered subtly under the lights, and the thigh-high slit caught the light accentuated by a contrasting white draped detail that cascaded asymmetrically to the side. But it was the way Rio stood just behind her, still in her periphery, that held her attention.

The tension between them stretched and Agatha couldn’t help herself—she glanced back at Rio. Their eyes met, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke, neither of them moved.

Then, Rio reached out, fingers tracing the curve of Agatha’s wrist once more, a quiet reassurance. “Whatever happens tonight,” she murmured, “just know you look fucking incredible.”

Agatha swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest. She couldn’t look away. “Let’s go win an Oscar,” she said finally, her voice rougher than she intended.

Rio smiled, but it wasn’t the playful grin from before—it was something deeper, something that told Agatha she knew exactly how the night would end.

When they arrived at the Oscars, the world seemed to erupt around them. The moment they stepped onto the red carpet, hand in hand, every camera was on them, capturing every second of their first public appearance as a couple.

Agatha could feel the heat of Rio’s palm against hers, steady and sure. The noise, the chaos, the eyes on them—it should have been overwhelming, suffocating even, but instead, all she could focus on was the way Rio’s grip tightened ever so slightly, grounding her in the moment. A silent reassurance that they were in this together.

She inhaled deeply, catching the scent of Rio’s perfume—dark cherry and something smoky beneath it. It was intoxicating, much like the woman herself. Agatha risked a glance at her and found Rio already watching her, that signature smirk playing at the corner of her lips. But there was something else in her gaze tonight—something softer, something meant only for Agatha.

“Smile, Harkness,” Rio murmured under her breath, her voice barely audible over the flashing frenzy of the press. “We’re making history.”

Agatha huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head, but she did smile. The kind of smile she hadn’t worn in years: a real one.

They took their time moving down the carpet, pausing for photos, answering questions, exchanging knowing glances. Interviewers clamored to get a moment with them, their voices overlapping in a frenzy.

And as they moved further down the carpet, pausing for more photos, Agatha realized something strange. The spotlight, the attention, the noise—it wasn’t the suffocating force she had feared.

She wasn’t just enduring the spectacle tonight.

For the first time in years, she was enjoying it.

Once their category was up, the tension in the room was making Agatha’s pulse race. She sat stiffly in her chair, her hands entangled into one another, barely breathing as she listened to the presenters go through the nominees. Every second stretched unbearably long, each name read out making her grip tighten just a little more.

The presenter on stage opened the envelope, and in the brief pause before the name was read, she felt Rio squeeze her thigh in silent reassurance. The warmth of her touch sent a shiver down Agatha’s spine, reminding her she wasn’t alone in this moment. Rio’s hand lingered for a second longer, her thumb stroking absent circles against Agatha’s skin, as if silently willing her to stay in the moment, to believe it could be hers.

Then, the words rang through the theater.

“And the Oscar goes to…”

Silence so loud it was deafening. Every muscle in Agatha’s body locked in place.

“…Agatha Harkness!”

The room erupted in applause, but Agatha barely heard it. Her heart slammed against her ribs as a stunned breath caught in her throat. She blinked, trying to process it, but everything felt suspended, unreal.

Rio was on her feet first, pulling Agatha up before she even registered what was happening. Then, suddenly, she was in Rio’s arms, warmth and certainty wrapped around her in a way that made everything else fade. The scent of her perfume, the way her fingers pressed firmly into Agatha’s back—it was all too much, and not enough at the same time.

When they parted, Agatha met Rio’s gaze and found a dazzling light in her eyes—pride, joy and so much love it made Agatha’s heart stutter. And then, before she could overthink, Rio kissed her.

It was instinctive, celebratory, and captured in a thousand camera flashes all at once. A statement as much as it was a moment of pure, unfiltered happiness. The world roared around them, but Agatha only felt the softness of Rio’s lips, the press of her hand against her waist. She barely had time to react before Rio pulled back, grinning at her like she was the sun itself. She cupped Agatha’s cheek for the briefest second, her thumb brushing over her skin before letting her go.

The crowd was still cheering, the moment forever immortalized. Dazed, exhilarated, Agatha was ushered towards the stage, her legs moving on their own. The golden statue was placed in her hands, heavier than she expected. She ran her fingers over it absently, feeling the cool metal against her palm, anchoring herself to reality.

She looked out over the audience, a sea of faces watching, waiting. A few years ago, this kind of attention would have felt suffocating, unbearable. But tonight, with Rio’s gaze steady on her, it felt like something else entirely.

She had nothing prepared. No practiced words, no carefully crafted speech. But she didn’t need one.

But then, her eyes found Rio’s again, sitting in the crowd, still beaming up at her, looking at her like she was the only thing in the world worth seeing. A slow warmth spread through Agatha’s chest, curling around her ribs like something inevitable.

Agatha took a deep breath, then spoke into the microphone, her voice warm, steady. “I wish I could split this in two,” she said, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “To share it with the wonderfully magnetic Rio Vidal.”

The applause began again, louder this time, and in the middle of it all, Rio placed a hand over her heart, her expression soft, full of something unspoken but undeniable. Agatha watched her, memorizing everything—the way her eyes shone, the way she mouthed something only for Agatha to see. A secret between them, just for tonight, or maybe forever.

The night stretched on in a blur of congratulations, laughter, and champagne—so much champagne.

At some point, with the buzz of alcohol warming her veins, Agatha found herself sneaking away with Rio, their laughter barely contained. The ceremony had ended, but the night was far from over.

In the dim glow of an empty corridor, Rio pressed her against the cool marble wall, their bodies flush. Her breath was warm, heavy with champagne and adrenaline, as she whispered against Agatha’s lips, "Think anyone’s looking for us yet?"

Agatha let out a breathy chuckle, her hands sliding into Rio’s hair. "Let them look.”

The next kiss was sloppy, desperate, all inhibition melted away under the haze of celebration and desire. They were drunk—on champagne, on victory, on each other. Agatha’s fingers traced the sharp line of Rio’s jaw, while Rio’s hands roamed over Agatha’s waist, her hips, as if she still couldn’t quite believe she was allowed to touch her like this, in public, without consequence.

Footsteps echoed somewhere in the distance, but neither of them moved. Not yet. Not when Agatha could still taste the lingering sweetness of champagne on Rio’s lips, not when Rio was looking at her like she was something worth winning all over again.

"We should get back," Agatha murmured, but made no move to pull away.

Rio smirked, her thumb grazing Agatha’s lower lip. "Or we could leave…”

Agatha exhaled sharply, the thought of slipping away with Rio both reckless and exhilarating. The idea hung between them, tempting, and before she could second-guess it, Rio caught her wrist and tugged her toward a side exit. They stumbled into the cool night air, laughter bubbling between them as they hurried down a quiet street away from the afterparties.

They found themselves in the backseat of a sleek black car, a driver too discreet to acknowledge them beyond a silent nod. Agatha barely registered where they were going—somewhere private, somewhere away from prying eyes. All that mattered was the way Rio curled into her, her lips brushing over Agatha’s jaw, her fingers slipping beneath the fabric of her dress as if they had all the time in the world. The city lights blurred past, forgotten, as they let the night swallow them whole.

Agatha tipped her head back against the seat, sighing softly as Rio’s fingers trailed down the bare skin of her thigh. "You’re insatiable," she murmured, but there was no real protest in her voice.

Rio grinned, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her collarbone. "I just won big tonight. Let me celebrate."

Agatha laughed, a low, throaty sound, tilting Rio’s chin up to kiss her again. Rio’s hands wandered, teasing, never quite giving in entirely, as if drawing out the moment was its own kind of pleasure.

Their breaths mixed as Agatha let her fingers dance up Rio’s arm, nails grazing her skin just enough to make her shiver. Outside, there were neon lights, but inside the car the world was quiet, intimate. Agatha had spent decades in the spotlight, but here, in the dim interior with Rio’s lips tracing lazy patterns against her shoulder, there was no audience—just them.

"You keep this up, we’re not making it to the hotel," Agatha murmured, her voice thick with amusement and excitement.

Rio chuckled, her hands sliding up Agatha’s thighs with unhurried confidence. "I don’t mind an intermission."

Agatha rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite suppress the smile tugging at her lips.

Before Agatha could argue—not that she really would—the car slowed to a stop. As the driver stepped out to open the door, Rio’s hand was still tangled in Agatha’s dress, her lips brushing just beneath her ear.

Agatha shivered, half-dizzy from the heat of it all, from the way Rio looked at her like she was something divine.

With a smirk, she leaned in and murmured, "Have you ever made love to an Oscar winner?"